Chapter Text
Mornings in young Momo Yaoyorozu’s life always had three things, flowers from the gardens, runs through the grounds of her family’s estate, and being hand in hand with Shouto Todoroki. Their families were close, their kingdoms have been allies for generations, with frequent visits to each other's castles they spent much of their time together. It was much more fun when Momo was with Shouto instead of listening to the concepts that her parents talked about that she couldn’t understand yet.
Neither of them knew exactly what their life of luxury really meant for them, sure they lived expensive lifestyles, but there were several tons of pressure with each jewel that would lay on the crown of their heads. But lucky for the two of them, the only things that ever graced the crowns of their heads were the flower crowns woven by little hands, taught by maids and caretakers who watched the pair with careful eyes from afar. Childish laughter filled the open air and the garden’s meadows — Momo and Shouto sat together in a flowery field, only five years old then.
It was late spring, the sun wasn’t as hot as it would have been in the heat of summer. Momo hummed, careful hands weaving together camellia blooms and stems, an identical finished one lay in front of her. Black hair, carefully groomed, and set into place laid on small shoulders. She giggled lightly at nothing, in particular, looking up at her companion. Momo tucked and twisted leaves until it was perfect, examining each crown to determine which was better. She tugged at the hem of her dress, moving the layers of fabric so she could move more freely. Momo sat up on her knees, dirtying her knees in the process. She delicately placed one of the pair of crowns that she’s made on Shouto’s head.
“There! Now you’re a prince,” she insisted, seemingly awfully proud of herself.
“Aren’t I already one?” Shouto asks, her curiously, he tilted his head slightly, the crown slipping to the side where little fingers raced to catch it.
“I know Shouto! But now you’re a prince in my kingdom!” Momo explained, smiling brightly towards her best friend. He pondered it for a moment, before picking up the other flower crown that was next to Momo, placing it on her head.
“Now you’re a princess in my kingdom,” He says happily, Momo and him laugh brightly, enjoying the warm breeze and the scent of flowers in their hair.
It’s near sunset when the pair are laying together in the tall meadow grass, hiding from the nurses who were looking for Shouto. It was time for him to leave, they’d spent their whole day together, but it ended too quickly for both of them. Small fingers interlocked together, holding each other, disappointed that their time together was coming to close once again. Momo rolled onto her side to look at Shouto.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” Momo’s normally polite voice was merely a whisper, carried by the now chilly breeze to Shouto.
“Me too,” he said turning onto his left side to face Momo, “If our kingdoms weren’t so far away, maybe I could stay over longer,” he lamented, “Maybe if our kingdoms merged or something!” he wondered.
“My mother says that the only way to make two different kingdoms into one is through a fight, or through marriage,” Momo pouted slightly, “And I don’t want to fight you.”
“Then you should marry me!” Shouto proclaimed suddenly, “Then you can really be a princess in my… no, our kingdom,” He fantasized blissfully. Momo giggled happily, neither of them really knowing what marriage was, but neither of them really caring.
“I’d like that,” Momo said, hugging Shouto tightly, lazy moments made for heavy eyelids.
Momo and Shouto were found by their nurses once the sun had gone down, still warm and asleep in each other’s arms. Momo cried when Shouto left, even if her mother insisted it was unladylike.
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It was a cold winter night the next year when Momo would first see Shouto’s left side of his face bandaged and scarred. He was laying in his bed, facing away from the door, a nurse opened the door to announce her presence to him. Shouto didn’t move to face her, just letting the nurse leave the two children together for a few moments. Momo took small steps towards the bed that was far too large for a little Shouto.
“Shouto?” She asked aloud, crawling onto the sickeningly soft sheets of his bed, Shouto made a rough sound of acknowledgment. Momo, only having turned six that fall laid beside Shouto. She didn’t ask him any questions, or make him look at her, she just waited for him to talk to her when he was ready.
