~ Third Person P.O.V ~

Grunts emitted from the freckled male as he hauled the weighty sack of freshly picked potatoes. The summer sun beating down on his elfin frame, beads of sweat pooling at the roots of his curls and gliding down his blush dusted cheeks and nose. His shoes, now tainted, with the grains of dirt he had been slaving away through all day. Alas, the Arizona sun was as unforgiving as life itself- feeling the overwhelming need to establish his time on earth a living hell.

Lifting the drown bag over his shoulder he begins his trek back to where he, his mother, grandmother, and little sister were living. Back hunched over, and knees quivering as he walked- his muscles aching dreadfully.

"Deku!"

Ears perking up, Izuku snaps his head up in the direction of the shrill voice- only to be met face to face with his best friend; Ochaco Uraraka. Her brunette hair bunched up into a tight bun, a brown woven basket in her hands filled to the brim with vegetables. And a floral dress adorning her plum features.

Izuku goes rigid, facial features scrunching at an angled measure as he drinks her in. Lips pressed into a thin line as his mind slowly tried to piece words together so the two aren't just standing there.

"Is that new?" Izuku asked sharply, inclining his head towards the dress as the two began walking.

"Mhm, it took a while but Mama finally pieced enough fabric together to sew it for me!" She chirped, "Speaking of Mama's-- how's yours doing? Did the fever go down yet?"

The freckled male drank in a wavering breath of humid air, his eyes fluttering open and shut a few times. "No. She's got a cough now, we're afraid it might be Yellow Fever." He said, his voice going bleak and monotone.

"Oh," Uraraks tutted, "Poor thing, well-- I'll see if I have enough to bring her some soup for supper later 'kay?"

"Mmm, thanks Ura,"

"Of course!" The brunette giggled.

If Izuku were being candid, which he really wanted to be at a moment like this-- he would have told his best friend to kindly 'piss off'. Predominantly due to the fact that her chipper mood was something he envied, don't get him wrong, he loved her dearly but . . . How can one be happy at times like this?

Uraraka's voice, which was once the boy's soul focus, had now become buzzed background noise-- disappearing in the sea of voices around them. Emerald eyes looming in the scenery, which appeared to be indistinguishable as the years dragged on. Everyone doing the same daily tasks for the past two years, nobody daring to disobey the soldiers that lurked in every corner. Prowling with intense, cold eyes, waiting for the tiniest of slip-ups from the Japanese-American's.

The wired fences enclosing around the camp a diurnal reminder of what they wanted yet could never have-- not after this. Freedom. It was so close within reach of all of them, fingertips barely brushing across it only for them to be ripped back into the dark descends of imprisonment. America was supposed to be the land of the free and home of the brave, right? Wrong. . . It's all a load of bullshit in Izuku's opinion.

"Hey, are you even listening to me?" Uraraka pouted, bumping her hip into his-- knocking him away from his people watching.

"Hm? Oh, no, sorry-- what were you saying Ura?" Izuku asked, his grip on the sack turning iron as a faint hue of rose dusted his freckles.

Heaving a groan, Uraraka narrows her eyes into slits seeing as though it'll be the only thing that will keep her eye-rolling at bay. "I was saying," She enunciates, "I'm not busy after supper if you're up for it maybe we could take a night stroll?"

"I-- Uhm," Izuku stammered, repressing the urge to grimace at her offer.

The thing about Uraraka is . . . her love for Izuku is entirely different in comparison to his love for her. To him-- she was merely a little sister, he would be sixteen soon, and she was just a few weeks shy of fourteen. In spite of his mother's, or grandmother's wishes . . . he just didn't see her that way.

Before he could give her a concrete answer, a door swung open-- prompting Izuku to realize they were in front of his 'home'. Ishi, his grandmother, stood in the doorway sporting a stern, yet tender look. Her back naturally slouched over due to old age, what was once beautiful long green locks were now an ashen gray. And her petite, elfin figure seeming so fragile-- yet in Ishi's case, it's best not to judge a book by it's cover.

That lady will smack you with her cane so swiftly, you wouldn't have time to blink.

"Izuku!" Ishi snapped, her thick, and raspy voice causing the two teens to cringe. "Where were you? How many times must I tell you to-- Oh! Hello Ochaco, dear," She beams, giving her grandson a pointed look.

"Hello, Ishi!" Uraraka smiles back, "I was just asking Izuku here if he wouldn't mind accompanying me for a walk tonight."

The freckled male stiffened at his friend's words, his face blending stoic and irritation together perfectly. 'Fucking hell Uraraka, just couldn't keep your mouth shut?!'

"Oh?" Ishi mused, cocking one gray eyebrow. "Well, then Izuku? Did you give her an answer-- it's rude to keep her waiting."

"'It's rude to keep her waiting,'" Izuku mocked under his breath, "Uhm, I don't think that's a good idea grandma . . . seeing as though Mama is sick."

As if it were a punch to the gut, bells began to ring in Uraraka's mind as she presses her mouth into a thin line. "Right! How idiotic of me, I completely forgot about your mother! Even though we were just talking about her like ten minutes ago-- but you know me Deku things always seem to slip my mind." She rambled, all while Izuku grimaced from her pleonasm.

"Uraraka." Izuku cut in firmly, giving her a light pat on the shoulder. "Don't sweat it so much, yeah? But Uhm . . . rain check?"

Brown orbs beamed with mirth and excitement as she eagerly nods her head; it was then that Izuku realized he probably shouldn't have said that.

"Okay, great!"

As the girl's retreating form descended into the commotion around them, Ishi mutters curses under her breath. Something along the lines of, 'My grandson is a dumbass'. Now as traditional as Ishi was, the one thing about her that wasn't was the way she carried herself. The old woman didn't like to be seen as dainty and frail . . . if anything she was kind of a badass.

"Why didn't you say yes?" Ishi groaned once they were inside, sitting down on one of the chairs with a huff. "Ochaco is a lovely girl,"

"I know," Izuku mumbled, setting the sack on the kitchen floor.

"You two are inseparable, joined at the hip!" Ishi continued on, threading her wrinkled hands through her locks. "She'd make an amazing wife, she cooks, cleans, helps everyone out around here."

Taking a seat on the floor, Izuku tiredly rubs his face. "I know all of that-- but I just don't see Uraraka that way . . . besides, we barely have anything in common. When I get married I want to have an actual relationship with my partner, someone I can talk to."

"You mean someone who can stand your talking?" She countered sarcastically.

"Leave the poor boy alone, dear," Akiara, Izuku's grandfather, chimed in. "Need I remind you, you were quite the chatterbox in our prime?" He grinned, earning spurts of giggles to erupt from the curly-haired teenager.

"Oh, shush," Ishi snapped, "Will you please just try and see things from my perspective?"

Akiara smirked, as he waddled over to the kitchen. "I'm trying, my love, but I just can't seem to get my head that far up my ass."

Flooding a deep red, the gray-haired woman grits her teeth as she swiftly gets up. "Where the hell is my cane?!" Ishi shouts as Akiara does his best to escape while he still can.

'This is going to be a long day . . .'