' a semblance of friendship '

━━━━━

Weak. Yuko awoke to the word ringing on her ears like a broken record.

Weak. The taste of stale crackers lingered in mind even as she tried to wash it off with five glasses of water.

Weak. A mantra her mind had whispered to her. Over and over again. As the shower droplets slid on her skin.

Weak. Like a cacophony of diaphanous wings fluttering on her ears and splitting her head apart.

Weak. During classes, during Mathematics. When they're asked to find the cotangent and the angle of a lighthouse from a boat.

Weak. Fists clenched over white tiles and when other girls flooded the comfort room, head buried in knees inside the comfort room and palms pressed on ears as if the ringing inside her head would stop.

Weak. Hero Training. Defeated by a single blow from Aoyama during combat. Kouda had helped her up, Uraraka cheered her on and it felt great that there were friends willing to help her but an uglier part of her had whispered.

They're helping you because you need it. Because you cannot stand on your own.

Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak.
Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak. Weak.
Weak. Weak. We-

"Oi, little girl!" the owner of the noodle house calls, Mizutani Shinya (but he preferred to be called 'Owner' or 'Boss') as she stands in front of the sink, hands clenching the sponge tightly. "You okay back there?"

Yuko tries to smile but she fails so she just shrugs it off and nods. She forces her attention back to the repetitive action of cleaning the dishes. It doesn't matter. Forget it.

Move forward. She was good at that, no, she was amazing at that. She didn't even need to use expletives to show how extremely good she was at moving forward. Water under the bridge. Past is past. Forgive and forget.

Some things were meant to be. Like how the world was meant to stay on its axis, how the stars less brighter than the sun were only meant to be seen during the evening. Like how the flowers wither and die. Like the trees losing their leaves at the onslaught of fall, surviving winter and unfurling at spring. Like how she, a young girl of fifteen, Akihisa Yuko, was meant to be utterly and hopelessly weak.

Back in the first time she spent in her first year, all the people around her were considered normal, so unlike this current batch of first years with an overwhelming top hero for a teacher, with their overwhelming and unplanned quests of glory. She was the youngest in her class so any failure, mistake or misgivings, it would be attributed to her age and not her incapability to be strong.

Yuko hid in that excuse, cowered in it so when it broke and she was finally brought to where she belonged, the vulnerable flesh underneath the strong shell was torn.

Back then, she had felt something lacking within her but she wasn't at the very bottom so she dismissed it and thought that it was perfectly fine. Two seats from the very bottom was fine, she was still in the esteemed hero course, still the best of the best. She could still do it!

But now. The present time, as opposed to the past or future. Now was immensely different. She felt so out of her element now and the realization that she wasn't enough, that she was weak hit her like a bus. She needed to be strong if she had any hopes on becoming a hero.

She had to surpass her limitations, she thought, feeling a little better as she continued washing piles and piles of dirty dishes. But then remembering the repercussions of passing limitations, she put the plate down gently.

It meant death. And corpses couldn't help people, or even contribute to the modern society where gigantic people passing through the streets were considered normal.

"Oi, little girl!" Matsukata calls from the other side of the kitchen, a metal ladle in his hand and his blue hair clean cut. "We're running out of bowls!"

"Yes, sorry!" she responded, jerked out of her reverie. Never mind becoming a hero, she couldn't even afford to pay her rent with how things were going!

"Matsukata-san," Yuko called. "There's a dozen clean bowls here ready for use!"

"Thanks, girl!" the older man replied, carrying the empty bowls as Yuko continued to clean the dirty dishes with perfunctoriness and fifty milliliters of yellow dishwashing liquid.

The night blurred like that and when it was about ten in the evening, one of the waiters switched with Yuko and she was left to wait the tables, delivering ramen, udon, somen, hiyamugi, shirataki, harusame and soba back and forth.

It amazed her how many types of people were gathering in the commercial noodle shop. And of course, among those different people was Katsuki Bakugo— maybe he was about to become a regular here?

"Here's your spicy ramen, Katsuki," she said, placing the steaming bowl of ramen on his table, along with the other condiments and the chopsticks.

He only replied with a grumble and Yuko knowing that her bubbly personality would never conform well to that of the ticking time bomb that was Katsuki's, decided to leave the table soon after. She had other things to do, other orders to serve.

"Two udon and a taiyaki," she announced as she placed the order on the table of a couple. "Please enjoy."

"The four soba plates for table three are ready, come get them!" the owner yells from the kitchen and Yuko immediately heads to his direction to receive the orders. She puts them in the black serving tray with ease, balances the bowls carefully and lays them in the wooden tables while announcing their orders and following up with a customary, "Please enjoy!"

"Two sakura shrimp soba for table one ready! And table six is asking for the shirataki!"

The clinking of wooden chopsticks against ceramic bowls, the soft ding of the bell as the others are finished and the thud as the dishes created are placed on the table. Everything feels so lively that Yuko can't help but blend in.

"Boss, another round of hiyamugi please!"

The laughter, the yelling and the sound of oil crackling. The sharpened knives hitting the chopping board as the accompanying fresh vegetables are diced, sliced and minced.

"Coming!"

Cheerful personages and smiling faces. Satisfied groans and patting of bellies and the seemingly endless chugging of the non-alcoholic beverages.

