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She thought she wouldn’t be able to hear it. The moment her heart stopped, the last breath, the last time her chest rose and fell. Momo was not Kyouka. Her hearing in her right ear was progressively getting worse ever since that day, where the explosions had been alarmingly close.
But she had heard it. She had seen, and heard it all, and Momo wished that she had died in that moment along with her. She couldn’t deal with remembering that day, and her death.
Civilians always thought it as a risky idea, dating heroes who were still active. Normal patrols could easily turn into their last, and there was no telling how a mission would play out.
Momo and Kyouka, while both being heroes, shared this doubt, this fear. They completed each other, and that was that. They were always Momo-and-Kyouka, and they both knew they couldn’t live without each other.
But then, just like the sweet summer and the chill breezes of spring, she was gone. Her warmth, the soft smell of coffee and music stores. All gone.
Momo wanted to stay 21 forever. 21 with Kyouka. They were still sidekicks, and often spent their days in their apartment together.
Memories of the two together started slipping through her fingers like grains of sand. She tried to remember, all these years later. It felt like Kyouka had been taken from her for decades, when it had only been 4 years. Memories of Kyouka became like the bobby pins Momo always used. She lost so many of them and knew that they were somewhere in her apartment, but could never manage to find them again.
She wants to go back to 25. Or 21.
25 and 21 felt like forever. At 21, she felt like she could accomplish anything. She was a relatively new graduate and there were so many new things that she could do. At 25, she was at peace. Life was easy, and it felt like she finally had a rhythm down.
Now at 29, she was cold to her very core. The days that she thought would be for forever were gone, and she just couldn’t seem to regain her sense of rhythm, balance, nor peace. Nothing was right anymore.
25, 21.
The days that were supposed to be forever.
Momo tried not to let her tears spill over as the song from that day — the one Kyouka had played on her obnoxious speaker boots — started playing from her phone.
Forever, forever, forever.