Archive of Our Own

Momo Yaoyorozu is organised. She has a routine, and she sticks to it. Every morning, she wakes up at 6AM, before any of her classmates, and she makes a cup of green tea. Then, she drinks it, usually while reading a book, or, if it’s exam season, one of her textbooks. She doesn’t make breakfast, since she doesn’t have much of an appetite in the morning. 

She likes this time. It’s quiet, since no one else is up, and the amber dawn light filters through the kitchen blinds in a way that calms her. She turns the page of her book, and the rustle of the paper rings through the kitchen. She pulls one foot up onto her stool, since that position is more comfortable. No one is around to tell her she’s acting unladylike. 

Once her tea is finished, she slots her bookmark between the pages, (she hates dog-earing them) and she rinses out her cup in the sink, cringing slightly at the feeling of dish soap against her skin. She dries it with one of the tea towels she and Iida had to beg Aizawa for. Apparently, he dries his dishes with kitchen roll, which is… alarming, to say the least. 

After replacing the cup in the cupboard it came from, Momo returns to her room to get dressed. At first, when she moved into the dorms, she had reservations about wandering around in her pyjamas, as her parents had always told her it was indecent, but soon enough she leaned into the idea, once she saw the state some of her classmates thought was appropriate to exist in in public. 

She likes the UA uniform. It’s sensible, like her. Then she thinks about some of the comments boys have made while she’s wearing it, and she likes it less. She pauses, after slipping on her skirt. Most girls wear socks, short or long, with their school skirts. Momo prefers tights. The opaque kind. She knows she should wear the socks, though. Her mother always says she’s “wasting her body” whenever she covers up, but then whenever she doesn’t, she says she “needs to lose a few pounds”. 

Momo goes with the tights. She tries not to feel bad about prioritising her own comfort. It doesn’t really work. After dressing, she ties her hair up, not forgetting to slip an extra hairband onto her wrist, just in case hers breaks, or a friend needs one. Her hairbrush scrapes against her scalp as she pulls her hair back into the ponytail, and she can already feel the headache she’ll have by the end of the day. 

Next, ever adhering to her routine, she grabs her completed homework from her desk, and places it in her school bag alongside the right books for the day’s lessons. She then heads down to the common area, to watch the rest of the dorms start to wake up.

Todoroki and Midoriya are first, both come down the stairs in t-shirts and athletic shorts. Momo remembers sitting with Todoroki as he agonised over how to ask Midoriya if they could go on morning runs together, since they usually go out at the same time anyways. Now, he looks cool as ever, nodding as Midoriya is gesticulating wildly, probably talking about heroes. Momo smiles. Todoroki is significantly less intimidating when you know how much of a nerd he is. 

After they leave together, loud banging sounds can be heard from upstairs. Momo doesn’t flinch at these anymore. It is exactly 7AM, which means Bakugou is awake, and making it everyone else’s problem. Soon enough, Bakugou stomps into the kitchen, dragging Kirishima, Sero, Kaminari, and Mina with him. He forcibly sits them all around the table, and begins cooking breakfast, muttering angrily under his breath. Kirishima stands up to help, but Bakugou’s withering stare forces him back into his seat. This is a regular morning occurrence, though usually, Bakugou is less successful in waking everyone up. 

Since Bakugou isn’t shy about making noise in the mornings, more and more of Momo’s classmates make their way downstairs, most of them bleary eyed and stumbling over to the coffee pot. Momo herself only really drinks coffee when exams roll around. Her record was eight cups in a single day, the day before the U.A. entrance exam. 

By the time Todoroki and Midoriya have returned from their run, most of 1-A have come downstairs, and then returned to collect themselves in time for the start of the school day. Todoroki looks very flushed, and Momo would bet a sizeable amount of her trust fund on the fact that he isn’t just flushed from the exercise. 

Then she comes downstairs. Jirou thunders into the kitchen, her platform boots clunking against each step as she flies down the stairs. Her purple hair flies around her face, choppy and shaved at the neck, every strand a different length. Eyeliner is smudged around her eyes, and she’s the only girl in the class to abandon the school skirt in favour of trousers. 

Momo watches her closely. Everything about Jirou is so alive and she burns brightly like a livewire. Jirou catches her staring, and raises an eyebrow amusedly. Momo flushes, embarrassed to be caught, and she turns her eyes back to her own hands, folded neatly on her lap. 

Jirou seems to have woken up ten minutes ago. They have ten more minutes to get to class. Jirou doesn’t have a routine like Momo does, she just… does things. Momo wonders what that level of chaos is like. She sneaks one more look at Jirou before heading over to the main campus. She’s snorting into her black coffee. 

As she walks, Momo wonders. She doesn’t know why she thinks about Jirou so much, and she wishes she did. Maybe it’s because Jirou is so different to her. Momo finds herself at a loss when it comes to Jirou. Usually, she can slot herself into conversation fairly easily, it doesn’t take long to know what people want, or expect, from her, and then to give them it. But Momo doesn’t know who Jirou wants her to be. They’ve only talked a few times, but Momo felt Jirou’s piercing eyes on her every time, as if Jirou knew she wasn’t being herself. 

Momo doesn’t really know who “herself” is. 

She’s first to class, getting in even before Iida, who’s probably giving a stern lecture about getting up on time in the dorms. She imagines Jirou openly rolling her eyes, and it makes her feel things. She takes out her notebook and lines up all her pens on the desk, before taking her book out her bag, and reading it, grateful for the quiet of the empty classroom. Her book distracts her from how sad it is that she’s reading alone before class starts. 

