Chapter Text
One
It starts in the middle of their second year at U.A., right after a thankfully villain-free summer training camp. Aizawa’s gave them a week off before the start of the new semester, so after Kyoka does nothing but sleep, eat, scroll on her phone, and play bass for six days, she decides to check out some new Italian bakery she saw on Instagram.
Check out our tiramisu-cappuccino combo! the post had said along with a photo of the two items. If it doesn’t make you stay up all night, your money back!. While Kyoka was hesitant, Momo and 3,412 other people had liked the post, so it was probably good, right?
Italiano is a kind of sunlit paradise three subway stops and two blocks away from the dorms. Kyoka takes some time enveloping herself in the fresh-coffee aroma while in the shorter-than-expected line. She orders the combo, picks it up from the counter five minutes later, and is that Momo on the patio ?
“Kyoka!” Momo calls from the patio. “Over here!”
“Fancy seeing you here.” Kyoka says, mostly because she doesn’t know what to say other than telling Momo that she looks radiant with the late-August sun beating down on her, giving her some kind of ethereal glow like the Luminescent One.
“You too.” Momo replies, and she gives that dazzling smile which makes Kyoka almost believe in some kind of God.
“Did you get the combo? I saw you liked that post.” Kyoka says, looking over Momo’s crumb-filled plate then taking a bite of her own.
“Just the tiramisu.” Momo responds. “I don’t really like caffeine apart from tea, probably because of my parents, and I need to eat an insane amount of calories for my quirk, so I eat a lot of pastry.”
Kyoka hums thoughtfully, ruminating over the fragments of childhood Momo’s told her about, stuff like learning about ukiyo-e and using the tatami mats Todoroki still sleeps on. “Green tea only, I’m guessing?”
Momo chuckles. “Yeah, but I’ve gotten into Oolong, and even some black teas like Darjeeling. There’s only a couple places that serve those around U.A., though, so I have to save my tea adventures for Sundays.”
Kyoka’s brain finally clicks. “So that’s why you’re gone every Sunday? Mina’s gonna be so disappointed, she thought you were dating Bakugou despite him sneaking off to go to wherever the fuck with Midoriya every week.”
“No secret partners here.” Momo giggles. “How are you able to sleep with all that caffeine?”, she says, noting Kyoka’s now-empty plate and near-empty cup.
“Who said I sleep?” Kyoka challenges.
Momo gives her the I’m not mad just disappointed look , and Kyoka gives her the I’m sorry and I know it’s bad for me but I just really like coffee okay one back, and Momo gives the Fine but take better care of yourself sigh-and-eyes response, so Kyoka just nods.
The silence is broken with Kyoka’s earjacks spinning wildly, a kind of vrrr sound like a fast ceiling fan. The hoodie-clad girl blushes in response, and the jacks quiet down. “That’s how I’m still able to sleep.”
“By spinning your earjacks to the point of becoming a windmill?” Momo incredulously responds.
Kyoka looks away. “Yes.”
Momo stops for a little bit, then starts laughing. “That…actually makes a lot of sense. It’s like how my quirk burns off all the calories I eat, yours burns off all the caffeine you drink.”
“Hey, the tiramisu was a major part of my caffeine intake today.” Kyoka defends herself.
“Sorry, caffeine you consume .” Momo corrects herself.
“The tiramisu was the best part, to be fair.” Kyoka sits back, relishing the last drops of her cappuccino.
“Definitely.” Momo agrees. “It’s probably third on my list.”
“You have a list of tiramisus?” Kyoka asks, befuddled.
“No, a list of pastries.” Momo smiles. “I came up with it at the start of the year. We could start one, if you’d want.”
Kyoka has to restrain herself from kissing Momo right then and there, but a simple “Yeah, that’d be really cool.” and a smile conveys her message just as effectively.
“Next Sunday?” Kyoka asks as she rises to throw away her trash.
“Next Sunday.” Momo agrees, also rising.
On the ride back to the dorms, Momo puts her hand on Kyoka’s open palm, and they don’t let go until Momo has to go tutor her friends in math and Kyoka has to go to band practice for Bakugogurt .
Despite Bakugo’s wailing, her bass, and Mina’s reminder that the U.A. Battle of the Bands is only two months away, Momo’s Next Sunday is the loudest voice Kyoka hears.
Two
They meet up at the train station this time. They don’t take the subway, instead a commuter line that takes them to an outer-ring suburb. On the ride, Momo explains that she’s wanted to go to this modernized Japanese teahouse for months, but has never found the time. As they talk, their hands unconsciously slip into each other’s.
“It kind of reminds me of my childhood, but like the good parts, y’know?” she says to an attentive Kyoka. “Like the tea without the whole ritual and pressure of tea ceremonies.”
Kyoka nods in semi-understanding, but shifts the topic. “Speaking of tea ceremonies, have you done the essay for Zeshin’s Tea Ceremony Apparatus yet?
Momo groans. “Fuck, I forgot about that. I’ll have to do it later.”
Kyoka is stunned into shock, but recovers as the doors for the station open. “Momo, you just cursed .”
Momo gives her a look. “Didn’t you call Kaminari a fucking pikachu bastard yesterday?” she retorts as they walk towards the station exit.
Kyoka defends herself. “That’s different. You’re a lady of status .”