“Hi Momo,’ He said softly, pulling the sheets up and over his face, he hated it. The scar was already healed, a few bandages left on his pretty face. Momo didn’t say anything, just hugging him tightly, making sure he knew that she was there for him. She was his best friend after all. “She hates me,” Shouto mumbled, Momo knew that wasn’t possibly true, Rei had always been so kind to them, even when they were alone. “Father got mad at her… he can’t send her away, but he’s keeping her in the east wing, and the rest of us in the west wing.” Shouto explained to a silent Momo.
“Shouto, I’m sure your mother loves you more than you know,” Both of them were extremely articulate for young children, then again, growing up in the households they did, there wasn’t really an option not to be well-spoken. Momo’s small hands ran trails through his hair, her own mother used to calm her down like this — though she had stopped last year. Shouto didn’t say anything, he just hugged Momo back, and that was enough for Momo. Momo’s curiosity got the best of her, opening her eyes to look at the scar. Momo didn’t know anything else she could do other than hold him closer to her, but what worried her the most, is that Shouto never cried anymore.
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The summer before Momo’s ninth birthday is spent with Shouto, she loved to dance, and she’d made Shouto her permanent partner. She loved to dance with him, but the times she saw him got shorter and shorter, either by their busying schedules, or one of their parents. Momo ended up cherishing this time far more than she doubted Shouto would ever understand. The clapping of a dance instructor felt so far off in the distance while she was able to be with him. Her best friend, she’d never want anyone else as her dancing partner if it was her choice.
Despite his presence with her, Momo could tell that Shouto was different, he wouldn’t make as much eye contact with her parents, or his father. Momo hadn’t seen Rei since Shouto was injured — Momo had always been partial to Rei over Enji, she was kind and caring, Enji was a very strong and intimidating man, sometimes accidentally scaring Momo without knowing it. Shouto didn’t smile as much as he once had, he was quieter, more distant.
Her favorite musicians were playing for them, she loved to just sit and listen to them but dancing to the beautiful music that they made was even better. She looked over towards them, silently begging for them to change the pace of the music, make it a little quicker and happier. Shouto had been leading the whole time, but when the soft and slow tune sped up to something more joyful she took him by surprise, leading him from the dancing instructor, and the musicians and their parents who watched with a close eye. Slow and steady steps became carefree skipping, sure her parents would get angry at her later, but for now, what mattered is that Shouto Todoroki, the boy in front of her, was laughing.
They both ended up getting reprimanded by their dancing instructor, but neither Momo nor Shouto really cared in the end. They were happy to have done something like that in the first place, just to have fun like the used to, even if they were still kids, they didn’t get to enjoy their time together like they were able to.
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Momo was thirteen when she last saw Shouto. It was a couple of weeks after her birthday, Shouto wasn’t able to make it to the real day. She didn’t ask why he was absent from the day she wanted to see him most, she already knew. He was his father’s pride and joy, and despite being the youngest of his siblings, the heir to his father’s cherished throne. This was actually the first time she’d seen him in near months, Shouto was slipping through her fingers, as if she were trying to catch a cloud, or keep a wave on the shore without the tide pulling it back in. She watched longingly at the back of his blue coat, gold thread carefully embroidered into the sleeves and hem. He was talking with her parents and his father, looking back at Momo, who smiled. Not as brightly as she once would’ve, more of a polite, shy smile. She hated it.
Momo and Shouto had both gotten older, once upon a time they would have watched each other change and grow up in front of their eyes. But… that kind of life was a fairytale that was for children, though Momo desperately tried to hang onto the moments she could spare with Shouto, they were never alone. When Shouto finished talking to the adults without Momo he went to join her, sitting a polite distance away on the couch.
“Yaoyorozu-san?” His voice didn’t even register in her mind, she’d never heard Shouto call her that, at least not since the day he first met her. “Yaoyorozu-san?” He repeated again, this time catching the slightly dazed princess’s attention. She looked up at him, confusion was written on her face in beautiful cursive that made its way into furrowed brows and pressed lips.