Her classmates start turning up and taking their seats. Mineta leers at her over the top of her book as he takes his seat in front of her. Momo feels her stomach churn. She scoots backwards in her seat so her back is pressed firmly against the chair, and she’s as far away from him as possible without actually moving. 

The entire class arrives before Aizawa, who turns up five minutes past the bell in his yellow sleeping bag. Momo guesses that he’s been up all night on patrol, and she worries about him, even though she knows he’s a fully grown man who can take care of himself. 

“Alright. We’re going to be doing a training exercise this morning so I want you all to change into your costumes and meet me at the training grounds.” Aizawa stares out at the class. “No. Detours.” Suddenly he’s looking directly at Kaminari and Sero. 

Changing rooms have always been stressful for Momo, and the U.A. ones are no different. She has a routine for changing rooms, too. She keeps her eyes resolutely on the floor, eyeing the tiles that aren’t as clean as they should be, and she changes quickly, trying to hide her body as much as possible. She knows her weight is good, that she needs it for her quirk, but that doesn’t erase the nights she spent crying in her bedroom, making as many things as possible just so she'd be skinny, and then her mother would be nice to her. She doesn’t like other people seeing her body. 

After changing, she moves her eyes from the floor to her uniform, folding it neatly so that it doesn’t get crumpled. She makes sure her eyes don’t land on any of the girls in the room. She feels that that would creep them out, but she isn’t sure why. 

Some of the girls are talking, and Momo idly tunes in, like she’s listening to the radio. 

“Did you hear that the general course is having exams right now? My friend in 1-C says they’re really difficult.” Uraraka says. 

“I saw Watanabe from 1-C freaking out the other day. I hope she’s alright, ribbit.” Tsuyu joins in.

“Y’know, I heard that Watanabe is… a lesbian .” Hagakure whispers the last word like it’s a  curse. The changing room is completely silent. No one, Momo included, knows how to talk about something like this. 

So, Hagakure continues. “I mean, how gross is that? Imagine having to share a changing room with someone perving on you the whole time!” She actually laughs , as if she’s just told a joke. 

Momo feels vaguely ill. 

“Shut the fuck up, Hagakure.” Jirou slams her fist against a locker, and everyone in the room flinches. “Being a lesbian doesn’t make you into a creep.” 

“And how would you know? You one of them?” Momo can’t see her face, but she’s sure Hagakure is smirking. 

Jirou doesn’t back down like any other girl would in the face of being branded a lesbian. Instead, she squares up to Hagakure, towering over her despite being shorter than the invisible girl. Blazing with anger, Jirou spits out: “And what if I am?” 

Hagakure shrinks backwards, she doesn’t have a comeback. The room is silent again. No one quite knows how to deal with this. Eventually, Jirou grabs her support gear and leaves the room, flipping Hagakure off as she exits. 

Momo’s mind is whirling. Jirou is a lesbian? She’s never met a lesbian before. Jirou is a lesbian . Momo doesn’t know why this fact is so important to her. 

Nervously, Uraraka speaks. “Do you- do you think she meant that?” 

Momo can’t stand to hear any more, so she leaves. She finds Jirou around the side of the building, her fists clenched around her fingerless gloves, polished nails digging into her palms. She’s clearly pissed off. 

Jirou looks up at her, raising an eyebrow. “What, did they send you here to confirm it? Yeah, I’m a lesbian, so you can fuck off now.” 

“No-one sent me here. I- I wanted to apologise.” 

“What for?” Jirou slides down the wall to sit on the ground, her legs sprawling out in front of her. Momo follows suit, but perches awkwardly on her heels, not wanting to sit in the dirt. 

“For not saying anything back there. What Hagakure said was wrong.” Momo knows this, at least. 

Jirou looks at her wide eyed, more vulnerable than Momo has ever seen her. Momo realises how hard it must’ve been for Jirou to say what she did, and that she didn’t do anything to make it easier. 

“Look, I get it. Speaking up is hard sometimes.” Jirou fidgets with her hands, interlocking her fingers and then pulling them apart. It entrances Momo. “I appreciate your apology, but you don’t have to be sorry, princess.”

Princess? Momo’s heard that one before from creepy guys, but this time her stomach churns in a pleasant way. She tries not to think about it too hard. 

“Princess?” She splutters eloquently. She’s sure she’s blushing, which just makes her more embarrassed. 

“What, you don’t like it?” Jirou drawls, cocking her head. 

Momo doesn’t have an answer, so she stands up, brushing off her skirt. “I’m going to the training grounds, are you coming?”

“Nah, I’d rather be fashionably late.” Momo interprets this as Jirou needing more time before she sees the other girls again. 

She walks off stiffly to the training grounds, alone. 

The other girls look at her oddly once she arrives, and she has a panicky feeling that they know exactly where she just was. Or maybe they’re just confused since she’s usually the first one to get anywhere.

The training exercise is fairly simple, it’s essentially a game of capture the flag, set inside the giant maze that UA somehow thought was a good use of their exorbitant funding. The flag is technically supposed to be the villain team’s leader, who needs to be taken out by the opposing team of heroes. But it really is just a flag. So they are playing capture the flag. It takes Momo back to the days she spent at her private junior high. Capture the flag is seemingly a popular choice for posh kids, probably because it allows them to release their pent up rage. 

Momo is on the villains team, and she’s been placed as part of the defence, closer to the flag. The further away from the flag, the more offensive the team member was. They stationed Bakugou right at the entrance. Momo snickers into her palm, picturing him as a guard dog. 