“Just because you’re punk and nonchalant doesn’t mean you’re not a lady of status.” Momo smiles serenely. “You have the status of a hero student, which comes with certain expectations, the status of a daughter and friend, the status of a bassist and pretty girl and being able to rid yourself of adenosine.”
Kyoka chooses to ignore things like Momo having a good point or that she doesn’t know whatever adenosine is. “If you want to call me pretty, you don’t have to wrap it up with semantics.”
Momo blushes. “I don’t think you need me to tell you that you’re pretty.”
“Maybe I just like fishing for compliments.” Kyoka smiles.
“Certainly befitting of a lady of status.” Momo chuckles as they arrive at Chashitsu , a name Kyoka immediately appreciates for its meta-ness.
“After you, m’lady.” Kyoka says, finally unjoining their hands to open the door for Momo.
“Why, thank you.” Momo says, unperturbed.
Chashitsu still relaxes Kyoka, but the aroma is of green tea instead of fresh-ground coffee. It has a darker atmosphere than Italiano , filled with a mixture of modern comforts and traditional shoin-zukuri architecture. The baristas wear overalls, and they accept Apple Pay, but the floors are still covered with tatami. It’s very wabi-sabi , Kyoka thinks, but in its own way.
They order their drinks (two matcha lattes, one with soy milk and 50% ice for Kyoka and one with coconut milk and 75% ice for Momo) and pastries (a bento box with castella, amanattō, namagashi, taiyaki, dango, and kuzumochi). Their table ends up being a darkened booth with soft lighting. Despite being indoors and the aged wood, Momo has the same ethereal glow.
Kyoka’s own ethereal glow is moreso existential, being procrastination-fueled dread at her impending art history assignment. “Alright”, she says, fishing out her laptop from a U.A.-branded bag. “What the fuck does Midnight mean when she asks what the work makes us feel?”
Momo, having pulled out her own laptop, smiles. “What does the work make you think of?”
“The pain of doing this assignment?”, Kyoka asks despairingly.
Momo shoots her a now-patented look. “No, like, this painting evokes nostalgic memories of my childhood, and learning about wabi-sabi from my grandmother. Her teas sparked my love of the form, and I now greatly enjoy making the same traditional teas she taught me. While she is now gone, I am reminded of her every time I use a tea apparatus, and this painting gives me the same happiness and love I felt when first making tea.”
Kyoka blinks in astonishment. “What about for those of us who don’t have precious family memories linked to tea? Or can’t write beautiful prose about wabi-sabi?”
Momo hums.”I mean, you write songs for Bakugogurt , right? Just imagine it’s like that.”
“Those songs are about the challenges of everyday life and being a hero student and how hero society is corrupt.” Kyoka whines. “Not about tea apparatuses. Maybe if I could see the painting in person, but I’m pretty sure it’s in New York or something.”
Momo blinks. “You could write about this experience and how it mirrors the modernization of hero society to keep the good but remove stuffy traditions?”
Kyoka thinks. “The problem is that then I’d just end up talking about how your hair strikes the lighting or how good this dango is, y’know? I feel like I have to see the painting to be able to not fail this assignment and the class, but it’s in New York or something, so that’s a wash.”
Momo lights up. “It’s on loan at the Musutafu Museum of Art’s Zeshin exhibit.”
Kyoka smiles. “How would you like to extend this outing, then?”
Momo just smiles back in return.
The exhibit is on the way to U.A., in a large, modernist building. The painting is on the third floor, with the room being empty save for Momo, Kyoka, and various lacquer works.
“There’s a Hokusai exhibition on the floor above us.” Momo explains. “It’s the first time The Great Wave off Kanagawa has been shown in Japan for almost thirty years, so that’s where everyone is.”
“We should see it after.” Kyoka grins. “But for now, I think the paintings here will suffice.”
“I agree.” Momo smiles. “This one, Crows Fly by Red Sky at Sunset , is my favorite. It’s another Zeshin.”
“Mine is probably Three Men Looking at Lacquer Painting .” Kyoka responds. “I appreciate the metaness.”
“Ooh, what about Rising Sun ?” Momo replies.
“It’s beautiful.” Kyoka agrees. Before she can use that segway to flirt with Momo, she notices Tea Apparatus in the corner. “Oh, here it is.”
It turns out that Tea Ceremony Apparatus reminds Kyoka of days spent waking up with coffee. It’s unorthodox, she thinks, but the kettle is mostly the same, and it provides a modern twist on the painting while still retaining its roots. She’d also probably be able to slip a couple of Momo compliments in, even if Midnight won’t let her write an essay about when Momo’s ponytail catches the light just right.
“Did it help?” Momo asks from next to Kyoka.
“Yeah.” Kyoka says, smiling. “Thanks for bringing me here. In exchange, I have an idea for next Sunday, if you’re interested?”
“Of course.” Momo says, matching Kyoka’s smile. “But this Sunday isn’t over yet.”
“After you, m’lady.” Kyoka says with an exaggerated bow towards the direction of the Hokusai exhibit.
“With pleasure.” Momo responds, and they leave the room.
Three
Kyoka’s idea is actually Bakugo’s idea. He offhandedly mentions a French bakery he’s gone to for years named Boulangerie , and Kyoka silently folds it away in her brain’s Momo compartment.
Kyoka’s hands fold naturally into Momo’s now, even if it’s not Sunday. Despite the possibility of their classmates seeing, Momo never lets go. The natural link continues all the way to the metro station, where they take a train to the neighborhood Bakugo and Midoriya grew up in.
