Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Giran could admit to himself he was a sleazeball. A chainsmoker who worked with the underbelly of society, while at the same time making deals with the occasional corrupt official high in government or businesses. He was also a gambler at heart, willing to invest in anyone who seemed like their ventures would pay dividends in the future… so long as they promised him a slice of the pie. But unlike a gambler, when his bets failed, he didn’t cut his losses.

He was the kind of sleaze who would let a naive businessman, a young upstart from new money, make the foolish mistake of getting the underworld involved in smoking out his competitors. He drafted up deals and smooth-talked the guy, assuring him that he wouldn’t have to pay Giran a single yen until years later once his business was up and running. He neglected to elaborate on the consequences that might result if the man’s business never got off the ground, and he was left with a pile of debt owed to an information broker with half the underworld’s numbers on his personal cell.

But despite Giran’s sleaziness, he had more integrity than this guy who shoved his daughter, scarcely a toddler, in front of himself like a shield. “If you take her, can’t you consider all my debts paid?”

The man making the plea was shaking, apparently not yet processing the fact that once you made a deal with the devil, the devil would collect, even if that meant coming to your house with hired guns during dinnertime. Always good to remind ambitious civilians that Giran knew where they lived and how mortal their family members were. Apparently this guy didn’t care much for his flesh and blood, though.

Giran sneered, “I’m not that kind of broker.”

The man shook his head vigorously. “N-no! Not like that! I’m trying to give you her quirk, it’s- it’s really quite valuable!”

The girl in question seemed mostly confused by the situation, brows pinched as she stared down the barrel of a gun to Giran’s left. They weren’t supposed to fire without Giran’s signal; he loved the threat, but deep down he would always prefer to get something out of his deals other than a dead body. Unorthodox as his deals might be, he loved to negotiate. “What kind of quirk?”

“She can make things, anything! E-even gold! Isn’t that a good investment? If you take her, you could pay off my debt easily!” He babbled like a businessman trying to seal a risky deal.

Giran eyed the little girl curiously. She seemed about the right age for a recent quirk manifestation. He knew at least one big guy in the underworld who might love to get his hands on the quirk, and whose debt was worth more than this businessman’s would ever be. He didn’t buy blind, but if her quirk was the real deal, it might be worth taking her on a trip and then sending her back home.

The man’s wife clung to his shoulder. “Are you crazy?” she hissed, eyes never leaving the gun to Giran’s right. “That’s our daughter.”

He grimaced at his wife’s complaint. His response was quiet but stern, “We can make another if we survive today.”

“You’re crazy,” she repeated, but never made a move to pull their daughter out of harm’s way.

The guy ignored his wife, and spoke to the daughter instead. “Come on, Momo, show the man the pretty gold trick.”

That spurred the girl, Momo, into action. She took a few steps towards Giran, apparently unaware or uncaring of what the guns beside him could do. Based on her upbringing, Giran would bet on unaware. She held a hand out, palm down, and waited patiently.

Giran gathered her intention and put his hand below hers. She took a deep breath, eyes closing, and a moment later a small nougat of gold fell into his hands.

“Isn’t that amazing?” The man behind her, now unable to reach Momo, insisted. “Imagine how much money you could make off of her!”

If it were that easy, the father would have done so himself and paid off Giran’s debt. Pumping a bunch of gold from a mysterious source into the market wasn’t exactly a foolproof business plan, and would raise much more scrutiny than Giran was comfortable with.

The idea of accepting a child instead of debt payment was ridiculous; Giran wasn’t exactly parent material.

“Please, just take her and leave us alone! She’s polite and obedient, won’t raise any fuss at all!”

…These people weren’t parent material either.

When Giran didn’t say anything, Momo piped up, “I can make lots of other stuff, too, sir.”

She might not have grasped the full situation, but at the very least she seemed aware she was part of this bargain, and knew she had to advertise her worth. She lifted her shirt, exposing her belly, and a new item, metallic and hefty, emerged.

Giran barely caught the gun before it hit the floor, alarmed and afraid of the trigger going off. Behind Momo, her parents guffawed at her audacity.

“Momo!” The mother’s tone made the child flinch and straighten her posture. “Don’t just go making things willy nilly!”

“That wasn’t meant as a threat,” the man pleaded to Giran, “our kid just doesn’t know any better, we didn’t tell her to do that.”

Giran gently tilted the gun, noting that it was the exact same model as the ones his hired goons were holding but much heavier. “I figured,” he told the alarmed parents absentmindedly as he examined it.

He found the safety was off, but when he tried to turn it on the piece didn’t move at all. Attempting to take any of the pieces apart yielded nothing, and he realized it was just solid metal; an impressive replica but as functional as a toy.

Satisfied with his own assessment, he dropped it, the thump as it hit the ground causing Momo’s parents to flinch.

Momo herself was now looking at the ground, at her discarded creation. “I can make lots of things…” she said quietly, “I won’t do it without being asked anymore.”

It felt strangely easy, reaching down and taking Momo’s hand. He gave the gentlest tug, and she came right to his side, trained like a dog. He bent down, and met her confused eyes. Even if she was too young to fully understand the way her parents were betraying her, she was doing her best to help them. Giran gave her an attempt at a smile, then picked her up by her armpits. She instinctively held onto him, arms around his neck as he brought her close, and refocused on the parents.

“I’m a negotiable kind of guy. Consider the debt paid.”

The man’s eyebrows raised off his forehead, like he couldn’t believe his offer was accepted. “R-really?”

The woman’s face was pinched, like she couldn’t quite believe the turn of events, while gripping on her husband’s sleeve.

Giran nodded, the child feeling heavier than he expected in his arms. “I wouldn’t recommend coming back for another deal, though.”

The man nodded furiously, letting out a disbelieving noise that was almost a laugh. “Absolutely. Yeah. No more gambling. I’ll be on the straight and narrow from now on. Fresh start!”

“But our daughter…” the mother breathed out hesitantly, a token protest.

Hearing herself referenced, Momo turned to look at her parents.

The father waved at her, smiling. “You’re going to be a good girl for Giran, right Momo?”

Momo nodded, serious expression on her face.

“You’re going to be staying with him from now on,” he added.

Momo frowned. “When will I come back?”

Both parents grimaced. Eventually, the mother said slowly, “Goodbye, Momo.”

It seemed the parents weren’t going to explain any more elaborately than that, so Giran turned and started to leave with Momo.

The child still called out, “Mother? Father?”

“Farewell, Momo,” Her father returned, “you’re doing great!”

The praise seemed to mollify her somewhat, and thankfully Momo didn’t struggle out of his arms. Giran continued walking, noting the familiar steps of the hired guns following close behind him.

Momo was quiet for a bit as Giran left the house, eventually coming to an area where Giran had hidden a getaway car. He put her in the backseat, though he didn’t have a proper child’s car seat for her. Ah well, he would just try not to get into an accident.

He dismissed the men he hired for the job, passing an extra tip for their service and giving a subtle mind wipe to keep them from remembering Momo’s quirk. If her quirk was as versatile as her parents claimed, it wouldn’t be good to have too many aware of it before she could defend herself.

When he got back to the car, Momo was sitting primly in the backseat, apparently having figured out how to buckle herself, though the strap meant to go across the chest went across her forehead instead.

“You good back there?” Giran asked.

She didn’t look good, lips pursed and fists clenched, but she nodded sternly like an agent on a mission.

He began driving, glancing back occasionally to check in on Momo. Despite being mature for a toddler, she still seemed to be nervous about being in the car with a stranger after watching her parents cower and give her up. Eventually she spoke up, “Sir, may I ask where we’re going?”

Giran snorted. “Don’t call me ‘sir’, just Giran is fine.”

Talking seemed to calm her a bit, and her fists uncurled. “Then Giran, may I ask where we’re going?”

“To my apartment,” he explained, “I don’t have a ton of space, but I have a guest room you can use.”

“...How long will I be staying?”

Giran sighed. He wasn’t a kindergarten teacher; he wasn’t sure what the appropriate way to explain this was. “Kid, I hate to break this to you, but your parents gave you up.”

“...For how long?”

“Did you hear us discuss timeframe at all?” he asked with a snort. “No. They’re not planning to take you back.”

Momo was quiet in the backseat. He sighed in relief, glad that she was apparently taking it well.

Then there was sniffling.

Oh no.

The cries were quiet, muffled, like she was trying not to be a bother. The hesitant nature of it just made Giran feel more guilty though; did she think she’d get in trouble if she was too noisy?

At least they were close to the apartment now, and Giran was able to park and get out, opening the door to the backseat and reaching out to her. He was absolutely no expert in child-rearing, but he wasn’t heartless. “Hey, hey now, it’s alright…”

The offer of an open arm was apparently enough for her to dive into his chest, tears flowing full force and starting to wail. Hesitantly, he patted her on the back while she sobbed into his shoulder, getting his purple suit jacket covered in snot. At least it would be easier to wash out than blood was.

He hoisted her up, locked the car, and went into the apartment. The whole way, Momo clung to his clothes and continued to cry, her previous world falling apart around her. He let the distressed realization take its course, knowing there was no rushing grief.

By the time he got into his apartment and deposited her on the sterile bed of his guest bedroom though, he thought he ought to do something. “Hey kid,” he started.

Momo looked up at him, eyes rimmed red, lip out in an upset pout.

He wanted to sleep tonight. How could he mollify her for the rest of the evening? What did kids like? “Do you uh… want to make a toy or something?”

Momo stopped crying to properly consider that. “...Any toy?”

“Yeah, whatever you can make,” he encouraged her, “Go ahead, I won’t stop you.”

Her face went serious, and she held her hand out. He watched, now getting properly curious about her quirk, as something wooden and round bounced off the bed.

He picked it up for her, and handed it back. “Matryoshka doll?”

She nodded, then wrapped her arms around it like it was the most comforting item in existence.

“Uh, great work?” he tried, feeling better when she returned a relieved smile.

He gave a thumbs up, and slowly backed out the door. She followed him with her eyes, and once he was out in the hallway he pointed.

“Bathroom is that direction, I’ll be in the other direction… alright?”

“Yes, Giran,” she said quietly.

He closed the door, only letting out a long sigh once it was shut.

Parenting definitely wasn’t his secret calling.

But after seeing parents throw their daughter into the line of fire, parenting didn’t seem that hard. Step one, getting her away from her gene donors who saw her as a tool to get out of debt with, done. What else was there to do?

Apparently she could make her own toys, that was a start. He would probably have to buy her some too, for variety or whatever. Some kid’s clothing, more food, probably some workbooks or something…

He took a deep breath. He’d just keep her around long enough for her to decide what she wanted. Then she could scamper off and get into whatever trouble kids got themselves into nowadays.

Momo woke up slowly, curling into her plush blankets for a minute before forcing herself to open her eyes and face the day.

She swung out of her lofted bed, as she was tall enough to just drop off the edge with a careful landing. She glanced at her closet, considering getting dressed for the day, but as far as she knew there weren’t any meetings scheduled, so she decided to stay conveniently in her nightgown and simply add on her favorite pair of fuzzy bunny slippers.

She grabbed her hairbrush and shuffled out of the room, still yawning. Once in the hallway, she could hear Giran’s voice in the living room.

“Well that’s a sweet notion and all, but what’s in it for me?”

When she entered the room, she saw he was lounging on the couch, also in his matching bunny slippers and a set of cactus-print pajamas. He saw her enter, and gave an acknowledging nod as he continued to talk into the phone.

“That’s an understatement. But again, why should I help you?”

Momo walked over and handed Giran the hairbrush before turning to sit on the carpet in front of him, giving him easy access to the back of his head.

He didn’t say anything, but she heard the caller’s voice become audible as he switched the call to speakerphone mode. “...With an industry insider, so if you need a favor in the future…”

“A favor with the Tarcs? I love y’all, but I’ll tell it to ya straight: You’re small fry in a gigantic pan. You think one industry insider is gonna give you that edge up to become an actual threat?”

Momo grinned as she felt her hair lift, Giran starting from the very bottom with the hairbrush, and going through the strands methodically.

“Our insider isn’t exactly ‘small fry’,” The Tarc representative insisted, “He’s vice president of the Himura Conglomerate. They’ve funded like, a dozen startups in America, and it’s rapidly paying dividends.”

Giran hummed. “I have heard of the Himura’s.”

“...So? A favor with them in return for some of that wonderflonium?”

“You’re lucky I’m an investor at heart,” Giran told the caller as he reached the top of Momo’s head, running the brush from scalp to tip several times. “Let’s meet tonight. Discuss some details. I think we could reach an… arrangement.”

He gathered up all the hair, lifting it up, and Momo got the cue. She held up her wrist, and he easily rolled the hair elastic off it. She felt some tugging on the back of her head, then a release as he finished putting it up in a ponytail.

“Thank you! You won’t regret this!”

Giran snorted. “I’ll decide that. See you tonight.”

A beep sounded as he disconnected the call. Momo got up, tilting her head to feel the bounce of the ponytail. She followed him as he made his way to the kitchen. “Are you going to give it to them?”

He grabbed a pink apron with ruffles off a hook on the wall, and put it on as he said, “Depends on what else they can offer when the pressure is on. It’s an awful hassle getting my hands on  wonderflonium, after all. Have to make it worth my while.”

Momo laughed at the joke. “Of course.”

She saw a sliver of a grin before he turned to the stove, preparing a pan to be heated. While he occupied himself, hopping to the fridge and freezer to get different ingredients, Momo filled up the water boiler. She dug through her tea cabinet.

“Earl gray, assam, oolong… What are you feeling this morning?” she asked Giran.

“I’ll leave it to the expert’s recommendation.”

She grinned, eventually grabbing an oolong she had obtained only last month. She consulted the directions on the package, setting the water boiler to the recommended temperature

They passed the morning in pleasant quiet, only the sound of the pan sizzling and the water beginning to bubble between them. Momo pulled out her teapot, an elegant gift Giran had gotten her for her eleventh birthday, and set it on the counter.

Eventually, the boiler clicked, and Momo poured carefully into her teapot, letting the hot water pass through the infuser filled with oolong leaves. She kept an eye on the clock once she poured it, not wanting to over steep.

Beside her, Giran bustled around the kitchen, pulling out plates and starting to plate their breakfasts. The brew time passed, and she pulled the infuser out, putting it on a small dish she always kept nearby so she could steep the leaves again later in the day.

Naturally, Giran placed their meals on the table, and Momo poured out two cups of tea. They both took their seats, and she took in a deep breath. There was the gentle scent of oolong wafting through the air, but what got her appetite going was the food. The rich, thick scent of bacon, well-stacked on her plate, neighbored by generous helpings of spiced hashbrowns and scrambled eggs.

Giran switched on the radio, an old thing that he kept tuned to the local news station. He had many sources of info, but found it important to keep an eye on what was being broadcasted to the mainstream as well. 

“-to stimulate economic development in the northern sector. These tax breaks will apply to any business that can demonstrate how their presence will stimulate the local economy. Of course there’s fierce competition for the recently-empty storefront on Jakku street.”

She dug in, her appetite as strong as usual. She took some brief intermissions to sip at her tea, but otherwise was laser focused on filling her stomach. Beside her, Giran ate at a much more sedate pace. As per usual he served himself less than her, so even with their differing rates they would likely finish at close to the same time.

“We’ve confirmed discussions going on with at least three groups. The current landowner is not at liberty to name them, but they’ve described a possible café looking to expand… Currently Tiger Teas, the cat café two towns over, has expressed an interest in expansion recently, could they be making offers for the location?”

Momo had never visited that café, but the name made her curious.

“Then of course there’s a hero agency apparently that’s looking into it. They would have a big advantage for economic reasons, as their presence in the area would likely increase safety in the area and stimulate all the businesses and the residential values.”

She huffed. More like “perceived safety” of the area.

“But unfortunately dear listeners, I can’t tell you which of the many sidekicks in Japan might be striking out on their own on Jakku street. There’s just too many plausible guesses at the moment. Aside from that, we have a good guess on the corporate entity looking to snatch up the location: The Yaoyorozu Corporation has been rapidly rising the ranks of-”

Giran switched channels immediately. “-Could expect to see him competing in Nationals next year if he keeps up this stellar performance…”

Luckily Momo had just finished her meal, as she abruptly lost her appetite. She forced herself to stop clenching her utensil. As Giran always said: They no longer had any connection to the Yaoyorozus. Their deal was done, and they agreed to stay away. It was best to think of them as strangers and keep their distance.

But no amount of telling herself that they’re strangers now seemed to temper the anger that rose in her throat whenever she heard that name.

As they cleaned up, Giran asked her, “You sure you’re good to go tonight?”

“Of course.” Just because she got a little rattled by the morning news didn’t mean she couldn’t work tonight.

Besides, she couldn’t deny her curiosity regarding the Tarcs. They were new to the underground scene, and although they had investigated most the known members and gotten a decent sense of who they were, she still wasn’t sure exactly why they were all banding together, or what their ultimate goal was.

They were a young group, and still in the recruitment stage. Two of the members, the leader and his right-hand, were decently established criminals, but others were young or new to the scene, so they were clearly willing to take on the inexperienced.

Momo took a deep breath, glancing sideways at Giran. “...Would you like another cup of tea?”

He paused, eyes darting to Momo, before responding, “Sure.”

This time they took the tea outside the kitchen, to enjoy in the comfortable living room. Momo didn’t rush; Giran was in a good mood. There were times where he had to grovel and sweet-talk his way into getting a connection or a favor, but that phone call was one that was clearly in his favor from the start. Being begged by young upstarts did things to Giran’s ego that always made him more amendable to requests he normally shut down.

Like the one Momo was about to make.

“So the Tarcs are getting more established…” she started.

He took an appreciative sip of his tea. “I’m not holding my breath for them. They haven’t actually proven their mettle yet with any results, and a backer from corporate is very different from something like an underground sponsor.”

“Still… You wouldn’t be meeting with them if you didn’t think they had potential.”

“Everyone starts from nowhere,” he explained with a wave of his hand, “if you help someone when they have almost nothing to give… They remember that. If—and that’s a big if— they get big, who do you think they’ll go to? The broker that refused to talk to them until they had the big guns, or the broker that gave them a chance, even if it was small?”

“But there are still groups and people you refuse to work with. An ‘if they get big’ is some show of confidence from you.”

“Their leader’s done some good solo work… I don’t know how he’ll be as a leader, but I at least trust him individually…” He side-eyed her. “What’s with this line of questioning? Did one of the Tarcs bribe you to talk them up to me?”

“Of course not,” she said clearly, “What I’m getting at is that they’re just starting out, you have some trust for them, and they’re actively recruiting new members.”

He narrowed his eyes. “Momo…”

“You always say it’s important to start small!” Momo put down her tea to gesticulate. “Being an establishing member of an organization like this could be a perfect introduction to working-”

“You’re already working.”

“You know what I mean!” she insisted, “Not in the background like you, but the foreground! I want to be out there on the streets, learning to fight and getting things done! ”

Giran sighed. “You’re only fifteen.”

“And there are gang members who are only thirteen! Remember the Ubese crew?”

“Remember how they blew up?” he said with a deadpan expression. “Those kids are in juvie now.”

“You think I’m not capable?”

By now he had put down his tea as well, its steam dissipating as it cooled. “You’re incredibly capable, Momo, and smart as a whip. Even without school, your thirst for knowledge is beyond even mine… But that’s why you shouldn’t be allying with any one organization like that.”

She pouted, waiting for him to elaborate. Her tea was getting cold, but she didn’t take another sip.

“Look… you studied Greek mythology, right?”

Momo studied a lot of things. She felt like a sponge sometimes, constantly on the search for new information, going on binges through the internet for the most random of topics, and trying out every odd experiment she was exposed to. Greek mythology was something she studied thoroughly in a curious mood a few years ago. “Yes.”

“You remember the Oracle of Delphi?”

She crossed her arms. “A figure who was supposedly blessed with visions and knowledge from the gods… She stayed in her temple, and would just give advice to those who visited her.”

“Not just give advice,” he corrected with a wag of his finger, “she was consulted about matters regarding dozens of city-states and all sorts of dramas, from the international to intensely personal. Everyone who asked her for advice had to tell her the current state of affairs, and why do you think they did so?”

“Because the Oracle was considered a neutral party, and respected religiously,” Momo confirmed she understood, “she would not spill secrets to the enemy.”

“She would not directly spill, but she could advise. If one leader came to her saying ‘Oracle, I have some great soldiers, but my city supplies are low, should I start a war with my neighbor with the hope I can overwhelm them before running out?’ She would think back to when the neighbor came to her and said ‘My engineers have devised a new type of siege weaponry that could turn the future tides of war, should I invest in building it now or wait until war is on the horizon?’ and could advise accordingly based on what she told the first guy.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be some stuffy old priest,” Momo said with a pout, “maybe I want to be a Heracles.”

He snorted. “Heracles may have been famous, but he burned bright and short. Went through absolute shit, all sorts of ridiculous trials and tribulations, while the Oracle got to sit in a fancy temple, smoke drugs, and get fed grapes like a princess. Tell me, which one would you rather be?”

She took a deep breath. She knew what the ‘right’ answer was, even if she didn’t agree. “...The Oracle.”

He grinned and got up, taking a moment to ruffle her hair before taking his tea cup towards the kitchen. “You’re a smart girl, Momo. You’re doing great.”

She knew better than to argue further. Clearly Giran wasn’t going to budge, even with a perfect opportunity for Momo to dip her toes into being the Heracles she dreamed of.

Giran seemed to notice her dissatisfaction, as his voice when he next spoke was soft. “I know you want to be independent, but you’ll be much safer brokering on your own than trying to chase glory like cannon fodder. How’s that connection you’re trying to make going?”

She tucked her legs up on the couch. Her tea was cold now. “Fine.”

“Planning to meet them?”

“At some point,” She said tersely.

As per usual, he seemed to sense her mood and let the conversation end. “Let me know if you want any help.”

“I can do it myself,” She responded quietly, craving at least that little control.

Giran’s idea of building independence involved pushing her to go find a connection of her own. Some sleuthing on the internet, getting involved in some DIY forums, and sending messages to a few of the people she found there was how she was starting out. She did want to prove herself to him, and make him proud… But would it be so hard for him to be proud of her for getting out there on the ground and actually contributing to some of the criminal activities in Japan instead of just watching over it like a princess above it all?

She waited until he left the kitchen to bring her teacup to the sink. A quick rinse later, she took measured steps (not stomps, as much as she wanted to) towards her room. She booted up her PC and opened up her internet browser.

She was somewhat involved in a particular forum for odd constructions, and had a few targets to connect with. Her current big fish was a very active member, whose eclectic requests (“What explosive would pack the most punch in the least amount of space?” and “Most expansive sticky solution?”) caught Momo’s eye early on.

She hadn’t had an excuse to message the account until recently, when they had written up a bemoaning request for wonderflonium. Most the comments on the post commiserated, agreeing that it was a tightly controlled substance. Despite its revered electronic enhancement capabilities, it was also a key ingredient in a very explosive cocktail that could take down a building.

And this forum user had implied an explosive intention with the wonderflonium.

Momo had a sneaking suspicion, based on the user’s chaotic post history, that they were a villain or heading rapidly down the path of villainy. It made them the ideal target for the first node in her own network, completely separate from Giran.

He was trusting her with this, at least. Letting her search up, examine, and meet a potential ally on her own. She wanted to prove she could be trusted with that at least, and then maybe, just maybe he’d see how capable she was, and then think about what she really wanted to do…

But that was getting ahead of herself. First, she had to check her messages.

She was pleased to see that Hazoomei responded to her message, where Momo gently implied she could procure some wonderflonium.

LittleRed: Hey I saw your post about the wonderflonium! Just wanted to PM you to see if you’re okay with some ‘under the table’ sources

hazoomei: bro ill take literally ANY source on them its IMPOSSIBLE to get ahold of rn!!!!

Momo giggled at the enthusiastic response. Still, she wanted to be at least somewhat clear what her sources and intentions were. If someone saw Hazoomei had obtained wonderflonium, anyone who knew anything would start digging.

LittleRed: Just to clarify, I might know someone who can help, but they’re not part of an official supply chain or anything. Is this project going to be used in any sort of formal context? Like work or as a school project?

hazoomei: lol no this is for a personal project… something that could change society as we know it

Momo sat up a little straighter in her chair, leaning forward to reread the response. It seemed this person had big dreams of their own. She liked that sort of passion for change.

LittleRed: I may be able to get you a source… Would you be okay meeting in real life?

hazoomei: anything for my babies!!!

She frowned. Babies? Like children?

Her brain jumped to analysis. Children were a convenient weakness, Giran always said. Some people became villains specifically to secure a future for their child, increasing their desperation in delightfully exploitable ways.

Parents aren’t guaranteed to love their children though, Momo thought bitterly, then stamped the thought down.

Regardless, any information on her potential connection was valuable. They exchanged a few more messages, eventually settling on meeting tomorrow night.

Momo couldn’t deny her growing excitement at setting up a deal by herself. She’d help out with Giran’s deal tonight, as she usually did, but the night after she’d get an opportunity to run the show herself.

She couldn’t wait.

Chapter Text

Giran led the way into the warehouse, Momo following close behind with an armored briefcase in hand.

He was dressed in his business clothes—His purple suit and the lumpy scarf Momo had made for his birthday some years ago. Momo wore the hooded red cape she usually wore for these sorts of meetings. The material was light, but provided enough coverage that clients couldn’t see much of the upper half of her body. Before her growth spurt the cape had covered most the lower half of her body too, but now that she was taller she liked having her legs visible to provide a more distinct silhouette.

That cape fluttered dramatically behind her as she and Giran made their way to the interior section of the warehouse they had agreed to meet the Tarcs.

“Yo, we’re here,” Giran called out.

Footsteps against metal, and a tall spindly man appeared from the shadows. “Giran! My man!”

“No friends with you?” Giran asked lightly.

“Just one,” He responded, his chin pointing towards a shadowy corner.

With a squint, Momo was able to identify a figure blending in, especially once they waved a gloved hand.

“He’s shy,” The Tarc representative said in lieu of explanation, “I see you brought Little Red.”

Momo nodded an acknowledgement, both to him and the not-so-subtle bodyguard.

He smiled at her, but then focused his attention back on Giran. Ever so casually, he pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. “Would you like a smoke?”

Momo pursed her lips as Giran’s face lit up. His smugness was audible. “Why thank you, I’d love a little sample.”

Giran had reduced his smoking when Momo moved in with him; Momo had learned about lung cancer when she was around eight and aggressively campaigned for him to stop smoking altogether. He eventually weaseled his way into a compromise where he wouldn’t smoke, but was allowed an exception for when it was necessary to not “insult” a potential client or business partner who offered a cigarette.

Since then, a rumor must have spread that Giran was especially amenable to business deals that included a smoke break, as Momo had noticed he got an offer more often than not. This representative even politely lit it for him. Giran took a long draw of the nicotine, really savoring the rare opportunity. Momo frowned, but held back from huffing audibly.

Their discussion started in earnest after that. They volleyed different types of compensation, eventually gaining a substantial monetary sum in addition to a favor with that Himura Conglomerate representative. As the conversation winded down, Giran glanced back at Momo, giving her a nod.

She found a crate to put the briefcase down on, then undid the little locks that kept it shut. One, two, three, four clicks and it was showtime. This was her chance to shine. The opening faced away from both Tarc members. A good thing, since the case was empty.

Immediately she slipped her hand inside, covering the empty divot in the velvet that was in the shape of a tube. With a deep breath, she thought of wonderflonium. It was a delicate, volatile material, dozens of interconnecting metals and carbon all linked together in a precise configuration.

She also thought of the thick glass tube used to contain the material, and after several moments she had a generous sample of wonderflonium in her hand.

Swiftly, she pressed it into the divot, then lifted the lid of the briefcase fully. She took a step to the side, and Giran’s new client stepped forward to take a peek at the goods.

“Gorgeous,” He said breathlessly, the pale pink light of the wonderflonium reflecting in his eyes.

His bodyguard came forward, reaching a hand out, and Momo caught the cue to close the case and hand it over.

“Careful not to bounce it too much,” She warned them.

Both nodded, and the carrier cradled the briefcase like a child.

“Well, I guess our work here is done,” Giran said with a stretch of his arms, “Little Red?”

She nodded, and followed him as he started out of the warehouse.

“T-thank you!” The representative remembered to say to Giran’s back.

He didn’t turn around, but gave a casual wave as he said, “Thanks for your business.”

As soon as they were out of sight, Momo reached over and snatched the cigarette out of Giran’s mouth.

“Hey, I wasn’t done with that!” He whined.

She made a tiny stone barrier on her fingertips and pinched the burning tip. Then she made a tiny stream of water to soak the cigarette, making sure there was no chance it could start a fire. The first wastebasket they passed, she tossed it in. “You know smoking is bad for your health.”

“Yeah, yeah,” He said dejectedly.

As disheartened as he sounded, Momo stuck to her guns. She wanted Giran to live a long, long time. If he died… who would she have?

They reached his car, so she hopped into the passenger side. After he got the car on and started heading towards home, Momo decided to update him. “I’m meeting my new contact tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” He grinned. “Stay safe. You still remember how to make the tracker?”

She rolled her eyes, he’d trained her relentlessly on the device as a child, but she decided to prove it. Instantly, she produced a complex electrical bug from her arm, precisely arranged to do one thing and one thing alone.

Giran’s phone, always on silent, started blasting. He jumped at the sound, but kept his hands on the wheel. Momo reached over and plucked the phone from his pocket. As she turned off the alarm, she glanced at the screen and saw their current GPS coordinates lit up and overlaid on a map. After a moment, she told the custom-designed app that the signal was a false alarm, and it went dormant again.

“Okay, okay!” Giran confirmed with a laugh, “I shouldn’t have doubted you a moment!”

She sat back, arms crossed, but satisfied. She didn’t intend to use the tracker, even if things went south she wanted to handle it on her own. This was her contact this time; she had to take responsibility and not go crying to Giran as soon as things got tough.

After all, if she ever lost Giran… She needed to be ready to make her own living.

Momo felt a smidgen less confident when meeting with her new contact alone. She was walking the streets of a suburban neighborhood, one she hadn’t visited before. That was at least good news for potential payment. Giran liked to do full negotiations in person, since it put the pressure on to reach a resolution before parting.

Still, despite all of Giran’s advice and memories of going to many of his dealings… he wasn’t beside her this time. She had to take public transportation rather than riding along as he drove her, and she didn’t have him walking alongside her, seemingly ready for anything.

She wiped her sweaty palms on her red cape. The meeting would, should go fine. Her contact might be a villain, based on their penchant for explosive projects they described on those forum posts, but she knew plenty of villains and had never been this nervous about meeting them.

Those villains had been screened by Giran though.

She took a deep breath. The whole point of this exercise was that she wasn’t relying on him. One had to take risks to progress.

But Momo wasn’t a fan of gambling. Aside from blackjacks, where she could count cards for some semblance of a reliable strategy, she hated relying on luck.

She should have investigated this contact more deeply, but they were set up with a VPN that even Momo couldn’t figure out how to trace. They also didn’t seem to have any apparent social media accounts she could track down based on their username. Walking into the address that they requested to meet at was an almost blind gamble, and all the possible ways the meeting could go wrong were going through her brain with no way to calculate the likelihood of it happening or not.

There wasn’t anything to do about it now, though. She kept her eyes peeled, looking for her possible client around every corner. They said they would be in the building at the address, and Momo could come into the unlocked door, but that laissez-faire approach to security just had Momo more off-balance trying to figure out what kind of person this was.

They were making explosive materials, so likely villainous or potentially a particularly violent vigilante. They had children, so probably an adult at least, if not middle-aged. No clue as to the gender, the name, or the personality beyond a passion for creation.

Momo let out a little snort. She had some passion for creation as well.

She finally reached the address. A single building, only one floor, bare-bones but not decrepit, with the windows shuttered. No obvious labels as to what it might be.