Since the team of heroes have been delayed significantly by the offensive guards posted at the edges of the maze, Momo spends the first few minutes of the exercise just standing around, listening to the faraway sounds of battle. 

If she remembers correctly, they’ve posted Aoyama right by the flag, and since she’s so close, once someone gets past her, as long as they take the right path, they’ll be right by the flag. She’s the second-to-last line of defence. She feels more alert at this realisation. 

Just to keep herself busy, she creates her familiar quarterstaff, grateful for the feel of a weapon in her hands. She’s tried hand-to-hand combat, taken a few self-defence classes, but she’s never felt the same confidence without the huge metal pole. 

Suddenly, she can hear light footsteps. Really light. She knows who it is before he even turns the corner, and her hands shake slightly. Mineta appears, and Momo for the life of her cannot explain how he made it this far. 

“Hey there, pretty lady. Don’t suppose you would let me pass, huh?” Mineta bites his lip, and Momo fights the urge to throw up. 

“Why would I do that?” Momo asks, bracing herself for a fight.

Mineta steps into her personal space, seemingly not caring that she could easily knock him out. “Come on, no need to pretend you don't find me irresistible .” 

Momo takes a step back, and Mineta takes another forward, continually closing the space between them. He’s right in her face, and she feels frozen, like she can’t do anything. She feels pathetic . She hadn’t realised just how much his comments had got to her. 

“Hey there, princess, you can just let me pass now.” He actually licks his lips. 

Suddenly, he’s reeling from a heavy platform boot to the face, and Jirou is there and Momo feels like she can move again. Jirou looks angry , and she stands over Mineta, raising her earphone jacks as he frantically crawls away. 

“Only I get to call her that, dickhead.” Jirou spits at him. 

Oh. Momo feels like she’s blushing. She catches Jirou’s eyes, and Jirou nods, her jaw set. This is a universal 1-A signal to fuck shit up. Momo raises her staff and brings it down on Mineta’s head with a crack , and he’s out cold. 

Suddenly, Momo remembers that they’re in the middle of a training exercise, and that she and Jirou are on separate teams. Shit. Jirou realises at the exact same time, and smirks at her, dropping into fighting stance. 

“Look, I’m sorry about what happened with Mineta, but I need to get to that flag.” Jirou rushes her, before she can even think about what to create, or if she should just stick with her staff. 

Somehow, Jirou has her pinned against the maze wall, and their noses are practically touching. She can feel Jirou’s heavy breath on her face. Jirou’s hair is wild and her eyeliner is smudged and Momo is torturing herself with every little detail of Jirou’s face. She can feel her legs either side of her own and the contact burns her alive. 

Jirou smirks. “I’ve got you pinned. Will you let me pass? I’d hate to end up like Mineta over there.” 

Momo sighs. “You beat me. I’d rather you didn’t knock me out, so go ahead.” 

“Thanks, princess.” Jirou takes off running, and Momo sits down, her legs slightly wobbly. 

She sits in a daze, thinking about how her eyes kept getting pulled down to Jirou’s lips, how they always lift into a smirk whenever she looks at Momo, how Jirou is so rough around the edges and blazing heat but maybe Momo really wants that. 

Momo sort of knows these aren’t the kind of feelings girls have about their classmates, but she’s not a lesbian, so she doesn’t let herself think about what any of it means. She’s going to marry a suitable boy that her parents like, and she’s going to love him so much. She’s yet to meet a boy that she’s felt anything more than friendship for, but she’s sure it’ll happen at some point. It happens to everyone. 

Except Jirou , her treacherous brain supplies. 

At last she hears distinctly French screams, and the announcement rings out that the heroes have won, thanks to Jirou capturing the flag. Despite losing, Momo feels happy. Jirou deserved to win, especially for helping her out with Mineta.

Speaking of, Momo thinks she should really carry him out of the maze, since he’s still knocked out. Then again, he can find his own way out once he wakes up. Serves him right for being a creep. 

As she exits the maze, she sees Jirou waving the flag about excitedly, her team gathered around her clapping her on the back, or offering praise. Well, almost all of her team. Hagakure stands off to the side, presumably still sulking about the altercation in the changing room. Jirou blushes at all the attention, smiling bashfully. Momo gets the sense that she isn’t often complimented for her classwork. 

They have regular classes for the rest of the day, so after a quick debriefing and performance evaluation from Aizawa, they’re free to change back into their uniforms. Jirou is noticeably tense the whole time, and Momo is sure she is too, but no one speaks. The air in the room is heavy.

The rest of the day passes without incident, and Momo heads back to the dorms. Now, she observes her afternoon routine. She changes into comfy clothes, and does her homework. Tonight, it’s an English translation exercise from Present Mic, and it only takes her twenty minutes.

After leaving the completed homework on the desk where she’d easily be able to find it the next morning, she grabs her latest molecular chemistry book and heads down to the common area, hoping that the good armchair is free.

There are two armchairs and a sofa, and everyone avoids the armchair on the left side because of the rumours that class 1-B rigged it with some kind of trap, and no-one’s been near it since. Besides, the good armchair is really good, it has just the right amount of sink to it. 

Thankfully it’s free, and so Momo curls up and loses herself in chemical structures, all in the name of research for her quirk. She likes that her quirk can be improved by studying, since she’s always been good at that. Or maybe she’s good at studying because her quirk requires it. Who knows. She prefers to think that she’s good at studying because she’s been working her ass off ever since she could read, so that’s what she believes. 

Most people use this free afternoon time to train, or just to hang out, so the dorms are usually half empty. Momo can hear loud yelling from upstairs, though. She assumes Bakugou and co. are holed up in Denki’s room playing Mario Kart on his ancient Wii. She hears popping and crackling noises, and her suspicions are confirmed. She also begins working on a new theory that Bakugou is losing, badly. 