“Speaking of Bakugo, did you see him this morning?” Momo asks.
“No, actually.” Kyoka hums, thinking about how Bakugo wasn’t at breakfast with the rest of them. “Wasn’t Midoriya absent too?”
“Now that I think of it, yeah.” Momo thinks as the doors to their station open.
Bakugo and Midoriya’s neighborhood is…surprisingly normal. There’s a large danchi like the kind Midoriya said he grew up in, and some bigger single-family homes, one of which is probably the Bakugo family’s, but that’s about it. There are shops littered among the homes, one of which Kyoka notes on a corner.
“This way.” Kyoka pulls Momo towards her.
Boulangerie is decently busy once Kyoka and Momo arrive. It seems to be popular, and Kyoka and Momo browse the menu while they wait in line.
It’s the kind of place you’d expect to be frequented by harried moms. Kyoka thinks . Who drag their kids here until it’s been a family tradition for twelve years to go to Boulangerie every Sunday and now little Tadatoshi got into Todai and there’s a massive celebration and-
“Is that Bakugo and Midoriya?” Momo points out to a couple at the far side, snapping Kyoka out from her thoughts about the kouign-amann Tadatoshi probably loves.
“Holy shit.” Kyoka says, gaping at the surprisingly affectionate frenemies.
“I guess it makes sense.” Momo remarks. “Both of them going missing, Bakugo offhandedly mentioning it because this was on their mind…and now they’re looking right at us.”
“Let’s postpone that by ordering.” Kyoka says as they move to the front of the line, acting nonchalant.
Momo takes over. “Two kougin-amman, a London fog, and a café au lait.” she says as Kyoka tries to block Midoriya and Bakugo’s view of them.
Kyoka’s attempt to preserve Momo for herself goes off the rails when Bakugo texts her that your earjacks are pretty fucking obvious in public and yaoyorozu’s taller than you and to just come sit down here there’s no other tables left anyways
“Looks like we have an invitation.” Kyoka says wryly as she takes her drink and pastry from the counter, walking over to the two boys.
“Hi Yaoyorozu! Hi Jirou!” Midoriya enthusiastically greets them while Bakugo just nods his head in their general direction.
“Hello Midoriya, Hello Bakugo.” Momo smiles warmly. “Sorry for interrupting your…thing.”
“Sorry for interrupting yours.” Midoriya chuckles awkwardly.
“Right.” Kyoka says, unperturbed. “Did any of you do the homework for Ectoplasm? Graphing cotangent can suck it.”
Momo sighs. “I already explained it to you on the train, remember?”
Bakugo nods. “Plus, I explained it at the Bakugogurt rehearsal.”
Kyoka narrows her eyes at them. “I was distracted both times.”
Midoriya pipes in. “Actually, so was I when Kacchan explained it to me, but I found the answers online!”
“Sweet.” Kyoka says. “Can you send me the link?”
“Already done.” Midoriya grins, holding up his phone as Yaoyorozu and Bakugo share a long-suffering look.
Hanging out with Bakugo and Midoriya for three hours is surprisingly nice. They show Momo and Kyoka around the neighborhood while munching on pastries and telling embarrassing stories about each other. Kyoka thinks it’s what a double date would feel like assuming either of them were couples. She’s actually not even sure if Bakugo and Midoriya are a couple or not, considering both the way they act and their history towards one another.
It could be like one of those romance visual novels where they start as childhood friends then become bitter enemies but reconnect and eventually confess their undying love for each other while cooking karaage. Kyoka muses. Except with guys.
Her comparison of the games she stays up until 3 A.M. to play when she should be doing homework or sleeping is interrupted by Midoriya’s shouting.
“Momo!” the green-haired boy exclaims. “Can you come over here for a second? I want to try something out.”
Momo arches an eyebrow but dutifully follows Midoriya, sacking Kyoka with her grumpy bandmate. Bakugo sits down on a cinderblock wall next to them, and Kyoka follows his lead. He’s mopier without Midoriya, and if Kyoka didn’t know better she’d say he had a trace of sentimentality in his eyes.
“How’d you get together?” Bakugo asks out of the blue.
Kyoka mimics Momo’s earlier eyebrow. “We’re not together. How’d you two get together?”
Bakugo blinks, momentarily surprised, then shrugs. “Could’ve fooled me.” he says, then adds on “We’re also not together.”
Kyoka notes Bakugo’s forlorn expression, the way he’s been looking at Midoriya all day, and takes a leap of faith. “But you wish you could be.”
Bakugo sighs. “Unfortunately.” he mutters under his breath. “You too?”
“Unfortunately.” Kyoka says. “For what it’s worth, I think he does genuinely like you, romantically speaking.”
“That’s what I’d like to think.” Bakugo replies. “But if he does, what if I ruin it like I ruined our goddamn friendship? What if he ruins it? What if we both don’t do anything to harm it, but we slowly fall out of love? But again, this is all in the best-fucking-case scenario that he does like me, and isn’t weirded out by our past or not attracted to me or just isn’t attracted to men in the first place? And if I do ask him out and he rejects me, then our new friendship’ll become more complicated and probably end and that’s a worse result than just not asking him.”
“Well.” Kyoka says. “He has a pan flag sticker on his water bottle, so he definitely likes men.”. After letting Bakugo’s semi-shocked face digest this news. she continues. “But like, you have to weigh the happiness you’ll get if he likes you versus the depression if he doesn’t. Plus, if he does like you but is too scared to ask you out and you don’t, he might move on and then you have to live with knowing you had a chance.”