This was her time now. She had to prove herself, and that meant facing uncertainty with her head high. Though she was told to just walk in, she still knocked to be polite. When nobody came to the door, she tried the knob and was able to open it herself. Slowly, she stepped into the building.

Inside, her nose picked up the scent of something familiar. Gasoline? Or grease? And the edge of something burnt. The hairs on her arms raised, and she took slow steps inside, not yet closing the door behind her in case she needed a quick escape route.

The interior was filled with shelves that blocked her view. Many were densely packed with paper boxes and plastic bins, though there were also free objects hanging there. Momo identified them on sight, various motors, scrap metal, and polycarbonate. Components, but for what?

She had to go between the shelves to get any view of deeper within, and she took the opportunity to call out, “Hello?”

By now one sound registered, something loud and crackling somewhere deeper in, though she couldn’t figure out what it was. Some sort of machine? She weaved through the stacks, trying to find the source.

The noise increased when she finally made it to a large open area, though the path was no less messy. The ground was scattered with parts, and along the wall were more shelves where she could see items that were more than pieces. They were constructs in the shapes of shoes, spiders, and more. A workbench featured a dozen tools scattered, and some hexagonal robot with its back open and wires visible, arranged in bundles much neater than anything else in the room.

She localized the sound to a small, curtained-off area. Though the curtain blocked her view, she could see momentary sparks of light whenever the sound went off. She also saw shadows… a person?

Whoever this was, they were dedicated. Messy, but dedicated.

She waited a moment for a break in the sound, then called out again, “Hello?”

There was the sound of metal clanging, then the curtain swung open. Shorter than Momo expected, and hard to read with the welder’s mask and a thick jacket, though she saw pink locks tied up into a ponytail. The person lifted their visor, and Momo stared.

She was grinning, smiling at Momo with nothing but excitement. Sweat beading on her skin, eyes intense. “Little Red! You came!”

The face, the pitch of her voice… she was young.

“Y-yes!” Momo forced herself back into coherency.

The girl started stripping down some layers, off with the welder’s hat, her gloves, and even a heavy jacket she had been wearing that hid most her figure. Momo’s eyes bounced down and then immediately back up. This girl had hit puberty, then, however old she was.

Once she was down to a manageable set of layers, she hopped over to Momo, grabbing her hands, and Momo was too flustered to even think about if it was possibly a setup for an attack.

This client could maybe be Momo’s age. Momo didn’t meet people her age. Giran wasn’t exactly keen to work with kids aside from her, and the few Momo had encountered in any meaningful way were usually at least a few years older.

“You said you had wonderflonium, right?” She asked with sparkling eyes.

Or rather, sniper eyes? Momo found herself staring at the dizzying pattern on her retina. Wow, was that her quirk or something?

Her hand was squeezed. “Little Red. Wonderflonium?”

She snapped out of it, and pulled her hands back. Business, she wanted to do business. “Yes. Wonderflonium. I can make- get- make you a connection. To get. The stuff.”

Momo flubbed it. She was supposed to be suave and casual like Giran was, not this befuddled mess of a person just because her client was a little different than she expected demographically.

Her potential client didn’t seem disappointed though, she just laughed and slapped Momo on the back. “Well come on, have a seat! Let’s chat.”

Momo looked around in vain for a proper seat until the girl took a seat on the nearest chassis frame, then motioned to the one beside her. Momo looked down at her ‘seat’, a rectangular box with four legs, joints and wires visible enough that Momo could tell it was intended to move around like a dog or something. “Pardon me,” She muttered as she sat down.

“So!” She leaned forward. “Who’s your connection? What do I need to do to get the goods?”

Momo took a deep breath. Negotiations. She had seen Giran do this hundreds of times, she just had to adopt his persona, casual… casual… “Depends. What do you have to offer?”

She tilted her head. “Offer? Like money? I guess I have a decent allowance.”

Momo frowned. She thought this connection might’ve been a villain active on the underground scene, building bombs for heists where she could profit. Not a teenager with an allowance. “How much?”

“Uhh like 2000 yen a week?”

Momo held back a guffaw. That was generous for a teen’s allowance, but it certainly couldn’t buy this building or its contents.  “And how do you fund this…?”

“Oh, my parents are pretty supportive of my hobby, so with my dad’s approval I can get most the materials I want! They also set me up with this building so I’d stop blowing up the basement!”

Momo glanced up and saw some ash marks on the ceiling. Hm.

“So do you think like, 10,000 yen is enough? I have some savings”

Oh dear. Momo found her heart sinking. Her first client, and there was nothing to squeeze. She’d come home tonight and have to tell Giran she couldn’t actually make a connection on her own, and he’d be disappointed and would never let her go off on her own or fight or do anything…

“Or 15,000 yen?” The girl continued, “I could save up a bit more, as long as I get the wonderflonium eventually.”

She clenched her fists. No. She wasn’t giving up that easy. When Giran met a client who couldn’t pay up, he took whatever other collateral was available. Even a toddler.

Information. Momo needed to know what this girl had that she could exploit. “Why do you want the wonderflonium?”

The girl lit up. She ran towards the workbench, and grabbed a worn notebook off the surface. She flipped through the pages as she hurried back to Momo, then sidled right up against her side to show her the contents. “I’m glad you asked! You see, I’m working on a new jetpack propulsion system, but have been struggling to create the necessary force to lift the weight of a grown person…”

Momo was listening, but her eyes were glued to the page.

Legible designs, detailed measurements, different materials colored with a clear legend, multiple views, and even…? She reached out and turned the page, seeing further notes on specs, possible adjustments, material costs and how they were cut for affordability. Momo had seen things like this before, on the internet, when looking up how to create various items, though many items didn’t have blueprints accessible to the public. In those cases, sometimes she was able to get her hands on the item and take it apart to reverse-engineer the contents. If Momo thought of any physical, non-living thing that existed, she could usually figure out how to  create it.

But the blueprint wasn’t for anything that existed yet. It was something entirely new, a prototype Momo had never seen.

And these blueprints were gorgeous.

Her heart thudded. She wanted to pore over them, create every piece on its own, and then learn to create the entire thing at once. She felt like she had something priceless right under her fingertips.

And the girl was still speaking. “...So the bigger those controlled explosions are, the better! But of course it’s so hard to get my hands on!”

“Let’s cut a deal,” Momo decided, everything coming into focus.

She grinned widely. “Really?”

“I can be your wonderflonium supplier… and anything else. In return…”

In her head, she could hear Giran’s voice telling her “Always start with a highball, let them negotiate, and they’ll be happy that they managed to wrangle you down.”

“...I ask that you give me a copy of all your blueprints, and I’d like to commission some work from you. Again, I’ll supply whatever materials you need, but I’ll need you to-”

“Deal!” The girl declared, her hand held out in an immediate handshake to seal their agreement.

Momo froze a moment, unsure at things going so smoothly. No negotiation at all?

She shook her hand. “I’m Hatsume, by the way!”

“Momo,” She responded automatically, still off-balance.

Internally, she cringed. It’s not like her given name was terribly incriminating, but that’s what Giran and a few select others used to refer to her. She was supposed to use her Little Red moniker for business.

Then again, her normal business was with adults and villains. This girl didn’t seem to be particularly well-versed in villainy. Momo would almost call it naivety, but she came off as a little too unhinged to be associated with anything gentle. It was more like a pure focus, leaving her blind to the fact that she’d invited a villain’s broker into her workshop.

Momo frowned. “Do… Do you often invite people here? And cut deals so quickly like this?”

Hatsume laughed. “Nah, you’re the first one! But it seems to be working nicely, so I ought to try this again.”

“No!” Momo exclaimed, jaw dropping at her carelessness, “You ought to be more careful, you could end up inviting a creep. Anything you need from now on, come to me first, okay?”

“So meeting strangers off the internet did work pretty great.”

“This time,” Momo reminded her, “You don’t know everyone’s intentions.”

There wasn’t a moment of proper consideration before Hatsume was standing up, spinning on the heels of her feet. “Yeah, yeah. So…?”

Momo coughed, getting back into business mode. “So please let me photograph a blueprint, as advance payment, and I’ll return at your next convenience with the wonderflonium.”

Her eyes practically sparkled, tiny pieces of her iris appearing to shift and spin like a camera lense. “For real? You’re a lifesaver!”

Carefully, Momo chose a page with quick-change wheel boots. She had seen shoes with a little wheel in the back before, but these boots were able to switch between a full-wheeled setup and flat treads with a quick retraction. She took a photo with her phone before heading for the door.

“It’s been a pleasure doing business with you,” Momo said as she parted.

“Totally!” Hatsume returned with a wave, beaming with a smile.

On the way home, Momo debriefed with herself.

She had been taken by surprise, she could admit that, and it had made her sloppy. She frowned at the memory of telling Hatsume her name, her real name. It was just her given name, so it was doubtful Hatsume would ever make the connection to the Yaoyorozu’s… especially since they had scrubbed basically all public and media evidence of them ever having had a daughter prior to their new son.

Momo took a deep breath. Focus on this new connection. Money aside, she had something money couldn’t guarantee–A brilliant mind at her disposal. She was building and designing things Momo had never even considered before, that was worth more than any sum.

So she would take a page from Giran’s book and build up her relationship with this client. The brokering business was built on trust, and Giran schmoozed, flattered, and bummed cigarettes off of whoever he wanted to maintain a relationship with. Momo already established the groundwork of exclusivity, telling Hatsume not to invite anyone else from the internet to her workshop.

What had her grinning on the bus back home was the possibility of deepening that relationship. Spending more time with the fascinating girl and cementing their position as allies.

It was just good business.

Chapter Text

After Momo scarfed down her breakfast, Giran let her know, “We have a meeting with the big guy today.”

She grabbed her cup of tea. “Like, the big guy?”

He nodded.

“Well, at least you won’t have to drive.”

“He’ll be picking us up in a few hours,” he told her, “Make sure you’re ready then.”

Momo took a sip. “Are you gonna let me be involved in your dealings this time, or am I going to be playing babysitter again?”

He sighed. “Never let him hear you say that.”

“...So?”

“So we’ll find out when we get there. You know him, he likes to meet in person. Loves making me quake in my boots for funsies.”

She rolled her eyes. “He needs you. You should be more confident.”

He chuckled, ruffling her hair while carefully not getting the ponytail out of place. “He definitely doesn’t, but I appreciate you saying it.”

Giran left then, off to his room to probably take more calls or research for the upcoming meeting. In her seat, Momo put down her tea and crossed her arms. For all of Giran’s bullshit about brokers being the ‘real’ backbone of the underworld, he didn’t even have the influence to stand up against one guy with power.

Power was more than knowledge. It was doing, fighting, creating. Idly, Momo made herself a glass vial of cyanide, letting it pop out of her palm. She stared at it for a minute, swirling the liquid, and marveling at how such a tiny amount of chemical could kill a whole human. Force it down their mouth, or better yet slip it into their meal, and they’d be done for good.

If Giran opened his door and saw her playing around with cyanide, he’d probably remind her how unprofitable murder is. Still, he had never discouraged her from learning to create every deadly chemical she could fathom.

With a sigh, she uncapped the vial and placed a finger above it, dripping in some bleach to neutralize the chemical. When they were balanced, she poured it down the drain.

It’s not like she wanted to kill someone… She just wanted people to know she had the option. To make them tremble and be willing to give her anything she asked for. No delicate bargaining needed, just raw force that would move mountains at no cost to herself.

Momo had a powerful quirk, Giran would never have taken her in the first place if she hadn’t, but she had yet to use it to do real damage. Maybe being a supplier was safer, but seeing how Giran respected and feared some of his clients made Momo more than aware that a supplier was never the top of the totem pole.

If she became the strongest villain in all of Japan (or better yet, the world)... Giran would never have to cower again.

Her tea was cold now. She silently poured the last of it down the drain. Giran didn’t want her to become stronger. He didn’t believe she could do it, clearly, based on how he discouraged her every attempt to gain some actual experience.

One day, she would show him.

“You ready?” Giran asked.

Momo double checked her red cape. It was attached securely, but she didn’t bother to put up  her hood for this meeting. “Yes.”

He sent a text, and a purple swirling cloud formed in front of them. It coalesced into a dark ellipse, big enough for a person to step through. Giran took the first step, slipping through the portal with ease, and Momo followed behind.

Once through, they were at a familiar bar. Their transport for the meeting, Kurogiri, politely greeted them as usual. But there was one more familiar face that Momo held back from groaning about.

His crusty face was looking directly at Momo, nose turned up. “You brought the pipsqueak too?”

“I’m basically your height.”

He stood up at that, getting right up in her face. “Yeah? Kurogiri, who’s taller?”

“...You, Shigaraki Tomura."

Tomura smirked at her. She huffed and took a step back; she wasn’t the kind of idiot who cared about something as inconsequential as height.

“So shortie, you came to play games with me again?” Tomura asked with barely disguised glee.

Momo grimaced, glancing at Giran for an intervention. He smiled and easily slipped in, “Before any video games, I’d love to talk to All for One.”

The television in the room lit up, and the puppet master of the underworld spoke. “Kurogiri, bring Giran to me. I’d like to speak with him privately first.”

Tomura’s face lit up as Giran was whisked away through another portal, and it was clear that Momo had nothing to do.

She did her best not to sigh, but apparently she was on babysitting duty.

“Let’s play smash first,” He decided for them.

She pouted. “But I always lose smash.”

“Try gitting gud this time.”

“That’s not even real advice,” she muttered.

Still, when he handed her a controller, there was nothing else to do but indulge. As always, she did her best to maneuver the various button combos, but Tomura had no mercy and kept at his usual frenzied button presses. He had once explained some nuances involving “hit boxes” and “edge guarding” and more terms… but as much of a sponge Momo was, translating that knowledge into controlling little pixels on a screen with quick reaction times was a challenge.

She could create a controller, but actually beating Tomura with it was always a losing game.

Even though it was frustrating to see herself lose a dozen times, the good mood it put Tomura in often loosened his tongue. “What do you think they’re even talking about in there?” She asked casually.

“Sensei said he would tell him all about my plan.”

“Your plan?”

Her character fell to its death, and he let out a whoop of celebration. “I’m gonna debut as the biggest villain Japan has ever seen.”

“Ah,” She said with pursed lips, “Good for you.”

He nudged her with his elbow. “You jealous?”

“No,” she claimed primly, eyes staying on the screen to hopefully last slightly longer this round.

“You’re obviously jealous.”

“I am not,” she insisted.

“Sensei believes in me, so he wants me to lead my own plot and everything. When I join the meeting, I’ll get to negotiate with Giran directly.”

She rolled her eyes, knowing the private meeting was likely All For One telling Giran exactly how he wanted him to treat his protege in the ‘negotiation’. “Giran lets me do my own thing too.”

“I thought he kept vetoing your gang joining attempts, and that grand candy store robbery plan.”

Momo flushed; when would Tomura stop bringing up that silly plot? “That was years ago.”

“Then what are you actually up to?”

“I’m building my own network, without his support.”

He snorted. There was an explosion and Momo was dead. Again. “Yeah? Who are your contacts?”

“That’s confidential.”

“Ah.” He wagged his finger as they waited for the next game to load. “You don’t have anyone at all, do you? Well, if you really need someone…”

Momo hated his constant smugness, always trying to get under her skin when she technically couldn’t actually fight him. Not without endangering Giran. “I do too have someone. I won’t tell you her name, but she’s an inventor. She’s giving me blueprints.”

“Oh?” He smirked. “Just one person?”

“I’m only just starting out.”

“How sad, just one connection… You must be desperate for anything else.”

He’s trying to get a rise out of you, the smug, spoiled bastard…

“Ah, if only there was an up-and-coming villain about to make his debut, who would be incredibly valuable to have in your network…”

It dawned on her what he was going for. “You’re already working with Giran.”

“What, I can’t work with more than one information broker?”

“I just don’t see how it’s that different.”

He sighed, shaking his head. Momo wished she could strangle him. “Pipsqueak, what I’m trying to say is to contact me directly if you need me.”

Still bitter, she muttered, “What would I need you for?”

He lifted his hand, waving it in front of her. “Hello? I know you can create anything, but you’ll need me when you need to destroy everything.”

That gave her pause, enough that she didn’t even attempt to beat Tomura’s character while he had his hands off the controller. She supposed if there was ever a situation where she needed to dispose of a large amount of evidence, or of something particularly dangerous, it could pay to have Tomura on her docket. Especially if she ever wanted to do something under Giran’s nose, she didn’t want to have to go through him to reach Tomura.

“Why are you offering this?” She asked, knowing nothing came for free.

By now he had focused back on the game and was flinging her off stage again. “You’ve got some new secret inventor, right? I’m gonna need some tools for my attacks. Do you think she can design something to jam signals?”

Momo frowned. “Jam signals?”

“Like something to prevent people from calling for help, breaking their cell phones or whatever. Sensei said he would help me, but he’ll be even more impressed with me if I get it on my own.”

“I’ll ask her.”

“Sweet.”

As Tomura landed another one of his insane combos that had Momo’s character up in the air for a solid ten seconds unable to escape, the TV switched to All For One’s ‘face’. “Tomura. We are ready for you to join us.”

Tomura cursed at his perfect combo being interrupted, and the controller disintegrated in his hands. With a sigh, Momo popped another controller out of her arm to replace it. Though Momo wasn’t called directly by name, she stood up at the same time that Tomura did. Giran usually let her into negotiation meetings, although with All For One…

“Just Tomura,” All For One said firmly.

She stiffened. He had a presence, even through a screen.

Blind or heedless of the intensity, Tomura tugged on Momo’s cape with two fingers, just as he had been taught to when they were younger. No risk of a full-handed touch against skin. “We could use her.”

“Today’s negotiation is between you and Giran. Nobody else.”

Though Tomura grumbled, he let go of her cape. Trying to keep things smooth, Momo said, “It’s alright.”

Kurogiri created another portal, and Tomura was gone.

She sat back onto the couch, relaxing only once the screen shut off again. With All for One gone, it flickered back to the video game, both characters standing unmoving as the fight music played. With Tomura gone, she picked her controller back up and kicked his character offstage. Once, twice, three times until she finally saw herself on the win screen.

Satisfied, she turned the game and console  off. With nothing else to do, she wandered over to the bar where Kurogiri was, standing ‘like an NPC’, as Tomura would say.

“Would you like some milk?” Kurogiri asked her.

She wasn’t ten years old anymore. “Tea, please.”

He had to go into the backroom for the teabags and hot water. Alone in the bar, Momo pressed her forehead against the counter. Still no getting to watch Giran’s dealing with the king of the underworld, even though Tomura got to.

Though Tomura was older than her, she had always felt him to be significantly less mature… an assessment Giran had agreed was true, but he didn’t get to decide who was included in the meetings.

Still, today wasn’t a total bust. Somehow, Tomura had shown an interest in formalizing their  connection, outside of their mentors’ relationship. She would count that as another strong node in her new network. Even if he was technically also connected to Giran, she could talk to him without Giran over her shoulder. That was two independent connections. She couldn’t imagine how much time it must have taken Giran and All For One to forge all their various relationships.

When Kurogiri came back, a mediocre gray tea in hand, Momo raised her face from the counter. “Kurogiri, how did All For One get you to join him?”

He placed the mug on the counter. “...That’s private.”

“What would it take for you to consider working for me instead?”

His misty face was lacking in much expression, but he was especially deadpan as he replied, “I am loyal to All For One and Shigaraki Tomura.”

And Shigaraki Tomura. Hmm. Momo held no illusions about All For One’s accessibility; he tolerated her as his information broker’s protege, but he would not consider her a serious partner. Tomura, however, had cracks.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” She told Kurogiri.

When Giran and her got home, he updated her on the situation. “That kid sure is ambitious.”

Momo hoped so, then she’d have someone strong at her disposal. “Yeah?”

“Trying to take down All Might.”

She couldn’t have heard that right. “ All Might?”

Giran shrugged as he shed his business coat. “The big guy himself.”

Momo wasn’t so naive as to trust in pro-heroes, and she certainly didn’t mind throwing them under the bus in  order to achieve certain goals, but All Might was a pillar. The thought of taking him out seemed like a pipe dream. “Do you think he’ll succeed?”

That made him laugh. “All For One couldn’t kill him, so I doubt it.”

“So…” Momo frowned. “Are you still helping him out?”

“Sometimes you have to help the ideas that don’t work so people will trust you to help the ideas that do.” Giran assured her. “I’m investing.”

That was Giran, always playing the long game, investing early for late dividends.

Momo hoped her investments would one day be as fruitful as his.

Chapter Text

Once again, Hatsume had her lab door unlocked. Momo entered with a disappointed sigh–this inventor had no sense. She held her briefcase close to her chest, careful to avoid jostling it too much.

“Hatsume?” Momo called out.

She made her way through the messy stacks of shelves, calling Hatsume’s name once more. She narrowly avoided tripping over a spilled box of wires, scattered across the floor like a crime scene.

“Down here!” Hatsume eventually called back.

The voice came from the bottom of a small vehicle-like contraption, something almost like a go-kart, with a set of heavy boots sticking out underneath. Hatsume didn’t say anything else, but Momo heard various clangs and creaks, and a hand occasionally poked out to grab materials and tools from right next to the cart. There was a snapping sound, and then a hiss.

“...You good down there?” Momo asked hesitantly.

Hatsume rolled out suddenly, full body and head popping out from underneath like a jack-in-the-box. “Peachy!” Her eyes darted down. “You got the wonderflonium?”

Momo coughed, standing up straight. Business mode. “Yes.”

Hatsume was off the floor in an instant, getting so close that Momo almost attacked her instinctually. “Brilliant!”

No manners at all, Hatsume plucked the briefcase away from Momo in an instant and slowed down only to carry it ever-so-gently to a table. She pried it open, and the pink of the wonderflonium reflected in her eyes. Her mouth was open, nakedly admiring the rare substance.

“Gorgeous, isn’t it?” Momo commented lightly

Hatsume reached out a finger reverently, slowly sliding it along the glass of the vial like she couldn’t believe it. “That’s an understatement.”

Like a rubber band snapping, Hatsume sprinted to some shelves, furiously pulling and pushing boxes aside until she found some oddly-shaped metal, two tubes connected at an angle. She lugged it over to her workbench and pulled the thing apart, metal sheets parting easily with quick spins of her wrench to undo the nuts.

Though her job was technically done, Momo couldn’t resist her curiosity. “So that is…?”

“My precious baby, hungry for wonderflonium.”

That didn’t help at all. As Hatsume put on a pair of goggles and gloves, Momo tried again. “And what does this ‘baby’ do?”

Hatsume did not look at her at all, laser-focused on undoing some more components, revealing various canisters hooked up to electronics inside. “A portable jet-propulsion system!”

Momo leaned over, taking a closer look to understand. The interior was a little messy, wires and pieces kept together by zip-ties in some locations, but Momo followed the trails through the various components, trying to visualize the exact composition of the materials and how they could be created all at once.

“This wonderflonium is precious stuff,” Hatsume said as she brought the vial over, “For each takeoff, I’ll need less than a drop to get even the heaviest customer off the ground!”

Momo nodded. “Its powerful explosive properties, if mixed with another reagent… the force would be massive, but to keep it stable…”

Hatsume tapped an odd ball near the bottom of the tubes. “Gyroscopic balancer for the canister, attached to the frame via shock absorbers-”

“To keep it from getting agitated and exploding every time a user trips!” Momo finished, “Oh it’s so dangerous, but if it works…”

This time, Hatsume finally pried her eyes away from her work to look at Momo, delighted. “You understand how revolutionary this could be?” Her hands darted out, clasping Momo’s. “The less reagent needed, the lighter the jetpack, and the more efficient the design!”

Momo’s brain halted at the sudden contact, slightly-greased hands wrapped around her own. “Y-yes.”

They stared at each other a few tense moments, cheeks flushed with the excitement of innovation, until Hatsume turned away. “You need goggles.”

Momo tried to catch her breath as Hatsume dug through some drawers. Eventually, as Momo’s heart rate steadied, she was thrown a set of clear plastic goggles. She put them on gratefully.

Once Hatsume was back at the invention, Momo leaned over her shoulder. “So, how exactly does it work?”

The smile she got in response was wide and enthused. “Well firstly the user activates this button here, sending a signal…”

“...Mixed within the chamber, opening narrowed but accommodating of the resultant explosion.”

“Of course,” Momo muttered, brain sparking with inspiration.

Step by step, Hatsume had taken her through the whole design, and carefully installed the wonderflonium along the way. “So now if we put it all back together…”

As Hatsume proceeded on the slightly less stressful task, Momo started to slip out of the trance she had been in when watching her. Momo was technically here for work, she ought to do that instead of mooning over designs. “Hey, do you do requests?”

Though her eyes stayed on the task at hand, she responded, “What do you mean?”

“If I was interested in a particular invention, would you design it for me?”

Hatsume laughed. “My parents would probably kill me if I asked for even more materials than I already do.”

Though Momo only needed a design, not a prototype, she could understand that a design that looks good on paper needs to be tested with real materials to be verified. Hatsume would need to create her designs to guarantee their efficacy.

“What if I provided every single material you needed?” Momo asked urgently, “My only request would be that you share the final designs.”

“Damn, you’re awfully generous!” Hatsume exclaimed, “What are you, some sort of rich heiress?”

Momo stiffened. “Something like that.”

“Well then, sure!”

She let out a breath of relief. “So if I wanted, say, a cell-service jammer or something… could you design it?”

Hatsume shrugged. “Probably! Gotta look into it first, after I finish… yes!” She held up the jetpack, put together now.

She bounced out of her seat. Momo followed as she sprinted to a corner of the room, where an unassuming door sat. Inside was a set of spiraling steps, which led upstairs. Which was odd, considering it was a one-floor building…

Once they went up them, Momo realized it was access to the roof. The roof was moderately spare, but there were a few oddly-shaped frames nailed to it. Hatsume approached one, latching the jetpack into the contraption so that the pipes faced sideways.

“Wait here!” Hatsume exclaimed, running back downstairs.

Momo milled on the roof, circling around the jetpack. It seemed attached, but had a little give to wiggle. For some reason, there was also a fire extinguisher hanging out along the edge.

Hatsume came back up the stairs, arms full. She practically spilled it all onto the roof, a laptop, webcam, and several sensors. Momo watched in fascination as she set everything up, arranging the camera to capture the back half of the jetpack, and placed the springy sensors in the little space between the frame and the jetpack.

“With this, we’ll be able to measure the force of the jets!” Hatsume exclaimed, finishing the setup.

Wow, this girl was safe, wasn’t she? Considering all the necessary tests prior to a human trial. She even gave Momo the safety glasses she was wearing now, even though it seemed she didn’t actually need them.

Soon enough, Hatsume was standing to the side in front of the laptop, a button in hand. “Alright, let’s test this baby out!”

There was a click, then a fizzle, which developed into a fwoosh. Momo watched with wide eyes as the numbers on the laptop screen continued to go up, the sensors getting more and more strained as the jets burned.

“Yes… yes…. yes!” Hatsume almost cackled.

Momo was breathless at the sheer force of the device. This was power, raw and fearsome, capable of-

BOOM!

Both of them fell backwards, and Momo’s glasses suddenly slammed against her face. She groaned, slowly forcing herself back up as something fizzled around them. She opened her eyes, and found a strange shape in the corner of her vision, following her as she shook her head, trying to get her bearings.

“Oops,” Hatsume commented lightly.

Momo blinked, and realized the shape in her vision was in her glasses. She gently touched it, discovering a piece of shrapnel sticking out.

She took in a sharp breath. Her eyes could have been destroyed. “Oops indeed.”

At least the fire seemed to fizzle out quickly, not even warranting the fire extinguisher. “Well, it partially works! Next stage is explosions that don’t explode the pack itself!”

Momo nodded, only slightly shaken as she wondered what would have happened if some of the shrapnel happened to hit her body instead of the glasses. “Seems… essential.”

Hatsume, puttering around the roof, stopped to pick up something round. “Aha! Just as designed, the leftover wonderflonium survived!”

“...That’s good.”

She smiled. “Yeah, wouldn’t want to waste what you worked so hard to get me!”

Not that hard, but Hatsume didn’t need to know that. “Do you… do you always work with so little protection?”

Hatsume blinked at her. Technically, she had on her thick jumpsuit, gloves, goggles… It was just Momo who was underdressed, nothing but her basic clothes, goggles, and her characteristic red cape.

“ ...Ah, I got so excited I forgot about your protection,” Hatsume muttered, “Oops.”

“Perhaps good to consider for the future.”

“Yes.” Hatsume paused a moment. “...So you’ll come again?”

Well, Momo wasn’t dead yet. “I still need that cell-phone jammer, and I’ll be keeping an eye for a… functioning design on that jetpack.”

Hatsume smiled at that. “I’ll work hard.”

Chapter Text

Momo blinked at the balloons tied to one of Hatsume’s shelves, gold and pink and some with Congratulations! tellingly written across the front.

“Er, congratulations?” Momo ventured.

“Thanks!” Hatsume responded from underneath her robot.

She didn’t elaborate any further.

Momo took a few steps closer. Scanned the balloons again for any clues. Just ‘congratulations’, no mention of a birthday or other particular event.

So she admitted to her own ignorance. “So what are you celebrating?”

“Got into the Support course!” Hatsume chirped.

“Oh. Like… school?” Momo supposed it was around that time of year, but she didn’t pay particularly close attention to that sort of thing.

“Yup!” Hatsume finally popped out from under her robot. “Can you pass me that 8 mm wrench?”

Momo obliged, trying to control her expression so Hatsume wouldn’t see the conflict in her face. Once Hatsume was safely under the robot again, Momo ventured, “So like… the Support course… like at a hero school?”

“Exactly! I’m already excited thinking about all the facilities I’ll have access to, plus I’ll get to work directly with some heroes-in-training. It’ll be great!”

Great and heroic.

Then again, Giran had a designer in Detnerat on their Hero Support division who happily shared modified designs. There were plenty corrupt heroes, why not corrupt support as well?

She took a deep breath. This was a snag, but not an unmanageable one. Hero support was simply the most lucrative path for an ambitious designer. Hatsume wasn’t exactly dripping with heroic ideals, she was probably being practical.

Still… “So I guess you’ll be pretty busy, then,” Momo commented.

“Hopefully!”

“...Too busy to come here?”

“What?” Hatsume popped out again. “Of course not! It’ll be after school, but I can still come here, they won’t let me work on too many personal projects in the school lab, especially not while I’m a first year.”

Momo breathed out a sigh of relief. “Ah. I see.”

Hatsume scooted over to her workbench, squinting at her own design.

“Congratulations, then.” Momo told her.

Hatsume laughed. “You already said that.”

“But I didn’t know what it was for. I just saw those balloons.”

Hastume glanced sideways at the decoration. “Oh yeah, those! My parents got them for me, so…”

“It’s nice.”

“....Yeah, they’re supportive of me.”

Momo wondered what that was like. “They happy about you going into support?”

Hatsume shrugged. “...They’re happy someone might be able to tire me out, I think. I used to annoy them all the time as a kid, bugging them about every single project I was working on. Eventually it got so annoying that they gave me this entire building far away from them.”

The phrasing had Momo frowning. “That doesn’t sound like… quite full support.”

“They do, they just don’t really get it.” She was pulling drawers now, looking for something. “My dad’s a sports announcer, and my mom an investment banker. It’s just so far out of their department, it makes sense they can’t really get more involved.”

“I suppose that makes sense,” Momo commented, frowning at the thought of such a genius being shuffled away and hidden so her parents didn’t have to grapple with a subject they had no expertise in.

Hatsume was still digging through drawers.

“You looking for something?” Momo asked.

“Yeah I swear I had more 8mm nuts, but I might have run out? I just need one more for this baby, but…”

The crestfallen look on Hatsume’s face had Momo’s heart clenching. She couldn’t have her inventor so distraught. It felt far too easy to swipe a hand across a random shelf, flip her hand up and reveal an 8mm nut. “Like this?”