After a few more pages on the molecular structure of electrical wiring, a face appears in front of her. Jirou stands in the middle of the common area, looking directly at Momo. She’s changed out of her uniform and into a tank top and ripped jeans. Momo can see how, despite being quite lean, Jirou’s arms are muscly. Momo tries not to stare at them, but her eyes land on Jirou’s legs instead, and she gives up entirely, bringing her gaze back to her book. 

“Hey.” Jirou’s voice is scratchy, and rough. “I just wanted to check in with you. How Mineta acts is totally fucked up, and you could get him kicked out for that, if you wanted.” 

Jirou takes a seat on the sofa, letting her legs dangle over the arm. Momo’s mind reels. Of course she’s thought about it before, but the idea of going to Aizawa and telling him everything makes her want to throw up, never mind what her parents would have to say about her bringing the Yaoyorozu name into a school scandal. 

“I can’t. I can’t do it.” Momo hates that her voice shakes. “Besides, it's not like I can’t take it.” 

Jirou’s eyes widen at this, and her hands curl into fists. “You know that you’re allowed to be upset, right? Just because you’re gonna be a hero doesn’t mean you have to put up with this shit.” 

Momo feels like even if she schools her facial expression and body language carefully, Jirou will still see more of her than anyone has ever seen before. She feels so open right now, so exposed, even though her knees are curled up against her chest. 

“I know it doesn’t make me heroic , that’s not what this is about. I just don’t want to rock the boat.” Momo purses her lips into a thin line, hoping that any ugly truths stay firmly inside her mouth. 

Jirou looks at her sadly. “It’s your decision, so I won’t push you, but I’m gonna go find Mineta and kick him in the balls. The lower ones.” 

Momo chuckles at this, and Jirou’s mouth quirks upwards. 

Once Jirou has left, Momo looks out the window and is surprised to find that it’s dark outside. According to the dorm roster, it’s Kaminari’s turn to cook, which means most people will end up ordering food. Momo will eat some to be polite, since her mother taught her never to refuse someone else’s cooking, but she pulls up the menu to a local sushi place, to check if it delivers to UA. Lots of places don’t, due to the high mortality rate. 

Thankfully it does. Kaminari wanders into the kitchen, to begin cooking, and he wonders aloud about the purpose of a grater, as if he’s never seen one before. Momo respects Kaminari as a classmate, he has a powerful quirk and an aptitude for heroism, but his place is definitely not the kitchen. 

Soon enough, Bakugou stomps down the stairs and begins yelling at Kaminari for not washing his vegetables correctly. Momo privately thinks he should be grateful Kaminari is using vegetables at all. 

She scrolls through the online menu, deciding on the same thing she always orders, and she goes to check out. As she’s reviewing her basket, her finger slips, and she accidentally orders another portion of spicy tuna rolls. She sighs, upset about the inevitable food waste, as she knows she can’t eat that many.

Then, an idea occurs to her. It could be stupid, but she doesn’t know what else to do with the sushi. After about twenty minutes, it arrives, and she brings the small paper bag upstairs with her to Jirou’s room. 

She knocks gently, twice, and waits outside nervously. She hears a shuffling noise from within, barely audible over the loud punk music which pauses as soon as Jirou opens the door. 

“Hi! I ah- I bought too much sushi by accident? And I thought you might want to share?” Momo stumbles over her words, something she doesn’t do often. 

Jirou thinks for a second. “Anything’s better than Kaminari’s cooking.” She snorts. “I love the guy, but he should be banned from the kitchen.” She opens her door slightly wider, and retreats back into her room. 

Momo hesitates slightly, as she rarely goes into other people’s dorm rooms. 

“Well? Are you coming in, princess?” Jirou’s voice calls from inside. Momo lets out an undignified squeak, and hurries into the room. 

Jirou is lounging on her bed, her skin in contrast with the deep red and black bedspread. Momo marvels at all the band posters and guitars around the place. Everything is black, or has black on it, and a sizeable amount of items are studded with silver spikes. Momo shuffles awkwardly over to the bed, waiting for Jirou’s permission to sit on it, not wanting to overstep her boundaries. 

Jirou, obviously, notices. “I’m not going to bite you. It’s alright for you to sit down.” 

Momo sits down, the mattress dipping under her weight. She opens up the takeaway bag, spreading out the food. There’s slightly less than enough for two people, but Momo supposes she’ll need an appetite if she’s going to manage any of whatever Kaminari makes. 

Jirou laughs. “Of course you’d order something fancy like sushi. Most people just order pizza.” 

Momo smiles. “Are you saying you don’t appreciate free sushi? Because I can take it elsewhere if you like.” 

Jirou’s jaw falls comically. “You wouldn’t dare.”

“Well, I’m just saying a little gratitude would be nice. That’s all.” Momo finds she quite likes joking about like this with a friend. 

Jirou throws herself at Momo, and practically tackles her. “Momo Yaoyorozu you are an actual goddess amongst women and I really, really want to eat that sushi.”

Momo is sure she’s bright red. Jirou sits up enthusiastically, like a puppy.

“Well, was that enough praise for you?” She laughs.

“Yes. Definitely. Eat as much sushi as you like.” Momo pops a tuna roll into her mouth so she doesn’t say anything embarrassing. 