“I guess.” Bakugo muses. “You’re one to talk, though.”
“Forever a hypocrite.” Kyoka smiles. “I guess I want these Sundays to last forever, with us being couply and stuff, because of that doubt I have that she does like me.”
Bakugo hums, and the conversation ends as Midoriya and Momo return with several destroyed baseballs.
“Training.” Midoriya responds, and they’re back on the train five minutes later, the boys staying in the neighborhood to have dinner with their parents.
It’s only when Kyoka gets back to her room that she sees the text from Bakugo: ask her out next sunday. for whatever my shitty opinion is worth, i think she likes you. also thanks or whatever.
Kyoka goes to bed that evening with pure resolve, and she dreams of Momo that night.
Four
At a prestigious hero school like U.A., you rarely get both Saturday and Sunday off, which makes the Saturdays Kyoka has even more precious. They’re days to do whatever she wants, to sleep in for twelve hours or have a marathon horror binge or to go anywhere in Japan provided she’s back in class on Monday.
This Saturday, the first one of the semester, was going to be an eight-hour viewing of movies that made Denki piss his pants as a kid, including Moana , but Kyoka’s one weakness was exploited.
“Hey Kyoka, want to go to the Okuto Aquarium on Saturday?” Momo asks while they’re doing one of their now-frequent study sessions in her room.
Kyoka starts to weigh the benefits of seeing if Denki’s still scared of Te Kā versus spending time with her crush, but then Momo says she’ll get them chankonabe and Kyoka’s not a sumo wrestler by any means but she loves chankonabe more than almost anything in life. Denki can flirt with Shinso or something anyways, which is confirmed with a quick text.
Two days later, they’re on a four-hour ferry to the island. Fall weather is upon them, so Kyoka and Momo sip hot cocoa from the overpriced shop on board and talk.
“You realize the last ferry leaves at 5, right?” Kyoka asks. “We’d only get like three hours on Okuto.”
“It’s late September.” Momo shrugs. “Not a lot of people come to Okuto, so the hotels are cheap.”
Kyoka’s mind starts doing cartwheels about sharing a hotel room and maybe even a bed with Momo, but her thoughts are interrupted when a school of flying fish emerges next to the boat.
“I used to be scared of flying fish.” Momo muses.
“Why?’ Kyoka asks, curious.
“I used to be scared of fish because of their eyeballs.” Momo chuckles. “But I thought I could avoid them if I never went near lakes or oceans. When I discovered flying fish existed, I was petrified that one could emerge and land on my bed while I was sleeping.”
“You had an overactive imagination.” Kyoka grins. “I was just afraid of the dark and pop music.”
“Please don’t tell me you were actually afraid of pop music.” Momo despairs.
“My parents exclusively played metal and punk.” Kyoka sighs. “When I first heard Adele at the mall, I ran out of the store.”
“Your mind was truly Rolling in the Deep , huh?” Momo cracks.
“Please don’t do this to me.” Kyoka replies.
“The fire in my heart is telling me to keep going.” Momo grins.
“I will catch one of the flying fish outside the ferry and smack you with it.” Kyoka threatens.
“Have fun laying this ship bare.” Momo retorts.
Kyoka cracks. “How does that even make sense?”
“It makes about as much sense as your fear of pop.” Momo replies. “Didn’t you ever watch Trolls: World Tour ?”
“Please don’t remind me of that viewing experience.” Kyoka says, shuddering.
“Personally, I thought the visual effects were surprisingly good.” Momo muses.
As the ship rolls into Okuto Harbor, Momo takes Kyoka’s hands into her own again, and Kyoka feels absolutely certain in her decision to take Bakugou’s advice.
She begins questioning if Bakugo has the right idea when her stomach is going at a million miles an hour as they walk into the aquarium.
Kyoka tries to channel the same resolve she had a week ago, tries to bring back that determination by channeling both Denki and Present Mic. It fails miserably, and Kyoka is instead reduced to silently grumbling about how blondes hog confidence while Momo asks a docent where the whale sharks are.
“Whale shark?” Kyoka asks, confused.
“They’re the largest species of fish in the world.” Momo smiles. “Years of watching David Attenbourough documentaries has paid off.”
“Sharks are fish?” Kyoka asks, confused. “Also, why is it a whale shark if it’s a shark and not a whale-shark hybrid?”
“You’re thinking of dolphins.” Momo points out. “They’re called whale sharks because they’re big and filter feeders, like whales.”
“You really have a lot of fish facts, huh?” Kyoka asks as they reach the pavilion.
“If I wasn’t going to be a hero, I’d probably be a marine biologist.” Momo muses.
“Even despite your fear of flying fish?” Kyoka teases.
“I’m over that.” Momo whines.
As they come across a massive tank, Momo points out the different species by sight. Kyoka sits down on a bench and Momo joins her, and they look at what a nearby plaque says is the largest saltwater tank in Japan.
“Why don’t you become both a marine biologist and a hero?” Kyoka asks as they look for the whale shark. “Yamada-sensei has three jobs and Grand Orca literally runs this aquarium.”
“It’s a lot of training for something I probably won’t have the time for that isn’t relevant to my quirk or anything.” Momo sighs. “That’d be cool, though.”