“Oh! Perfect!” She snatched it up, hands brushing hers. “Where was this?”

Momo looked as innocent as possible. “Just lying over on that shelf, must have lost it awhile ago.”

She didn’t look concerned. “Whoops. Thanks for finding it for me!”

“No problem at all.”

“I ought to take you to school, think they’d accept an assistant?” Hastume suggested with a laugh.

Momo blushed at the idea—being Hatsume’s trusted companion, able to spend more than these odd moments.

“Actually, wait–” Hatsume paused, suddenly looking at her. “–where will you be going to school?”

Momo froze.

She had never actually come up with a cover. She’d always been working with fellow villains; there was hardly anyone who would bother with such a silly question.

“I’m going to, uh, a… normal? School. A normal school.”

At least Hatsume laughed instead of looking at her with any sort of suspicion. “Ahaha, so not a hero school?”

“...No.”

“Do you know what you want to do?”

“...Business management,” Momo decided was close enough, “maybe.”

“If you know how to run a business, you can help me run mine!”

She swallowed hard. “You’d… want me to?” Luckily Hatsume was focusing on her robot, so she couldn’t see whatever idiotic expression Momo was wearing. “Even if… even though I’m not in a hero school?”

“Sure, heroism isn’t everything.”

Momo smiled at that. There was hope for the two of them. “Yeah.”

There was a knock at her door. “Come in!”

Giran stepped inside, waving a folder. “Got a moment for some forgery?”

She pushed away from her computer, where she had been on a wikipedia deep-dive on pneumatics. “Sure.”

“Need a birth certificate, with all its usual features.” He placed the folder down. “Details in there, feel free to take your time, it’s for a client I’m meeting tomorrow night.”

She nodded, “Can do.”

He slipped out of the room. “By the way, are you okay with noodles for dinner?”

When she smiled at the suggested meal, he chuckled.

“Alright, they’ll be ready in about an hour.”

Once the door was closed, Momo took a moment to peruse the folder. As per usual for these forgeries, Giran included the info he wanted on the new certificate, plus a genuine article. She spread the pieces out on her table. This work was somewhat delicate, and she had to concentrate hard. She wasn’t exactly a printer… which was an advantage in these cases, being able to replicate various embossments, stamps, and inks that a regular printer was not capable of.

She took a close look at the original certificate. Okuta Kagero. Giran’s legal name. Momo had read it before, but Giran had never asked her to call him that. His life was business, so he kept to his business name. Momo was someone he picked up when working, so it made sense to keep calling him his working name.

Carefully, she started the forgery, slowly letting each line form out of her forearm. Bit by bit, it came into existence, as authentic as Okura Kagero’s but with new names filling the spots. Finally, she reached the end, and it fluttered down onto her desk. She squinted at it for a quality check, and once satisfied she put it down. There were likely other steps for whatever Giran promised his client, changing the family registrar with his in at that department and the like, but Momo’s job in the matter was done.

Not too much time had passed, but she didn’t bring the work to Giran yet. He was probably preoccupied with dinner. She’d return the folder with the product after dinner.

Until then…

She continued to stare at his birth certificate. For all his sketchiness, Giran legally existed. Unlike Momo, whose documents were likely buried or burned somewhere on the Yaoyorozu estate. She wondered what she would find if she asked Giran to pull the Yaoyorozu family register… did her family declare her dead, or did they just strike her from the record entirely?

It didn’t matter. She wasn’t theirs, not since they gave her up.

Still, she found herself staring at Giran’s certificate.

With some hesitance, she got up and approached her door. Slowly, she clicked the lock in place, then returned to her desk. The certificate was right there and the owner was busy cooking, based on the sound of running water she could hear through the walls.

She put her arm out again, repeating the forgery process. Again, it took time and concentration, but eventually, she had a piece of paper on the desk, with two very particular details.

Name: Okuta Momo

Father: Okuta Kagero

The piece of paper was just that, a piece of paper, nothing more, nothing less. But she stared at it like it could be a reality. In some alternate universe, where Momo was some poor orphan adopted into his family instead of a piece of collateral Giran lucked out on collecting.

A clang of pots in the kitchen, and Momo tore the certificate with her heart pounding. She didn’t want Giran to see something so silly. It was a forgery. Not reality. So she tore it up again and again, until it was in so many tiny pieces that even if Giran dug through the trash of her room, it would be nearly impossible to put together. And for good measure, she balled it up in her hands and leaked ink out of her palm, soaking the mass until there was no way anyone could ever read the document again.

Chapter Text

“So the signal jammer…” Momo brought up lightly.

Hatsume peeked up from the machine her face was buried in. “Oh! That thing?”

She hopped from her seat to one of the many shelves, arms stretching up to a precariously balanced box. The shelf was so high Hatsume could barely tap at it with her fingers, leading it up and back and up and back until…

There was only a moment to realize and act, but instinct drove Momo forwards to catch the box before it fell on top of Hatsume’s head. At her taller height, she was able to grip it fully, and she let out a sigh of relief as the contents stabilized and nothing spilled out.

“Oops, thanks for the save!” Hatsume exclaimed, leaning back and against Momo’s chest to look up at her.

Though Momo had some chastisements about safety at the tip of her tongue, they disintegrated at the view below her. Hatsume’s face with an easy smile, her head pressed to Momo in the tight quarters, and a very clear view down a gray tank top…

Momo pulled back abruptly, face hot and hands scrambling to keep purchase on the box as she brought it down to a safe level. “H-here. Careful.”

There was no sign Hatsume noticed Momo’s flustering, and her attention went solely to the contents of the container. She grabbed an oblong device from it, flicking it and causing various components to snap out into an antenna. “So here’s the prototype…”

Momo put the box down as Hatsume continued.

“I’ve focused on a series of radio frequencies that should interfere with the majority of calls. Right now it has to be plugged into a power source, but if you wanted wireless I could set it up to accept a lithium ion battery, though I don’t have a spare–”

“I do,” Momo assured her, “I already told you, whatever material you want, I will secure for you.”

That drew Hatsume’s eyes to her again, something inscrutable in her gaze, before she broke out into another beaming smile. “Oh you tempt me, Momo.”

Why had she given her real name again? It left her heart pounding, not used to anyone outside of Giran and a few close contacts using that name. It made her want to create the lithium battery right now, heedless of revealing her quirk, just to keep that smile on Hatsume’s face.

She wouldn’t reveal her quirk, but…. “In fact, I have one with me, give me just a moment…”

That wouldn’t be too suspicious, right? Keeping a spare battery on one’s person just seemed like common sense. And a lithium battery was used in many things, so surely some people kept one just in case. Any responsible student, certainly.

Hatsume’s eyes sparkled, expectant. “Really?”

Momo dug into her bag, which generally just kept various snacks, granola bars, and a protein shake. She put her whole hand inside, completely concealing it before making the battery pop out of her palm. She pulled it out with a flourish, “Voila!”

The material was snatched out of her hand immediately, Hatume cooing over it and gently stroking a finger along its edge. “Ohh, baby…”

The phrasing made Momo cough in surprise, but she soon realized Hatsume was talking to the battery, not to her. Hatsume’s attention never wavered even as she sprung into action, skittering around her lab to pull out some further components, and tools to pry open the signal jammer. Momo grabbed some safety glasses and a heavy jacket from the hook on the wall Hatsume had hung the spares upon, easy for her guest to access. Once the protection was on, she leaned over Hatsume’s hunched form over the bench, squinting as Hatsume carefully started to strip some wires.

Momo’s eyes were cataloguing the contents, the design, every piece and how it fit together. Sure, Hatsume would give her the blueprints afterwards, beautifully detailed, but there was nothing so brilliant as a product in person. Momo had spent her fair share of time reverse-engineering weapons Giran gave her whose designs couldn’t be found on the web, so she was automatically imagining every piece.

She was so absorbed that she didn’t dodge when Hatsume leaned backwards, accidentally bumping her shoulder against Momo’s chin. “Oh!” Hatsume exclaimed, snapping out of the enthusiasm that had possessed her, suddenly seeming to realize for the first time in minutes that Momo was still in the room. “...You’re interested?”

Momo’s eyes didn’t leave the jammer. “Yes. The way you’ve split the sensors along separate edges, to balance the design, it’s ingenious.”

Hatsume’s enthusiasm returned full force. “You think that’s ingenious? Let me show you where I’ve hidden the circuits…”

The explanations continued and continued, enthralling and as brilliant as Momo expected from the inventor. Momo had examined blueprints in contemplative silence, taking diligent notes, but this was different. The air was electric as each piece was elaborated on, an addictive energy between them as Momo asked and commented and suggested and the design changed in front of her eyes, Hatsume adapting as smoothly as a pianist improvising a new solo on stage to perfectly fit the song around it. Momo found her skin hot, sweating in excitement as she didn’t just read a static illustration off the page but engaged with its creation. Hatsume had to be feeling some of that same delight, if her endless talking and flushed cheeks were anything to go by.

Though Momo deeply appreciated everything Giran did for her, he couldn’t do much for her creation outside of procuring rare products and blueprints. The few times she would try and talk through a creation with him, he would sit patiently, but his eyes would glaze over and eventually he would just be nodding along as she did it all on her own.

That was nothing like this, where Hatsume and her seemed to be in perfect step, words overlapping each other at times but never being lost, like some sort of intellectual dance Momo knew all the steps for despite never having done it before.

By the end, signal jammer fully functional and tested (with less explosions than usual for Hatsume), Momo didn’t even need the blueprint. She knew it front-to-back, every centimeter of the baby lovingly detailed and demonstrated by Hatsume.

Still, when Hatsume told her she would make a blueprint by the next day, Momo didn’t object. Best to keep the agreement consistent, so Hatsume wouldn’t start wondering why Momo did or didn’t actually need it written down.

“I’ll be eagerly awaiting the design,” Momo told her.

Hatsume grinned. “Come again anytime, this was so fun! I never get company in the lab.”

Did that… was Momo special then? “...You normally don’t allow others here?”

Hatsume’s head tilted. “What? I’m not that secretive, anyone is welcome.”

Oh, so there was nobody Hatsume knew who wanted to visit then. “Well…” Momo felt a twinge of jealousy at the idea of someone getting curious and trying to engage with her in the same way that they did just now. “You ought to be selective. Your inventions are precious, don’t go revealing their contents to just anyone.”

She laughed, waving her hand dismissively. “Not a problem, as nobody is interested right now. I won’t go showing our baby to just anyone.”

Our baby. The words had Momo’s mouth suddenly dry.

She needed to get out, now. “I’ll be back!” She called out as she finished her exit.

“I’ll be waiting!” Hatsume returned, voice sincere.

Once the door was shut behind her, Momo practically sprinted down the path, at least a block away, before she bent over with her hands over her mouth, squealing through her fingers.

Our baby, Hatsume had said. Momo wasn’t exactly an inventor, her thinking was rigid, she never made those brilliant leaps and changes that Hatsume intuited from experience, and yet… and yet…

She leaned back against the fence of some random building, her blood still pounding. Those words felt true. The design carved into her heart was their baby.

Momo wanted to make so many more babies with Hatsume.

“Already?” Tomura asked over the phone.

Momo nodded. She was at home, but Giran was out, so she wasn’t afraid of him overhearing this side deal she had going on. “I can make it whenever you want it.”

“I’ll make a portal at Giran’s place, just drop it in.”

She headed out to the living room concentrating on her arm along the way. She imagined every single atom, perfectly aligned according to Hatsume’s specifications. And… a few aesthetic details altered to fit her taste. She dropped it into the portal and waited, her other hand still holding the phone.

After a few moments, Tomura said, “Did you have to make it pink?”

“Pink and red,” Momo corrected him, “And yes. I want to have clear branding.”

“Just make it red then, ‘Little Red’. At least I could think of it like blood. Since when is pink one of your colors?”

She thought of Hatsume’s hair, rosy locks swinging as she bounced around the lab. “A signal jammer is a signal jammer, it’s just aesthetic.”

She could hear the eyeroll in his voice. “Whatever.”

The portal disappeared, and Momo let out a sigh of relief.

One more deal done.

Chapter Text

In the morning, when Momo went to the living room, Giran was seated on the couch, on the phone as usual. She stepped closer, hairbrush in hand, but a slightly-frantic expression on his face made her stop.

He put a hand over the receiver of the phone and mouthed towards her, All for One.

Then he looked away from her, focusing on listening and then responding, “certainly, sir, that can be arranged…”

Her hands clenched the handle of the hairbrush. Whatever. All for One was so important after all. Momo may be Giran’s greatest asset, but All for One was an even greater threat, so he got priority.

Momo could brush her own hair.

She went back to her room and ran the bristles through the strands firmly. It was best she develop this sense of independence, probably. She couldn’t expect Giran to always be at her beck and call, not when she was still so weak. Prioritizing her in these situations was just bad business.

Deep breaths in. It was logical.

She distracted herself with some research materials. The effect of different chemical structures on forms and properties. Debated the logistics of an automatic hair-brushing machine…

When she tired of it, she left her room and found Giran mostly done with preparing breakfast. She prepared the tea beside him in silence, and together they took a seat with the radio. She reached for the maple syrup he put at the center of the table, imported all the way from Canada, and began drenching her pancakes in the rich, sweet syrup.

Momo practically inhaled the food on her plate. Beside her, Giran was nibbling his pancake, enjoying some sips of tea between bites. Momo’s mouth was too full to make conversation, but they were listening to the radio anyway, careful ears out for current events.

When there was a commercial break though, Giran turned the knob to lower the volume. “Say, Momo…”

She looked at him, showing she was listening, but was still chewing.

“How’s that new connection going?”

She swallowed. “Pretty great. I’ve established a solid rapport, and a trade system for inventions and supplies.”

“Inventions?”

“She’s got a brilliant mind, and despite her general messiness, her actual designs and blueprints are neatly and efficiently crafted. Her creations are ingenious, and getting to see her work on it instead of just reading flat design sheets from the internet is invaluable for my own creation process, so I have set up an agreement where I provide supplies in exchange for blueprints.”

“I see,” he was smiling fondly, but his eyes were sharp, “and any weaknesses?”

The reminder had Momo stiffening. She wasn’t making friends or something that ridiculous, she was collecting information. “...Not particularly,” she admitted with great hesitation.

There was a tiny flicker in his expression, that terrible awful thing she dreaded, that hint of disappointment that made her shiver like nails against a chalkboard. “Well I suppose it’s early on. You’ll want to catch people’s weaknesses early, before they smarten up.”

“Well it’s not like I’ve had reason to look for a weakness,” Momo tried to defend herself without sounding too testy.

“No, but you’ll want to figure it out long before you ever need it. For every connection you have, you’ll want to catalogue everything you can about them. Obviously maintain your good rapport, but behind the scenes it can’t hurt to investigate…”

Momo wondered how Giran would define his own weakness. HIs penchant for cigarettes? His mediocre physical abilities? Perhaps his true weakness was something he would never tell Momo. Information was precious to him, he wouldn’t share that with someone who had no reason to need it.

“...need help? If you have her name, I can run a full background check for you, just to make sure there’s nothing-”

“Isn’t this supposed to be my connection?” Momo snapped.

He blinked at her, eyebrows raised, and she was abruptly embarrassed at her own reaction.

“I mean–” she focused her gaze on her pancakes, still warm from the pan, “–this whole thing is to build my own network and my independence, right?”

Two fingers went up to his lips. Pressed against them, gently scratching at the skin below his nose, as though he could pull an invisible cigarette out of thin air. By now the radio had moved past the ads, it was back to the news, but he didn’t turn it up at all. He eventually said, “You’re not independent yet.”

She thought of her deal with Tomura. One thing done properly behind the scenes, which Giran didn’t know about. She was more capable than he knew. “And I won’t be, if you keep hovering.”

He scoffed. “It’s not ‘hovering’ to make sure my greatest asset isn’t walking into a trap when she’s never done this sort of thing on her own before.”

No wonder he didn’t want her to try her hand at true villainy, if he was this paranoid about her literally just talking to people. “So you don’t trust me.”

“It’s not trust, it’s just a fact that I’ve been in this business for decades, and you’re stepping into it for the first time. I would be cautious no matter who I was guiding through the process.”

“I’m not even really doing anything!” She declared, letting her fork clatter against the table. “I’m not getting involved in direct fights or action, just how much are you going to hold me back until you’re satisfied?”

He stood up. “Warning you to be cautious isn’t holding you back, it’s putting you in a more secure position to move forward.”

She stood up as well. Why did Giran get to stir up all those memories of Hatsume and taint them with his usual calculating paranoia? “So I get to do what I want, as long as it’s exactly what you do?”

“What else do you want? If you hate it that much, why not enroll in a real school?” He challenged, a strained edge to his voice, “You could forge the paperwork, go become a normal girl, if you really wanted. You don’t have to keep hanging around the underworld, in fact it’d probably be better if you didn’t.”

It felt like a slap to the face. Just because she talked back, she wasn’t good enough to be his asset anymore? “I don’t wanna go to school,” she muttered, not sure how to articulate why the thought hurt as much as it did.

“Then if you’re going to take this dangerous path, you need to listen to me,” he said sternly.

She crossed her arms. “Oh ‘cause you’re so powerful,” she countered, “up until the moment All For One calls you up and you have to drop everything.”

He grimaced. Clenched a fist. “The fact that the demon king of the underworld calls me is a success.”

“Imagine if you were the king instead of his jester,” Momo retorted.

“Is that what you want?” He almost snarled. “To become the king instead? To be the first person on everyone’s hit list? To be known, and the first to be overthrown in any revolution?”

“I don’t care if it’s dangerous, I wanna be strong, unlike you!”

Giran opened his mouth, then turned away. He bent to turn off the radio, still quietly muttering the news. “I’m going to go cool off,” Giran said quietly.

Momo dropped back into her chair. “Fine.”

She listened with stiff shoulders as his footsteps went down the hall. The jingle of his keys being picked up. The door opening, then closing. He didn’t even slam it.

Angrily, Momo scooped the last of the pancakes into her mouth. Best not to let food go to waste, unlike Giran. She eyed his half-finished plate. Was he really so pissed he was going to skip breakfast? He was probably going to go to a coffeeshop to grab one of those fluffy pink frappe drinks he liked. He’d probably sip at it, imagining Momo getting all sad and regretful for sort-of yelling at him.

Well she wasn’t sorry, she decided. Hatsume was her connection, she got to decide how she approached. Why not try a more trusting approach, where she got to know her target naturally and developed that good relationship? That could be stronger than any deal, if she could create an emotional anchor that would instill loyalty. That’s how she got her connection with Tomura, however unintentionally. Giran never even let anyone call him by his legal name, what did he know about connecting with others?

She finished her plate, and cleaned it up. She didn’t clean up Giran’s, he could do that himself. Inside the sink was the frying pan he used for the pancakes, soaking. It was his favorite pan, wide and non-stick. After mulling it over for a moment, she went ahead and scrubbed at it, wiping it down, and then dried it on a dish towel.

Then she opened up a cabinet and put it on the highest shelf. Even at her height, she had to go on her tip-toes to push it all the way back. She made sure the handle was visible, so it was no mystery what was stored up in that shelf they normally kept empty.

After setting that, she went to the supply closet and removed the stepstool they kept in there. She carried it to her own room and shoved it under her bed.

When it was securely hidden, she felt slightly calmer.

Whatever. Giran didn’t think she could make it on her own; she would just prove him wrong.

Chapter Text

Momo double-checked that Giran was out. His bedroom door was closed, but there was no noise from it. His scarf was off its hook. And most importantly, his keys that he usually kept in the cutesy cat-shaped dish near the door was gone.

She texted Tomura, All clear, send in Kurogiri.

He didn’t text back, but the portal that appeared in the living room was response enough. She stepped through and ended up at a familiar bar.

Tomura smirked at her. “Well well well, come for advice from your senpai-in-villainy?”

“I’ve come to call in that favor,” she stated, as business-like as she could, “I want to join in on your attack on All Might.”

He stared at her. Started to scratch his neck. “Uhh no thanks.”

She clenched her fists. Of course Tomura the brat would refuse to honor his end of the deal. He never learned how to actually do business, like Momo had to. “I got you that signal jammer.”

“Yeah, ‘cause you’re a support class, not front-end offense.” He raised an eyebrow. “What would you even do in a fight?”

Momo reached out a hand and produced a pistol straight out of her palm, perfectly gripped with her finger on the trigger and the barrel staring down his forehead.

He didn’t even flinch. “Neat, but if a gun was all it took to win, Sniper would be the number one hero. I’m not gonna throw you on the frontlines to get nerfed by someone you didn’t see in time to shoot, Giran would kill me.”

She pursed her lips and dropped the gun. It was only a replica, no interior mechanisms or bullets. That would have taken too long to think up and Tomura might have thought her too slow. Not that it mattered, apparently, if he was going to be stubborn about this. “Giran’s not my boss.”

“Isn’t he, though?”

He kind of was. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t freelance as an independent contractor on the side.

She stomped a foot to emphasize her conviction. “He’s not. I’m going to become stronger than him.”

“Then you oughta level up before trying to join my party,” he told her with his nose turned up, “I’m not gonna take a noob like you out on the field just to die.”

Maybe Momo technically didn’t have a ton of experience fighting, but there was one time when a business deal went south with Giran that she had to sort of fight her way out of the situation. Technically he grabbed her and ran, but she released a smokescreen behind them to help them escape! Which was a thoughtful maneuver that could be used for combat. And Giran had shown her some self-defense moves, even if she had almost never had to actually use them.

Even as she argued with herself, she had to acknowledge her own limitations, so she pivoted her argument. “Why should I keep supplying you things if you’re not even going to agree when I ask you favors?”

He wagged his finger. “I’ll tell you what: If you can pull off a big mission on your own, and demonstrate that you’re smart and able to do villainy independent of me and Giran, then I’ll let you join the big leagues.”

She rolled her eyes. “Nobody even knows you.”

“Yet,” he countered, “after I kill All Might, everyone will know and fear the League of Villains.”

“Sure,” she said in deadpan, but Tomura didn’t even react.

All he did was grin, chapped lips cracking, and tap her head a few times with two fingers, the closest thing a headpat All for One and Giran had allowed when they were younger. “Great, do your best to level up, Shortie Red.”

She brushed his hand away petulantly. “That’s Little Red.”

He snorted.

“You okay?” Hatsume called through the smoke.

Momo removed the fire extinguisher from the wall. “Yes!”

She sprayed the nozzle towards the base of the fire. The fire itself was fairly small, but the material on the grappling gun that had burned released a thick, inky black smoke. Fortunately it lightened up once the fire was out, but the air still felt thick.

“Great!” Hatsume started to return to her task.

Momo tugged her arm. “Hatsume, we should probably let it ventilate for a bit, that smoke can’t be good for our lungs.”

Hatsume had a clear expression of disappointment, but she obliged Momo’s concerns by opening some windows, setting a fan and climbing up the stairs to the roof. Momo followed with some relief.

The roof was a literal breath of fresh air. She breathed in deep, and heard Hatsume do the same beside her. When Momo took in the view of the area surrounding them, she was surprised that it was already sunset.

“Time flies,” she commented lightly.

Hatsume laughed. “An hour feels like a minute in the lab.”

Momo hummed in agreement, turning towards her. “...Do you even spend any time at home?”

“Uhhh dinner sometimes? And I sleep there when I don’t sleep here!” She exclaimed.

Momo chuckled, and stared at the sky in front of them. Rich pinks in the same vein as Hatsume’s hair.

“What about you?” Hatsume asked.

Momo paused. Blinked. Turned towards her. “Huh?”

“You’ve been hanging out here after school with me too, your parents must miss you, right?”

Momo’s finger twitched. She took a breath, urging her expression not to change. “Ah, don’t worry about that.”

Unfortunately, without the lab at her fingertips, Hatsume’s curiosity shifted from her inventions to Momo. “What’s your family even like? Any siblings?”

She turned her gaze to the sky again, trying not to think too deeply about it. Trying not to recall how it felt to turn on the television, watch a whole show with a strangely familiar-looking kid playing the obnoxious nephew of the main character, and then when watching the credits to check if she’d seen him in something before, getting hit with the name Yaoyorozu Ichiro.

“One little brother,” she confessed, the thought of lying to Hatsume more blatantly feeling disrespectful to her genuine curiosity.

“Yeah?” Hatsume smiled. “Siblings seem fun. What’s he like?”

He seemed confident, chatty, charming even as a child in the interviews she had watched online. “I don’t know,” she muttered.

“You don’t know?”

“We were raised separately,” she finally admitted.

“Oh.”

Momo could practically hear the gears turning in her head, trying to click the pieces into place, but lacking the components needed to put it together into a working understanding.

“Why-”

“I bet the smoke’s cleared out,” Momo interrupted, “ready to try again? With less explosions this time?”

That perked her up, and her irises whirred in excitement, focusing on the new exciting task. “No promises!”

Momo eyed Giran warily as he puttered around the kitchen. He had put her hair up this morning, but hadn’t been particularly energetic. To be fair, both of them had been up past 5 AM last night securing a deal, which had set their morning significantly into the afternoon and may have explained his weary movements. He pulled out several eggs, clearly ready for a big breakfast, but was looking around the kitchen for something.

When he finally opened the cabinet and looked up, he sighed.

Momo waited. Observed his arms; waited to see if he would even attempt to reach up to the shelf they both knew he was too short to reach.

He didn’t. Instead, he went to the supply closet. After some time in there, he returned to the kitchen empty handed. Momo thought she saw him glance towards her, but she avoided his gaze when he did, pretending to be completely occupied in the very strenuous task of deciding which tea to steep this morning.

With a sigh, he opened up another cabinet and pulled out the bad frying pan, the one that always stuck to food.

She pursed her lips.

They went through their morning routine with mediocre scrambled eggs, scraped bacon strips, and assam tea. The news went on as usual, commenting on the weather, new business openings, and then…

"Urgent news item: There has been a villain attack at the Unseen Simulation Joint, during a UA field trip where students were attacked…”

That made Giran’s eyes widen, and wordlessly he picked up his plate and went to the living room, switching on the television. Momo followed, but went back to grab both of their teacups and brought them over.

“ ...Witnesses say that the facility was locked down, and attempts to call for help blocked until a student escaped and ran to get pro-heroes involved…”

Momo squinted at the screen, images of a large gate surrounded by police cars and ambulances. There were some teens sitting in shock blankets, some talking to detectives, and a few jumping into the arms of parents who had arrived.

"...early reports from our sources on the ground claim that the attack was committed by a group that called themselves the League of Villains, with the goal of ending All Might…”

She gasped. “That’s Tomura!”

The reporter onscreen continued, “...but of course no villain can match for All Might, and the group was stopped. Further reports are still coming out…”

She found herself biting at the inside of her cheek, trying not to breath too fast as the news continued with plenty of notes about the students of UA and how scared they were and yet how competently they held on until All Might and others arrived, while there was barely a single update of the villains in question aside from identifying their name to curse it.

She pulled out her phone and sent a text. Want a grappling gun?

He didn’t respond within two seconds. She closed her phone.

Giran apparently caught her. “He’ll probably be busy debriefing with All for One.”

“I’m not worried.”

“...Sure.” He stretched, almost yawning. “He got exactly what he wanted: He’s in the public conscious now, people are talking about the League. Maybe All Might stopped him this time, but he broke into a secure hero facility, so he’s clearly worth fearing.”

Assuming he survived the attempt, anyway. Would the news have reported if he had been killed? Or would they hold off to keep All Might’s image squeaky clean?

“You’re right,” Momo acquiesced, getting up.

There were times when Giran fretted, usually when it came to preparation. But once a mission was completed, he didn’t linger on the consequences beyond reorienting his own goals. When one of his tight connections, a middle-aged weapons smuggler who used to bring little toys for Momo when they met up, died in a deal gone dreadfully wrong, Giran didn’t even cry. He took action immediately to bolster an assistant to the leading position, guiding him and setting him up to continue the same work so Giran could continue to get the weapons he needed at a scale Momo couldn’t feasibly provide.

Becoming emotional over something that couldn’t be changed wasn’t practical, and Giran was always practical.

Momo returned to her room in silence, only detouring to put her dishes in the sink. Giran didn’t need to know how sick she felt, imagining Tomura, as annoying as he was, laid to waste by the greatest hero in the world. Crusty skin torn apart with just one Detroit Smash.

Once her door was closed, she sprinted to her computer and searched up USJ Attack. She clicked several articles, starting with the most recently updated ones. She skimmed through descriptions of the students attacked, speculative articles, and UA’s response until she found the words:

...the leader is still at-large, having retreated when…

She breathed out a sigh of relief. That meant he was probably alive.

Her phone still hadn’t vibrated though. No response from Tomura to fully confirm, but he probably was busy. Or pissed that his ambitious mission hadn’t actually succeeded at what he had intended.

Momo couldn’t help but imagine how things might have gone if she had been there, fighting alongside him. Whether she could have changed the tides and led his League to unlikely victory.

At the very least, she could have been certain that he wasn’t harmed.

She lifted the covers off he bed, revealing the grappling hook she had made earlier. She tested it lightly, tugging at the anchor to make sure it was securely attached to the rope. Giran hadn’t mentioned anything on their schedule for tonight, so perhaps she would be able to use it.

Tomura said she could join if she proved herself. She would have to start off alone.

Chapter Text

The hour was late, so late that even Giran had been audibly snoring when Momo had pressed her ear against his door before leaving. He had a variable schedule, but when he went to sleep he was certain to stay that way. It meant she had probably six hours at least before she had to be back in the apartment.

So she made her way down the streets she had meticulously examined via satellite image earlier that day. Her path was mapped out, avoiding any businesses that might be awake this late. Luckily she was heading through the warehouse district, which rarely had any legal activity at this time of day.

Illegal activity, however…

She was best off walking confidently down the sidewalk. Don’t look like a lost tourist who makes for an easy mark, and don’t look like a villain lurking too deep in the shadows. Both villains and undercover heroes were out in the night, and it wasn’t always easy to tell who was who at first glance. So she would walk the line to avoid catching either of their attentions.

Her footsteps echoed on the sidewalk. The dock wasn’t too far from here, so she could hear the distant echo of the ocean crashing against it. She only had a couple of blocks to go.

Unfortunately, there was a commotion.

At first she assumed it was a typical late-night squabble between night owls, but then there were feet pounding against pavement, shouting of “Stop right there!” and Momo was suddenly looking around for somewhere to hide.

There were no nearby alleys, a single tree was wilting in its tiny allowance of soil among cement. Momo took in a sharp breath and turned towards the source of the sound.

At the end of the block she was walking along, a duo turned the corner. Someone with a top hat and a guy with tentacle arms rushed down the street; they didn’t even seem to register Momo, standing stock still on the sidewalk. The guy with tentacles sprang off the ground with them and reached up to an open second-floor window of the building Momo was standing beside. More tentacles stretched back and snatched up his companion, and soon the two of them were gone from view in a matter of seconds.

Suddenly, something long and white shot out and wrapped around a streetlamp, and a person in black swung into the street. There was a moment when Momo assumed from his dark attire and messy hair that he was another villain fleeing, but then she saw the bright yellow goggles.

Eraserhead looked right at her.

She tried to look confused rather than completely freezing up. Giran had warned her of Eraserhead, one of the underground heroes who dug deep into its depths with unfortunate efficacy. A few of Giran’s contacts had been imprisoned thanks to his work. Plenty of heroes caught the big gaudy villains who made big scenes, but it was much rarer for them to properly investigate, network, and pluck the essential nodes of villainy that kept things running under the surface.

In other words, Giran didn’t want to get into Eraserhead’s sights if he could help it.

“Did you see where those two went?” Eraserhead asked, already starting to run down the street to get to the end of the block, which was stopped by a huge warehouse that split the street to the left and right.

“That way.” She pointed to the left.