They don’t talk much as they eat, since they have their mouths full, and after a few minutes, Jirou unpauses her music. Momo isn’t quite sure it’s her thing, but Jirou looks so happy bopping her head along, and tapping her hands to the beat, so she enjoys it. She even asks Jirou the names of a few songs, for future reference. She pointedly doesn’t think about how they're the ones that Jirou seemed to like the best. 

Eventually they finish the food. Momo has a burning question. “Did you actually… y’know, do that to Mineta?” 

“What, you think I’d go back on my word?” Jirou drawls. “Of course I kicked him in the balls. I wore my steel-toed boots, too. Hopefully that means the fucker is now incapable of procreating.” 

Momo can’t help but laugh. The image of Mineta wincing in pain under Jirou’s boot is so cathartic , and that makes it funny. She knows she isn’t supposed to wish harm on anyone, that she’s supposed to turn the other cheek and take the high road, but she’s so, so tired of letting men walk all over her without even feeling angry about it. She wants to hurt and maim and finally show them that she’s not their ideal fantasy girl. 

She doesn’t, of course. But she can entertain the thoughts in her head. Jirou looks at her like she knows exactly what she’s thinking about, and like she agrees with her. 

“Hey, I don’t know if you know this, but I’m in a band, and we’ve got a gig tomorrow night. Do you maybe want to come?” Jirou rubs the back of her neck. “We’d have to sneak out, so I don’t know if it’s your kinda thing…” 

“Of course I want to come.” Momo answers immediately. Jirou could ask her to go to the ends of the earth, and Momo probably would. She’s also tired of being good all the time, she wants to do something rebellious for once, and sneaking out to a concert fits the ticket perfectly. 

Jirou flushes. “Great. Meet me here once you’re ready? The gig starts at nine, so we’ll have to leave here at around eight thirty to be there on time. Does that work for you?” 

“Sure!” Momo practically sparkles. “Uh… What should I wear?” 

Jirou grins. “Don’t worry, princess. You don’t need to wear what I do to fit in, just come as yourself.” 

Momo doesn’t know when someone last asked her to be herself. She likes it. By this point, it’s quite late, and Momo has to go back to her dorm room before curfew. Jirou walks her back, despite it being a two minute walk down the hall. 

The next day, Momo buzzes with excitement for the concert. She still follows her routine, of course, but the excitement, and probably nerves, is ever present underneath her skin.

They don’t have any practical classes today, so there's no chance of a changing room fiasco part two occurring. This just means Momo has time in between focusing on her classes to fully think about what she’s doing. Breaking her first rule! It’s relatively low risk, too, since they probably won’t get caught, and even if they do, it’s Momo’s first offence, she’ll probably be let off with a detention. 

Momo has never been so… blasé about rule breaking before. She hopes Aizawa won’t be too disappointed in her if he catches them. She also worries about Jirou’s own track record. Surely this won’t be her first offence. 

Eventually the bell signalling the end of the day rings, and Momo realises that Uraraka is standing right in front of her desk. She hadn’t even noticed her approach. 

“Momo? Are you alright? You seem distracted…” Uraraka looks sort of worried, her wide eyes staring into Momo’s own.

“Yes! I’m perfectly fine!” Momo assures, a little too quickly. Uraraka doesn’t look convinced. “What is it that you wanted?” 

“I wanted to know if you were gonna hold a study group again for the test next week! It was super helpful last time so we’d really appreciate it!” Uraraka leans in and blinks at her, practically begging. 

Momo smiles. “Sure. We can start tomorrow, if you like?” 

“Sounds great! You’re the best, Momo!” And with that, Uraraka turns to join Midoriya and Iida as they leave the classroom. 

Momo heads back to the dorms, her head still in the clouds. Still, she has a routine to follow, and follow it she will. She changes, and attempts to complete her homework. It takes longer than usual due to all the daydreaming she did during class. 

Then she attempts to study up on more chemistry for her quirk, but the formulae start to swim in front of her eyes and she’s forced to give up. It seems that Jirou just keeps chipping away little cracks in her routine. She stands up and stretches, feeling her back crack satisfyingly. 

She whiles away the rest of the afternoon with idle tasks. She paints her nails, showers, watches a few episodes of a tv show Mina recommended to her, and scribbles a few notes down in her journal. She does everything while thinking about Jirou. 

Eventually, once her hair is dry, it’s time to choose her outfit for the concert. Momo painstakingly lays out several outfit combinations, until they cover her bed completely. She tries on dress after dress, and then skirts, and then a couple pairs of jeans. She ends up going with the first dress she tried on. 

It’s purple. Not her usual colour, but it just felt right. She pairs it with a thin black cardigan and her only pair of boots. She daubs on a little makeup, just to even out her face. She doesn’t really like the feel of makeup against her skin so she never puts a lot on, even though sometimes she sees pretty girls with pretty makeup and she wants to try looking like them. 

At long last, it’s time to go and meet Jirou at her dorm room. Momo checks and double checks her small handbag for her essentials. Phone, keys, purse. They’re all there, she’s good to go. 

She pauses in front of Jirou’s room, suddenly feeling insecure. Before she can panic too much, she forces herself to knock, the jarring sound startling her out of her own head. The music from her room pauses, and the door opens, revealing Jirou. 

Momo is busy being completely stunned by Jirou’s outfit, but Jirou doesn’t miss a beat. She looks Momo up and down before speaking. 

“Purple, huh? Cute.” Jirou grabs her hand and pulls her into her room. Momo is too flustered to react. “Will you let me do your eyeliner? I promise you’ll look awesome.” 

She must notice Momo’s initial hesitation, and she snorts. “It won’t be anything like mine, promise.” She indicates her stage makeup. 