“Your quirk is pretty ideal for it, though.” Kyoka shoots back. “Like you could create a mobile laboratory or impromptu scuba gear or whatever marine biologists use. Intern with Grand Orca, you’ll figure it out.”
“I mean, Hero-Work Studies are coming up and I can’t exactly go with Uwabumi.” Momo says aloud.
“Exactly.” Kyoka smiles. “Plus, Okuto winter weather is probably way better than whatever mountain Kesagiri Man will force me to climb.”
“Kesagiri Man doesn’t really seem like the mountain-climbing type.” Momo notes.
“He asked me if I had ever rock climbed before and what my shoe size was.” Kyoka says, shuddering.
“At least he’s nice?” Momo offers. “And who knows, you might like it.”
“Maybe.” Kyoka says doubtfully. “Still, Kumamoto is pretty far from Okuto, so we’ll have to temporarily pause Sunday.”
“It’s still close in comparison.” Momo shrugs. “They run a night ferry during winter break that we can catch.”
Kyoka raises an eyebrow. “You’d go to all that effort just to see me?”
Momo blushes. “I enjoy your company.”
“If you want to ask me out on a date.” Kyoka continues on. “You can just say it.”
“And if I was?” Momo asks.
Kyoka can’t help from dumbly grinning. “Then I’d say yes, and I’d kiss you on this bench, and then we’d go get whatever overpriced coffee they have here, then see the rest of the aquarium and go get chankonabe.”
“Then I’m asking you out.” Momo says, and their lips meet.
Five
Kyoka wakes up on Sunday being spooned by Momo. A brief memory of an all-nighter devoted to Cementoss’s twelve-page essay on Ishiguro’s The Remains of the Day flashes through her mind, and in the process of scrambling for her laptop to ensure she actually submitted it, Momo is jostled by Kyoka’s kneecap.
“Mmm.” Momo awakes with a noise so cute Kyoka is glad she couldn’t remember submitting the essay or not.
“Hey.” Kyoka smiles, one that increases when she sees the essay was submitted two minutes before the deadline.
Momo gets up and puts on one of Kyoka’s oversized hoodies. “Hey.” she smiles, kissing Kyoka. “Do you want coffee or tea or something? I’m heading downstairs.”
“Coffee and a croissant.” Kyoka smiles, kissing Momo again.
Momo grins. “I’ll be back up soon. Also, we’re going on a date to Hosu, because I have something I want to show you, so be ready in like thirty minutes.”
Kyoka cocks an eyebrow. “Alright.”
Momo heads down to the kitchen, which is empty except for Midoriya’s sleep-deprived face guzzling coffee. He waves to Momo, then almost does a spit-take when he sees her hoodie.
“Momo.” Midoriya says, pointing at her hoodie. “Look in a mirror.”
Momo sides up to the mirror above their sink, which is when she sees it; a completely black hoodie except for a screenprinted Property of Jiro Kyoka on the front.
“Congrats.” Midoriya offers a wicked smile.
“Thanks, Izuku.” Momo gratefully smiles before dashing off with tea, coffee, and two croissants. “Good luck with Bakugo.”
Midoriya gives a pained thumbs-up as Ashido passes Momo in the hallway. “Is that Kyoka’s hoodie?” she asks Midoriya, who only shrugs in response.
The train ride to Hosu consists mostly of Kyoka and Momo playing “I Spy” with Kyoka’s house rules (how do you have house rules for I Spy. Momo asks) before they disembark at a crowded market at lunchtime.
Hosu has changed since Stain , Kyoka thinks. There’s still scars of where Midoriya and Iida fought the bastard, some charred brick that Endeavor left behind. Despite all the damage, Hosu has risen up once again; signposts flutter in the wind, hundreds of people are talking and laughing with one another, and smiling street-food vendors are selling yakisoba, all of which smell so good that Todoroki would probably buy all the carts out.
Despite the joy of everyone around them, Kyoka thinks she’s the happiest; Momo’s mitten-clad hand is locked in hers, guiding her to some shop or another, and that’s enough.
“Almost there.” Momo says to her, effortlessly weaving between people. “If I’m right, it’s only a block away.”
“Can you tell me what it is now?” Kyoka pleads for what feels like the hundredth time.
Momo shoots her the same look as always, a disappointed no. Kyoka grumbles the same as she has for the other ninety-nine times, and observes the crowds slipping away from them as they turn onto a quiet, seemingly residential side street.
“Are you sure this is the right place?” Kyoka hesitantly asks.
“Very.” Momo grins. “It’s just like how I remember it.”
“Is it even open? These places are all houses or closed.” Kyoka observes.
“It’s always open.” Momo replies. “Twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week, fifty-two weeks a year, for twenty-three years.”
Kyoka thinks aloud. “The only places like that would be konbini, but it’s lunchtime and it’s Sunday so it has to be a cafe?”
Momo stops and points to an awning. “That sign should answer your questions.” she says, and Kyoka finally realizes when she sees Konbini Diner and Cafe , with a little Open 24/7 underneath.
“It’s an American-style diner and cafe attached to a konbini.” Momo explains. “It’s a favorite of hero agency employees, especially ones who work nights.”
“How’d you find it?” Kyoka asks as they walk in.
“Uwabumi mentioned it as a great spot to avoid the paparazzi.” Momo chuckles. “One of the only good things she’s done for me.”