He was at the end of the block now, and scanned the street towards the left. He muttered something, likely a curse, but unfortunately instead of dutifully chasing them down, it seemed Momo hadn’t played uninteresting enough. He turned back towards her. “How old are you?”

She tried to sound offended to discourage questioning. “Excuse me?”

“You sound young,” he offered, “what are you doing out at this time of night?”

Since her growth spurt, her height usually let her pass as an adult as needed in Giran’s work, but apparently this guy had a knack for identification. Still, she wasn’t one to let up easily. “I’m nineteen,” she said firmly.

His goggles made it hard to see his expression, so she wasn’t sure if he bought it or not. Unfortunately, he got closer. “I’m trying to catch two villains, you saw them?”

“I saw two people run through here,” Momo informed him, “I didn’t know them,”

There was a pause, and suddenly there was a memo pad and pen in his hand. “I’ll need to take a witness statement from you.”

She scoffed. “It’s late, I just want to go home. That’s literally all I saw.”

“Trying to escape? Perhaps you’re an accomplice.”

Fuck, he was trying to put her in a bind. If she ran or resisted, he could hunt her down like a villain. Her only option was to cooperate. Even if he was suspicious, so long as she played her cards right he’d have no chance but to let her go. She would play difficult so he’d want to end their interaction, but she had to be careful not to seem like she was trying too hard.

“Who even are you, anyway?” She sassed back, “You don’t exactly look like a hero.”

He flashed a license. “Good to be suspicious, but I can assure you I’m a pro-hero. Who are you?”

This was where things got dicey. “Higurashi Chihiro.”

“And what are you doing out here this late?”

Claiming work would just raise more questions she didn’t have the answer to. “A date.”

There was a pause where she could imagine him raising an eyebrow. “A date?”

She nodded. “What? Do you want our whole itinerary? I don’t think that’s relevant to your little villain chase.”

“There’s not a lot of things to do on a date around here.”

Time to sprinkle in some reason for her shiftiness. “He has a girlfriend. We don’t want her to catch us.”

He was frustratingly low-energy, and those goggles made it hard to read him. Was he suspicious, or uncomfortable? Either way, Momo had a few moments to think before he asked, “Where are you meeting him?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Why? Did his girlfriend ask you to keep an eye out?”

He let out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not a private investigator.”

“No, you’re just a hero letting the villains get away.” She put her hands on her hips.. “I wonder how far they’ve gotten while you’ve interrogated a random passerby.”

“I know not to waste my energy when they’ve escaped down a path I don’t know. And I know how important it is to chase clues when they crop up.” His chin flicked down.

Spreading her elbows had parted her cloak slightly, and a large bag that laid along her hip was made visible to him. She put her arms together to cross them petulantly, but it was too late.

“What’s in your bag?” He asked.

“My private belongings,” she said primly.

“It looks a lot like the bag my villains were carrying.”

She gasped. “Are you implying that one of them turned into me?”

“They committed a large robbery, if they’re on the run it makes sense for them to continue running but drop the goods off with someone unrelated. That way if they’re caught, someone else can make off with the stolen contraband.”

“Well my bag certainly isn’t big enough for that.”

“We suspect one of them to have some sort of shrinking quirk,” he explained, “allowing him to carry a large inventory.”

Momo tucked away that information. Tentacles seemed like a quirk all on its own, so was that top-hat’s quirk?

“...So?” Eraserhead said, “I’ll need to search your bag.”

“This is an invasion of privacy,” she protested verbally to maintain the persona, but gave her bag in a show of cooperation.

After all, if she resisted, a hero could label her a villain. She was lucky to be under the surface of society and unrecognizable by non-villains, but she didn’t want her face plastered on ‘wanted’ notices where the very few civilians who knew her might be able to identify her.

He accepted the bag and poked through it. His forehead crinkled. “...This is all snacks? And protein shakes?”

“My boyfriend and I get up to vigorous physical activity.”

He started coughing. Eventually, after he checked all the pockets, he handed it back to her. “Thanks for your cooperation.”

“Am I free to go, then?”

He nodded, and she needed no other indication to turn around and start marching away in a huff.

However, he seemed determined to draw out this awkward encounter. “Wait.”

She spun around, hands on her hips. “What?”

“Does your family know you’re out here this late?”

The earlier suspicion in his voice was gone, and in its place was a strangely concerned tone which was worse.

“I don’t have any.” Not even a lie, not really.

Before he could say anything else, she continued her march onward and away from him, making clear she wasn’t interested in any more conversation.

She didn’t hear any footsteps following her or the swish of fabric, so she continued around a corner, continued walking a bit, and then took a deep breath and turned back.

Out of her forearm she produced a set of infrared goggles. Though there were streetlamps, she didn’t want to risk him hiding in a dark corner for her to come back, so she peeked around the building with the goggles on, scanning the street for any unusual heat signatures.

Luckily there was nothing out of the ordinary. She looked up and down the nearby side streets and didn’t see anything either, and eventually looked up towards the window the two people had vaulted into.

She couldn’t see through the walls, but the area of underneath the window looked slightly warmer than the surrounding wall, suggesting a heat source behind it. That was good, either they were still there and hiding longer to make sure the coast was clear, or they had only barely moved.

The next thing she created was that grappling gun she had so thoroughly practiced. Hatsume had made it capable of shooting quite far, so she shot it up to the window and caught the anchor on the ledge. With just the press of a button she was then able to wind up the cable and pull herself up to the window.

Someone kicked the anchor up to fall off the ledge, leaving Momo free-falling.

Immediately, the creation still fresh in her memory, she made another grappling gun and shot it to the ledge. This time she was already halfway up, so she immediately pressed the button and was mostly there by the time whoever was inside tried to kick at it again. For good measure, she hooked the first one over the ledge again for even more stability.

With the two anchors she was able to fling herself inside, letting go of the creations. She came face to face with the two she saw earlier, hands and tentacles up and clearly ready to fight.

“Wait!” she exclaimed, “I’m not a hero.”

The person with the top hat was wearing a strange full-face mask so she couldn’t read their expression, but the other one squinted at her with clear suspicion. She stood up fully and curtsied, the sign of respect and ‘manners’ was usually flattering or at least disorienting against an alarmed villain.

“I am known as Little Red, an ally to villains who chose to redirect your pursuing hero instead of leading him to you.”

Establish a name, and her positive actions so far. She was pleased to see the top-hatted one give a little bow of his own. “A pleasure to meet you, Little Red. I must say, your jump up here was rather aggressive, so you must understand our hesitation.” His voice was comfortably smooth and deep, like it was made to narrate.

“Of course, but I very much wanted to meet you two. May I know names to refer to you?”

“I am known as…” Top-hat struck a pose, hands criss-crossing theatrically. “Mr. Compress.”

Tentacles glanced sideways at his companion, but shared, “...Suka.”

She curtsied again for good measure. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Compress and Suka. I was more than happy to redirect that hero; it’s truly cruel how many try to get in the way of villains just trying to make an honest living, so-”

“Yo can you just cut to the chase?” Suka said with a slightly shaky voice.

Interesting, Mr. Compress showed no nerves, but Suka seemed to be sweating. It made sense if they were still in possession of their contraband. She glanced up and down them for a bag, but didn’t see what Eraserhead had described. So his claim about her bag looking similar must have been a lie, or they were hiding it. Either way, it wasn’t exactly what she was after.

“There’s no ‘chase’,” she said with a smile, “I honestly just wanted to get to know you guys. I was just hoping you’d be willing to get to know me too; I thought throwing that guy off your trail was a nice show of goodwill!”

A tit-for-tat asking of a favor only lasted for that one favor. Sometimes that’s all you needed, and sometimes you could guide it into a larger relationship, but villains didn’t always respect the idea that one should pay a favor in kind, especially one like Momo’s where it was technically unasked for.

No, for a quirk as valuable as Mr. Compress’s might be, Momo wanted to establish a foundation. To do that, she didn’t want to come off too strong with demands for their services in return for her little maneuver.

“As I said, I consider myself an ally to villains of all kinds. If you ever need some new tools such as, say, a grappling gun…” She glanced towards the window, where both were still hanging.

“Is that why you always keep two on you?” Mr. Compress asked with a chuckle. “Just in case you need to give one away?”

An opening for further goodwill could not be ignored. “Are you asking for one?”

Suka was frowning. “Nah, I’m not interested in a deal.”

“No deals!” She assured, “Only…”

She stuck her hand in her bag. The two of them stiffened, but she produced what she wanted quickly out of her hand and pulled it out. When they saw the small, harmless looking paper, they leaned forward with interest.

In her hand were two business cards, dark with the red silhouette of a cloaked figure beside Little Red, for any needs and a phone number. Mr. Compress took it immediately, while Suka took it only after a few seconds of staring.

“My only request is that in the future, if you find yourself in need of any particular goods or services for your villainy, you take a moment to give me a ring. There is plenty I can provide.”

Suka glared. “For a price, I’m sure.”

She laughed. “We can negotiate something, I’m sure. I wouldn’t threaten you, you’d be free to decline if you found my terms disagreeable.”

“Well then!” Mr. Compressed clapped his hands together. “If that’s all, we do appreciate your help, but we have other things to do, so perhaps…?”

“Of course, of course.” She raised her palms in mock surrender. “I won’t overstay my welcome. Thank you for giving me some of your time. Good luck with finishing up that robbery of yours.”

She left the same way she came, out the window. For the exit she grabbed onto just one of the grappling guns, and before loosening the cable she motioned to the other.

“If you’d like them, you’re welcome to them once I’m down.”

With that last slathering of goodwill, she rappelled down the wall as quietly as possible and let go at the bottom. She then pressed the button to wind up and let go, bringing it right back up to the ledge and nearly out of sight. She would have to trust those two would remove the devices at least, and if they trusted her enough, would keep them.

Momo continued down the street not looking back. She planted a seed, left it to them to contact her, and if they had any sense they’d use that phone number soon enough. The only associations they’d have with her would be positive, and she’d have more leeway for future favors, especially with Mr. Compress.

She still wasn’t sure if there was any nuance to his quirk beyond “shrinking” as Eraserhead had claimed, but if it had helped him with today’s robbery, it could probably help Momo one day if she had a robbery she wanted to commit.

Ultimately that encounter was a fortuitous coincidence, but was not the ultimate goal of going out tonight. Giran would still be sleeping, so she still had time.

The harbormaster’s building was locked up, but a lockpicking set let her squeeze in the back door. Now she was in the main office, a now-unlocked desk opened with its contents scattered through the room. Standard operating procedures were laid out in extensive detail, clearly to be referenced regularly to make sure all operations were up to code and approved. Momo almost drooled when she saw notes in the margins by the owner, manually updating little changes. That meant this was regularly referenced and likely accurate.

She flipped open every binder, took a picture on her phone of every single page. There was a calendar on the wall with dozens of particularly big events and shipments coming into the docks as well, and she took pictures of every page.

At the bottom of the lefthand drawer was a sheet of paper taped to the bottom: p@ssw0rD.

Jackpot.

She powered on the desktop computer, which popped on fast enough that it seemed it had just been asleep. Luckily the username was already filled in, remembering the previous user, so all she had to do was input the password stored in the drawer. Once inside, she clicked any unique-looking programs on the desktop, then opened up the default internet browser and checked the history for what had been accessed during the day, as well as opening up the bookmarked pages.

Eventually she found her goal, a database of each ship expected to come in, the general contents, and most importantly of all: the companies that would be notified upon the ship docking. In other words, what companies were expecting to receive goods of some sort from that shipment.

She grinned as she scrolled through a few pages spanning the next few months, taking pictures along the way for later review. After that, she played around with the viewer until she found a filtering system, and then filtered for company. She wasn’t sure if there was any sort of tracking software on this computer or in the system, so she filtered through a few different companies before finally getting to the company of interest.

The Yaoyorozu Corporation.

They had their fingers in a lot of pots. The range of consumer goods that they apparently had shipments for included a range of beauty products, luxury goods, specialty foods, high-end clothing, designer bags, and more.

She documented as much as she could, keeping an eye on the clock. This was closed at the moment, but a mere glance at the schedule made clear that the shipyard could be operating as early as four A.M., with an occasional wildcard nighttime shipment. She wasn’t sure if the owner of this office had to be in for those shipments to continue, but she wasn’t eager to gamble. Every noise she heard outside sent her heart thudding, uncertain if she was about to be caught. She felt secure in her ability to escape, but she’d rather not have to.

So she closed every window and deleted the recent browser history. After putting the computer to sleep, she tucked all the various documents and binders she had pulled out into their respective drawers and locked everything back up.

Momo escaped out the backdoor, nothing new in her hands but a wealth of information stored on her phone. As soon as she got home she would transfer her phone’s memory card to her computer and back up all that information on there.

Her feet felt light. This was only a first step, the information-gathering step that she had been trained to do, but what she would do with it… she hadn’t decided yet, but it wasn’t information she was just going to sit on and sell to the nearest interested villain. No, this was for her, to use as she pleased for whatever plot she would hatch.

Her debut as a true villain was getting closer.

Chapter Text

Momo leaned forward in her seat, notebook in hand, watching the arena eagerly. Giran chuckled beside her. “You ready?”

She nodded. “I only wish I could watch the second and third-years at the same time.”

He wagged a finger. “They’re nice to watch to see how the heroes have developed, but for most first years this is their debut… and the lack of development lets you see their raw form, their weaknesses prior to them figuring out how to compensate or hide it.”

“Indeed.”

They didn’t go into it in detail, as there were fellow audience members around them who might get suspicious at a conversation focused on creating counterplots for each student’s quirk. Not that it was terribly unusual in a place like this, heroics fans who analyze quirks gravitated to this sort of event, but it was better not to invite scrutiny… especially with the increased security this year.

Heroes weren’t just announcing the various classes and the upcoming events, but also patrolling the seats. There had even been some outside of the arena itself, keeping an eye on the surroundings. Though there were no uniformed police officers, Momo wouldn’t have been surprised if there were some undercover keeping an eye out.

The whole security jack-up had almost prevented them from attending. Getting tickets had required legal identification, both when purchasing and at the door of the venue. Giran wasn’t interested in developing a paper trail of any sort with his legal name when he could help it, so he had to claim some false identity he had set up for villains in a pinch, and even wasted one on Momo.

"We can always watch the recordings online afterwards, but it’s worth investing to go in-person so we’re not restricted to whatever the camera decides is worth looking at.”

That had been Giran’s justification, but it was hard to see any details from this distance, so Momo was looking at the big screen above the arena anyway for the most part.

The speech by the top student was… unique, to say the least, but the announcers quickly shifted to the first section of the festival: The obstacle course.

This was outside the perimeter, so the crowd was stuck watching the screens anyway. Still, the people around them cheered as it started up, a giant bottleneck of students basically shoving their way through to the start. Momo took quick notes as she watched, especially of those top few students, that abrasive blonde, some woman with vined hair, an ice-quirk user…

The camera jumped around a frustrating amount, making it hard to get a full sense of each student or really focus, but there was nothing she could do about that. At least they sometimes announced names, helping her take better notes.

There were some robots that crushed two students… interesting quirks, very stable, she wanted to see just how far that sturdiness could be pushed before they would collapse, or if there were other weak points that could be taken advantage of.

The next stage involved trying to navigate over a canyon various small platforms and ropes. It looked treacherous, but some students didn’t even hesitate before blasting over or grabbing the tightropes or shooting a wire out of a huge device–

Momo’s eyes widened just as the camera changed. That had been pink hair, right? Was that…?

Hatsume had said she was in a hero support course, but Momo had just assumed it was some random hero academy that would get Hatsume the license she needed to officially produce support gear. And sure, Hatsume was probably capable of getting into any school, Momo didn’t doubt her capability, but UA was the All Might of hero academies. The top school came with a heap of heroic ideals that seemed like they would be distracting from Hatsume’s central goal of creation. She had said heroics weren’t everything, hadn’t she?

“Momo?”

She jerked out of her thoughts at Giran’s voice. “Huh?”

“Not interested in the explosions?” He asked with a chuckle, tapping the edge of her notebook that she hadn’t written anything in for the past minute.

Her eyes snapped back to the screen where students were maneuvering a minefield. “Sorry, I zoned out.”

He didn’t press the matter, just let her go back to scribbling various notes about the top racers. Unfortunately the camera was strongly focused on those front few contestants, meaning she couldn’t get a clear shot of that pink hair which was certainly a dozen or more students behind the front line.

She tried to push it out of her mind; she needed to concentrate on her current investigation. Besides, what were chances that out of all the hero schools, Hatsume happened to pick the goliath that Tomura had attacked?

Finally, those top few students crossed the finish line, and the camera bothered to look back. Someone with a bird’s beak, a tailed guy, and pink–

Momo flinched, but relaxed when she realized it was someone else entirely. It wasn’t just her hair, but her skin that was bright pink. That must have been why Momo thought she saw Hatsume, just a flash and it was easy to make assumptions. Momo smiled slightly as she eased into her notes properly, noting any quirks used to get over that finish line. Whether it was pushing opponents aside with big hands, or detachable horns, or jet shoes-

Her pencil snapped.

The sight of Hatsume’s goggles sent her heart sinking. That was Hatsume running right along with the hopeful heroes of tomorrow, playing their game, at the top hero school in Japan. Not just hanging out in the back and taking advantage of the ridiculous funding but jumping into the fray herself.

“...Need a new pencil?” Giran’s voice was slightly concerned.

She tore her eyes away from the screen to face him. “No. I just got too excited.”

Momo dipped her hand into her handbag and created a new pencil before pulling it out. By then, the announcers were going off about the next activity, a cavalry battle with various point values depending on people’s rankings in the race.

And there among the various contestants was Hatsume, joining forces directly with hero students. What did a support student get out of this sort of thing? Was there a part of Hatsume that wanted to be a hero?

If she understood exactly who and what Momo was… would she not want to see her anymore?

Then the cavalry battle started, and Momo tried to push through those worries to take some actual useful notes. She couldn’t let Giran know who her ‘connection’ was now, or he’d try to persuade her out of it. Getting close to a student at UA was much too risky for him, and almost too much of a gamble for Momo herself.

But she wasn’t ready to give Hatsume up, not just because hero society had its claws in her.

At the very least Hatsume did well in the cavalry battle, how could she not? All those hero students were fighting with their quirks, but Hatsume got to battle with her babies, those genius inventions that gave her flexibility beyond a quirk. And she allied herself with the riskiest mark, aiming high no matter what.

Hatsume handily made it to the battles, and that was where Momo found herself starting to sweat. There were times Hatsume handily dodged exploding shrapnel, but when would she have ever had time to gain combat experience? How was she supposed to fight that Iida kid with the engine legs, who had gone through the gauntlet of Tomura’s USJ attack?

When it finally came time for her battle though, confusion won out over concern when Iida entered the arena fully decked out in support gear. And even more strangely, Momo recognized the designs. Hatsume’s leg supports, which she had even tested on Momo last weekend, were wrapped around Iida’s lower body.

As the announcers demanded an explanation, the picture started to grow clearer. There were claims that Hatsume had decided to share in the name of leveling the playing field and sportsmanship, since hero students weren’t usually allowed support items, but that glint in her eyes… did not look like ‘sportsmanship’.

The match began, and everything became clear.

Hatsume flicked on a microphone she had attached to her goggles, and began to narrate as she dodged and controlled Iida’s movements with her various inventions.

“ ...That acceleration is fantastic, isn’t it, Iida? I trust your legs feel lighter to lift than normal? Well I’ll tell you why! It’s because those leg parts are designed to follow in line with the motions of their lucky wielder! But of course, evading is still easy as pie – that is, as long as you’ve got this hydraulic attachment bar!…”

This wasn’t a match, this was an advertisement.

The trickery was a maneuver that outmatched even Momo’s, she couldn’t imagine having had the creativity to take advantage of a sports festival like this. Hatsume was on a level far above any of these hero hopefuls, not constrained to their concept of what this silly sports festival was meant to be.

Hatsume made Iida dance for her, turned him into her puppet, a show of strength that had Momo salivating. He was a hero student good enough to get into these matches, and yet Hatsume played with him like a cat batting around a mouse. It was so effortless that Hatsume had time to look around the stadium. She whirled about, eyes scanning the audience, for reactions perhaps? The gaze slid along the audience until it reached Momo’s stand, and the movement paused.

Momo stopped breathing. There was no way… She wasn’t even in a front row seat, there was no way Hatsume could have identified her at that distance.

A chuckle beside her finally made Momo glance away, and she saw Giran covering his mouth as his shoulders shook. Her eyes widened at the mirth in his eyes, and she wondered if he could overlook someone being a UA student so long as they were as talented as Hatsume was. When Momo turned back to look at Hatsume, her gaze had moved on, and Momo let out a relieved breath. She probably just imagined that look because she was so conscious of Hatsume.

By the time she finished her display, willingly taking a step out of bonds in yet another brazen demonstration of both her own power and her lack of respect for the current system, Momo’s heart was pounding and Giran was full on laughing.

“Well damn, I’ve never seen someone advertise while blatantly disregarding the spirit of the match at the same time,” he said.

Momo nodded, excited. “Wasn’t it brilliant? It even shows how ridiculous and fragile this whole system is, they’re meant to be simulating battles, but this is all a performance, and all it takes is one person playing a different role than they want to and it becomes obvious how much of a farce this whole thing is.”

He laughed again. “I don’t think one gal taking advantage of her fifteen minutes of fame to show off her creations will topple hero society, but I guess it does make the whole sports festival premise feel silly.”

She felt her cheeks heat at having been too dramatic, but tempered herself to match his assessment. “I can’t help but admire the moves. She could have won against him easily, but she decided to take a step out of the arena instead… she’s above all this.”

“You’re sounding like some sort of fan.”

Her body broke into a sweat, but luckily the announcers filled the air with news of the next match, and Giran looked away. Thank goodness, as otherwise he might have dug into why Momo’s face was crimson red.

She pulled her notebook back up and focused. She had taken almost no notes on Hatsume’s match, not wanting to risk missing a single thing when glancing down to write, but this next match she could notate the quirks and other information thoroughly.

Anything to not overthink Giran’s accusation and to stop being distracted by thoughts of Hatsume, Hatsume, Hatsume.

Chapter Text

Momo was in the habit of answering unknown numbers. So when her phone rang late at night, having just come home from watching another deal of Giran’s, she closed her room door and answered. “Hello?”

“Hello, is this Little Red?”

She grinned. “At your service.”

The voice on the other end was deep, enunciating his words like a performer. “You gave me your card recently, said you could connect me to some resources.”

“I did.” She tried to place the voice and considered her most recent cards… Mr. Compress? If his quirk was as valuable as Eraserhead implied, she was willing to bend over backwards for whatever favor he might ask for. Plans for a building? A hero’s patrol schedule? A gun? She would find a way to secure it.

“Can you get me a dozen mongooses?”

Her brain took a minute to register. “...Mongoose?”

“The animal, ever heard of them? Natural predator of snakes.”

“I…” She scratched her head. “I know what a mongoose is, I’m just trying to think. What is this for? Do you need them dead or alive?”

“I’d prefer not to go into detail over the phone.”

She conceded that was probably smart. Giran and her had certain security measures on their cells, but there was never a guarantee that whoever they were talking to would be secured or that cell carriers wouldn’t ever record private calls. “Where would you like to meet?”

She could hear the grin in his voice. “Have you heard of The Spritz?”

A bar in the west side; the owner was implicated in a murder two years ago, but Giran had made the evidence ‘disappear’, and she walked out of the courthouse with no charges. “I’m aware of them.”

“How soon can you get there?”

With an electric scooter, “Forty minutes.”

They finalized the details and she hung up. Quietly, she approached her door and pressed her ear up against it. She didn’t heard any movement, and Giran had gone right to his room when they had gotten home. He wasn’t snoring yet, but he probably wouldn’t disturb her.

To make sure she would know if he did, she plucked a strand of hair off her head and released a tiny bit of glue from her fingertip. She glued one part of the hair to the top of the door frame, and glued the other part against the door itself. The glue was quick drying but easy to peel, and would hold a strand of hair enough to make it snap if someone opened the door.

And just in case, she pulled out a wig from under her bed with long dark hair. She fluffed some long pillows under her covers and poised the wig to look like a body was lying asleep sideways. Once the scene looked believable at a glance, she grabbed her cape and pried open the window. If he heard her door and their front door open he’d have a lot of questions.

Momo snuck down with her grappling hook, careful to make as little noise as possible.

There was someone tall and broad-shouldered by the door, most likely the bouncer, who looked down at Momo through triangular sunglasses. “ID?”

She knew a place like this didn’t really use ID. It was probably for show, in case police came crawling around looking for bars out of compliance that they could shut down. Then they could squeeze the bar for all sorts of money in the re-licensing process.

“I’m not a cop,” Momo asserted with a weary tone, channeling Giran’s ‘sighing-at-bullshit’ tone.

“Yeah? Sounds like something a cop would say.” The bouncer leaned forward, arms crossed to show off firm biceps. “Know anybody?”

Momo opened her mouth, then paused. Her usual contact to get into this sort of thing was Giran. She thought she might be able to use his name, or the bar owner’s name. But that meant there was a chance that it would get back to Giran, next time he came to The Spritz then the bouncer or owner could end up mentioning a girl in a red coat all alone, coming by without him…

“Mr. Compress?” she ventured.

After all he had invited her here, so he likely had been here before and hopefully was a recognizable customer.

The bouncer’s shoulders lowered slightly, but didn’t relent. “Wait here a minute.”

Momo waited as the bouncer disappeared inside the bar for less than a minute, and reappeared with the top-hatted villain. He laughed, patting the bouncer on the shoulder. “Aw Magne, thanks for checking but she is with me.”

The bouncer, Magne, relaxed considerably with Mr. Compress’s approval. “Alright.”

Mr. Compress led Momo inside, chuckling. “Don’t mind Magne’s suspicious attitude, we occasionally get trouble, so she does her best to stop it at the door.”

“I see.” Momo stored the information away for future reference.

The two of them took a seat at the bar.

“I’ll have a whiskey on the rocks,” Mr. Compress told the bartender.

“Just a coke for me,” Momo said.

As the bartender went to prepare their drinks, Mr. Compress snorted. “What, not a drinker? I promise to take care of you if you get too wasted.”

“I’m a messy drunk,” she warned him, as if she knew.

He laughed, “Can’t even handle one drink?”

“Better safe than sorry.”

Fortunately he had the manners to drop the point. When Momo was obviously younger, no bartender of any of the establishments Giran took her to would ever give her a stiff drink (not that Giran would have let them). Since her growth spurt, those who weren’t been aware of her age usually backed off with the excuse that she was somewhat of a bodyguard for Giran and needed to keep her wits about her. Without Giran here ordering his usual cosmo though, Momo’s sober stance stood out.

She wondered if she could set up something with the bartender to skip the alcohol in whatever she ordered in the future. If she ever planned to meet clients here again, it would be prudent to set up some sort of system to blend in better and obscure the truth of her age.

Once their drinks were prepared, Mr. Compress removed his mask, but he was still wearing a cloth mask underneath with exposed eyes and mouth.

“So why mongoose?” she started.

Momo had been mulling it over the whole way there, and was hesitant on the logistics of corralling animals, especially one so unusual. There were some exotic animal breeders overseas who she could probably get in contact with, then her main job would be to do the exchange of money and animals in an untraceable way.

Overall a complicated maneuver. Possible, but it would be easier if there was a more viable route.

Mr. Compress leaned in close. “Do you know Uwabami?”

Suddenly things became clear. The snake hero, and a request for the natural predator of snakes. “I know of her.”

Uwabami was fairly well established, originally a small-time model who gambled on a hero license to provide something new to the table that would make her stand out from the other models. Advertisers loved hero collaborations, but not every hero was suited to playing the camera. Uwabami provided the skills, appearance, and experience of a professional model, and her weekends spent as a rescue hero meant when you had her advertise shampoo it could be ‘hero-approved’.

“She’s doing a collaboration with a museum,” Mr. Compress informed her, “She’ll be doing an outdoor photo shoot with the Dewitchery Diamonds, a rare necklace said to be able to lift curses...”

Apparently Mr. Compress enjoyed history, as he went for another solid ten minutes about the legends and history behind the bejeweled necklace. Momo idly wondered what the actual monetary value of the jewels were, and how much this extensive lore behind it had amped up the price tag.

Currently it was owned by a museum, so there was technically no price.

“...So during the photographing, I will release the mongooses to attack her, leaving her open to attack, then I will descend from the tallest building on a zipline, like I’m flying, swoop in and snatch the necklace right off of her neck!”

Momo was half expecting him to mention scattering glitter and confetti as he did so. “...Do you know what security measures will be in place?”

He shrugged. “Considering the model is a hero, I expect them to be more lax on the security than they normally would for a semi-public photoshoot.”

Momo brought up her fingers and pressed them against her forehead. ‘Expect’, not ‘know’. She hated to gamble, didn’t ever trust luck to be on her side. The fact that the shoot was semi-public, taking place at some contemporary artists park statue of a wizard inspired by the diamonds legends, meant there would at the very least need to be enough security to prevent civilians from getting too close. Uwabami appeared confident on television, but rescue heroes usually weren’t a risky bunch. She didn’t seem cocky enough to not ask for additional security for her and the diamonds safety.

The plan itself needed refinement. “So what exactly is your ultimate goal here?” she questioned, “To hurt Uwabami’s reputation? Money from ransoming or selling off the jewels? Notoriety for stealing a treasure out from under a hero’s nose?”

“I do love seeing a glorified model acting like a hero getting shown to be useless, but I’m mostly in it for the love of the game.”

“The game?”

“Isn’t it romantic?” he sighed, “The game old thieves played, dancing around police as they stole whatever they wanted. Now with heroes, everyone seems to trust and assume their precious authorities can protect them from everything… I want to expose that.”

The speech was admittedly compelling. “I see.”

“So long as you are clever, you can take anything you want from those above you. A brilliant thief can reveal that their seemingly unbreakable societal power is not absolute.”

Momo sipped at her coke. “So ultimately, you just want to be able to say the diamonds were stolen, and there was nothing heroes or police were able to do about it.”

“Indeed.”

“How… essential do you believe the mongoose to fulfilling this ultimate goal?”

He hemmed and hawed for a few seconds. “Well… I mean I suppose they’re not perfect, but I’m not particularly combat-oriented, so I need something to get an advantage over her. I don’t think anyone will expect wild animals.”

“They won’t, but if there’s a decent amount of security they may be able to subdue them before they even reach her,” Momo explained, “what if we take a different angle? One that doesn’t require you directly fighting her.”

Mr. Compress thought for a minute. “Well there was another thought I had, a bit more sneaky, but it would require a near-perfect replica of the Dewitchery Diamonds…”

Momo grinned. Replicas were her specialty, and museums often had thorough information and images of their collections she could reference. “Let’s hear it.”

Momo got home late, but before sunrise. She climbed into her window, and glanced around her room carefully for any sign of disturbance. The strand of hair she had put on top of her door hadn’t snapped, so Giran likely hadn’t checked on her.

She was now in the realm of Giran’s actual work—gathering information and providing specialized items for villains. She could ask him for help with this, he would be happy to see her getting involved in the business this way.

But he wanted to know everything, and would definitely ask how she met Mr. Compress.

What was she supposed to say? That she had been at the docks by herself, collecting the info with her own hands instead of bribing or hiring someone for it? That she narrowly avoided being arrested by Eraserhead? That she had not just given Mr. Compress her business card to be his information broker, but also perhaps to one day use him for her own nefarious schemes?

No. For now, he could assume she was occupied with her inventor contact and hesitating to branch out. Honestly, considering his paranoia, he’d be happy that she wasn’t going too fast. She could lull him into a sense of security, and maneuver behind the scenes, just like he liked to. When she revealed herself as a villainous titan, then he’d have no choice but to accept her methods.

Until then, this would be her secret.