"Three bowls of udon and cold ramune for table five is up!"

The sizzling sound and the smell of the broth that wafts through the expanse of the establishment. The different blends of spices, the side dishes and blowing of the steam to lessen the heat.

"Please clear table three now!"

Glasses clattering and the spoons and forks clanking. Bowls placed on the table after finishing the broth, after slurping the noodles with a passion to the moon and back.

"Akihisa, you can swap with Shinomiya now!"

The moon up above and the twinkling of the stars up above the obsidian skyline. The cars and the motorcycles just outside the establishment, honking and grunting.

"Yes, Boss!"

Frying pans and pots, all prepared and full of spices and ingredients. Ladles, spoons and forks. Knives, salt and pepper to taste.

"Table four needs chopsticks! And table one wants two more bowls of spicy ramen and cold ramune!"

Hands raised and pens scribbling orders. The sound of idle chatter and latest gossip. Casual greetings and awkward conversations about the pleasant weather.

"Akihisa, the sink needs you. Hurry up!"

Yuko heads to the kitchen to wash dishes again, puts on the pair of yellow latex gloves and readying the sponge. After a few minutes of the redundant action, her eyes notice the state of the dishwashing liquid propped at the side of the tiled sink.

"Matsukata-san, we're running out of dishwashing liquid!" Yuko informs from her post.

"There's a packet left at the storage room, the first cabinet at the left," Matsukata replies, voice gruff as ever as he began seasoning the ramen.

"Oh, the dishwashing liquid!" an unknown woman says, and if Yuko remembers correctly, this one is Shinomiya- the dishwasher from earlier who swapped with her while she waited tables. "I used up the last one to clean some pots earlier, sorry. Just ask someone to run to the nearest convenience store!"

"I'll do it!" Yuko volunteers and Shinomiya smiles gratefully at her direction. A minute later and she was already outside, carrying money Matsukata had provided her.

The street was void of people, but that was to be expected since it was rather late and it proved to be dangerous. The only source of life she could identify were the insects buzzing about the trees lining the sidewalk.

The convenience store and the noodle house were probably the only establishments open at this hour, Yuko noted as she entered the convenience store, quickly heading to the selected aisle and buying two bottles of dishwashing liquid as instructed.

"Excuse me," Yuko began, placing the bottles of dishwashing liquid on the counter. "I'd like to buy these please."

"Oh..." the girl in the counter says and adjusts her red rimmed glasses before scanning the items. Her eyes are monochromatic when she removes her glasses and Yuko thought that it might be her quirk. "Of course."

The items were paid immediately and stored inside a white cellophane bag and Yuko wondered if Fate was playing with her again, because what the hell, Todoroki Shouto was walking at the other side of the street again.

( He was probably frequent around these parts of the town. )

He was hard to miss, heterochromatic eyes and bicoloured hair, red and white. Flames and snow reaching a truce. And he seemed to be heading to the noodle shop again. She crossed the street to greet him, "Good evening, Shouto!"

Yuko wasn't a petty person. She still couldn't move on from the fact that she was weak, weaker than him, but he was the first semblance of a friend she had made in Class A and she should get over it. She hated carrying burdens afterall.

"Good evening," he replied, giving her a curt nod soon after. "Is the Noodle House still open?"

Yuko nodded, smiling as she did. "Yeah, we're closing on regular hours today so it's still probably open."

"I see," he said, face still blank and impassive. He was so cold and aloof that Yuko couldn't help but wince.

The clouds overhead had started to gather and began blocking some cluster of stars. Nevertheless, the glow from the street lights and the passing cars were still decent sources of light so she could still see the road that lay before her.

"Would you like any help with that?" Shouto asked, gesturing to the bag of dishwashing liquid and Yuko was genuinely surprised at the offer. He didn't seem to be chivalrous type so it was quite... perplexing.

— It's because you're weaker. He's offering help because you're beneath him.

Pushing the negative thought away, Yuko mustered another close eyed smile. "I'm okay," she said raised the cellophane bag up. "It's kind of a little exercise."

"I see..." he said and went back to resuming the quiet that stretched between the two of them. Yuko couldn't do anything but grip the straps of the cellophane bag tighter and resume walking.

She should probably talk about something casual but decided better not to. Shouto Todoroki had a way with words that made others around him wary. He was blunt, aloof and Yuko has reached her quota of harsh words for today. Especially since the never-ending chants of weak weak weak were still fresh in her mind.

Shrugging everything off was what she was best at and after all the failed and halted attempts at friendship with Shouto, she decided to just shrug the friendship with him. It would never work. She should shift her attention to other things.

"Yuko," he began and Yuko had to be honest for this singular moment. Her name on his lips sounded so wrong. She disliked it. "The straps of that bag are going to be ripped off."

"Huh?" she asked and she really didn't see the next move coming.

Wide-eyed, Yuko watched as Shouto's hands moved to hold the straps of the cellophane bag in her grip. And in doing so, brushed hands with her.

Skin to skin. Soft, dreamlike.

"The bag's going to fall," he said coolly, grabbing the bag from her. "You shouldn't have held on to it like that."

Yuko merely grinned, relegating the bag to Shouto and resuming the walk. "Thanks."

He had warm hands.

--

E N D O F C H A P T E R
- s a l v a t i o n