Momo nods. “Yes, please. I’d- I’d like that.” Jirou brightens up. 

Jirou prompts Momo to sit down on the bed, while she rummages around in her drawers. Eventually she emerges with a tube of liquid eyeliner. She then does something Momo never saw coming. She swings one leg over Momo’s, so she’s essentially straddling her. Momo feels their proximity acutely. 

“Tilt your chin up for me.” Jirou murmurs, assessing Momo’s face. Momo feels a lot all at once.

Momo looks up, and accidentally meets Jirou’s eyes. She holds her searing gaze for a fraction of a moment before the eye contact becomes too uncomfortable, and she breaks it. She closes her eyes when the brush first makes contact with her skin, assuming that would be easier for Jirou. 

“Keep your eyes open, please. It’s easier like this.” Momo opens her eyes at Jirou’s request, and notices that Jirou is sticking her tongue out endearingly. 

Jirou shuffles closer, and cups Momo’s cheek with her other hand, presumably to keep her face still. It feels like sparks erupt at that single point of contact, and it sets her skin alight. Momo can barely bring herself to breathe, in case it disturbs this fragile, glassy moment. For a few minutes she’s frozen in the dim light of Jirou’s bedroom, with the other girl leaning over her, and it feels like this is exactly where she’s supposed to be. 

At last, Jirou closes the eyeliner tube, and she slips off the bed, pulling Momo with her, over to the mirror above her dresser. Momo feels inexplicably disappointed. Then she sees her reflection. 

Jirou has given her huge, sharp wings of eyeliner, like knives. The makeup is light enough that she barely even feels it, and she loves the striking look it gives her. 

“I love it!” She exclaims, grinning widely at Jirou. 

“You look perfect. Now let's sneak out.” Jirou smiles wickedly. 

Sneaking out is relatively easy, since UA security is designed to keep people out , not in , so all they really have to do is make as little noise as possible, and then scale the wall, which is significantly easier once Momo remembers she can just create a rope ladder.

“You couldn't've thought of that before I scaled this wall on my own?” Jirou gripes from seven feet in the air. 

“Sorry, you were just so eager to prove you could do it, I completely forgot about my quirk.” Momo giggles, chucking the rope up to Jirou, who catches it, and holds it fast, so Momo can climb up. 

Jirou offers Momo her hand when she gets near the top, and Momo clasps it, letting Jirou pull her up. She doesn’t release her hand once they’re at the top of the wall. From up there, they can see the whole of UA, and beyond the wall, the entire surrounding city. They feel like they’re on top of the world. 

Once they make it safely down the wall, it’s only a short walk to the bar Jirou is playing at. It's a slightly dingy place, but it’s illuminated by warm orange lights, and it’s packed with people all dancing and laughing with each other. 

They get inside fairly easily, and Jirou weaves through the crowd to get backstage, still holding Momo’s hand. They reach the small backstage area, and inside wait three other people, all dressed similarly to Jirou, covered in spikes and belts and eyeliner. 

“Hey! Kyouka’s here!” A tall, willowy girl with long hair steps forwards, calling attention to Momo and Jirou. 

“Hey guys!” Jirou high fives the tall girl. “Everything good to go?” She asks. 

“Everything’s good for us, we thought you’d want to do the mic check though, since you’ll actually be using it.” A shorter guy in the corner speaks up, answering Jirou. 

“Great!” Jirou beams. “We’ll start soon then?” 

“Sure, we might actually be on time for once.” The third member joins the conversation. They look directly at Momo. “Hey, is this your preppy girlfriend? She’s cute!” 

Both Momo and Jirou go bright red. Jirou elbows her bandmate in the face. “She’s not my girlfriend dude, shut the fuck up.” 

They have the decency to look properly chastised, until Jirou looks away.

“You have a girlfriend?” Momo asks, blinking. For some reason a pit forms in her stomach. Jirou’s bandmates begin laughing, but Momo can’t see the joke. 

“No!” Jirou exclaims, suspiciously quickly. “I don’t have a girlfriend, ok?” 

Momo worries that Jirou feels she can’t be honest with her. “You know it's ok if you do have a girlfriend, right?” 

Jirou raises an eyebrow. “Of course I know it’s ok , why wouldn’t it be?” She challenges. 

Momo realises that her words maybe had the opposite effect to what she intended. “I just meant that- well- I hoped you didn’t feel like you couldn’t tell me, or something.” Momo rubs the back of her neck awkwardly. 

Jirou’s face softens. “I appreciate that. Come with me, we’ll find you a seat. Don’t go wandering off once the show starts, ‘kay?” 

Momo nods. “Of course not!”

Jirou lets out a soft laugh, and sets Momo down on a barstool near the front of the stage. She leaves Momo there, since she has to get up onstage with her band, and for a moment, Momo feels untethered, dislocated without Jirou by her side, her hand in hers. The feeling of her at Momo’s side had become so natural. 

She looks around the bar, idly waiting for the show to start. She notices lots of rainbows, on badges, or bracelets, and even on the small flag being used as a tablecloth. Then her eyes land on a couple, two girls kissing. Momo wonders what it must be like to be so open, to be allowed to feel, without all the secrecy and guilt.

Her chest suddenly feels so empty , and all the air gets sucked out of her lungs. She’s filled with more want than she’s ever felt in her entire life, and it begins to eat her up inside. She recognises the feeling as jealousy, and longing. She wants that so, so badly. 

And then the lights dim, and a spotlight shines on the stage, illuminating Jirou, who looks resplendent in her stage clothes, her guitar slung around her neck. She taps the mic, and a hush falls over the bar. 