“Shouto, why do you keep calling me that?” Momo sounded almost hurt, and for a moment she could find a softness in his eyes. “You’ve always called me Momo, why are you just now being formal all of a sudden?” Momo bit her cheek, somehow worried that the answer would hurt her.
“Your parents said it’s improper, for me to call you Momo,” he said matter of factly, Shouto had always been blunt, but this time was different, it was like he was throwing stones at Momo and he didn’t even notice. Momo found a small ‘oh’ leave her lips, fingers fumbling together in a fidgety way before smoothing her dress out. Her mother always hated that she fidgeted sometimes. She called it an ‘ugly habit’ but Momo never saw anything really wrong with it.
“But you’ve always called me Momo,” she didn’t really know how to protest her parent’s words other than repeating herself. “Should I call you Todoroki-san then?” The words felt foreign in her mouth, sour and unwanted. Shouto’s name tasted like honey in spring, she’d always loved it. It wasn’t that she didn’t like his last name, she just never thought she’d have to call him by it.
“I think your parents would prefer that.” He explained, Momo couldn’t meet his gaze.
“Todoroki-san,” Momo repeated it, “Just… don’t miss my birthday next year,” She said with a sad smile, Shouto knew she was still hurting over that.
“I won’t, I’ll be there.”
An empty promise, and an empty seat beside her at the table.
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Momo didn’t hear from Shouto after that, he didn’t come to visit, and her parents said that it would be wrong of them to leave their kingdom especially when they should be preparing Momo for her debut into society. It was a while away when she would be 19, but it would be her reemergence into their public’s eyes as the crown princess. Momo, now 15, wondered how her childhood playmate was doing. Was he alright? A selfish part of Momo wanted to take one of the horses from the stables and ride to Shouto’s kingdom, but she doubted she could find her way, and it was dangerous.
She’d read fairytales and stories about fated lovers who could never be together, and even though Momo wasn’t in love with Shouto, she found it painful that she simply couldn’t see him. She’s written a letter or two, but they all pass by her parents, so there wasn’t much other than ‘How have you been?’ or the trivial question of ‘Is your kingdom well?’. Momo heard a tapping on her window, sitting up in bed she looked at the window in question. She walked over to the window, lifting the heavy metal latch before she pushed it open. She sighed and walked back over to her bed, falling onto the soft sheets and resting the back of her hand on her forehead. A girl in a tattered cloak climbed through the window, shutting it behind her.
“You didn’t even offer me a hand?” The purple-haired girl said as she slipped off the brown cloak. Momo chuckled, it was soft, but there. “Hey- Momo?” She asked walking over to the princess who was in a strangely perturbed this evening. It was Kyoka Jiro, Kyoka’s family were high-class nobles, they played the most beautiful music. Kyoka sat down on the bed and picked up Momo’s hand from her face. “What are you thinking about?” Momo blinked and sat up, she’d told Kyoka about Shouto in passing, like a stain, he wove his way into her thoughts and conversations without her even noticing sometimes.
“Nothing, it’s fine, how was it?” Momo asked Kyoka who stared at the ceiling after nestling herself on top of the luxurious covers of Momo’s bed.
“Fine, I guess,” she started, Momo raised her hand to her lips, touching them gently.
“That’s all?” Momo asked she knew Kyoka wasn’t telling her everything. It was clear by the painting of reds and pinks on her friend’s cheeks — if colors were associated with songs then Kyoka’s would play a love song. She wished that someone could do that to her, she didn’t know how to describe it properly. Sure she was loved by her parents, but not in the same way that Kyoka was loved by her parents. Momo loved her parents, very, very much, but whenever she saw Kyoka and her parents there was something tugged in her chest, wishing for what they had.