Konbini Diner and Cafe looks like a mashup between the standard convenience stores Kyoka grew up with, the 1950’s American diners she sees on TV, and a kitschy coffee shop. The portions are huge, and the menus are even larger. Unlike the quiet sidewalk, it’s bustling with people; Kyoka can pick up Momo saying most people enter through the konbini side first, but that they’ve gone through the diner.
They get a booth midway through the room, and Kyoka begins leafing through the twelve-page menu.
“Don’t bother.” Momo says. “Order the chicken-fried steak with a side of hashbrowns, and we'll get an Oreo milkshake to share.”
“How many times have you been here?” Kyoka asks, astonished.
“Enough to have my picture on the wall for having the highest Tetris score ever recorded on that arcade machine.” Momo smiles. “So probably at least once a week.”
They order (their waitress giving an enthusiastic “Hi!” to Momo and just asking if Momo wanted her usual and one more) and their food comes fifteen minutes later.
“Congrats on the girlfriend, by the way.” their waitress says, winking at Momo. “Pay at the stand like always, and I’ll hopefully see both of you next week!
“Why did I have to become friends with the servers?” Momo despairs.
Kyoka smiles. “I dunno, I thought it was cool. You going somewhere so often you become a regular? This place must be both really good and really special to you.”
“It is.” Momo smiles back.
Kyoka falls more and more in love with chicken-fried steak with every bite, but the hashbrowns come close. Momo wins the competition in the end; the Oreo milkshake boosts her to the gold medal winner.
“How are you able to come down from Mustafu every week?” Kyoka asks. “It’s like a three hour train ride, and you claim to get eight hours of sleep most nights, plus you wake up early.”
“I sleep on the train.” Momo winces. “It’s worth it for this, but it means I have to get almost all my work done so I can make the trip every Saturday night.”
“But you couldn’t because of me.” Kyoka realizes. “Which is why you wanted to come today.”
“Caught red-handed.” Momo smiles.
“We can go every Friday, if you want.” Kyoka suggests. “Saturday is mostly hero training work anyways.”
“I’d love that.” Momo says, and Kyoka feels her heart soar as they kiss. .
Six
Kyoka has a lot of worries in her life; her parents, Battle of the Bands, figuring out how to beat Balatro’s purple stake. She’s been a chronic overthinker since she was born, and the stress of U.A. adds to that.
They’re in Hosu, at Konbini , when Kyoka realizes that she’s not worried about anything right now. Battle of the Bands is next week but that doesn’t matter, she has an essay due for Yamada-sensei but that doesn’t matter, all that matters is her, Momo, and failing to beat her girlfriend at Tetris.
Girlfriend , which is another worry taken from Kyoka’s mind; ever since their waitress ( Chizuru , Kyoka’s brain supplies) called them that, they’ve referred to themselves as such.
“You okay?” Momo asks, noticing Kyoka being lost in thought.
“Yeah.” Kyoka smiles. “Never better.”
“Despite not even clearing one level?” Momo replies.
“The controller screwed me over and you know it.” Kyoka says, and Momo arches an eyebrow.
It’s the next day, they’re at some hybrid record store-coffee shop Kyoka picked out, and Kyoka realizes what’s been bugging her.
“We have to tell people eventually.” she says as Momo looks over a vinyl of Tchaikovsky’s Symphony No. 4 .
Momo doesn’t look up from the record. “This can’t really last forever.” she says, trying to keep her tone even. “As much as I’d like it to.”
“Our friends will probably understand.” Kyoka says.
“I know.” Momo replies, finally looking up. “It’s just that how do we know they’ll be okay with it? Sure, Present Mic and Eraserhead are married, sure, the world is more progressive, but how do we know for certain it’ll be okay?”
“Just have to hope.” Kyoka says, and they bring their drinks to a sofa.
Hope is fruitful for Kyoka Jirou; she hoped to be free of her parents and got into U.A., hoped to date Momo and ended up with a girlfriend, but this is arguably the most important hope she’s ever had.
“If they don’t.” Momo starts. “If they don’t accept us, then I’ll lose my family. I probably won’t get a job at a hero agency after U.A.. I’ll have proved my parents right when they said I was an abject failure who would amount to nothing. I’ll-”
“Have to start over again.” Kyoka finishes. “So will I. But this time, we’ll be together, and I think that’s worth rebuilding.”
“We’re teenagers.” Momo says scornfully. “U.A. is one of our only opportunities to be free of the people we don’t want to be with.”
“We’ll still have Aizawa and Yamada, and Bakugo and Midoriya.” Kyoka points out. “There’s still people who will support us regardless.”
“Then we move on to adulthood in civilian life?” Momo asks.
“Probably.” Kyoka shrugs. “We could open a coffeeshop.”
“If we get enough money.” Momo says, then she smiles. “I’d like that though, even if we are just daydreaming of a future where we overcome the odds.”
“All about hope.” Kyoka says confidently.
“Well then.” Momo says. “I’d hope for something like this; records of every genre, comfortable sofas, both hot and cold drinks.”
“But with the architecture of Chashitsu ?” Kyoka asks.
“Probably a bit more sunlight, like Italiano .” Momo responds. “Though you’d want the food of Konbini .”
“Hashbrowns are a necessity.” Kyoka smiles. “Plus we’d need the pastries of Boulangerie .”
“A fish tank too, as a reminder of Okuto Aquarium.” Momo suggests, and Kyoka smiles, remembering their first kiss.