Chapter Text

Momo had created plenty of diamonds before; by the time she was six she could create a perfect, shiny translucent diamond. When it came to colored diamonds though, things got tricky. The coloration came from imperfections in the carbon structures, affecting how light passed through. Instead of the brilliant rainbow of a perfect diamond, the miniscule atomic-level differences changed which colors got absorbed versus reflected. When it came to green diamonds, their color came from radiation early in their creation knocking around those carbon atoms into a form that happened to reflect green specifically.

Momo wasn’t going to create radium in her bedroom, but she had to imitate its effect as she made her diamonds. So she made diamond after diamond, altering the structure ever so slightly each time, trying to imitate the vibrant green color she saw on the museum’s website for the Dewitchery Diamonds.

Around the time she got something that could maybe be considered green, the clock showed that it was sometimes after school hours now.

That meant Hatsume was probably in her lab.

Momo scrambled to pack up the dozens of tiny diamonds into her desk drawer. She’d shatter and bury them later.

She sped to the door. “Whoa whoa, where’s the fire?” Giran asked with a laugh as she passed the living room.

Momo paused. “...Just going out to meet a contact.”

“That inventor?”

She nodded. His mouth opened to say something else, but she pretended she didn’t see and rushed out the door, hearing only the start of his voice before she was out of earshot. The less questions he could ask, the less likely he’d be to realize Momo’s contact was a UA student who could jeopardize Momo’s safety if she ever realized what she truly did.

Hatsume poked and prodded at her latest design, but apparently the process of testing the materials was no so mentally strenuous that she couldn’t hold a conversation at the same time. “Did you enjoy the sports festival?”

Momo, standing beside her, suddenly felt like the coveralls she had borrowed were a smidgen too hot. “I’m sorry?”

“I saw you, in the crowd,” Hatsume turned with a grin, “did you like my performance?”

She loved the performance, but she was mostly flustered that Hatsume had noticed. “H-how…?”

Her pupils shifted, tiny black details in the yellow rotating and shrinking. “My quirk: Zoom. Lets me see real far away.”

“Ah.”

The thought had apparently reminded Hatsume of something, as she asked, “Wait, what’s your quirk?”

Momo gulped. “None, quirkless.”

Hatsume gasped. “Whoa, for real? I didn’t know there were still quirkless folks at our age.”

“Rare, but not non-existent.”

“Fair enough.” She tilted her head. “Is it genetic? Your dad quirkless or something?”

“I don’t…” don’t have a dad really. “What? Why a dad?”

Hatsume shrugged. “That old guy you were sitting with?”

Her face flushed. “He’s not–” she gulped, “I mean, he’s not like…”

It was probably creepier if she claimed Giran was just some random guy she was unrelated to that was taking her out to events.

“He’s just my um, uncle.”

“Ooh that’s cool, I have an aunt, but she never hangs out with me. Your uncle cool?”

“...Kind of,” Momo admitted with a great deal of hesitation.

Hatsume laughed. “Yeah? What’s he like?”

There was a long pause and Momo considered how to describe the kind of guy Giran was without divulging too much information. “He’s nice, I suppose. A rather silly sense of aesthetic sometimes, but he’s pretty soft when he needs to be. If he hadn’t been around, I don’t know what I would have…”

She tried not to wonder what life would have been like if Giran hadn’t taken her. Would she have lived in pleased ignorance, drilling herself on those manners her parents insisted on and assuming that they would protect her no matter what? Would Momo have grown up to be a normal girl, going to a normal school with no clue as to the dark underbelly of society? Would her parents have ever had her little brother if they had never sold off their first child?

“He helped you in some way?” Hatsume attempted to complete her thought.

Maybe it was too much, but how was Momo supposed to talk to Hatsume if she had to keep a bunch of lies straight? She would just omit the incriminating details. What would Hatsume suspect? Who would she even tell this to? Momo trusted her this much. “My parents. Um.” She had to take a few moments to compose her words without revealing too much. “They aren’t great.”

Hatsume blinked at her. Momo cringed at herself for her own phrasing. They aren’t great? A bit of an understatement about parents who would use their child as a form of collateral to pay off debts.

Rather than try to explain that, Momo skipped to the important part. “So my uncle took me in, I suppose. He’s the one who raised me.”

Incredible communication skills, articulate as a clam.

Though Momo had started looking down at the ground, Hatsume caught her attention with a hand on hers. Her face jerked up to Hatsume, still smiling, “So he’s like, your hero?”

Momo pulled her hand back like it had been burned. “What? No.” She rubbed at her palm idly. “It was just… how things happened.”

Giran, a hero. A laughable thought. Taking Momo wasn’t some kind-hearted rescue mission, it was simply an acknowledgement of her value as an asset. If Momo hadn’t had her quirk, if she hadn’t been worth more than her father’s debt, she and the Yaoyorozu’s would have been shot dead on that day.

She rushed to change the subject before she got too absorbed in that nightmare. “Head full of heroes, huh?” She countered with as little venom as she could.

Hatsume didn’t seem to register her tone of voice. “I think everyone can be a hero in their own way.”

Momo raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like that school is getting to you.”

All she did was laugh. “I guess? In class we’ve been going over various active heroes and what kind of support gear they use. Sometimes it’s so essential that I kind of feel like, wow!… without those of us in support, they wouldn’t be able to do half of what they do, you know?” Her expression was soft. “It makes me feel like I could be their hero, in a way.”

There was a dark pit in Momo’s stomach. “You could be even more than that,” she said, mouth feeling dry.

“This sort of work suits me, though. If I can help heroes help someone, in a way I helped them too, right?”

Momo wasn’t sure if she wanted to tear up that oh-so-simple philosophy or naively bask in the world as Hatsume saw it–a place where people simply helped each other, no ulterior motives. Not a series of deals and favors, but a society where there were truly heroes, people not motivated by money and fame but just looking to make the world a better and kinder place.

A world where Hatsume was allowed to be more to her than a source of genius designs. Where Momo could spill her heart all over her and sob in her arms, where she could reveal her whole past to her with no consequences, where she could believe a UA student wouldn’t immediately report Giran’s technical kidnapping to the entire UA faculty. That beautiful, impossible world where playing by the rules of society was all you needed to do to be happy and successful, and heroes were all heroes.

In the end, she didn’t want to lose Hatsume’s gentle smile, so she swallowed the bile rising in her throat. “What’s in that pressurized canister?” She asked, knowing exactly how to get Hatsume off-track.

Her eyes sparkled at the opportunity to explain. “Well! You see, there’s compressed foam...”

The smell of fragrant, melting parmesan hit Momo’s nose as soon as she opened the door to the apartment. Giran was on the couch, on his laptop, and looked up at her when she walked in. “Just in time, potato gratin is out of the oven in ten minutes.”

Her throat tightened at the sight, Giran not even having bothered to take off that frilly apron while he waited for the oven to go off. No matter if she rushed out the door or hid his good frying pan or sneaked around behind his back, she could come through the door and be guaranteed his food.

Plenty of fuel for her quirk.

Wordlessly, she slipped off her shoes and beelined to the couch, immediately taking a seat just a bit away from him, but flopping her body sideways to land her head on his lap.

He chuckled, and she felt a palm against her head, brushing through her hair. “Aw, tired?”

She nodded, not feeling capable of anything more articulate that with an unfortunate fondness overtaking her. She basked in that slow hand idly petting her as he scrolled through some bank statements on the screen. She knew Giran would give her whatever she wanted… so long as she kept being his number one creator of rare supplies.

Being spoiled so much hurt.

When the timer went off, she tore herself away with a jump. “I can take it out,” she told him.

In the kitchen, she took several deep breaths, getting out of his view and wiping the wet edges of her eyes.

“Give it a few minutes, it’s hot!!” He called out, as though she was still seven years old and impatient to shove anything into her mouth.

“I know.”

Her eyes felt a little clearer now. She needed to get ahold of herself. Future S-rank supervillains didn’t cry in the kitchen wishing they had a dad. She pulled out the casserole dish took a step back.

It looked delicious.

Chapter Text

The sun was shining, middle of the day when plenty of people would be at school or work. Some parents with children were still at the park, but they had been corralled away from the central statue of the park by security guards.

From a distance, Momo noted those guards were adorned in thick black clothes with lots of pockets, plus a hat and a white badge of some sort. Momo made a little circle with her fingers and created a lens to look closer at the badge. Once she memorized the general setup, an image of themselves and some informational things and what looked like a chip, she dropped the lens and ground it with her heel.

Momo retreated to an alley and took a deep breath. Once behind a trashcan, she made a security guard’s outfit and slipped it on. The badge she made probably wasn’t perfect–if someone tried to scan the chip, they’d find it completely defunct, but it had her face and looked legitimate from a distance. Since the event was outdoors, there were no doors she had to open it with anyway.

There were vibrations against her thigh. She pulled out her phone. “In position?”

"Just about,” Mr. Compress’s voice responded, “how about you?”

“I’m close, but not quite yet. Give me a few minutes.”

She hung up and approached one of the food vendors bringing in snacks for the crew.

“Excuse me ma’am,” Momo called out in a serious voice.

The old woman, pushing a cart from a van towards the ring of security, almost jumped at being called out. “Y-yes?”

Momo quizzed her on her name, her business, and peeked inside the cart for good measure. In the end she nodded with satisfaction at all the answers, and offered to walk her in. Fortunately, the security guards didn’t look too closely to an expected vendor accompanied by one of their own, so Momo slipped between various temporary barriers and the guards on duty without particular notice.

To further secure her position, Momo even helped the vendor set up a table for snacks, establishing herself to anyone paying an ounce of attention as one of the many background members of this effort. There weren’t too many, so there was a risk of her standing out if she rushed this. At a casual moment, sweaty from the setup, she shrugged off her security jacket and revealed a casual shirt underneath. Once she politely removed her cap, she looked less like a security guard and more like one of the various assistants.

There was only one photographer, but he had several assistants spinning around him with various reflectors in their hands. A handful of hair and makeup people were fluttering around the model, and there was an old man holding a hefty looking box topped with glass. And inside there?

Momo could see a shine of green from the Dewitchery Diamonds.

“Oh be careful with leftie,” Uwabami warned a makeup artist tapping at one of her snakes with a brush, “she’s sensitive to powder.”

There was another vibration against her thigh, this time the double-buzz of a text. She didn’t need to check who it was. She just politely excused herself and went to the front area where some people had been entering. Most were being checked or interrogated by security, and she saw some members eyeing a tall man with curly hair starting to approach.

She intercepted, leaving the circle to meet the man. “Sir, you’re late, please come this way,” she declared loudly.

“Oh dear, my apologies, I’m terribly sorry for the fuss…”

Just as they seemed to be about to squeeze past, a security guard stopped them. “Hey, wait a second!”

She turned to him with a smile. “Yes?”

“Everyone’s supposed to be scanned before they come in.”

“Oh but he’s so late-”

The man waved his hands. “Don’t be silly, security is important for something like this! Go ahead sir, I’m sure they can wait another minute for safety’s sake.”

Momo sighed dramatically, letting the security guard feel the pressure. He had his mouth in a firm line, determined to be unmoved. He pulled out a handheld scanner, which he waved up and down the man’s body.

When there was nothing odd found, he nodded. “Alright, you can go in.”

The man bowed. “Much obliged.”

Once they were out of earshot, Momo elbowed him. “’Much obliged’?”

“Just being polite,” Mr. Compress returned in a whisper.

At least both of them were inside. Momo had subconsciously established herself towards the people here, but there was still the matter of getting Mr. Compress established. She started with guiding him towards Uwabami, and he took it from there with the aplomb of a theater major.

“Miss Uwabami, it is an honor to have an item in our collection worn by a hero such as yourself!” He was not loud, but he spoke with a smooth silky voice.

Uwabami glanced a bit towards him, but didn’t seem particularly attentive. “Oh please, the honor is all mine.”

“Just to confirm, you’ve been informed on proper handling of the diamonds, correct?”

She waved a hand, only slightly dismissive. “Yes, yes, minimize touching with my bare hands because of the oils and all that, I’ll be careful.”

“Wonderful, again, thank you for your consideration in its handling.”

Now that he was established to Uwabami and the makeup team as someone who was part of the museum, Momo led him to the table where the old man sat with the case with the treasure itself. It was almost shocking how little security there was beside him, most likely because people assumed the outside force and the hero at the center could cover any disasters.

The old man looked up at their approach, looking slightly confused. Mr. Compress smiled. “Hello sir, I can’t thank you enough for giving our Uwabami an opportunity to partner with such a fine museum.”

He blinked at Mr. Compress. “I mean, hopefully her dazzling the public will drive up some interest in the museum, but of course this is a special opportunity we’re allowing for this photoshoot, we can’t imagine a better hero to demonstrate the beauty of the Dewitchery Diamond.”

Mr. Compress nodded enthusiastically. “We are excited as well.” He leaned forward, examining the case. “I’m supposed to put it around her neck, is there anything special I should be careful to do or not do aside from wearing gloves?”

The man’s expression faltered. “Er, I mean, I thought I was going to put it on, just for safety…”

Mr. Compress bowed. “I’m terribly sorry, the team has been discussing it, and to be completely honest, Uwabami is a bit of a… how should I say it?” He dramatically tapped his chin like he was thinking. “Well, she can be very particular about certain details. She doesn’t always enjoy people she doesn’t know well touching her, so her makeup team is quite familiar, but you are… you’re a lovely person, I can tell, but she just doesn’t know you, you understand?”

“Oh, I… I understand,” he still sounded confused, but wasn’t about to fight with a diva’s entourage, “in that case, some things you’ll want to keep in mind…”

With that role secured, Momo went off to set up her next step of the plan. There were only a few wires around, and most were covered with mats, but she found one set a few feet from the central statue that was exposed. That was her next goal.

It took some time before the next stage, but she kept her ears and eyes open for the essential moment. When the museum guy and Mr. Compress approached Uwabami, Momo started to walk towards the wire. The case was opened, and Mr. Compress oh-so-carefully lifted the treasure…

“Ack!” Momo shouted as she tripped, letting a decoy phone slam against the ground and bounce dramatically.

By the time she struggled back up to her feet, everyone’s heads were turned towards her. She smiled apologetically, wincing only a bit as she reached down for her lost phonee. “Sorry, sorry!” she said.

People turned away quickly after that. Mr. Compress clasped the necklace around Uwabami’s neck, the photographer’s assistants turned up their reflectors, and Uwabami showed a winning smile. Business went on, snaps of the camera audible. Meanwhile, Momo limped towards the food table, snatching a seat to sit and take off her shoe.

She looked at her foot with a pensive expression, poking and grimacing until Mr. Compress approached. “Are you alright?”

“It’s pretty swollen.”

“Hmm… might want to get that checked out at a hospital.”

She sighed. “I don’t want to miss work, but…”

“Nonsense, you shouldn’t be walking on this!” He exclaimed loudly. “I’ll get you to urgent care, don’t worry.”

He returned to the crowd of people focusing on the photoshoot, and informed the most peripheral and least-busy looking makeup artist his need to leave and help with the girl who had twisted her ankle.

Momo made a show of slinging an arm over his shoulder, letting him help her out and away from the park.

Once they were well out of eyesight, she put her weight back on both ankles. “How was the switch?”

He slipped a marble out of his sleeve. It was hard to see all the details inside, but there was an unmistakable green sheen. “Swapped without a hitch.”

She couldn’t help but grin at the success. “Perfect.”

“Indeed.” He glanced sideways at her. “I couldn’t have done it without your help, Little Red.”

Taking a page out of his book, she gave a modest bow. “It was your quirk that made the switch so smooth.”

“Only enabled by your perfectly-timed distraction.”

The two of them chuckled, exchanging compliments freely until they ran out of clever moments to call out.

“And you truly don’t want any payment? I could at least credit you as an accomplice when I announce that the heist occurred–”

She shook her head. “Don’t bother. It’ll be more impactful if it just seems like the work of one thief instead of a team.”

He bowed again, and in his most dramatic gesture yet even kissed the back of her hand. “Well again, you have my gratitude. If you ever need assistance in the future, you have my number.”

Bingo. “I’ll be sure to let you know.”

In Giran’s car, Momo was practically vibrating with the effort it took to not tell him all about her perfect heist that afternoon. He would be so impressed with how she plotted and planned. He might not have been as happy to know that she had been within arm’s reach of a hero, but he would have forgiven it with how she cleverly avoided any plan that required a fight. Just like he always wanted!

She glanced sideways at him in the driver’s seat, humming along to the radio as he drove them back home from their latest deal. He would be proud, she was sure, if she could tell him.

But the best made plots were undone when too many people who didn’t need to know were made aware, and this was one of them. She had her sights set long and ambitious, and if she clued Giran in too soon, he might start to ask questions she didn’t want to answer (like ‘where did you meet this Mr. Comprss fellow), or worse try to prevent her from becoming the kind of villain she wanted to be.

“Giran?” She started.

“Yeah?”

“Can I have a warehouse?”

The ask was risky, but Momo was not yet experienced enough in real estate to get one on her own. If she could just persuade Giran to give up one of his spares, her range of possible operations would expand considerably.

“Of course,” he agreed to it immediately, “why?”

“It’s getting annoying to store things in my room, such as samples of the inventions my connection creates,” Momo said calmly, begging her heart not to race with the lie, “I’m in need of proper storage, and space to properly destroy anything I need to get rid of.”

“Alright, any special requests?”

She almost gasped at how easy it was. “Er, no, not in particular.”

He laughed. “I’ll give you a nice one, only the best, don’t worry.”

The song on the radio switched to a boppy and upbeat tune that Giran was immediately distracted by, singing along cheerily with the bubbly pop of the lead singer.

Momo pursed her lips at the lack of interrogation. He really trusted her, huh?

Well good for him. And even better for her.

In the light of the morning, scrolling through the news on her phone, Momo had some constructive feedback for herself.

"It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before,” the old man she remembered scamming at the photoshoot proclaimed, waving to her replica of the Dewitchery Diamonds displayed on a table. “It is certainly different, the composition and construction of the frame not quite the same as the original, clearly new and bearing a strange signature on the back, but the jewels…”

She grimaced, having realized her mistake.

"Well it’s… we assumed it was perhaps some emeralds or otherwise, but we’ve had expert jewelers from around the country come to appraise it, and all of them agree that they are bonafide green diamonds!”

The hours spent experimenting with creating carbon molecules in her room could have been skipped if she had just stopped to think that it would have been more straightforward to make a forgery instead of a fully accurate replica.

"They have subtly different cuts, the Dewitchery Diamonds were originally one large jewel that shattered, and those shattered pieces were refined into this necklace, but they had some distinct cuts as a result that I was well familiar with. These emeralds do seem to be from a different source with slight variations in the cuts, but it makes no sense!” He ran a hand through his thinning hair. “Green diamonds are incredibly rare, the few there are in the world are generally well documented and tracked. If someone had a collection of this size, they could become famous or rich on the merit of that alone. The effort it must have taken to create this replica…” He looked at the camera very seriously. “We have to assume that the thief was likely fabulously wealthy, or perhaps has some deep connections in the mining or jewelry industry.”

Momo breathed out a sigh of relief. It was an oversight on her part, but ultimately it helped to obscure the true culprits. Mr. Compress had announced his thievery in a suitably dramatic video, now police and detectives were in a flurry trying to track him down. This made a hot trail for them to follow that would ultimately turn up cold, keeping them confused and frustrated.

Unfortunately, the whole mess left Mr. Compress with a lot of questions. Which was why she was going to meet with him at the time she would normally be off to Hatsume’s lab.

She would have preferred to go afterwards, but he had insisted, and apparently The Spritz was technically open in the early evening, so they could get a drink and debrief on the whole situation.

“Spending a lot of time with that inventor,” Giran commented as she started out the door.

Her hand hovered over the door handle. “...Yes.”

“I know you don’t want me doing your background check for you, but perhaps…” he spoke hesitantly, “...if you’re spending this much time with her, perhaps I could meet her?”

She didn’t have time to argue about this. “If you interfere, then my growth will be meaningless.”

“It’s not interfering!” He exclaimed, waving his hands, “It’d just be getting to know her a bit. You’ve just been spending so much time with her that I’m, you know, curious.” He smiled. “Plus I get a little lonely seeing you grow up so fast, I’m used to always being at your side.”

Momo swallowed hard. “Well I’m trying to practice not having you by my side.”

His body stiffened, a hand paused. “...Ah.”

“Yes.”

There was an awkward silence, and Momo took the opportunity to turn the door knob.

“Momo?”

She wasn’t facing him now, but didn’t run immediately.

“You don’t have to be totally… I mean, if you want any support at all, I’m happy to help.”

“I know. You’re getting me that warehouse, right?”

Anything for his greatest asset.

“Yes, I’ve got a nice location some yakuza used to use for hostages with nice facilities, should have the keys soon enough, but I meant… in general, any kind of help you need, no matter how big or small.”

What was he looking for from her? “Yes.”

She thought that was the end of it, but he spoke again before she could escape. “No matter as to how you got there… if you end up in deep shit, don’t try and dig out on your own, okay? I’ve got a shovel. A lot of shovels, if you catch my drift.”

She wondered what he would do if she ended up pitted against All for One, whose side he would fall on, whether he would even have a choice in the face of All for One’s power. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“Alright, have fun.”

Finally dismissed, she left the apartment in measured steps, then sprinted once she was out of earshot. She slowed her steps as she made her way to the subway. The good thing about meeting at this time was that the subways were running, so it was a short ride to get there.

“Still not comfortable drinking with me?” Mr. Compress teased her.

Momo swirled her glass of coke and took a dramatic sip. “I’m taking a drink.”

He rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I know you didn’t call me out here to interrogate my beverage choices.”

He chuckled. “Alright, you want to get down to business?” He leaned in close, almost whispering. “What the hell was that?”

She took another sip. Whenever a client started demanding answers as to where Giran got certain supplies, he loved to take a long draw of any available cigarette and just wait, letting them tell him exactly what parts they were worried about before crafting a perfect lie or half-truth to cover his ass. “You’re going to have to specify.”

“When you said a replica, I didn’t think you meant an actual near-identical green diamond necklace. What kind of jewelers do you know? Would any of them rat you out at the right price or threat? Or are you just so rich that you can drop money on one of the rarest diamond types in the world?”

Momo continued to sip at her coke.

He laughed, only slightly hysterical. “I thought you were being nice when you didn’t want anything in return, but it’s really just that you’re too rich to need anything from someone like me, huh? So is this some sort of villainous philanthropy then? Plucking small-time villains up and enabling them out of the evil in your heart?”

This was an amazing impression Mr. Compress was building of her. Momo decided to lean into it, but didn’t want to completely mislead him. “Don’t sell yourself short, there are things money can’t buy. And besides, I’m no trillionaire or anything, I just happen to have connections with some… specialty suppliers, who give me quite affordable deals.”

“On green diamonds?”

She shrugged. “On various supplies and tools.”

“...You blackmailing some mine owner or something?”

He was asking too many questions. “Aw, are you concerned that I’ll blackmail you? Don’t worry, that’s not how I prefer to do business with my partners.”

Though it was a good source of income, blackmail came with its own set of risks. Giran liked to sell blackmail material to people who then did the actual extortion themselves, which luckily was still lucrative with much lower risks of being caught.

“I’m more worried about if your connections might end up leading back to me.”

Momo laughed lightly. “I can assure you my supply line is secure.”

He let out a big sigh, leaning over the counter and looking into his drink. “...You still haven’t explained what you’re getting out of this.”

“Maybe I’m just lonely and looking for company.” Demanding a deal was a one-and-done affair, she wanted to establish a relational foundation she could take advantage of long after Mr. Compress ‘paid off’ her work with this heist.

There was an odd pause, and he asked in a measured tone, “Are you asking me to walk you home?”

Momo was a little confused at the jump in logic, but didn’t show it. “I’m asking you to stay in contact. Call me again if you need anything… and I’ll call you with offers.”

“...What kind of offers?”

His twitchiness at the uncertainty wasn’t great. Perhaps she should be more transparent. “I know some people who would appreciate your skillset… and your quirk.”

His shoulders loosened at the admission. This was something he probably understood better, everyone wanted something from each other in a place like this. “Ah, well, you must have big plans if you were willing to help a small fry like me.”

She smiled at him. “I hope we can have a good relationship, Mr. Compress.”

“Me too,” he said with a sideways glance, “I don’t think I want to get on your bad side.”

Chapter Text

Momo stared at the television, where destruction reigned in Hosu.

There had been several Nomu shown, so Momo was pretty certain that Tomura was involved. But what had been his plan? He hadn’t let Giran or herself know he was plotting an attack. The placement of the Nomu didn’t seem particularly strategic either, and there was no larger message or announcement so far as she could see to tie together his goals. Just mindless destruction.

She sighed. That was just like Tomura.

Giran looked similarly stressed, rubbing his forehead as he watched the scene. “What is that kid thinking?”

Momo sipped at a cup of tea. “Probably something along the lines of–” she hunched over and put a hand over her face, doing her best impression, “–I wanna do the destruction route, All for One will reset my nomu supply if I waste them, so it’s fine! I’m just gonna throw a city-wide tantrum!”

The laugh that came out of Giran, deep from his belly, had Momo feeling pleased with her own work. “That’s a flawless impression.”

Unfortunately for Tomura, based on the news coverage it seemed like the nomu were being defeated one by one. They had certainly spread plenty of destruction and damage, the heroes looked stressed, but Momo couldn’t help but sigh at the fact that these gigantic bioweapons, monstrosities that Dr. Ujiko had painstakingly created, were being practically thrown into the heroes arms without any larger plan.

“This is why trying to be the big bad villain is a bad idea,” Giran commented with a sigh, “All this theatrics for what? More heroes after your head.”

Momo pursed her lips, imagining how things would’ve been different if she had been on Tomura’s team. If he had her there, she would have set up a strategic series of bombs beforehand to go off after the nomu attacked. Once the heroes had redirected all their resources to fighting the nomu, she would have exploded key points of infrastructure to increase the chaos. Perhaps she’d even release some sort of message with clues implying that there were more bombs that hadn’t yet been disabled. She imagined creating a series of gigantic clocks on buildings, counting down to each additional bombs’ explosions. The heroes would be running around like chickens with their heads cut off, trying to restrain the nomu at the same time as trying to hunt down the remaining bombs. When they inevitably failed, it would look even worse–after all, the villain gave them a chance to disable them, but they failed to. The populace would be disillusioned and distraught at the destruction across Hosu.

If Giran thought this pathetic show of Tomura’s was ‘theatrics’, she wondered what he would think of that elaborate plot. She barely held back a maniacal laugh at the thought.

But since Tomura hadn’t looped her in, that was all imaginary what-ifs, not a reality she could take pride in.

Tomura didn’t want someone as valuable as her on his team. He preferred to be a gigantic baby whining and crying, he didn’t have a sense of drama or persuasion, just rage that he directed outward. It wasn’t compelling, it wasn’t inspiring, it was downright embarrassing to watch–

“Stain?” Giran’s surprised voice snapped her out of her train of thought.

On screen, the cops had apparently apprehended the Hero Killer, Stain. “That’s a shame, he did some exciting work,” Momo said.

“I’m mostly confused,” he said, “he usually works alone, but did he team up with Tomura for something like this? Or is it just a coincidence…”

One more nomu swept in, wings flapping as it snatched up some kid. Giran and Momo both went silent at the moment when Stain jumped into action, escaping restraints to kill the Nomu and save the guy.

Nobody moved in the speech that followed, not the heroes and not even the two of them on the couch. As Stain raged about false heroes and the need to purge the world for justice, Momo didn’t even breath. This was raw, a man barely standing but held up by the force of his conviction. Momo agreed, she knew how false heroes could truly be, how fragile the foundation of society truly was, and how many people took advantage of the system while so called ‘heroes’ turned a blind eye.

Then Stain went unconscious, and the spell was broken. Still, her heart raced.

There was a heavy breath beside her, Giran gearing up to speak again. “...Wow, that’s a lot.”

The news went on, catching a glimpse of Tomura and Kurogiri, pinning the whole incident on the League of Villains. From then on though, there was nothing else that arrested Momo’s attention the way Stain had.

When Momo entered Hatsume’s lab, she didn’t notice anything amiss at first. She went through her usual motions, announcing her entrance, grabbing a pair of googles, and approaching the back where Hatsume was hunched over her workbench. She saw the extra coveralls for her hanging on the wall, but wouldn’t bother to put it on until she saw what Hatsume was working on.

Once Momo was a foot away, Hatsume’s head snapped up. “Hands out.”

Momo blinked at her, confused. “Huh?”

“Hands out.”

She processed enough to lift her arms up a bit towards her, but was still confused if that’s what Hatsume actually wanted. Hatsume approached with a strange tool, looking like a large figure eight made of metal sheets.

The two loops went over Momo’s wrists, with lots of space. “Hold still a sec,” Hatsume muttered.

Hatsume flicked something on the outside of the device, and it snapped tight, layers of metal overlapping itself to match the size and shape of Momo’s wrist. The force made Momo jump in surprise, but Hatsume grabbed onto the device and tugged her close so she couldn’t back away.

“How’s it feel?” Hatsume asked, poking and prodding at the device.

“Tight.” Momo pulled her wrists up to take a closer look at Hatsume’s work. “How did you get the metal to bend like this?”

Hatsume’s eyes lit up, and she began to describe every component in elaborate detail, the specific metal alloy she was using that could be flexed with an electrical current to curl into the shape that was trapped around her wrists. Flexible but firm and impossible for Momo to break with her strength alone.

“...And to release it, at the moment it’s just this button, but at some point I’ll hook it up to a proper key…”

Hatsume flicked the button, and nothing happened.

It struck Momo just how tight they were on.

“...Is it supposed to…?” Momo started

“It will!” Hatsume exclaimed, “...Once I figure out why it’s not!”

Momo swallowed hard as Hatsume fussed over the device, poking and prodding at it with various tools. The situation had Momo imagining things.

Bad things.

If Eraserhead had caught her with something incriminating that night he stopped her, would he have cuffed her like this to drag her to the station? Would she feel as helpless as she did now, trying in vain to wriggle her way out only for the device to tighten ever-so-sightly more? If she was in private and could use her quirk maybe she could pop a saw out of her chest and flick it on with her foot, but it’d be tricky breaking just the metal and not her wrist as well.

All thoughts halted when Hatsume pulled her even closer, practically cradling her wrists and ending up with a hand pressed against her chest.

...Momo looked resolutely at the wall, trying not to focus on how pillowy Hatsume felt, even through the fabric of her tank top. They were just lobs of fat, perfectly natural and nothing to be overly conscious of. Momo had a pair of her own that she had never thought to blush about. Hatsume just had her hands pressed against them to get a good angle, a completely innocent and platonic reason that Momo would be rude to overthink.

The device finally clicked and Momo breathed in relief at how it clattered inert against the floor. Her wrists hurt, and there were red marks at the edge of where it pressed into her.

“Whoops.” Hatsume ran her fingers along the mark.

Momo shivered.

“Sorry about that!” She said to Momo with a laugh.

“That’s alright, risks are necessary for progress.”

They were. This was just another task Momo could help her inventor with. It was advantageous to cooperate, even if she didn’t fully understand what was going on.

“...So what is this for?”

“This baby is a new system of restraint!” Hatsume exclaimed, “The boring old handcuffs of today are outdated and lack flexibility! They might work on most villains, but what happens when they need to restrain someone much larger? A hero or cop will have to go out of their way to get fancy restrains to deal with them, but what if–” she pressed the button again with nobody’s wrists in the loops, and it shrank down tightly enough to fit in a palm, “–you could get a flexible, accommodating handcuff that you could carry among your regular handcuffs? Or even use it instead of typical cuffs? Then you can arrest on the spot without having to wait for someone to bring over the specialized restraints!”

Momo eyes the design warily. “That does sound useful… but what inspired this? Weren’t you in the middle of drafting up plans for an exo-skeleton?”

Though Hatsume returned to the workbench, fiddling with it, she continued the conversation. “Did you see that Hosu incident?”