“Hey there! I’m glad so many people are here to listen to us!” She whoops excitedly, and receives some echoes from the crowd. “I’m also glad that someone really important to me is here tonight, and I hope she enjoys the show!”

Jirou winks at Momo as soon as she finishes speaking and oh, oh . Momo realises she doesn’t just want to kiss girls, she wants to kiss one girl in particular. 

She wants to kiss Kyouka Jirou. 

Jirou, who’s singing beautifully with her slightly raspy voice, who’s playing her guitar and pouring every ounce of her soul into this performance. Jirou, who probably has a girlfriend she isn’t telling Momo about. 

Momo pushes that away for now. While Jirou is on stage, it’s ok to watch her this closely, and watch she does. She can feel guilty about all of this tomorrow. She can also closely examine her feelings of guilt tomorrow. 

For now, she lets the music wash away her emotions, like flotsam in a stream. She doesn’t take her eyes off Jirou for her band's entire set. She’s sure Jirou must notice, but the music is like a spell, and she lets herself be caught up in it. 

When their set comes to an end, Momo claps delightedly, smiling at Jirou, who looks a little embarrassed.

Momo gets up to meet Jirou as she exits the stage, and in her excitement, she throws her arms around Jirou’s neck. Jirou stumbles a little, caught off guard, but she brings her own arms up to hug Momo back. 

“You were great !” 

Jirou averts her eyes. “You really think so?” Momo nods emphatically. “Well then, it means a lot coming from you, princess.” 

Jirou says her goodbyes to her bandmates, and thanks a couple fans on her way out, and then they’re back out on the streets. The night is inky, and it feels infinite. 

They make it back over the wall without tripping the alarm by some miracle. Jirou explains that there’s actually a blind spot, since the wall security relies on two separate alarms, the sensors of which don’t actually overlap like they should, so there’s a small strip of the wall the sensors don’t cover. 

They sneak through the dorm building, a little silly from the adrenaline, and they giggle and lean against each other as they stumble upstairs, clumsily shushing each other when they trip up, or step on a creaky floorboard. 

When they reach Momo’s door, just as they’re about to part with each other, they hear shuffling footsteps from around the corner, and they see a flashlight beam at the end of the hallway. Aizawa . 

Momo acts hastily without thinking, and she pulls Jirou into her room, shutting the door behind her just as Aizawa rounds the corner. Unknown to the two girls, Aizawa did see them, but he decided to let them have their fun, mostly because it would be too much effort to lecture them about breaking curfew, but also because he knows that 1A need as much teenage normalcy as they can get, and he isn’t so miserly as to deprive them of it.

Momo suddenly feels the exhaustion of the evening settle deep into her bones. She looks over at Jirou, and sees her swaying slightly, clearly feeling it too. Wordlessly they both move over to Momo’s bed; it’s large enough for the both of them, and they climb under the covers, only bothering to remove their shoes. 

Momo stares at her blank ceiling, and every single emotion she felt over the course of the evening hits her all at once. It feels like she’s been run over by a truck. Twice. She can’t even begin to sort out how she feels on her own, so she speaks into the silence of her bedroom, a little plaintively. 

“Jirou?” She asks, half hoping Jirou is already asleep.

“Mhm?” Jirou responds sleepily. 

“I think I’m a lesbian.” 

The words echo around her bedroom, making them seem so much larger than they are. Momo is acutely aware she can never take them back. At this moment, she doesn’t want to.

“Join the club.” Jirou mumbles, before beginning to snore. Momo snickers lightly. 

Jirou’s words make it seem so light, so easy. And maybe it is. It certainly feels that way with Jirou next to her. Momo falls asleep, her arm pressed against Jirou’s, despite her bed being queen sized. 

The next morning Momo wakes up in her dress from the night before, with day-old eyeliner around her eyes, and Kyouka Jirou hugging her like a koala bear. She doesn’t dare move, for fear of waking Jirou up. She feels a little bit guilty about letting Jirou cuddle her like this, since she probably doesn’t realise she’s doing this, but she’s also too tired to do anything about it.

Momo checks the time. 8AM.

For once in her life, for the first time in forever, Momo doesn’t follow her morning routine. Under any other circumstance, she’d freak out about this, but she has Jirou next to her, and she feels like maybe she doesn’t need to rely on rules and routines when she has Jirou, who is the antithesis to everything Momo held as a central tenet of her life. 

Eventually Jirou wakes, and they both get dressed, blushing furiously. Momo lends her a spare uniform, since Jirou doesn’t have enough time to grab her own, and it’s adorably oversized on her. Momo scrubs the eyeliner off her face using a cloth and the sink in her bedroom, and the warm water revitalises her. 

Jirou takes the opposite approach, and simply produces a tube of eyeliner from her jacket pocket, and refreshes her own makeup. Their shoulder bump as they both use the mirror above the sink, and it feels so domestic. 

Momo realises that she could never want this kind of domesticity with a man, but that she wants it so badly she could scream with the weight of it, if it’s with Jirou. In that single moment, she pictures all the cheesy scenarios people with crushes think about, and she realises that she does want to dance around the kitchen, and bake, and decorate a Christmas tree, and adopt a cat or dog with someone. 

And that someone will be her wife, not her husband. Her parents will be so disappointed in her. 

“Hey there, sleepyhead, we’re gonna be late if you don’t move your ass!” Momo looks up, and realises Jirou is at her bedroom door. 

They rush to class together, later than all of their classmates, and Momo realises why her classmates find this so fun. She won’t be making it a regular habit, but she can see the appeal. Iida shoots her a disapproving look when she takes her seat, and she really, truly tries her best to appear sorry, but she’s sure Iida can tell she isn’t. 