“It could be filled with all the new species you discover as a marine biologist.” Kyoka imagines.
“No flying fish, though.” Momo smiles, and Kyoka has the feeling everything will be alright.
“How about after the Battle of the Bands?” Kyoka suggests.
“Telling people?” Momo respods. “Alright.”
“Really?” Kyoka says. “If you’re not sure, then we can probably keep this up until we graduate.”
“Unfortunately, I have a feeling it would leak somehow.” Momo sighs.
“The Property of Jirou Kyoka hoodie.” Kyoka grins.
“I’ll have to get one for you after we tell everyone.” Momo chuckles.
“Deal.” Kyoka says, and they kiss on it instead of shaking.
“We probably need to practice.” Momo says after they inadvertently make out for three minutes.
“Time management?” Kyoka asks, oblivious. “I think our kissing is pretty good already.”
“Babe.” Momo says, and Kyoka’s heart starts churning with the pet name. “Practicing coming out.”
“Ohhh.” Kyoka says, then has a lightbulb go off in her head. “I’m calling Bakugo.”
“What?” Momo says, confused as Kyoka pulls up the hothead’s contact.
“Hey, is Midoriya with you?” Kyoka asks her phone screen, which soon morphs to Bakugo on FaceTime.
“Yeah, why?” Bakugo asks back, grumpy. Midoriya comes into view of the camera holding a Boulangerie -branded croissant box, smiling when he sees the girls on the phone.
“We’re dating.” Momo says, nervous.
Bakugo breaks into a rare, toothed, smile. “Congrats, assholes. We already knew, but congrats.”
“Property of Jirou Kyoka.” Midoriya smiles. “So are we, by the way.”
“Congrats.” Momo and Kyoka say in sync, chuckling afterwards.
“Planning on telling people after the Battle of the Bands.” Bakugo interjects.
“Stop stealing our ideas.” Kyoka shoots back.
“Your ideas are good.” Midoriya points out. “Another good idea is that we’ll have to catch the next train in fifteen minutes if we don’t make this one, and you have band practice in twenty.”
“Oh right.” Kyoka says, waving goodbye. “The band practice that I scheduled. Because we only have a week until Battle of the Bands.”
“Guess we’ll have to go to some night cafe next Sunday.” Momo says. “A celebration of your win.”
“Hopefully.” Kyoka says. “Hopefully.”
Seven
There’s a music store Yamada-sensei recommended to Kyoka about 2 blocks from U.A. It’s pretty standard; Top-40 pop hits in the front, classic rock in a prominent side shelf, some local underground bands in the back. What Kyoka is laser-focused on, though, is the classical section.
You should be practicing right now she reminds herself as her hands shuffle through Mozart and Haydn, Schubert and Beethoven. It doesn’t matter, though; it’s Momo’s birthday on Saturday, and she wants to give her girlfriend something special.
Battle of the Bands is the day after and they have a six-hour rehearsal planned for Saturday, but Bakugogurt can wait. All that matters right now is Kyoka being a supportive girlfriend who makes her partner thoughtful and relevant gifts.
“Finally!” she exclaims, locating Rimsky-Korsakov’s Scheherazade in a random pile of vinyls.
It’s my favorite piece. Momo had said to her last week. The solo is one of the most beautiful things I’ve ever heard, short of your voice. If that’s not a motivator, then Kyoka doesn’t know what is.
The problem is that she barely knows how to play violin; there was some random mandatory class on it in fourth grade, and that’s it. Scheherazade is an incredibly difficult piece; Momo said so herself. Kyoka’s elementary-school violin talent wouldn’t be able to handle even the first line without an insane screech.
To avoid subjecting others to her playing, she spills the details to Yamada-sensei. He’s incredibly supportive, lets her use his classroom after school, and complains that Aizawa-sensei won’t learn how to play Scheherazade for him. It’s a load off her chest, knowing that her favorite teacher is supportive of them. Telling Yamada-sensei is also somehow easier than telling Bakugo and Midoriya; Kyoka is more confident in herself, in Momo and her’s relationship.
Music has always been integral to Kyoka’s life, but it’s in full force when she practices. Balancing her friends, Momo, Scheherazade, Bakugogurt , and school is a test of her time management skills, but she pulls it off (mostly due to Yamada-sensei taking pity and giving her an essay extension).
Momo is right in the end, because she’s Momo and tends to be; Scheherazade is beautiful. Kyoka knows her week of practice will never match the recording, but it's one of the best things she’s ever played. It makes her think about subbing out the bass for a violin in some future Bakugogurt songs, ones where the solid rhythm and steadiness Kyoka has always loved becomes something eerier, a new element to their music.
Kyoka has always been solid, steady. A reliable friend, a listening ear, spunky but not overshadowing stronger personalities. Momo’s influence has helped her reach new heights (both musically and metaphorically), that missing composition Kyoka didn’t know she needed.
When she plays Scheherazade for Yamada-sensei, he tears up, and that’s how she knows she’s ready.
It’s a simple affair; she’s told everyone who’s not Momo to avoid the common room at 4:30, put on her nicest clothes (a plain black hoodie and jeans), and arms herself with her rented violin and bow.
Momo gapes a little when she sees Kyoka with the violin, smiling. She gapes more when Kyoka mimes shushing her mouth, sits down, and begins playing.
Scheherazade is perhaps the greatest thing Kyoka will ever play. The music flows through her; one can see her sole focus is executing the piece perfectly, and that she delivers. Momo’s gape turns to crying when Kyoka is done.