She stiffened. “Yes, I don’t think anybody could have missed that.”

“It’s scary, watching villains just destroying indiscriminately… makes you feel helpless.”

Helplessly inspired. “Indeed.”

“But I’m not going to let them win by quaking in my boots! I can’t fight them head on, but all of us can play a role in stopping this from happening again. You know the nomu?”

Momo was watching over Hatsume’s shoulder as she added another component, trying not to look at her face. “Of course.”

“Even once they were subdued, it took time for police and heroes to properly restrain them. Some of their wrists were too big to fit into usual handcuffs. Aside from that, people with mutation quirks can’t always be restrained. And like… yeah they usually have specialty cuffs in the police car, or they can deliver them from the station, but that’s valuable time lost where the villain could escape or do more damage, you know?” She sighed. “If my babies can make one step of the process easier and safer, then I’m happy.”

This was the future villains like Momo would face. Support that would continually advance, a cold war of technology that they would have to meet step-for-step to survive. Momo was right behind Hatsume, but she felt so far away.

She put a hand on Hatsume’s shoulder. She didn’t turn, but her hands paused in their fiddling with the invention. There was a frozen moment, an acknowledgement, and Momo risked further. She slid that hand across the shoulder, up the neck and to her chin. Hatsume cooperated as Momo turned her head, hand on her cheek to guide her.

“...Momo?” Hatsume’s eyes finally met hers.

For now, at least, her enemy was hers. She could grab and hold her as she pleased, and get nothing more than a confused tilt of the head for her trouble. Momo wanted to cling, hang on as long as she could.

Or better yet, drag.

Drag Hatsume onto her side, show her a new world beyond the narrow path heroics had defined for her.

“You could do absolutely anything,” Momo whispered.

She got a smile in return, soft eyes warmed with understanding. “I know.” A palm raised, wrapped around Momo’s. “Join me?”

There was a lump in Momo’s throat that she swallowed down. There was no changing what she was, a girl turned collateral turned resource, squarely on the villain’s side. “I’ll be at your side as long as you’ll have me.”

She laughed. “I can’t imagine not wanting you here.”

Hatsume turned back to her engineering like she hadn’t forced Momo’s poor heart into overdrive, sending her into a spiral knowing that this girl was offering more than her own family had. Wanting her, promising her a place at her side in the indefinite future.

The cuffs were on the table in pieces, but Hatsume was putting it back together now. Precise, confident movements, not nearly as shaken as Momo. Hatsume saw a problem and was instantly ready to fix it. How would she respond to a kidnapped girl asking her to cast aside her ideals and join her in villainy?

That would be a gamble, and this was too important to leave to something as fickle as luck. Momo didn’t have the confidence yet, not with Hatsume’s optimistic view of heroes shining so bright it was blinding. She had to keep at it, become so entrenched in Hatsume’s life and work that, when the time came, there would be no other option but to come to her side. Momo had to do it right, make it perfect.

Hatsume lifted the handcuffs again, loops wide. “Alright, one more time!”

She held it up with expectant eyes. What was Momo, a dog being told to go back into its harness?

Still, Momo slipped her wrists inside, and let it tighten around her again. A villain instantly caught just to see her captor smile again. And smile she did as pressing a button on a remote control instantly released Momo. Fixed and functional again.

If only everything could be fixed so easily.

Chapter Text

Momo stood beside Giran as the man with a bag over his head recounted his life story. One slip-up as an orphaned teenager leading to a lonely life of criminality, only alleviated by cloning himself… until that ended in a deadly and explosive self-massacre with this washed-up, shaking man left at the end.

As he detailed some nuances of his quirk, Momo clenched her fists behind her back. The way he described having to measure people, getting to know their body closely, reminded her of studying to create anything. For him, however, he didn’t get an inert object that he could throw away and try again on. Instead he had functionally a living being, even if it was less sturdy than the original. She wondered if he had to understand the underlying biology the way she had to understand the underlying mechanics of everything she created, but she figured he wouldn’t appreciate that questioning as he struggled to share his story, words stumbling over themselves as he pieced together the sad set of events that led him here.

He made for a depressing sight in Giran’s office, a run-down parlor only in slightly better condition than that bag over his head. All alone, reaching out to Giran with a last call for someone, anyone to tell him what to do, to care what happened to him.

Giran’s eyes were sparkling at the sight. A person with a powerful quirk, completely vulnerable in front of him, begging to be snatched up and used however he saw fit.

He must have looked at Momo the same way, the day they met.

Her melancholic thoughts halted when Giran pulled open a drawer, revealing a box of cigarettes. Since when had he had that in there? Had he been smoking in secret on the occasional night she didn’t join him here? Regardless, she couldn’t say anything in front of the sad man, who accepted an offered cigarette with shaking hands.

At the very least, Giran didn’t take one for himself. Instead he politely lit the man’s cigarette with his gun-shaped lighter. He accepted it gratefully, but paused as the end of the cigarette came up against the bag. With great hesitance, he curled up the end of the bag to show just the lower half of his face, framed with messy stubble.

Momo swallowed hard at the adult taking in weak breaths of the cigarette, occasionally twitching and making an odd exclamation like there were two people in there.

Giran had gone quiet, allowing the man time to compose himself, but Momo felt compelled to speak. “Giran can get you a proper mask.”

The man tilted his head, and Giran glanced back at Momo with a raised eyebrow, as if asking what she was doing with his connection.

That didn’t matter, this was her offer, since she would be the one creating it anyway. “You feel like you’re being split all the time, right? That’s why you keep that bag, but it’s not easy to move around while trying to keep it from flying off your head. You could get a nice mask, full-face coverage with compression.”

He didn’t say anything at first, just took another draw of the cigarette, so she continued.

“Could even make a full body suit, so there’s not a centimeter of skin that could split away. Would you like that?”

It felt like the kind of thing that would help, based on how he’d described the psychological troubles with his quirk, and his nod supported that. “I… I think I would.”

Giran cut in then. “I’ll cover the cost for it, but you’ll have to pay me back once you have some money, yeah?”

Another nod. “But even with that… what should someone who’s all washed up actually do?”

“Become trusted.”

“By who?”

“Friends.”

Giran said it so simply, like it was just the sort of thing one could go out and get at the store. But it had the man looking up, breath held, hoping that it really was that simple, and that Giran could give him the key to escaping his loneliness.

Momo marveled at how smoothly Giran shifted into discussing Tomura’s villain group, bringing a promise of friendship for the measly cost of falling further into villainy. But what did this guy have to lose anyway? He already had an extensive criminal record, there was no way he could dig himself out of that and live a ‘normal’ life now. As they discussed it further, he grew more animated and hopeful, even moreso than when Momo had offered that hyper-specialized suit.

That was Giran’s strength, she supposed. He knew what people needed beyond the physical. He had never had to restrain Momo, a few hugs, gifts, the promise of warmth and a place for her in this unpredictable, dirty underworld had her clinging to him without a single thought of trying to find a police station to explain her situation. What would they do with her? Send her back to the Yaoyorozu’s who had cast her aside? Send her to an orphanage where nothing was guaranteed and she could be picked up by anyone? No, Giran gave her everything she wanted and needed.

He understood her from the start, and it was clear he had the man figured out as well. She watched him fall for Giran the way she had, a strong steady presence that would take care of them and guide them down an assured path. Watched as Giran slipped into each insecurity, finding a vice-grip around his heart that would stop it breaking, a kindness that would take a lifetime to repay.

Momo was still trying to repay him.

“You should probably come up with a codename, then,” Giran decided.

“You can call me Bubai,” he shared a nickname easily, already in Giran’s web but crawling even closer to him.

Giran laughed, not mockingly, but fond. “That’s sweet, but you’ll need something more intense than that for a proper villain name.”

“What do you think?”

It was almost sickening to see this man, with the quirk and power to take down an army, falling over his feet and giving himself away to the first person who showed a little kindness.

Like looking in a distorted reflection of herself.

“Well… I’m not the most creative kind of guy, to be honest,” Giran demurred, but continued, “but… well, based on your quirk, how do you feel about Twice?”

“Yes,” he agreed instantly.

Giran and Twice finished up their discussion, including taking some measurements for Giran to ‘order’ a new suit, and Twice left the room almost skipping. Shoulders light, a smile in his voice as he promised to come back the next day. It was a stark difference compared to the lost ghost of a man who had dragged himself into the office.

The difference Giran made.

When the door closed behind Twice, Giran turned on Momo. “What was that offer about?”

His voice wasn’t mad, thankfully, just curious and perhaps amused.

“...I just wanted to help him.” Momo shared simply, embarrassed now at the realization her heart had been shaken.

He laughed. Not cruelly, but she still felt mocked. “Well don’t go out offering charity without making sure you’ll get something in return.”

Of course. After all, Giran wasn’t a philanthropist. All the kindness he had shown Twice, had shown Momo was in service of what they could do in return. That was just the truth of the world. “His quirk alone is worth getting on his good side.”

Another laugh. “That’s for sure. Still, can’t go setting the precedent that I can just give out specialized full-body compression suits for free, those are expensive.”

“When they are traditionally manufactured, yes.”

He grinned, pat her head lightly without messing up her ponytail, and placed a paper with Twice’s measurements in her palm. “You can make it by tomorrow, yeah?”

“Of course.” She had already been designing it in her mind while watching Twice tug at the flimsy bag on his head.

Giran smiled. “You’re the best, Momo.”

She knew. That’s why he treated her so well.

Mr. Compress stood next to her, trench coat waving dramatically in the wind. It wasn’t like Momo was less theatrical with her red cape fluttering from the currents that passed through the air this high up, on top of a flat-roofed building, looking over a tight street.

The GPS in her hand beeped lightly. The tracker it was connected to was heading towards them. “Are you ready?” She asked Mr. Compress.

“Promise you won’t drop me,” he said with a laugh.

His cooperation was smooth and easy; they had become a decent villainous duo since their diamond heist. And since she had helped him with his, he was more than willing to indulge in a heist of her own.

The sun had set so there was reduced visibility, but it wasn’t terribly late. As far as Giran knew, Momo was out with her inventor still. Momo ran a hand over the jetpack on her back, Hatsume’s design that was tested in the UA Sports Festival. She was excited to use the design for herself, like having a part of Hatsume with her on her first big, self-run mission.

Finally, a large truck turned a corner. Momo was intimately familiar with it, having tracked it down and tagged it when it last made a delivery to the Yaoyorozu Corporation Warehouses. Since then, it had been to the dock to be filled, and was now on its way back to the warehouses. The GPS beeped again, the tracker almost on it now.

Momo grabbed Mr. Compress around the waist and launched off the roof. The jetpack struggled with both of their weights, but that was okay. She wasn’t trying to fly, just slowing their descent so they landed on top of the truck without injury. They landed somewhat loudly, but the truck did not stop. Momo motioned for Mr. Compress to get down on his stomach, so less people might see them on top of the moving vehicle.

Now in position, she pulled out a small laser from her bag. Powerful, but short-ranged, good for tight destruction like this. She cut out a hole on top of the truck, large enough for a person to slip in, and sent Mr. Compress through. He had very little space, but… “You want all of it?” He asked.

“All of it.”

He started marbling, crates disappearing until there was nothing left but a bag of marbles on his hip. He pulled out that grappling gun she had given him, the day they met, and shot it back up to the top of the hole. He pulled himself out. “Alright, boss, goods secured, where to now?”

She grabbed him again. Jumping off a moving vehicle was complex, but with the jetpack she’d just launch off the back to reduce their momentum and land relatively safely.

Still, they stumbled and rolled as they landed on a dark street, buffered only slightly by their respective coat and cloak.

“Oof,” he grimaced. “You good?”

Her elbows burned, probably bleeding, but that wasn’t Mr. Compress’s business. “Good enough, how about you?”

“Ha, just about the same.”

She led him down a series of streets then to an isolated part of town. Giran had finally fulfilled her request for a warehouse, which meant she could store her stolen goods properly.

When they reached it, she unlocked a series of locks with the various keys Giran had given her, and finally opened the door.

Mr. Compress marveled at the setup she had arranged inside. A gigantic metal vat with a spout at the bottom, stairs leading up to the top of it, and piles of oddly triangular glass bottles waiting to be filled.

When Momo glanced over, she also saw his eyes scan the corner of the warehouse, a few cells with bars, locks, a tiny bed and bathroom facilities tucked into each one. “Er…”

“It came like that,” she told him with a wave.

She had stripped some of the more central interior, but the cells constructed by the yakuza that Giran had bought this warehouse from were out of the way, and in a pinch if she ever needed somewhere to hide and sleep they could make a good little hideaway.

“Haha…” Mr. Compress said, not actually laughing. “You don’t seem like the kidnapping type, after all…”

There was a wide empty space in the center of the room. “You can release them here.”

He obliged, releasing dozens of marbles to create stacks of crates. The amount was impressive, and Momo was once again thankful for Mr. Compress’s quirk. She couldn’t imagine having to attempt moving this much product traditionally, especially without being seen or caught.

“What is it, anyway?” He asked lightly.

Though Momo liked to keep her cards close to her chest, Mr. Compress had earned some knowledge of what she was dealing in by now. “Go ahead and open them, if you’d like.”

He needed no further invitation. He grabbed a crowbar from a corner of the room and pried them open, revealing bottle after bottle glass bottles shaped like maple leafs.

Mr. Compress stared a minute “...Maple syrup?”

Momo clapped her hands together. “That’s right!”

He turned to her with confused eyes. “...Is there something particularly…? Special…? About these…?”

The invitation to speak had her standing tall as she explained, “Japan is one of the largest importers of Canadian maple syrup! Heralded for both its health benefits and rich taste, it’s a must-have for any luxury brand.”

She walked closer with slow, measured steps. This plot had been brewing for weeks, but she had been unable to share it with anyone, not Giran, not Hatsume, and now she could finally reveal what she had been thinking to someone, letting them admire her thinking.

“The Yaoyorozu Corporation has a strong branding. Their hotel industry and restaurants of course provide maple syrup as a matter of course, especially where they’ve leaned into western styles to create an exotic and rich experience for their clientele. Additionally, they have high-end luxury general stores where anyone with expensive tastes can get these sorts of goods to bring home, including authentic, imported Canadian maple syrup. Every salesperson they employ is certain to extol the benefits of their specific syrup, uniquely farmed in the cold north and delivered carefully to that very store.”

When Mr. Compress nodded, muttering an “I see… so then you are….?” Momo was thrilled for an excuse to continue.

“So the supply is essential! Luckily the flow is light enough that they generally get a truck full of it every quarter, and work through that supply until the next arrives. They have consistently received a truck four times a year for the past three years and have been able to maintain a perfect supply and demand balance. To take away an entire quarter’s worth of maple syrup is to severely fuck up that department!”

“That’s all very thoughtful,” he said slowly, “and forgive me if I’m just being slow, but what sort of benefit are you getting out of this?”

“I’m glad you asked!” She exclaimed, waving towards the giant tank and empty glass bottles she had been slowly creating in preparation for this. “Two weeks ago, I forced an encounter with the general manager of the Toyko division of the Yaoyorozu Storefront! After some digital stalking I found his gym and bribed my way into the semi-exclusive gym. After asking him to spot me on the barbells, he introduced himself and I ‘found out’ he worked for the Yaoyorozu Corporation. I left him my husband’s business card, saying he had started a sugar house in New Hampshire-”

“Wait, wait–” For some reason Mr. Compress’s shoulders were stiff. “–do you have a husband?”

She laughed, particularly loud with the enthusiasm flowing through her. “Of course not, but he doesn’t know that. As far as he knows, I’m just some silly wife who decided to network with him, who he politely excused himself away from. But once he gets the news that the latest shipment he’s expecting at the store tomorrow disappeared in transit, he’s going to want a replacement. If he has that business card still, he’ll call my number. If not, I have a website set up for my husband’s business, with a special mention that he’s looking to get a foothold in Japan where his beloved wife is from, and already has some product there that potential partners could sample. He finds that, tells his superiors who are struggling to secure a new supply, and I’m suddenly in business!”

“You have…. A lot thought out.” Mr. Compress commented oddly.

“Of course.” She licked her lips. “Can you imagine? The kind of premium you can get selling to one of the largest corporations in Japan when they’re desperate for a supply?”

“So the goal is money?”

“Sure,” she agreed flippantly, knowing better than trying to explain why squeezing money specifically from this group gave her an extra thrill, “Besides that, I’m a villain. What’s more villainous than market manipulation?”

He had to laugh at that comment. “I suppose that’s true. The kind of villainy no one ever gets jailed for.”

“Exactly.” She grinned. “A safe way to secure some pocket money.”

When it came to goods, Momo didn’t need to buy anything since she could generally create it, but that wasn’t the only thing that could be bought. She had some allowance money saved up, but if she ever wanted to buy services, bribe, or even buy food independently of Giran, she needed to secure more. Money that was only hers, that he wasn’t aware of, would let her have the freedom to negotiate and maneuver her way deeper into villainy without Giran hovering over her shoulder and fussing about dangers.

“So you’ll be re-bottling all of this and reselling it at a marked up price,” Mr. Compress figured out, arms out towards her setup.

“Exactly.”

He chuckled. “Well, if that’s the kind of villainy you enjoy, feel free to call me up anytime for an extra hand.”

“I certainly will. Would you like some syrup for your troubles?” She offered a bottle from the crate.

He accepted it, but as he did so, he dropped a marble into her hand. She blinked down at it, and said in a voice like he was telling a secret, “I forgot one last marble for you.”

It poofed, and there was suddenly a rose in her hand. She stared at it still, and looked back up Mr. Compress, who seemed expectant. “...There was a rose in the truck?”

He sputtered a moment. “What? N-no, of course not, I just thought you’d enjoy it. It’s red, like your cape.”

The thought confused her, it didn’t seem to have a purpose. Unless… Well, Giran had discussed with Twice the fact that even in villainy, friendship could grow. With that thought, she brought the flower close to her chest and smiled. “Oh. Well, thank you.”

He sighed then, relieved. “I’m glad you like it. Is there anything else…?”

She shook her head. “You’ve helped me out plenty today, the rest is up to me. Thank you for your help.”

Mr. Compress took off his hat and bowed theatrically. “Any time, Little Red.”

Momo entered the lab with a cup of coffee. Hatsume had texted that she pulled an all-nighter but claimed to be in ‘peak condition’ after a nap during history class. Perhaps it was overbearing, but Momo passed by a coffeeshop with decent tea options, so on a whim she had picked up a cup of tea for herself and coffee for Hatsume. After last night’s heist, Momo was in need of some energy herself anyway.

“Caffeine?” Momo offered.

Hatsume, arms buried in the back paneling of the large robot frame which had been deemed defective yesterday, suddenly perked up. “Coffee?”

She nodded. “I’m not sure what you take in it, so I brought some creamers and sugar, but–”

Hatsume snagged the cup from her hand and brought it to her mouth, chin slowly lifting as she chugged… and chugged…

“Ah~ that’s exactly what I needed!” She exclaimed, lowering the cup that had to be at least half (if not entirely) empty now.

Momo smiled, glad the drink cooled on the way there and mentally noting that she ought to make sure any future drinks she gives are cooled before giving them to Hatsume.

Hatsume seemed to be processing more thoroughly now, taking in Momo’s presence properly and glancing down to the cup in her hand. Her eyes widened a moment. “Oh, you’re just like your uncle!”

Momo blinked at her. What did that mean? “…Hmm?”

“The coffeeshop, Big Coffee? I saw him there the other day too.”

The tea almost fell out of her hand. Momo’s smile became strained, but she maintained it with the resolution of a spy trying not to blow their cover. “...You saw him.”

She chuckled. “Yeah, I almost jumped when he turned around, carrying some huge cup topped with whip cream and syrups dripping all over… but that scarf is pretty distinctive!”

Momo took a sip of her tea, screaming on the inside. It was distinct, one-of-a-kind, because it was an embarrassing early attempt to make something for his birthday, when she was too young to have a sense of basic aesthetic. He unfortunately still wore it more often than not… apparently even to coffeeshops that sometimes had people Momo did not want him to meet.

“What a coincidence.” She said completely neutrally as if she wasn’t internally panicking.

“Yeah! He thought so too.”

If Momo were less diligent about not wasting tea, she would have thrown her cup on the ground and screamed. Instead, she forced her shaking hand to bring the cup to her lips. After taking a not-very-calming sip she couldn’t even taste, she asked, “...You spoke to him?”

“Well I couldn’t just pretend I didn’t see him, right?” Hatsume said with a laugh. “And I was kinda curious.”

“Curious. About what?”

What had they talked about? How much did Hatsume tell him?

“Well…” Hatsume looked upwards like she was trying to remember, as though it was just a boring normal conversation she hadn’t taken close note of and not deeply etched into her soul as potential clues or leaks as to Momo’s true identity. “…I always see you in here, but haven’t really seen you outside and don’t really know how you’re like with other people, you know? And since he raised you, and I like you, I ought to thank him for doing such a good job!”

Momo was going to faint with how her heart kept stopping and stuttering at these revelations. “...Did you say that to him?”

“Maybe? I don’t know, he was understandably confused, since he hadn’t met me before, but after I explained that I was friends with you, he was much nicer!” Her smile turned sly. “He said you’ve been saying very kind things about me.”

Of course he would. Of course Giran would go along with the flow, pretending he knew enough to make her feel comfortable sharing. Probably analyzed and noted every little detail that Hatsume let slip, pieced it together in his mind like some perfect little puzzle to figure out exactly what Momo had been spending so much time doing without him.

“...Of course.” Momo’s throat felt tight, but she forced words.

Just like how Giran had probably forced words when he realized his protege was hanging around with a UA student who could lead a litany of top pro-heroes to all their operations if Momo slipped up.

Another sip of tea. She could dig as well. “When was this?”

Hatsume hummed. Her coffeecup was down on a bench now, and her hands returned to the robot she had been working on. “Uh… last weekend I think? I had slept all morning and wanted something to wake me up more fully.”

A few days ago, then. Momo’s mind raced with the implications. She had seen Giran plenty since then, and he hadn’t taken her aside to discuss it. What did that mean? Was he waiting for her to tell him? Or was he waiting for the right moment to confront her?

Hatsume reached up, trying to pry apart the two halves of the robot. She was on her tiptoes, and her arms strained to push.

She put down her tea for now. “Would you like some assistance?”

Hatsume beamed. “That’d be great! You grab that side, and I’ll grab this one…”

Momo obliged, grabbing tightly ahold one part of the robot’s large frame, struggling to focus on her grip instead of the churning in her stomach at the thought of what Giran was currently plotting by pretending to not know about her and Hatsume. Meanwhile, Hatsume reached up to grab the other edge and jumped.

The frame came apart with a creak, and then a crash as the last of it released all at once. Momo bounced against the ground, snapped back into the immediate present, thankfully landing relatively safely on her behind with only a squeak of surprise.

Though Hatsume had fallen as well, she was back on her feet in an instant, running to Momo’s side and swirling around her as she slowly stood back up. Hatsume’s eyes were shifting, pieces adjusting like she was zooming in and out, and Momo watched with fascination as the pupils suddenly grew wide.

“Your elbow!” Hatsume exclaimed, grabbing and twisting her arm to bring up the red marks that were still healing from last night’s heist.

Momo snatched the arm away, cradling it herself so Hatsume wouldn’t examine it too closely. “Oh, don’t worry, that’s not from just now!”

It was strange to see Hatsume’s brows furrowing, especially when she had been in the midst of an energetic ‘taking apart the defective prototype’ mood less than a minute ago. “...You sure? What is it from?”

“Oh just some villainy–” Cancel, this wasn’t Tomura or Mr. Compress she was talking to, “–people who caused a commotion last night.”

Now Hatsume had a full on frown, and Momo wanted to shrink and slink away. “You got attacked by villains?”

“N-no!” Momo was the villain who had gotten injured on her path to criminality. “I was just uh, a bystander, but there was some crowd movement and I ended up tripping, scraped against the pavement. Nothing crazy.”

Her expression relaxed slightly at that, but she still stared at the injury. “…Who were they?”

“Um…” Momo stalled before deciding to bail. “Oh I really don’t know, I was at the back of the crowd, I was just focused on getting away, not who the villains were.”

“I see.” Her lips curled.

There was a strange quiet, Hatsume’s eyes never straying from Momo’s elbow until Momo pulled it back and behind her body. “Hey, we still need to finish taking apart that robot, right?”

That did the trick and perked Hatsume up. “That’s true! Let me grab my screwdrivers…”

Momo wouldn’t let her worries cut her Hatsume time short, but by the time Hatsume’s caffeine-high dropped off and she was yawning enough to be willing to leave, Momo knew she had to go home herself.

And figure out exactly what Giran was thinking.

Chapter Text

Giran was on the phone when she arrived back home, late in the evening. He seemed to startle when she walked in the door, but his voice demanding payments did not waver.

Momo took some deep breaths. This was good, it meant she had some time to situate herself and calm down before she confronted him. She took her time in the kitchen, pulling out some leftovers and heating them up. She did her best to swallow it down, but nerves made her stomach protest with each bite.

After all, her head couldn’t stop spinning with uncertainty. Why hadn’t Giran told her that he knew Hatsume now? He had all the pieces he needed to put it together. He had seen her at the sports festival, knew Momo was out most evenings with some inventor contact, and had been approached by the woman herself at the coffeeshop. But according to her intel that was days ago, and Giran hadn’t told Momo about the meeting or his realization.

She knew he wasn’t enough of a fool to not piece together the evidence, so there had to be some reason he hadn’t acknowledged it.

When she finally forced the last of her meal, Giran had wrapped up his phone call. She heard his footsteps heading to his own room, which wouldn’t do. She took a step out of the kitchen, blocking his path. Nerves on fire, she launched her attack.

“Do you know who my inventor is?”

She decided on the bold route. Best case scenario it would leave him off-balance and she could take advantage of his confusion, worst case she could just ask him directly and at least get some sort of answer.

He blinked at her. Smiled. “What makes you ask that?”

That was exactly what he did to his nosy clients, no actual answer too soon, just prompting for more info so he could share the least amount possible to reassure them.

“Don’t play games,” Momo said firmly.

“Games?” He tilted his head innocently.

She hated that, when he played clueless to force people to reveal more. Though it felt like losing, she wanted answers and putting her cards on the table were the closest she could get to prying anything out of him. “At the coffeeshop. This weekend.”

“Oooh, that girl.” He nodded his head, and glanced up at Momo. “...Did she mention meeting me?”

At least he admitted it. That made Momo’s shoulders loosen slightly, and she shared more. “She did.”

For some reason he looked her up and down, eyes lingering on her hands, and Momo realized her fists were clenched. She forced them to loosen.

“Let’s sit down, if you want to chat,” he said.

They made their way to the couch. Giran sat down first on a cushion on one end, and Momo followed by sitting at the very edge of the other end.

“...Why didn’t you mention meeting her to me?” Momo asked.

“Ah, well…” He scratched at his chin. “...you were pretty insistent you wanted to do things independently. I didn’t want to interfere.”

That made some sense, she supposed. “What about her being a UA student?”

He stared at her. “What about it?”

“Isn’t that… dangerous? To be getting close to someone so close to the heroes?”

Giran laughed, then scooted over to ruffle her hair slightly. She let him. “A UA student is also someone who is likely going high places. And someone who already has access to top heroes and future heroes. If you can truly secure a connection to her, then you have all that information and opportunity at your fingertips as well. It’s definitely dangerous, but you know to keep yourself safe, don’t you?”

She gulped, thinking about how she injured herself during her maple syrup heist. “Of course.”

“I know brokering isn’t as flashy as bigtime villain shit like what Shigaraki does… but this effort you’re putting into gaining a UA student and inventor will be incredibly fruitful. You know how to pick them.”

There was a strange relief, to have been expecting critique or challenge but to only receive praise. Why had she been hiding it from him in the first place?

“It all makes sense to me now,” he said with a chuckle, “why you’ve been spending so much time with her. After all, you need to create an ironclad bond to overcome that heroism UA injects into their students, right? It’s clever, to create a friendship that you can use to corrupt her in the future.”

That was exactly what was going on, but for some reason hearing Giran actually say all those things she had only thought before… left an uncomfortable taste in her mouth.

He patted her on the back. “It is dangerous though, show your cards too soon and we’ll have dozens of pro-heroes breathing down our necks. So I hope you’re finding her weaknesses, or even things to blackmail… but you know how to be patient and play safely, don’t you?”

She knew exactly how Giran wanted her to play her role. Like a pampered oracle in the temple, gathering and disseminating intel without ever having to muddy her shoes… or get close to another person. “Yes.”

He stood up then, signaling the end of the discussion. Momo let him, shoulders feeling lightened by the conversation, though she wasn’t entirely at ease yet.

Before he left to his room though, he paused. “I do have one question.”

Momo’s shoulders raised immediately. What could he want to dig into now?

“Why uncle?”

She stopped breathing a moment. “...Hmm?”

“Hatsume said I was your… your uncle.” His eyebrows pinched a moment. “What… I mean, you could use any sort of explanation. It’s fine. I was just curious why uncle, and not… not something else.”

Momo felt her face redden. “She saw us in the stadium, at the sports festival. It would have been weird if you were just some random adult man who brought me there.”

“Ah.” He nodded. Grimaced slightly. “And I suppose I don’t really look like your… like someone more closely related.”

Her face was definitely flaming, but luckily Giran was avoiding her eyes as well. “No. That… uncle seemed most plausible.”

“Very logical.”

“Yes.”

He was in an awkward spot, no longer on the couch, but not actually properly heading to his room. They stayed in awkward stasis for a moment, before he spoke.

“Okay then! Glad we had this talk!”

“...Yes.”

“Good night!”

“Good night.”

With that, he finally left. When she heard his door click shut, she buried her face in her hands with a whine. Was that weird? To go with the uncle cover story? It seemed like Giran had found it weird, but it had felt the easiest explanation at the moment when Hatsume had asked her about it.

She dismissed those thoughts for now. At the very least, Giran had decided to accept Hatsume as Momo’s connection, UA risk be damned, and that was good enough for Momo.

She supposed it made sense, it fit into his image of the perfect little broker. Not fighting UA directly, but forging connections that could allow her to slip inside and play behind the scenes.

But she couldn’t work like that forever. And soon she’d have Tomura help her progress beyond that.

She yawned. Something to deal with in the morning, she decided.

Though Momo texted him in the morning, it wasn’t until well into the early evening that Tomura responded and said she could come over to the bar. Knowing him, he just woke up. She slipped out of the apartment to an alley she sent Kurogiri the coordinates for.

Once she stepped through the portal he provided, she saw the bar… with more scuffing and what looked like slices on the counters and elsewhere. “Did you have a tantrum with Kurogiri’s knives?”

“Haha,” Tomura said, not laughing. “No, I was just having a discussion with some recruits for the next mission.”

When Giran had discussions with potential recruits, weapons being used was a worst-case scenario. “...You okay?”

He snorted and looked at her like she was an idiot. “Obviously? I’m alive, aren’t I? Plus they agreed to join.”

She crinkled her nose and turned on her heel. Whatever, that’s what she gets for showing an ounce of concern for a brat like him. She hopped onto a seat at the bar counter. “Tea, please.”

As Kurogiri went to the back to get one of the few teabags they kept around for her, Tomura took a seat himself, bringing up his feet onto the stool as well so his knees were up near his chin. Sitting like a child.

“So?” he asked, “What did you want to meet about?”

“I did a crime of my own, without you or Giran. I’m a proper criminal,” she declared with her chin jutting out.

He raised an eyebrow. “Villains ain’t proper, but okay. What did you do?”

She explained the maple syrup heist in detail. Kurogiri brought over the tea (along with some soda for Tomura), but she didn’t even pause to sip at it.

By the time she got to explaining the intricacies of the negotiation she ended up having with the store manager to sell the repackaged maple syrup, Tomura’s eyes were glazing over. “That’s such a boring crime.”