“No…” Momo chuckled looked at Kyoka, “He’s an idiot, I mean, what baker’s son doesn’t know how to bake!” Momo laughed, but it was clearly controlled, the last couple of etiquette classes she had was etiquette when talking and socializing with others. Of course, she’d had similar classes before, but the rules changed as she got older. She wished the rules were as simple as when she was younger. It was only ‘think before you speak’, and ‘don’t ever interrupt your father’. Then she got older, and there were more things that she picked up on, subtle ways of turning her body to face to a certain direction to convey a point or direct the conversation. Now, if she spoke to too many people, it was too much talking for someone her age, and if she didn’t talk at all she would be asked if she even knew how to greet someone. Momo blinked, having drifted off into a daydream.
“He doesn’t know how to bake…” Was all Momo could add to their conversation besides the confused expression on her face.
“He’s a fast learner though, but he’s still an idiot,” Kyoka mentioned with a vague wave of her hand.
“You’re teaching him something?” Momo had met Kyoka a year ago, their parents were talking and Kyoka actually talked to Momo as if she were just “normal”. Both girls, in terms of stature, were not by any means normal, but it touched Momo. Kyoka had become her closest confidant, though she would never really be able to replace Shouto in her heart. Kyoka was far more rebellious than Momo, her friend had been sneaking out to see some boy… Momo was pretty sure his family name was Kaminari... or something with a K?
“Yeah, music,” Momo’s interest was piqued, Kyoka had been visiting this Kaminari boy for maybe a few months. Momo wasn’t really able to leave the castle without supervision, neither was Kyoka, but Momo was always there to help Kyoka get a little time outside. Maybe a little selfish, maybe Momo was living vicariously through her friend, begging her for the details of the strange bond between the noble girl and the baker’s son whenever she got back.
“Music, do you like him?” Momo asked, all too oblivious to possible implications that Kyoka picked up on easily. Momo wasn’t dense, it’s just that there was almost a barrier between how she and Kyoka spoke. One, with years of etiquette classes and tutoring beneath her belt, and the other with a cool demeanor with a teasing sense of humor. There was just a large difference in how they worked, but Momo was glad to have Kyoka as a friend.
“Wait a moment, Momo!” Kyoka protested and Momo laughed, a little louder this time, but Kyoka noticed her try to keep it to a minimum. “I do not like him,” Kyoka said with a sudden defensiveness that made her laugh.
“Alright, if you say so,” Momo hums, her night finally beginning to turn around.
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Momo was laying on her bed, trying to pass the time by staring at the ceiling, a maid had come into her room earlier, dropping off several different gowns that she could pick from. She had spent her morning before her 19th birthday in bed, she didn’t come to greet guests as she often did, or take a walk through the courtyard, or even chat with one of her ladies in waiting. Her 19th birthday was supposed to be a fun and joyful celebration, but frankly, she didn’t find any interest in her birthday as she got older. Momo didn’t have many friends — being cooped up in the castle most of the time, if not all of it — so her birthdays were mainly with her parent’s associates and royals from other kingdoms.
Sometimes it was nice, meeting other royals her age, but parents always made it about marriage, and it made the conversation awkward for her sometimes. Momo, finally, threw the covers off her and stood up, her silky nightgown swaying at her ankles. The assortment of dresses hung over a changing screen, Momo could pick out the one her mother chose immediately, it was red, and still beautiful but there was always something about it that made different from the others. Momo held it out in front of her examining it carefully, it was well made, maybe custom? It was more form-fitting than what Momo normally wore, she’ll just tell her mother she didn’t like the color.
Momo’s hand hesitated over a green dress, perhaps she’d try this on, and then any alterations could be made in time for tomorrow evening. Momo was waiting for a few responses from the many, many invitations she had sent out. It was supposed to be Momo’s debut back into society as the crown princess, there was a lot of pressure that weighed on this party, everything had to go perfectly. That included her outfit, her mother had always loved her in red, so she doubted she had a choice, even if it was her birthday party.
Momo had already received the news that Kyoka would be able to attend, Momo had practically made sure of it… but there was one more reply she was hoping to receive. As if on cue, a maid knocked on her door, peeking her head in carefully. Momo turned to receive the young woman with a smile and a gentle nod.