“That bad, huh?” Kyoka asks her, smiling.
“That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard.” Momo replies, awestruck.
“Unfortunate that my voice has been replaced.” Kyoka kisses her girlfriend softly.
“Well.” Momo begins. “If we’re being metaphorical, it was kind of the truest expression of your voice.”
Kyoka smiles. “Happy birthday, Momo.” she starts before handing Momo a vinyl. “In case you want to listen to the greatest thing you’ve ever heard.”
“I love you.” Momo says, and Kyoka’s repetition of the phrase is more natural than playing bass.
They’re interrupted by Midoriya’s sniffles. Kyoka turns, noting how the entirety of Class 2-A is standing at the common room entrance.
Bakugo breaks the now-awkward silence. “Just play that shit instead of doing the Battle of the Bands.” he says, and that’s the call for Class 2-A to erupt in raucous applause.
“Better than a rom-com.” Kaminari says, wiping tears from his eyes.
“Pure love.” Mina agrees, patting him on the back. “Wait, the Property of Jirou Kyoka hoodie!”
“That’s her other birthday gift.” Kyoka grins as Momo blushes.
Kyoka is a little bit pissed that Class 2-A saw her performance and majorly pissed that they weren’t able to come out on their own terms, but she’s relieved that people at least seem supportive.
“Lesbians are-” Mineta begins before being dropkicked out of the common room window by Iida.
“Congratulations on your relationship.” the class president smiles. “However, please be mindful of the rules related to nighttime conduct!”
Kyoka can’t help from laughing at Iida’s heel-turn, causing his confusion. “Iida, my guy, you dropkicked Mineta out of the window then started lecturing us about rules.”
Iida smiles bashfully. “Good luck at the Battle of the Bands.”
“Thanks.” Kyoka smiles. “Speaking of which, you assholes need to come with me. Six-hour rehearsal starts now.”
“Can’t you put off practice to play more violin with your girlfriend or whatever?” Kaminari whines.
“The girlfriend wishes you to do a six-hour practice.” Momo decrees, and that’s that.
Battle of the Bands goes great after the practice Bakugogurt has put in. There’s some competition, the most prominent being the Big 3’s surprisingly great polka-ska fusion, but Kyoka is confident in Bakugogourt. All they need to do is execute to the best of their ability.
“ Scheherazade was harder.” Kyoka remarks after their second encore.
“Speak for yourself.” Bakugo replies. “My voice is shot.”
His voice turns out to not be that shot when Midoriya kisses him after they win the contest. Kyoka, meanwhile, just cries into her girlfriend’s shirt.
“Everyone!” Momo calls out as Kyoka finishes up. “We’re going to this cafe near here to celebrate; they have amazing tiramisu.”
As the entirety of Class 2-A heads to Italiano , Kyoka and Momo fall behind and lock their hands with one another.
“You know.” Kyoka says. “ Italiano’ s lease is up in five years, and the owners are planning on retiring.”
“Is that so?” Momo smiles. “I think we might have the same idea.”
Kyoka only smiles back in response, and they walk to the still-lit cafe.
+1
Six Years Later
“Looks pretty different, huh?” Kyoka says as Midoriya and Bakugo observe the newly renovated Sundays .
“You could say that again.” Midoriya gapes at the surroundings. “It’s like a fusion of Japanese teahouse with European cafe with American finger food and record store and family bakery and aquarium .”
“Remember when we talked about this?” Momo asks her now-wife. “That day in the record store.”
“When we came out to you idiots.” Kyoka grins. “That reminds me, I should pull out Scheherazade again.”
Bakugo scoffs. “You couldn’t replicate the magic.”
Midoriya covers for his fiancé. “What Katsuki means is that your performance that day, the love confession, all of it, was incredibly magical. I don’t think Class 2-A has ever been that spellbound or that teary.”
Momo smiles. “I still listen to it every week. It’s my favorite recording.”
“Your first dance to it was more spellbinding.” Bakugo interjects. “Which, considering the rest of that wedding, was pretty impressive.”
“It’s always been a dream of mine to throw a cake instead of a bouquet to my bridal party.” Kyoka grins. “Speaking of which, how’s that coming along?”
“Wedding is probably going to be next Spring.” Midoriya smiles. “We still don’t have a venue, though.”
“You can have it here.” Kyoka offers. “We’ll even cut the fee in half.”
“Babe, we don’t have a hosting fee.” Momo sighs. “But irregardless, feel free to host it here.”
“I think we just might.” Bakugo says, turning to Midoriya in one of their silent conversations.
“Are you sure you won’t be too busy though? With your new jobs?” Midoriya asks hesitantly.
“The radio show serves as my patrol.” Kyoka smiles. “U.A. is only a couple of classes for now, Bakugogurt has a set schedule, and this place has a capable staff of U.A. students who are motivated both by internship credit and earning a living wage.”
“Same goes for me, though I have more teaching responsibilities and patrol in lieu of the other stuff.” Momo replies.
“Well then.” Midoriya grins. “We accept your offer.”
Once Bakugo and Midoriya are gone, once they’re comfortably in bed, Kyoka turns to her wife and grins.
“You know.” she says. “Sundays used to be my least favorite day as a kid, then they became my favorite during U.A., then they became special because of you.”
“I love you.” is the only thing Momo says in response, and they fall asleep.
Fin.