Momo gasped, offended. “It is funneling corporate profits into my pocket without them even realizing a crime was committed! Well, any crime beyond the disappearing maple syrup.”

“Wow. So fearsome.” He raised his hands like claws. “Society is soooo shaken because some rando corporation had to buy some food at a higher price. You really showed them.”

She narrowed her eyes. He didn’t understand why the Yaoyorozu corporation wasn’t random, but that was her business. “I’m artfully targeting the most privileged in society.”

He yawned. “Targeting them would be like, taking one of them hostage. Or just killing them. Is there any reason any of them would tremble at the name ‘Little Red’?”

“W-well, I didn’t really leave a calling card or anything at the truck…”

A sigh. “Not a very exciting crime.”

“It’s a crime with a plan at least, unlike yours!”

That made his shoulders rise up. “I have a plan.”

“Then what was that whole business in Hosu?”

“The plan was ‘cause chaos’, and it did.”

“Was the plan also to lose three Nomu?”

“Sensei will get me more.” He took a sip of his Mountain Dew. “Besides, I have a great plan this time.”

She perked up. This time. So there was something new, an opportunity for her to slip into the League. “Oh?”

“UA will be going to a summer camp. Isolated in the woods, with only a few teachers keeping an eye on them.”

She gripped the handle of her mug tightly. “That’s… all of UA?”

“The hero classes.”

Momo loosened her grip. “Makes sense. So you’ll attack them?”

“That’s not all,” he said, leaning in close, “there’s one student in particular who caught my eye.”

He slid a photograph along the counter. She saw the first-place student from the Sports Festival, chained up on that podium like an animal.

“Bakugo Katsuki. He’s too powerful, too vicious for the heroes. They see his anger and see something that needs to be controlled. I see… potential.”

From what Momo could recall, the guy threw a tantrum despite winning first place, so she could see why Tomura would feel a kinship with him. “So your actual plan…?”

“Number one: cause chaos, as always. Number two: take that kid and show him a better path, one on our side where he can live freely.”

“I see.” She did see.

This guy was literally being chained by his mentors it would probably be relatively easy to persuade him to betray that culture which saw him win and still punished him. And the amount of damage that would deal to society’s perception of heroes, of UA and the entire system of heroism people loved to laud… The winner of the Sports Festival, a young and upcoming hero at the top hero school ending up falling into step with villains instead, would force people to take notice and wonder what heroism is doing wrong for things to end up like this.

But how long would it take to convince this hero student to side with villains? “So kidnapping?”

“To start with, yes. Though I’m sure he’ll stay willingly, soon enough.”

Momo knew how that went.

“But he will probably be resistant at first,” Tomura said with a sigh, “we’ll have to take him by force, and restrain him so we can talk without having to fight.”

“That quirk of his will be difficult.” There was a reason he won the sports festival, blasting his opponents with those explosive hands.

“Regular restraints won’t work.” Tomura turned to face Momo fully. “But I have an expert who can get me something better than ropes or handcuffs.”

“...Me?” She wracked her brains. “I mean, there are a couple of possible solutions… Full-scale iron gloves, though if he exploded in there, he could hurt his own arms, and he’d have limited mobility, it might feel like the sports festival all over again. Obviously handcuffs wouldn’t work…”

“If you don’t have a solution, talk to that inventor of yours. I don’t care, so long as you get me something that’ll let me keep the kid from fighting long enough to get through to him.”

The request had Momo going into negotiation-mode. “So if get you those restraints… can I join the attack on the summer camp?”

He grimaced. “You?”

She nodded. “You said I could join if I did a crime on my own, and I did! Even if you don’t understand how ingenious it it, if I’m also getting you specialized restraints, I think it’s about time–“

“Alright.”

“–that you let me- huh?”

Tomura shrugged. “I said alright. You can join this time, but–” he raised a finger, “–you’re still inexperienced, so you need to avoid direct engagement, alright?”

She held back from bouncing in her seat. She could play it cool, she was a proper villain who got to go on big villainous missions. “I can do that!”

Watching her expression, he let out a little ‘heh’ with a smile. “This time I’m going with a stronger and more centralized team than the USJ attack. I’ve got a couple of promising recruits already, but if you have anyone else in your network who might be interested, send them my way. I’ll let you know when we next meet.”

“Yes!”

Chapter Text

Momo was beaming as Kurogiri dropped her off. Not near her apartment, but out in the suburbs near Hatsume’s lab.

After entering, she went straight through the stacks of shelves to the heart where Hatsume was hunched over the lab bench. “Hello,” Momo greeted as usual.

Unlike usual, Hatsume’s head spun immediately to locate her, and she jumped from her seat. “Momo!”

The enthusiasm had Momo stymied. Was her presence that exciting? It hadn’t been that long since she last visited, had it?

“I have something for you! Wait just a sec…”

Ah, a new blueprint then. Though Momo wasn’t sure what it would be, she hadn’t directly requested anything recently, but perhaps Hatsume still wanted to share what she’d been developing anyway. When she turned back to show Momo though, it wasn’t a blueprint.

Momo blinked down at the objects in Hatsume’s palm. Two tiny wrenches, each the size of a USB stick, with a delicate chain attached at the midpoint of each wrench. “This is…?”

Hatsume picked up one of the chains, allowing the whole of it to dangle and spin lightly. “Matching necklaces for us!”

She stared at Hatsume, still not fully understanding. Jewelry? For her? Matching?

Was this… did normal civilian friends wear matching jewelry? Was this some sort of gift? Like a friends gift? Or more than friends gift?

Before Momo could marvel further, Hatsume had already put one on herself, and was approaching Momo with the other.

She tilted her chin up, inviting Hatsume to bring her hands around and behind her throat, faces probably close enough to tap each other’s noses if Momo was brave enough to look anywhere other than the ceiling. Had Momo’s neck always been so sensitive that a girl’s wrists brushing it could cause her heart to race like this?

When the necklace was finally clasped, Hatsume pulled back and grinned at her. “Now watch this!”

Hatsume’s chin tilted down as she tugged either end of the wrench on her own necklace. It split, though parts in the middle remained interlocked, but once slightly apart Hatsume was able to fully rotate the two pieces opposite from each other 180 degrees, and a tiny light in the center blinked.

The matching wrench against Momo’s chest suddenly started vibrating, beeping, and lighting up. She startled as she scrambled to grab it, and came face-to-face with the discovery the central handle of the wrench had a basic screen with numbers on it… No, not just numbers, coordinates, fairly close to the one she had asked Kurogiri to drop her off at.

Hatsume tugged at Momo’s wrench, pulling it apart without turning, and the noises stopped, though the coordinates remained.

“Both of these necklaces can send out an SOS to each other! So if you’re ever caught up in a villain attack again, you can just tug, spin it around, and then I’ll be notified of your location.”

That was complex. And Momo hadn’t recently given her components that would likely go into such a precise device, so had Hatsume bought them out of her limited allowance to make sure it stayed a surprise for her?

It was a surprise because this wasn’t one of their transactions. It wasn’t a blueprint, or a material, or any other sort of trade. It was Hatsume thinking of Momo, of her safety, and deciding that she wanted to link with her. Acknowledging that it wasn’t just Momo feeling something, craving something, but Hatsume too had at least felt enough towards her to want to be contacted if she ever fell into danger.

“...Do you like it?” Hatsume was staring at her now.

Momo’s voice came out a weak squeak. “I love it.”

Hatsume laughed and slapped her on the back. “Well that’s a relief! You better always keep it on.”

“I will,” Momo assured with a vigorous nod, “no matter what, I will wear it twenty-four seven, seven days a week, nonstop, vigilantly watching in case you ever signal.”

She laughed. “Hey, I made it go both ways, but I originally made it for you to signal me.”

Momo grabbed both of Hatsume’s hands, held them tightly between hers to make sure just how serious she was. “If you are ever in danger, I need you to signal me no matter what. I will bend space and destroy anything in my way to get to you, and no matter what situation you’re in I will find a way to get you out. No matter how huge and scary you think it is, believe in me and my abilities, and I will come for you, okay?”

Hatsume was completely frozen, staring at her with her lips parted. Was she even breathing?

“Do you understand?” Momo checked.

“Y-yeah!” Hatsume looked away then, chest moving with breaths again. “But like, I was kind of assuming we would call the police or like, heroes to get to the other’s location…”

The thought of it made Momo squeeze Hatsume’s hands tighter. Hatsume may have some sort of feeling towards her, but she still trusted in heroes and the society that held them up. Though Momo brushed past it in the past to avoid trampling her, with this at least she couldn’t let it stand.

She grabbed Hatsume’s chin with one hand and forced her to look back into her eyes. “If I wanted the police, I would call them.” Her finger slid down her neck, to that monumental wrench resting against Hatsume’s chest. “If this goes off, I don’t want anyone other than you.”

“...Ah.” The odd iris components in Hatsume’s eyes were literally spinning

“And if you activate it, I will be going directly to you. There is no human being in any predetermined ‘heroic’ role that will have the same dedication I will have to assuring your safety.”

After all, Kurogiri might be beholden to All for One, but he was also beholden to Tomura, and Momo had enough leverage to make him lend Kurogiri for an emergency. She could be by Hatsume’s side sooner than anyone might think possible based on the laws of reality and physics.

Hatsume started to turn away again, which wouldn’t do. Momo still hadn’t gotten to the central point.

She tugged at Hatsume’s necklace, forcing her attention. “Hatsume. Promise me if I send you a signal, you will not call the police. You will not contact the heroes. No matter what.”

“U-um.” She swallowed hard. “If that’s what you really want…”

“I want you.”

Now that she had made it clear, Momo dropped the necklace, let it fall where it belonged–around Hatsume’s neck, a mark of the bond between them. As she was admiring the sight, however, Hatsume turned abruptly.

“So! Um. Glad you like it!” Hastume spoke and moved stiffly as she returned to her workbench, grabbing onto the edge while looking away from Momo. “Haha. Was there. Um. What was I working on again?”

It was completely unlike Hatsume to forget her baby; she must have been extremely excited to show off the necklaces if she lost track of what she was working on. That was fine, though. Momo came up behind her and grabbed the edge of the workbench as well, getting up close to speak softly over her shoulder. “May I make a suggestion?”

She couldn’t see Hatsume’s face, but a glance down showed her ears were the color of her hair. Was she that embarrassed that she had forgotten? “S-sure.”

Momo sauntered towards the shelves and found the handcuffs Hatsume had been working on. She held them up, admiring the craftsmanship and creativity in the design. “You’ve been doing some great work with restraints.”

Though Momo could make these size-changing restraints now, she would never have dreamed them up by herself. Certainly not something so flexible and effective. Though Momo was not modest, she could acknowledge her limitations, and one of them was that she struggled to imagine creating something new.

And Tomura needed something that had never been made before.

“There’s all sorts of villains and nomu out there, who are difficult to capture for reasons beyond size. You know…” she smiled at her. “...do you remember the conclusion of the sports festival?”

Hatsume was looking at her now, head tilted.

“That kid who won, they had to chain him up just to accept the reward… it was such a dated looking set of restraints, don’t you think?”

“Oh yeah,” she agreed, as though it had just occurred to her to think about the winners of the festival she had turned into an advertising opportunity.

Momo took a few steps closer, still carrying the handcuffs. “Innovation is built on the failures of the past. That ugly and difficult set of restraints may have functioned, but there has to be a better way, don’t you think?”

“It was kind of ridiculous…”

“It could be a great exercise, figuring out how you would have done it. After all…” Momo slipped her wrists through the handcuffs, though she did not activate them to close down. “...if there was ever a villain with a similar quirk, this wouldn’t stop them.” She flexed her hands, demonstrating how she could blast if she were Bakugo. “So how would you neutralize him? Elegantly, cleanly, without looking like a medieval torture device? Then you can apply it to a wider range of possible quirks.”

The direct questions, the challenge had Hatsume with a hand over her mouth, eyes downturned as she contemplated. “...Hmm true, there’s also that acid girl, would this material hold up to that? Lots of people leak dangerous substances as a quirk, so to find an effective way to handle that…”

Momo grinned. Bait taken. She slipped off the cuffs and put it on the workbench. “I’m excited to see how you accommodate those sorts of quirks. If there is absolutely anything you need in fulfilling these goals, I will provide it.”

She grinned. “You’re very reliable. What if I asked for gold-lined components?”

To prevent corrosion from unstable substances? “It will be yours.”

Hatsume raised an eyebrow. “You spoil me.”

“I adore your designs, and will do anything to bring them to life. No matter how rare something is, just ask and I will procure it.”

Her head bent over the workbench again, focusing on the handcuffs in front of her. She pushed the prototype back. “I’ll need to start from scratch for something like this…”

Perfect. Momo took a seat, eager to be by her side for the process.

This creation would surely be fruitful.

Mr. Compress sighed when Momo ordered another coke at the bar. “I’d buy you a fancy cocktail if you wanted,” he said.

“I’d buy myself a drink if I wanted,” she reminded him.

They had settled into this rhythm easily, a little under once a week meeting at The Spritz to chat and collaborate as needed. There had been nothing so involved as the Dewitchery Diamond heist, but Mr. Compress had been occupying his time with an occasional robbery, which meant a few requests for resources from Momo.

After their basic updates, though, Mr. Compress threw her for a loop. “Have you heard of the League of Villains?”

Momo almost coughed up her soda. She took a moment to delicately put the glass down. “...Who hasn’t, at this point?”

“I’ve been considering trying to join them. Stain’s speech was… compelling.”

“Agreed.”

“Hell, even Magne has been raving about his philosophy, and she usually doesn’t think much beyond ‘fuck shit up’. She says if Shigaraki ever tried to walk through the doors of The Spritz, she’d ask to join, even tried to memorize his face from those wanted posters.”

Momo took a slow sip. She wanted to join since it was the closest opportunity with someone she knew, but did others really see it as that big and competent? Even though it was being run by a man child? “That many people want to join?”

He nodded. “Only problem is that apparently they’re being pretty selective about who they’re letting into the group now. I’ve been trying to figure out how to meet with them, but it’s weirdly hush-hush. I got a thread on this one guy who might be able to connect Magne and I, but trying to actually meet him is easier said than done.”

Momo licked her lips. “I think you’d be a good asset to a team.”

Because he would be. He had a powerful quirk, and a sense of both theatricality and responsibility that Tomura lacked.

“I’m glad you think so,” he said with a laugh.

And Momo was part of the League now, but officially she was just one person among however many underlings Tomura decided to take on for their next mission. If she wanted to be stronger, to be able to tear apart Japan for Hatsume’s sake as she promised, one day she would need to overtake Tomura.

If there were people in Tomura’s inner circle that were more deeply connected with her, then if she ever had to go against him, she might be able to both bolster her team and weaken his in one swoop. Not that she was planning on it, if Tomura continued to cooperate with her… but when she looked into their future, the next generation of All for One and Giran, she didn’t want to be as helpless as Giran was, unable to reject any request from the lord of the underworld. She needed to plant seeds early so her foundation would be as strong as Tomura’s and they could negotiate on at least equal footing.

“Would you like to meet Shigaraki Tomura?” Momo asked simply. “Magne could come along too.”

She wasn’t particularly close with her, but Magne was close to Mr. Compress, so she would likely go along with whatever side he was on… and Momo was getting along very well with him.

Mr. Compress stared at her. “...You’re shitting me.”

She wore her pleasant, broker smile. “Do you want to?”

He stirred the straw in his glass, eyes still narrowed. “What would you want in return?”

“I’m not quite doing this as a favor,” she confessed, “truth is, I’ve joined the League, and would feel better with some villains I already know by my side.”

He laughed, almost disbelieving. “I sure was lucky to have met you, huh?”

Her lips turned down. “Luck isn’t something to thank. We both just have useful skillsets that brought us together.”

“And Magne?”

“An ally of yours is an ally of mine.”

He chuckled. “An ally? Come on, by now I’d consider us friends, wouldn’t you?”

Her glass slipped, but it was just above the counter, so it simply rattled. Friends?

“Or do you not want to get closer with me?”

She swallowed with nothing in her mouth. He was… a connection. They did not have a precise tit-for-tat, but ultimately Momo was with him to satisfy her own ends. And she found it hard to imagine he was just meeting with her out of fondness; this offer to join the League was proof enough that maintaining contact with her was surely advantageous for him too. But when it came to building these bonds, to labeling them, did sincerity matter? She should take every step that might entangle him further with her.

“No I… I’d like to be friends,” her response was less articulate than she wanted, but delaying the response further to put together her thoughts properly would have been suspicious.

“Aw, are you getting shy from just that?” There was something delighted in his voice.

Her cheeks burned, and she took a big gulp of the soda with ice to cool down. “No.”

“Wait, actually, did you not think we were friends? When we drink together so frequently?”

Why was he so insistent on this? They established that they were ‘friends’ or whatever and could exchange favors even more freely, why did he have to push to the point where her face got red and flustered?

He nudged her shoulder with his. “Come on, you’re always so business, you can loosen up around me, you know.”

“O-okay.” She wasn’t supposed to stutter like a mess with a connection just because they threw her a curveball.

The way he laughed at her only made her want to run away and hide even more. “I didn’t know you were so weak to touchy-feely stuff, it’s refreshing.”

“I’m not weak,” she said weakly, staring at the countertop.

He slapped her on the back. “Careful, this sort of reaction makes me want to tease you. Did you not have a lot of friends in school or something?”

There was no way she could answer that. She didn’t even go to school. She took another long sip of her drink.

His voice softened slightly as he continued. “Ah. Well, you can count me among your friends now! Be more confident in our bond, yeah? You can call me up for more than just business if you want.”

This was getting ridiculous. She needed to get back into familiar territory. “So for the League though…”

Mr. Compress had mercy and let her change the subject. “Actually, let me get Magne here for this if you don’t mind…

On her way back home, Momo’s mind couldn’t keep from spinning the conversation in her head. Giran had all sorts of ‘friends’. People he’d smile and laugh and smoke a cigarette with, then critique in the car to Momo as they drove home. Friends were great, able to be squeezed and used more flexibly than a purely business-like exchange of favors. But they required a delicate dance of interactions to foster that goodwill and make the person believe that there was an emotional connection that they should be willing to bend over backwards for.

Did Giran ever feel like this, though? Flustered, a little scared, a little happy to have someone call him a friend when he didn’t expect it? Momo couldn’t imagine it. He flowed to other’s pace so smoothly, he would have probably responded much more confidently in that situation, properly securing the benefits such a relationship would entail.

When Momo’s parents abandoned her, Giran let her cling to him, let her define what she wanted from him, and contorted to become exactly what she needed. Someone who appeared to love her, who she could rely on, who she would feel unwavering loyalty towards.

And it worked.

Even now, even having seen how he worked his magic on his clients and knowing how he maneuvered his way into people’s hearts, having figured out why he treated her so well, she still wanted to make him happy. She wanted him to see her become queen of the underworld, to acknowledge her, to think to himself that out of all his connections, she was the most powerful and most important. And for him to be content and secure forever because he knows and she knows that ultimately, she could never betray him, so he’d never have to bow his head or have a disadvantageous negotiation again.

She needed to be stronger.

She had to be strong enough that Tomura would acknowledge her as well and she could influence him. Strong enough to collaborate with Mr. Compress on more missions. Strong enough to tear apart Japan if that wrench necklace ever beeped with an SOS from Hatsume.

All these people kept worming their way into her heart. If Giran saw the extent of her feelings, he’d say what they were plainly–weaknesses that others could exploit. Like a web of connections that could be tugged and warped at any of the available points.

If it was a web, she would become the spider, the center, who could destroy anybody who dared touch her people. She would become strong enough to protect all of them, no matter what. Then they wouldn’t be weaknesses anymore, just precious people she could spoil like how Giran spoiled her.

But until she was strong enough, she would put a lid on these feelings and harden her heart. She couldn’t afford to let anybody else in, not as weak as she was now.

Chapter Text

“Come on in,” Magne said, motioning for Momo to enter the door of The Spritz. “I haven’t seen Mr. Compress yet, but I’m sure he’ll be in soon enough.”

“I’m not here for him,” Momo told her, “I was hoping to speak with you, actually.”

She tilted her head. “Me? Is this about the League stuff?”

“Not quite… but I was hoping to ask for a favor from you, with consideration for the fact that I will be introducing you to the League.” Momo took a deep breath. “Can you train me?”

Momo had her quirk and her smarts, but she had rarely ever been in a proper fight. Tomura couldn’t exactly teach her with how risky his quirk was, and Giran stayed away from physical fights. If she wanted to be able to become greater than Giran, than All for One, she needed to at least be able to hold her own if it came down to combat.

Magne blinked. “Train you?”

“As in physically. Since you’re a bouncer, you know about how to fight hand-to-hand and stuff, correct? I’ve had some self-defense training, but I’m lacking in combat experience.”

“Well I haven’t really gotten any formal martial arts training if that’s what you’re looking for… but I’ve certainly got combat experience.” Magne leaned forward; she was even taller than Momo was. “But do you think you can handle my training?”

Momo clenched her fists. “I need to get stronger, in all senses of the word. I can’t neglect the physical any longer, not if I’m going to be a part of the League.”

Magne laughed. “Alright. After work then, let’s have ourselves an introductory tussle.”

Apparently a ‘tussle’ for Magne actually meant a ‘full smackdown’ for Momo.

She coughed as she forced herself up. Magne simply stared down at her with an unimpressed face, tapping a foot. Every part of Momo hurt. She had tried to use the basic moves Giran had taught her, stuff about shifting her weight and punching correctly, but it was useless in the face of raw experience and power. Worst of all, Magne was definitely holding back, using just enough force to toss or pin her and make clear that, if Magne were serious, Momo would be dead meat.

“You’re too much in your head.” Magne stated. “Even when you have an instinct, you pause, like you’re trying to decide if it’s advantageous or not. You can’t afford to hesitate in battle.”

Momo wiped the dirt off her mouth. This park a block down from the bar was at least unoccupied at this time of night, but it sucked as a training area. “I don’t fight enough to have proper instincts.”

That made her laugh fully. “That’s your problem–you’re looking for what’s proper. News flash, princess, your opponent isn’t going to care. If you keep thinking that way, it’s going to limit what you can do.”

There was no warning as Magne ran towards her again. Momo took a deep breath and tried dodging at least, but Magne’s leg swept out under her, tripping Momo in a way that sent her falling back. She tried to grab at Magne to maybe twist her away, but her arms were shoved down, and her whole body was squeezed between Magne’s legs, which had the strength and weight to easily keep her lower body and arms pinned.

She tried kicking out her legs, but Magne was sitting on her hips so there was no good way to get an angle to kick her off. She tilted up to look for any weaknesses, but all she saw was Magne watching her struggle.

Momo groaned, letting her body fall back onto the ground. Failed again.

But Magne wasn’t satisfied at that surrender. “Come on, you think you’re trapped?”

She unsuccessfully tried to wriggle out her arms before responding, “Yes.”

A snort. “Come on. Think outside that prim and proper box. If someone were to actually choke you out like this… would you really just lie there and take it?”

To illustrate, Magne’s hands approached her throat, and the fearful moment where Momo wondered Is she actually going to choke me? had her adrenaline pumping and begging to move whatever she could. The hand was approaching her head… which she realized she could still move.

She tilted up, biting Magne’s hand. She let go quickly as Magne made a sound of pain and pulled back, and took the opportunity to tilt further upwards and chomp Magne’s thighs through her pants. Magne didn’t jump off entirely, but that leg flinched at the pain, giving Momo just enough freedom to snake out an arm. From there, she was able to punch Magne’s stomach. The ‘Oof’ from her sounded a little fake, but she bent over like she had been hurt, and the distraction from squeezing gave Momo the freedom to scramble back and out from between her thighs.

As Momo shakily stood up, huffing with adrenaline in her veins, Magne’s laugh boomed. “Good! Guess you can learn.”

Momo pursed her lips. “If you gave me something to study, I could.”

“You can read all you want, but your body will fail you without physical practice.” She looked her up and down. “That punch was pretty weak, how much can you press?”

“Um… I’m not sure.” Momo didn’t make a habit of going to the gym.

“You ought to do some strength training. As you are now, you’re probably better off focusing on agility and flexibility to get outta trouble, but being stronger will give you more options.”

Momo stood straighter. She did want to become stronger.

“As we are right now though, I’m a hundred times stronger than you are. So stop trying to face me head on with honor, you’ll never beat me. Take advantage of my blind spots, of my overconfidence, of the environment around us. Why have you been letting me fight you in the middle of the field when there’s a playground over there?”

She knew she was supposed to be learning, but it stung to be told everything she was doing wrong when it didn’t make sense to talk back. “You set us up here, I assumed–”

“Assume that I can and will kill you, Little Red. Run to the jungle gym and get above me, make me dizzy climbing all over the structures, get me to climb up and then shove me off. Here? All you can do is dodge and try to fight me hand-to-hand. You’re shit at that right now, so you’ll die. Run away until you can take an advantage.”

Momo pursed her lips at being told to run away, like a coward. But there was nothing she could say, knowing Magne was completely correct that she wasn’t strong enough. She had been hoping Magne would give her some artful judo techniques or something she could use to takedown anyone she fought regardless of their strength style… but Magne wasn’t some well-learned martial arts instructor, she was a raw brawler with experience outside of a dojo, who had fought her way to safety through villains and heroes alike.

“One more fight,” Momo said.

Magne grinned, punching her fists together. “Try to survive a little longer this time.”

Momo dragged herself home, dead on her feet. She was exhausted, barely able to eat the power bars in her bag because chewing was too much energy.

At the very least, though, she felt like she learned some things. Magne was frustratingly light on actual instruction, only occasionally pausing to go through some basic best practices and stances as they became relevant. But after being pinned and tossed around over a dozen times, Momo felt like at the very least she understood why it was so important to not get into hand-to-hand if she could help it. By the end, even when the wind was knocked out of her, Momo started to gain the instinct to continue to maneuver and push for any type of escape.

At least she no longer froze up so easily. And although it was uncouth… Magne’s philosophy, that put survival above any sense of propriety or manners, was refreshing. Momo had always tried to maintain a sense of decorum, just as she had been taught by her–

...by the Yaoyorozu’s.

She frowned at herself while looking up at her window in the apartment complex. She barely had the energy to get home, now she needed to create a grappling gun as well. She swallowed the last of the power bar and held out her arm, creating the necessary device.

As she aimed it up to her open sill and pulled herself up, she tried to focus on Magne’s lessons. Magne had insisted her weak, but she didn’t know about Momo’s quirk. At any point, if she had truly been in danger, Momo could have created needles or daggers all over her body to stab through an attacker.

But she had to have enough time to think to do that sort of thing. So she appreciated going through the fire, and learning how hot it burned. When it came time that she was truly in such a situation, she hoped she could keep her cool. And that she could let go of those preconceptions she hadn’t realized she’d been holding onto. She needed to open her mind and be willing to fight dirty if she wanted to survive.

Once inside, she closed the window and checked the hair she set up across the door, just in case…

It had snapped.

Her eyes widened. With the way it was glued onto the door frame, that would only occur if someone had opened the door while she was gone. She glanced back at her bed, where her decoy wig was set up. With the pillows beneath the covers, it looked conceivably like her sleeping while facing the wall, especially with limited lighting.

Perhaps Giran had checked on her for some last minute midnight mission… but had he looked closer and realized her deception, or had he closed the door when she didn’t wake up, assuming she needed the sleep?

Unfortunately she was too tired to do anything about it now. She’d deal with it in the morning, once she had recovered slightly. She put her head on the pillow, and was out like a light.

Momo woke up later than usual. Her whole body was sore, and the sun streaming in through her window felt blinding. With a groan, she rolled over, trying to force herself up. Despite the aches, she eventually was able to stand and walk all the way to the bathroom.

She was a sorry sight in the mirror. There was a bruise on her cheek, her collarbone, and various spots on her arm. Magne really did not hold back. Some of them were gently mottled, but as she lifted her shirt, she saw an ugly purple mark across her hipbone where she remembered being slammed against one of the structures of the playground.

With a weary sigh, she created foundation in the palm of her hand, perfectly matched to her skin color. She dabbed and rubbed it into all the visible areas. Hopefully that would avoid any questions.

Once she looked presentable, with an extra dab beneath each eye to help hide the bags there, she made her way to the kitchen.

Pancakes were on the table, covered with a cloth to avoid cooling off too soon. She helped herself to a couple and took a seat, noting a set of dishes already in the sink.

So Giran had already eaten then. She started the hot water boiling and took a seat in front of a prepared plate. She slathered on some butter, and poured some maple syrup over the meal.

The cook appeared, leaning against the entryway with his arms crossed. “Late start this morning, huh?”

It was well into the afternoon. She simply nodded through her chewing, trying to compose herself in a way that would leave no doubt that she was being perfectly normal and she definitely slept through the night.

“I woke up pretty late too,” he continued, “one of my old clients had a bit of a surprise situation.”

Had that been why he opened her door last night? To ask if she wanted to help out?

He didn’t elaborate any further, so Momo just swallowed down a huge bite. “...Did you get it sorted out?”

“I did.” He was looking directly at her. “I tried to wake you up.”

“Oh dear.” She met his eyes. “I don’t remember waking up, sorry if I slept through your request.”

Moments passed. She didn’t look away, but continued moving her utensils. Sliced a pancake. Stabbed a piece. Brought it up to her mouth.

Giran closed his eyes and waved a hand. “It’s fine, teens need to sleep.”

He left, towards the living room, and Momo breathed out a sigh of relief. It was easier to inhale the rest of her pancakes without having to balance that tightrope of deception in front of Giran. She finished up, dabbing at the corners of her mouth with a napkin. The water boiler was bubbling now, so she went ahead and prepared some tea leaves with a high temperature.

She prepared two cups of tea, and brought them into the living room where Giran was watching the news. One cup went down beside him, and Momo kept the other in her hand as she sat on the floor in front of him. He scooted forward, hands going to her hair automatically.

The brushing was familiar, rhythmic, and had her almost falling back asleep. After a minute of two if the brush getting closer and closer to her scalp, sorting out all her bedhead, there was the tell-tale sensation of all her hair being lifted up. She tilted her wrist towards him, elastic easily available.

But he didn’t grab it.

“...Giran?” She asked, shaking her hand to remind him that a ponytail required something to keep it up, and that he could’t just hold it up in the air forever for her.

“Why is there a bruise on the back of your neck?”

Her hand flew back, covering it. Why hadn’t she made an extra mirror and checked if there was anything back there she hadn’t concealed yet? “I fell. Last night. Before bed.”

“On your neck.” His voice was deadpan, disbelieving.

“Yes.” Perhaps if she committed hard enough, he’d have no choice but to drop it.

He pulled at her shoulder, forcing her to turn around and face him.

Even, steady breaths. No breaking the gaze. He was squinting at her, but if she could just remain calm, cool, collected…

His hand came up, rubbed hard at a tender spot. “Is that concealer?”

She slapped his hand away, tried not to look at the pigment on his thumb. “What, is it a crime to start trying out makeup?”

There was no chuckle at her attempt to lighten the mood, just a stern, deadly voice that had her feeling like she was six years old again, bawling on the floor of the kitchen, struggling to wipe up the paint marks she had slathered everywhere, not yet knowing any chemical structures for anything that might be able to wash up tile or wood, convinced that Giran’s scandalized voice telling her not to do that meant she was going to be thrown away again.

“Momo. Where were you last night?”

Her blood was pulsing fast beneath her skin, like it might burst and spill everything over Giran. “I-I was sleeping.”

An eyeroll from him made Momo feel sick. “That wig you put on your pillow has a different hair part than you do.”

This wasn’t right. Momo wasn’t supposed to be actually caught. She was a good child because she couldn’t handle this, his downturned lips, his serious expression, eyes that darted all over her body like he’d find more evidence of her disobedience scattered over her skin. “Well what was that in the kitchen then!” she accused, desperate to turn that judgmental gaze off of herself for at least a second, “pretending you didn’t know!”