Mineta looks at her, his mouth agape. “Your shirt is like, totally inside out! Which lucky guy did you spend the night with? I bet he didn’t treat you as good as I would.” 

Unfortunately, Mineta’s mouth is the largest part of him, and everyone in the classroom hears him speak, including Aizawa, who walked in as soon as he opened his mouth, and who looks like he isn’t paid nearly enough for this. 

“Mineta. Nezu’s office, now. That is no way to talk to a classmate.” He glares at Mineta, and then levels Momo with a look that makes her think he knows something, which makes her nervous. 

Sero raises his hand, and Aizawa turns his gaze to him. He nods, permitting Sero to speak. 

“Will Mineta finally be expelled?” 

“Hopefully. Any more questions?” 

No one raises their hands, but Momo can feel a couple of the girls staring at her, clearly itching to ask if Mineta was onto something. Momo deliberately avoids their gaze. 

She manages to avoid everyone for the entire school day, but she gets cornered on her way back to the dorms by Hagakure. She almost doesn’t notice her, and she really wishes she hadn’t. 

“Hey.” Hagakure’s tone is already accusatory, and Momo knows exactly where this is going. 

“Hi. Is there something you need?” Momo tries to pretend she doesn’t know where this is going. 

“Kind of.” Hagakure squares up to her. “Look. You’ve been hanging around Jirou a lot lately, and it’s getting kinda weird. You know everyone’s going to think you’re a lesbian too, right?” 

She spits lesbian out the same way she did in the changing rooms. Like it’s the worst thing in the world. Momo sets her jaw. 

“There’s nothing wrong with being a- a lesbian.” She hates that she still stumbles over saying it. 

Hagakure takes a step back. “You’re really ok with it? It must be contagious or something.” 

Momo takes a sharp intake of breath. The insinuation that Jirou has infected her with something hangs heavy in the air, and she can’t stand for it. 

“It’s not-” She pinches the bridge of her nose. “It’s not a fucking disease.” Wow, so maybe Jirou is rubbing off on her a bit, just not in the way Hagakure thinks. 

“That’s my girl!” Jirou rounds the corner, and she slings her arm around Momo’s shoulders. Momo suspects she heard the whole conversation. She’s grateful Jirou allowed her the chance to stand on her own, rather than rushing in to save her. 

Hagakure huffs, like she’s mortally slighted by their mere existence, and she turns on her heel, presumably to gossip about them to whoever will listen. 

“Jirou! Hi!” Momo smiles at her, grateful to see a friendly face after a not-so-friendly one. 

“So… I’m guessing I didn’t dream last night and this morning?” Jirou asks. 

“No. Everything really happened.” 

“I’m glad. Your shirt’s still inside out, by the way.” Jirou points at Momo’s buttons. 

Momo claps a hand over her mouth. She’d never even thought to try and fix it during the school day. 

“I need to go and change.” She says, after a long minute of reevaluating her life choices. 

They end up back in Momo’s dorm room. Momo changes, and then starts on her homework, because she refuses to let Jirou splinter her routine any further, even though she really likes the disruption Jirou brings. Jirou, a chronic homework-avoider, busies herself trying on Momo’s clothes, and Momo tries really hard not to let it distract her. 

“I think I’d make a cute prep.” Jirou checks herself out in Momo’s mirror. “You’re cuter though.” 

Momo suffers through two hours of Jirou throwing out lines like these. Her brain eventually gets so fuzzy that she responds without thinking.

“Hey, do you think this looks good on me?” Jirou twirls around in one of Momo’s dresses. 

“Of course, but I think you look prettier as yourself.” 

The words are out before she can stop them, just like when she came out, and they seem to ricochet off her bedroom walls. 

“You think I’m pretty?” For once, Momo has managed to shock Jirou, instead of it being the other way around. 

“Of course I do.” Momo has been so honest with Jirou, more so than anyone else. She decides to tell her last secret. Her biggest one. “Look, Jirou. I really like you, as more than a friend. I know you have a girlfriend that you won’t tell me about for some reason, but I still wanted you to know.” 

Jirou looks dumbfounded. 

“I don’t have a girlfriend. I told you that. Multiple times.” 

“You don’t? I thought you just didn’t want to tell me!” Momo laughs. 

“Of course not, how could I have a girlfriend when I like you?” 

For a second Jirou’s words don’t register, and all Momo can blurt out is: “Well how was I supposed to know that?” Before the meaning crashes all around her like seafoam. 

Jirou snorts. “I call you princess . We’ve held hands. We have slept in the same bed. I could go on.” 

Momo has to concede there. “Alright. You win. Does this mean you’re my… girlfriend now?” 

Jirou’s eyes look softer than Momo has ever seen them. “Yeah, it does.”

The next few days are a blur of joy, and though things like holding hands, or any display of affection in public is scary, Momo is determined to make it work. She won’t allow her fear to obstruct her happiness, and so even when people frown, or point, she laces her hand with Jirou’s, and everything is okay again. 

At one point she’s approached by Todoroki, who congratulates her shyly. She smiles at him, and tells him she’s the happiest she’s ever been, which is true. 

The week ends with the best news 1A has ever heard, as Mineta is expelled permanently. Jirou and Momo celebrate with a kiss, right there in the common room. Most of their classmates cheer, and clap, and tease them afterwards, like they would any other couple. It’s nice, even though it’s such a deviation from the routine life Momo imagined for herself. 

She’s content, and in love, and she never wants it to end.