“Yaoyorozu-sama, there’s a messenger for you, he’ll be here within the hour, would you like me to help you get dressed?” At the mention of a messenger Momo’s heart leaped, maybe she would be lucky, just this once.
“Ah, yes, thank you Takahashi-san,” Momo was good at containing that moment of excitement that had almost overtaken her. She crossed her fingers, hoping, maybe this messenger was the one.
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“Momo?” Her mother called from the armchair she was sitting in, beckoning her daughter over to her side. “Your birthday is coming up, do you want to invite specific guests?” Momo stood for a moment, thinking.
“I’d like to invite Jirou Kyoka and her family,” she explained to her mother, who nodded with her hands folded in her lap.
“Is there anyone else?” Momo swallowed thickly, for some reason words failed to meet her lips. For a moment, she wondered if she should say anything — she just thought he disliked her, his sudden disappearance from her life as her evidence — perhaps he would come this time if she had asked him? She hadn’t asked him since they stopped seeing each other, she had worried she was just being a bother. But this might be one of her last chances, her parents would surely control the guest list if she didn’t show interest in making it herself. “Momo. If you have something to say, say it, don’t ever keep the person you’re talking to waiting like that,” Momo came back to reality with the slightly harsh words of her mother.
“May I invite Todoroki-san?” Momo’s voice was softer, not quite mumbling, but certainly not the regal, outspoken tone that her mother was looking for.
“Momo speak up,” Momo nodded, albeit a little hesitant. “We don’t need to mumble here,” Momo’s mother reminded her with a careful tone.
“I would like to invite Todoroki-san and his family,” She wanted to ass ‘if they are available’ but she sounded surprisingly steadfast, and she didn’t want to ruin that for herself. Momo’s mother looked at her, she hesitated, shifting her hands in her lap, a more subdued version of Momo’s hand fidgeting.
“Alright, I’ll send a messenger tonight,”
“Thank you.” Momo was dismissed with a soft wave of her mother’s hand, once she was alone she was too elated to contain her excitement. She couldn’t wait to see Shouto again... if he showed up.
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The maid had finished helping Momo get dressed, and Momo dismissed her, letting her return to what she was doing, in the meantime, Momo tried to walk slowly through the familiar corridors, past the ballrooms, drawing rooms and nooks, passageways for the maids and staff that she used to explore with an all too eager attitude. She picked up the hem of her dress, descending the stairs with a quickened grace, expensive slippers softened the pounding of her feet as she made her way with strange desperation. She shouldn’t care so much, for all she knew he wouldn’t be able to make it.
Two butlers greeted her as she approached the larger doors, to the courtyard where their guests would wait. A guard accompanying her several steps behind. She slowed her pace, approaching the messenger, who stood and bowed to her. She greeted him with a gentle smile, noticing the familiar crest of the Todoroki family.
“Yaoyorozu-sama, this is a message from Todoroki-sama,” Momo watched as he retrieved a letter, the man handed it to the beautiful princess who tried not to beam.
“Thank you, please send Todoroki-san my upmost regards, safe travels,” She was speaking specifically about Shouto, but she hoped he could come. Momo held the letter close to her chest, going back into the castle’s large doors that dwarfed her in height.
Momo retreated back to her room, still gripping the letter in her hands with a gentleness she reserved for horses in the stables or the hunting dogs that her father raised. Setting it down on the study she slid into the chair, fingers tingled with anticipation. Momo grabbed the ruby engraved letter opener that her father had gifted her for her 16th birthday. She slid it across the letter with practiced precision. She opened the letter, noticing the official wax seal of the Todoroki family.
“Thank you for the invitation Yaoyorozu-san, I will be happy to attend. Sincerest regards, Todoroki Shouto, Crown Prince of the Kingdom of Kasai.” Momo ran her fingers over the deep red wax stamp, taking in the beautiful crest that conveyed its authenticity.
Momo doubted that Shouto would ever know how much this letter meant to her, but it meant what a thousand letters were to her, and that’s all that really mattered.