“I thought you were just sneaking some deals, trying to be hip and independent without an old man like me in your business, not… fuck.” He ran a hand through his own hair, face pained. “What were you doing that got you bruised?”

She felt tiny, sitting on the floor while he looked down on her. There was nothing for her to grab onto as she fell into that sickening wave of guilt and frustration. “I was… I was just…”

Her mouth felt dry, but her teacup was long abandoned to the side, probably getting colder every minute of this confrontation.

Giran shook his head. “Momo… you aren’t getting directly involved, are you? Please say you didn’t join one of those gangs.”

She opened and closed her mouth. Did the League count as a gang? What if she hadn’t directly participated in a mission yet?

“Momo.”

“It’s none of your business!” she found herself shouting, begging for this interrogation to stop.

She stood up, fists clenched. Giran was still on the couch, looking up at her. She wasn’t a helpless child anymore, now she could loom above him, moving beyond his hesitations and hangups about what her future should be.

He stood up as well, but was still shorter than her. She was strong, she could handle this without crying– “Momo, please, I just want–”

His phone rang.

They both flinched at the sound. He glanced at it on the couch, lit up with All for One on the caller ID. Momo held her breath as his eyes darted from the phone, to her, back to the phone again.

“...We’re not done with this conversation,” he said, but reached for the phone.

Momo’s hands shook as he clicked the Accept Call button. Of course. Because god forbid he make the king of the underworld wait.

He spoke into the receiver, turned away from Momo, “Hey, I’m kind of–”

She spun on her heel and marched away, not waiting around to hear what he would say to his oh-so-important contact. She stomped her way to her room, still shaking, newfound rage thrumming through her veins.

First things first, she pried open her window and rappelled down out of the building. So what if it was the middle of the day? She’d just go quickly. Giran would probably be busy with his conversation long enough that he wouldn’t realize she’d sneaked out until she was well away.

Once on the ground, she sprinted to the subway, desperate to go anywhere that she wouldn’t have to be near Giran. She rode several stops, hood up and covering whatever idiotic face she was probably making as her mind raged.

She got off, no longer sprinting but walking with hard steps, like someone who had a plan rather than some lost, distraught wanderer with nowhere to light the fire burning inside of her. Once she was above-ground, she realized she was in the shopping district. Whatever.

She kept walking, barely glancing at the windows, when one gave her pause.

It was one of those displays with mannequins artfully posed to set up a tableau, not just selling the clothes but selling a life that they wanted shoppers to believe could be bought. Two tall mannequins, a male and female one, both with complementary color schemes, modern and artfully draped over their poised angles.

Between them was a little mannequin dressed in red. The two adults each had a hand reaching down, touching the hand of the child as though they were holding hands.

Momo’s’ throat went tight. It was ridiculous, they were just pieces of plastic, but it felt like any moment the tall ones would shift their arms and the small one would swing up, that blank head turning into a smiling child between her two parents.

Her eyes went to check the name of the storefront, and her body seized up entirely.

Eight Million Threads. One of the Yaoyorozu Corporation subsidiaries.

Blood thrumming, muscles tight, she created something like a brass knuckle, which she could grip in her hand, but with a spring-loaded spike attached to stab whatever she punched. Before she could overthink her actions, she smashed it against the window.

There was a crack, a hole that was created, spidering out and covering her view of that fake, loved child, but the window didn’t shatter like it did in the movies. Pieces of it broke away where she punched it, but too much stayed in place.

She stuck her palm inside, and created a small explosive already ticking down.

Once it was out of her body, she ran as far as possible. After several brutally-long seconds, there was a deafening boom behind her that finally let her breath air into her lungs. She gulped down breaths, still sprinting as far as she could, but soon enough she had to slow down. Not just because she was tired, but also to avoid looking too suspicious.

Her hood was still up, so even if there were security cameras in the store aimed at their windows, hopefully they didn’t catch good detail of her face. Perhaps some witnesses on the street could testify they’d seen a woman in a red do the deed, but she had been so fast she doubted they had time to get any details.

And so what if she got caught? It’s not like there was any database out there with her face in it. No school records, social media pictures, or mugshots that police could comb through. The only people who could reliably identify her would be villains, Hatsume who barely paid attention to things outside of the lab, and…

And the Yaoyorozu’s themselves, perhaps.

Her shoulders shook. Tiny, terrible laughs at the thought. Their past coming back to haunt them, finally. She almost hoped that they would see some security camera footage. Perhaps they’d gasp, disbelieving at first, asking for a still shot to be zoomed in, to enhance so they could be certain of what they were seeing.

Would it be a surprise to them that she was still alive? Would they care?

Well she didn’t care about them anymore. She hoped they would be shaken, disturbed, distraught at the discovery. If it somehow happened. Momo started to calm at the thoughts, knowing that the CEO and his family probably weren’t reviewing every attempted robbery or crime against their many stores. Momo was just a teenager back in the subway, waiting for a train, cloak off just in case an alert went out.

She felt a little better, at least.

Hopefully that explosion ruined some merchandise, or even scared some shoppers away from ever going there again. Maybe it even injured a couple of people in the blast radius.

Momo’s phone was ringing. She glanced down and saw Giran is calling…

She rejected the call with a swipe of her finger. When it rang again, she put the phone on silent.

Texts came through in her notifications. Pleas asking where she went, where she was, whether she was safe…

Momo closed her phone. Whatever. She supposed she couldn’t stay away from the apartment forever. Now that she’d had a chance to cool her head and remind herself of her own power, confronting Giran seemed less intimidating. The subway she was waiting for went that direction anyway.

She would go to her room and lock the door. If he was still there, she’d threaten to make a bomb to destroy them both if he didn’t lay off of her for once. It was one bruise that he saw, he had no right to freak out about it, not when she was still able to fulfill all her job responsibilities.

This was her life, not his. She would live it the way she wanted, his scary voice and demands for information be damned.

Momo would get stronger. She’d become so strong and powerful that Giran have to admit that she made the best choices, and he’d apologize for ever suggesting otherwise, and he’d reassure her that she’s a good girl who is just doing her best and doesn’t deserve to be yelled at for trying to make their lives better.

Chapter Text

“...So I can personally vouch for their skills,” Momo finished explaining to Tomura.

Tomura sat casually with his legs spread, observing Mr. Compress and Magne as they stood tall to his scrutinizing. Kurogiri peacefully polished some glasses as the bar functioned as the meeting place for the newest potential League recruits.

“So he’s the one who helped you with that maple syrup heist?” Tomura said with an unimpressed expression. “I guess that’s something.”

She tried not to let her smile drop. Would it kill him to be at least slightly enthusiastic about a guy with a powerful quirk she was hand-delivering to him?

“What about her?” He asked with his chin jutting towards Magne.

“She’s an accomplished fighter…” although Momo could say that after training with her, she didn’t actually know the extent of Magne’s villainy.

Luckily she had her own resume memorized. “Nine armed robberies and three murders. I’m not exactly a newbie.”

That made Tomura smile. “Yeah?”

Momo tried not to stiffen visibly. She hadn’t realized Magne was so… accomplished. She had a strong presence, but that was a lot.

Magne continued. “I’m here to destroy the current society, so I can live my truth freely. Heroes only defend those they think deserve it… it’s not a system worth keeping for anyone who doesn’t fit into their narrow ideals.”

By now Momo had a good grasp of Tomura’s body language, enough to see that he was pleased and would probably let Magne join. “Pog. And you?” He turned to Mr. Compress.

Mr. Compress took off his hat, gave a little bow. “I’m just a thief looking to tear down the corrupt heroes of today. And of course, when a lady as lovely as Little Red here says she’s in the League…” He put a hand on Momo’s waist, familiarly. “I want to stay by her side as well.”

Momo willed herself not to fluster at his friendliness, even as her face felt warm at the easy admission of his affection. This wasn’t about her struggling to coordinate her newfound friendship with him, it was about getting him into the League.

So she looked up at Tomura to gauge his reaction, but was surprised by narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Mr. Compress might not have had his exact philosophy, but she didn’t think he said anything particularly counter to his ideas either.

Worse, Tomura started walking towards them, unspeaking. When he suddenly launched towards them, hands up to grab at Mr. Compress, Momo shot an arm out to block him.

He paused when his hand met her arm, one finger lifted. “…”

She glared at him. Mr. Compress’s grip on her waist tightened, though she wasn’t sure if Mr. Compress was scared for himself or for her.

Tomura took a step back, looking at Momo. He glanced down at her waist, then glared at him. After one more raised eyebrow towards her, he addressed Mr. Compress. “She’s fifteen.”

There was an odd pause, Momo extremely confused as to what that had to do with anything and why Tomura was snitching about her true age to her new allies, and the hand on her waist released abruptly.

Mr. Compress took one wide step to the side, putting considerable distance between the two of them. “Ah.” His voice was a bit higher than usual. “I was… not aware.”

“Tomura,” she hissed, “you can’t just tell people how old I am, I’m trying to be taken seriously here!”

“Too seriously,” Tomura said, taking a step closer to come between her and Mr. Compress.

Mr. Compress coughed. “It makes sense now why you never ordered alcohol, I suppose.”

That made Tomura snort. “What, you’re tryna be a big bad villain but won’t even break the law with an underage drink?”

Momo pursed her lips. “Oh? Did you ever drink underage?”

She already knew the answer; despite being raised by a teleporting butler who made cocktails as a hobby, both Kurogiri and All for One would never allow their precious protege alcohol.

So instead of defending himself, Tomura changed the subject back towards Mr. Compress, awkwardly standing to the side. “I suppose the League could take you, so long as you treat the members with respect.”

Since when was Tomura into respect for anyone other than himself?

Mr. Compress raised his hands up in surrender. “Yes, I understand completely. There shall be no untoward behaviors.”

It was hard to imagine Mr. Compress acting ‘untoward’ with his gentlemanly manners, but Tomura let out a pleased huff at him backing up and off properly. It was silly to see Tomura who dusted controllers after game overs act like he was some big shot who people ought to grovel to.

She took a deep breath and reminded herself to think civilly. It’s not like she wasn’t groveling in her own way to get into his good graces. It was hard to beat the benefits of working with the protege of the number-one villain, so it was an unavoidable price to pay. For now.

At least it was paying dividends. “Alright,” Tomura announced, “you two are in, all of us are going to meet on this day...”

He gave them bare-bones details on the mission, but kept most things secretive, claiming he would detail it more thoroughly on the day.

At the end, he dismissed them, but… “‘Little Red’, a moment.”

She lingered as the others left the bar. “What now? Gonna apologize for embarrassing me in front of my new connections?”

“Does Giran know you’ve been having drinks with an old man?”

Momo crossed her arms. “No, I told you I’m doing this without him. Besides Mr. Compress doesn’t even seem that old.”

Admittedly, she wasn’t sure exactly how old he was.

“Nobody who dresses like that is under thirty,” he said as if he had any sense of fashion. “Creepy old fucker.”

“Tomura!”

He rolled his eyes. “What? I let him in, aren’t you happy?”

“You should be happy that I brought him to you. Can you imagine how easy kidnapping will be if he can just snatch Bakugo up into a little marble?”

He blinked at her a minute. “...You know, that’s not a bad idea.”

“I know. I wouldn’t say it if it wasn’t.”

“Nice side quest bonus, Shortie Red, but you haven’t completed your main quest yet.”

“Main quest?”

He knocked his wrists together. “The restraints for our future teammate.”

Ah. “I’ll be checking on my inventor soon, don’t worry.”

“May I present: The danger-skin-slinkie 3.0!” Hatsume declared, waving her hands at a specialized contraption on her workbench.

“...What happened to 1.0 and 2.0?”

“They’re in a better place now. This is the working prototype with the smallest risk of accidentally cutting off circulation to the wrists!”

Well that sounded ideal. “Wonderful!” Momo exclaimed, clapping her hands together, “Tell me all about it.”

Hatsume, eyes sparkling, went through every detail of the shoulder-length glove design, pointing at and demonstrating each specialized component. From the anti-corrosive covering to the specially wicking fabric that would transfer any liquid up through spiraling tubes, it was a brilliant balance of sturdy and light.

“This little vial that stores the removed liquid is the consumable, with a specialized spout that screws securely into the fill mechanism. Even if someone purchases the restraint, they’ll have to keep buying the vials from me, making a secure profit source! Of course…” She leaned in close towards Momo, whispering dramatically. “Honestly they could just keep emptying and re-using the same vials as needed, but we’ll recommend against that for ‘safety’ reasons.”

Momo sighed dreamily at Hatsume’s knack for business and profiteering.

“Try it on!” Hatsume exclaimed, “I’ve got more to show you!”

“More?” Momo marveled.

She happily let Hatsume slip the sleeves up her arms, and waited patiently as she tightened some straps to keep them on, the straps automatically locking with each notch they tightened, no visible mechanism to release them manually.

The final part was a choker that attached to both gloves, which Hatsume clicked around Momo’s neck. It wasn’t particularly tight, but it was small enough that it wouldn’t fit over her head, and the gloves being attached to that made certain that Momo couldn’t slip them off no matter how hard she tried.

Even so, Momo still had plenty of mobility. There were metal parts on various parts along the arm, and the case where the vial collecting liquid on each arm was well-reinforced, adding some weight to the design, but she was able to generally move around. “So this just neutralizes the quirk?” Momo asked.

“This form, yes, but! There’s more!”

Hatsume pulled out a remote and pressed a button. Abruptly, Momo felt her wrists force together behind her, two hard parts shifting and clicking together once they met. She gasped. “Electromagnets?”

“Correct! But to save on battery life, it pulses strongly to initially force the limbs together, then once together a mechanical mechanism takes over to keep it together. Beautiful, right?”

Momo tugged at the joined components as hard as she could, but there was no budging. She slammed it against a table just in case a hard force could knock it out, but it held true. “Incredible!”

Hatsume grinned at her useless attempts to escape. “Sturdy, right? And there’s one more layer!”

Another button press, and suddenly Momo’s elbows were forced together as well. She gasped at the even greater limiting of mobility. It was hard to move like this, especially with it all behind her back. “Such control!”

“Thank you! Go ahead and try to destroy it!”

Of course, testing with intent to destroy was imperative for this device. Momo had already tried to slam against the table, but she tried some more deliberate scraping against soft spots, only garnering uncomfortable scraping that didn’t seem to make a dent in the actual device. She wriggled, but the combination of straps and the neckpiece made it impossible to escape.

So she got down lower to try and slam the neckpiece against the edge of the table, wondering if that was a weak point. All she got for her trouble was a painful press against the base of her throat. Still, she shifted on her knees, trying to decide if there were any other angles that she could use to get out.

Hatsume stepped closer, looming above her. Momo held her breath, arms trapped and on her knees for the person with the power to keep her like this or release her. Hatsume’s hand came down, slipping between the space between her throat and the metal of the device, and Momo stared up at her helplessly.

Her finger circled the inside of the collar, the other hand holding the remote as though ready to release. “It’s not too tight, is it?

Momo swallowed, briefly increasing the pressure but not causing herself to choke. “No, it’s uncomfortable but… it’s fine.”

“Alright, any other ideas for getting out?” Hatsume asked, eyes laser focused on every shift Momo made in the restraint.

There was one final angle. The physicality of the restraint felt unbreakable, at least for Momo right now without attempting to use her quirk, but there was a human element she could take advantage of. It might be dangerous, but after training with Magne she felt compelled to reveal all potential weaknesses.

“Ah!” Momo made a pained sound, twitching as Hatsume’s hand started to draw back from the collar.

“Oh no, are you okay? Did I-”

Hatsume’s hand was nice and close to her face, so Momo twisted her head to grab the wrist with her teeth and threw herself downwards, lifting a leg on the way down. As Hatsume lost her balance with the wrist tug, Momo used her free leg to wrap around Hatsume’s hip and fully force her down against the ground.

There was an Oof! from Hatsume as her back hit the ground, and Momo released her wrist to sit up, now straddling her. Hatsume started to scramble to get up, but Momo squeezed her waist with her thighs to prevent her from escaping. Momo fell forward, her nose precisely aimed for the remote. She hadn’t paid enough attention to know which button did what, but there were four arranged vertically, so she went with the logical top option.

Nothing happened, so that was most likely the ‘full arms’ form she was already in. By now Hatsume must have figured out what was going on, as she tried to move her arms and lifted the remote-holding hand to get it out of Momo’s reach. That wouldn’t do.

Momo grabbed the edge of the remote with her teeth and dragged it back, getting it close enough that even when she let go and Hatsume tried to pull it away again, she had time to hit the bottom button with her nose.

There was a schtk sound, and her arms were free. Additionally, the metal on her neck split in half, and the straps along her arms loosened. Hatsume was still scrambling to escape, but Momo was enjoying this little challenge, so she grabbed Hatsume’s wrists with her now-free hands and forced her to stay against the ground.

Hatsume tried to struggle briefly, but Momo’s grip was tight and when their eyes met she froze. Her face was red, surprised, and breaths were quick.

Momo smiled down at her. “Be careful how you use that baby, that’s one way a villain could escape.”

She was still catching her breath, big gulps of air. Eventually, she admitted, “Yeah. I hadn’t… I didn’t think about the remote and how… how a villain could still… yeah.”

Momo laughed. “Not like you can control fully for human error, but I wanted to remind you it’s a factor.”

Hatsume nodded vigorously. “Of course, thanks for the… demonstration.”

This was fun, seeing Hatsume focused fully on her instead of one of her inventions for once. Lying below her, staring up, unable to escape. Was this why villains loved to taunt their hostages? “Keep it in mind,” Momo said, letting her hands slip up to grab Hatsume’s properly, “This is a terrible spot to be in with a villain.”

“R-right!” Hatsume’s eyes were now avoiding hers, glancing up towards their hands.

When their fingers were intertwined, Momo stood up properly, slowly lifting herself up along with Hatsume. Though it took Hatsume a moment to catch her balance, she was eventually back on her feet as well. Momo started to shuck off the sleeves, letting them slip down. Hatsume reached out and grasped them so Momo could tug the last of it off.

“You’re pretty agile,” Hatsume commented quietly.

“You think so?” Momo exclaimed, “I’ve been trying to learn a little hand-to-hand, I’m glad it’s paying off!”

“...You said you’re not attending to a hero school, right?”

Momo’s smile strained, but Hatsume was turned away putting the restraints down on the table. “Heroes don’t have a monopoly on self-defense and combat skills, you know.” She took a step closer. “If you don’t want to have to rely on them, I could teach you some things…”

Hatsume spun around, and Momo could see a bead of sweat against her forehead. “That’s alright! My place is in support, I wouldn’t be interacting directly with villains anyway, that’s… that’s the job of heroes.”

She couldn’t keep smiling at that naiveté. “You really think they’ll always be around? That you’ll always be their priority?”

There was a pause, Hatsume’s eyes searching her face. “...Momo, do you have something against heroes?”

Momo froze. The way it was phrased wasn’t just curious, but almost suspicious. How far could Momo go without shattering Hatsume’s perception of her as just another civilian? Was Momo ready to lose her if it came to that?

No, she had to nudge it gently. One day she would pull Hatsume over the edge, but first she had to lead her there. Nothing explicitly villainous, but she needed to shake that confidence Hatsume seemed to hold in heroics.

“I just don’t think they’re all they’re cracked up to be. Back when my parents–” she froze.

Fuck, how did she describe that whole thing without revealing something incriminating?

Apparently she took too long, as Hatsume said, “You don’t have to get into it, if you don’t want to.”

“No, I…” Momo’s throat felt tight.

Why was she getting all weird about this now? Just because she’d never tried to express in words what had actually happened before? After all, there was nobody she needed to tell, not when Giran was there for it. Why did trying to say out loud that her parents had given her up to save their own skins feel like pulling thorns out of her skin?

“I just…” Fuck this was weird. Abort. “Heroes. They never helped me. They never had reason to.”

Where would one have interfered in her life? When her father starting paying villains to take out his competition? When her family lost their money? When Giran came to their door with armed guards? None of that would have changed the fact that once their backs were to the wall, her parents were willing to give her up.

There was no such thing as selflessness, even the people who brought her into this world wouldn’t hold onto her when the chips were down, so why would some random hero ever actually care about the people they saved?

“They’re doing their job.” Momo felt more comfortable speaking about heroes, at least more comfortable than talking about her parents. “They fill a role, make a living doing it, but that’s all it is–a job. One that can be as corrupt any other, with the bonus of more power than most jobs.”

The speech was perhaps too much; Hatsume was looking at her with furrowed brows. “...Do you really believe that? All of them?”

Why couldn’t she see? Was she that entrenched in this hero society that she couldn’t fathom why someone wouldn’t trust in those with power?

When Momo didn’t respond, Hatsume continued, “What do you believe in then?”

Giran. She believed he would always do what was advantageous, and keeping her by his side certainly was. She believed in deals and favors and debts that created obligations, and…

“You,” she said to Hatsume.

As far as Hatsume knew, Momo was just some oddball she met online, willing to get Hatsume anything for blueprints. And yet, when she heard Momo was hurt, she created a device to signal whenever she might be in danger, worried and cared about a glorified goods catalogue like Momo without even knowing what she was capable of.

She wore that necklace to every deal, every mission, even while sleeping. It was proof of their bond, one that she could still see in the chain of along Hatsume’s neck, coyly sneaking underneath her tank top.

Momo took another step closer, hand against the necklace. “I believe in you. In us.”

Hatsume didn’t move. “If you got endangered, I wouldn’t be able to help you more than a hero could.”

“I don’t care. I don’t want any heroes, just you.”

“But–”

Momo got close enough that she could reach out and tug at the chain around Hatsume’s neck. She pulled out the little wrench attached, and stroked it with her thumb.

“And I can guarantee I care about you more than any hero ever will. Even heroes intending to rescue people will always be thinking of the optics, logistics, property damage. If you call me for help…” She grabbed the wrench tight, and pulled so Hatsume had to take a step closer as well. “I will not care about anything other than you. Understand? A hero can’t make you number one priority, but I can.”

There was no response yet, but Hatsume’s hand came up to enclose Momo’s. Slowly, hesitating, but that was fine. Momo could be patient, this girl was worth that and more.

Hatsume spoke like her throat was closing up. “I care about you, too.”

So few words, but they were rare for Momo.

“I’ve always been… strange, to people,” she admitted, “I never thought I cared that others would play with each other while I tried to build things out of sticks on the playground. Those babies were enough company for me, and it seemed silly to imagine anyone would care about them as much as I did. Not my classmates, and not even my parents, but you…!”

Momo’s grip tightened.

“I didn’t realize how fun it could be, having someone at my level, who I could actually talk to, not just summaries and simplifications, but really talk talk to, the way my brain thinks, with no filter… and now even when you’re not there, I find my head lifting to look for you, wanting to tell you every innovation I make, wishing you were always beside me.”

Hatsume’s other hand came up, fully grasping Momo’s.

“I’m not strong, I can’t really fight with anything other than my inventions, but…” She took a breath, met Momo’s gaze. “...If you don’t want heroes, I won’t call them. I’ll reach for you with my own hands. Does that…” There was worry in her eyes. “...Does that work for you?”

Momo’s hitched at that magical sight, Hatsume’s desire for approval from her. This terrible weakness, this overwhelming affection, this desperate craving was a two-way street. When else had Momo been on equal footing like this with someone? Her heart was pounding at the confirmation of requited feelings, no matter what type.

She dropped the necklace to put her palm against Hatsume’s cheek. She was beautiful like that, tilting oh-so-slightly into her touch, still looking up with a raw, worried expression, heart laid out for Momo to take. Momo almost wanted to play with it, see how far she could drag Hatsume on feelings alone, but her own weakness had her wanting to reassure her as soon as possible.

“That works for me,” Momo confirmed.

That face relaxed, a smile spreading and stiffening the cheek she held. It was gratifying to see her made so happy because of Momo.

With their feelings secured, Momo returned to the task at hand. “Now let’s take a closer look at those restraints…”

Hatsume’s eyes lit up. “Of course! So if you look here…”

The next hour was spent breaking down each component in detail. When it finally came time to leave, Hatsume’s offer of the blueprint wasn’t even strictly needed… but probably better safe than sorry in getting the precise sizes right.

“Come back soon,” Hatsume said as Momo started to leave.

She smiled at her. The training camp mission with the League would probably take up some time, but she’d be back with Hatsume as soon as possible afterwards. “Of course.”

Chapter Text

Tonight was the night. The League, newly bolstered with a select number of members, were gathered in remote woods. The exact location changed last minute according to some sort of inside source Tomura had, but it didn’t matter how far the heroes changed locations so long as they had Kurogiri to bring their elite force. There was a whole host of characters today. Momo herself, of course, sporting her usual red cape and a domino mask just in case some student somehow got footage of her, but also some sort of sword-enthusiast with a heteromorph lizard quirk, a guy who looked like he just escaped the insane asylum, some huge muscular dude, a guy covered in scar tissue, and–

“I hate this, it’s not cute at all!”

Momo tried not to look stiff as the blonde whined about the aesthetic of her support gear. The notes that Giran gave his Detnerat designer made no mention of a ‘cuteness’ requirement, so Momo was frustrated that the girl was critiquing elements that hadn’t made it onto the specs sheet. That designer had given Giran what had seemed like the perfect product, some offensive gear full of needles that could collect and store blood efficiently, but apparently that wasn’t enough for this… teenager?

Momo was curious if she was her age–the school uniform suggested yes, but Momo wasn’t sure what year she would be. Even more surprising was the middle schooler in the crew, who had a powerful mustard gas quirk.

She almost huffed remembering Giran’s claim that it was a bad idea to get involved in villainy young. Even middle schoolers were joining the League, surely a high schooler like herself was more than qualified.

The League went over their plans, reviewing each person’s attack point. “And Momo, make sure not to directly engage any heroes.”

She nodded; she knew what her role was. Magne had taught her some combat, enough to manage in a pinch hopefully, but she wasn’t qualified to go head-to-head with heroes yet, not without revealing her quirk at least. And the less the heroes knew about her, the better.

When they split to all go on their separate ways, Momo snuck her way through the woods. She had night-vision goggles on to help navigate through the underbrush, making her way to key locations along the various paths of the forest.

She finally found a clear path, but there was the sound of voices that made her pause, drop down, and listen intently with eyes peeking out behind a dense thicket.

“...Of course ghosts do not exist, so there is no need for fear Kouda!”

An uptight-looking guy was waving his hands through the air aggressively, like he was chopping away each possible fear. There was a boy next to him clinging tightly to his sleeve, shyly shuffling along with him. Momo held her breath, leaning closer to see if she could identify them from the sports festival and remember their quirks.

A twig beneath her foot snapped.

She froze. The clinging boy, Kouda she supposed, jumped at the sound. The other student reassured him, “Most likely a wild animal.”

At that, Kouda stared into the woods, and Momo suddenly hoped he didn’t have night vision. What had been his quirk? Had he been in the sports festival? She wasn’t sure, but at least even as his eyes scanned, he didn’t seem to settle them anywhere. At some point he even closed his eyes, tilting his head left and right like he was listening to the sounds of the woods.

Eventually, he whispered “...Maybe.”

Fortunately, the two of them moved forward, continuing down deeper into the woods. Once they were a decent distance away, far out of earshot, Momo darted to the path proper and pulled out a hand shovel typically used by gardeners. She dug a shallow hole in the ground, and put her palm over it. Slowly, she created a device that fit perfectly inside. She shifted the dirt over it, but was careful not to put too much weight.

Once that was done, she continued on her way, digging through the underbrush but pausing at every path to dig and place another one under the ground, right on the path where students and heroes would traverse.

After some time, perhaps fifteen minutes, she heard the first explosion.

The sound made her grin. It was a ways behind her, so it most likely was the mine she placed in Kouda’s and the other boys path, someone must have come along the same way. Or, based on the shouts and distant blue fire, perhaps someone was trying to run away.

With a wide smile, she hurried down the rest of the paths she could find. The effect of the mines was two-fold: One, it would increase the overall damage, and two it would help her fellow villains know where the heroes and students were. The villains knew ahead of time that she would only place them directly on the worn paths, so they knew to avoid stepping anywhere where someone hadn’t already stepped, minimizing the collateral damage to the League.

Her heart raced as the chaos increased, more fire, more screams, clashes echoing over the trees depending on where she was. She hoped everyone was having a good time.

Abruptly though, she heard crashing through the trees, and through her night vision goggles she could see figures battling even above the treeline. She went completely still as she observed them, Moonfish’s teeth reflecting the light of the moon, and a gigantic dark creature… or shadow smashing and biting at him. She didn’t approach, but they came awfully close, Moonfish slowly getting weaker and weaker. Don’t engage, she reminded herself, not completely sure what the large creature was.

Suddenly though, it got much closer and she saw the person it was attached to, that student with the bird beak from the school festival. He was soon followed by several other students, flashing their quirks at the shadow, and she saw the jackpot.

Bakugo Katsuki.

There were fires and explosions, and that seemed to calm the shadow creature until it was much smaller and manageable. The students had a long talk with each other, confirmed the shadow’s weakness to light, and they discussed knowing that Bakugo was the villain’s target.

Or rather… the green-haired one said Kacchan was the target, a nickname that almost made Momo snort audibly. She held back, not wanting to alert them of her location. They were just students, but it was five-to-one, a gamble that she would be a fool to roll.

So she waited patiently until they carried on out of sight, out of hearing. Then she activated her ear-piece, which the rest of the League had. “Target spotted, he was near Moonfish’s outburst, on the western side of the woods.”

“Got it, I’m nearby,” Mr. Compress’s voice was a relief to hear.

With Mr. Compress, snatching the student would be a cinch. This was shaping up to be a brilliant attack.

A few members of the League had been lost in the woods, but Mr. Compress and Magne had gotten out, so Momo considered it an overall success. In the end, despite some last-minute stressors, they had Bakugo Katsuki in their lair. For the past few days they had kept him in a marble most the time, generally only bringing him out for Tomura to occasionally monologue.

Today though, there was a press conference with UA that Tomura decided Bakugo would need to see. So he was out of the marble, wonderfully trussed up in Hatsume’s beautifully designed restraints, further strapped against a chair to watch the press conference.

It was an apology from UA, and a shitty one at that. Just apologies, and a vague promise to strengthen security measures… with no solid action plan.

Fresh off that pathetic display from the heroes, Tomura began one of his better monologues. Even Spinner interjected with some of Stain’s teachings, but Tomura took center stage. Momo watched Bakugo’s face carefully, wondering if he was being won over yet. Though he had been resistant at previous attempts, Momo had a feeling he would be more willing to turncoat after watching that embarrassing conference from the heroes.

Bakugo reminded her of Muscular, whose moral code wasn’t so much ‘heroes’ vs ‘villains’ but just a semi-blind quest for strength regardless of laws. This teenager clearly valued winning, valued strength, and Tomura was hitting on all those points. Surely by now, realizing the situation he was in, he would at least pretend to cooperate, and get to know the life of villainy better, and realize how much better it suited a guy like himself.

“Dabi, remove his bindings,” Tomura finally said.

There was a mild fuss, and eventually Dabi volunteered Twice to get up close and personal to remove the straps attaching Bakugo to the chair. When those were freed, Bakugo stood up, and Tomura pulled out the remote on his arm restraints and released the magnetic clasps. His arms came apart, freedom of movement even if he couldn’t use his quirk.

As Mr. Compress apologized for having had to marble him, and explained why they were all banded together, inviting Bakugo into their group, giving him the opportunity to unite with others who had also been failed by heroes, Momo felt hopeful.

This was classic manipulation, put him in a stressful situation, demonstrate how those called ‘heroes’ had hurt him, and then provide him a small amount of freedom to show trust. All that was left was for him to cooperate for a bit, however hesitantly–

He dashed forward, swinging his fist towards Tomura’s face. Tomura barely backed up in time that the only thing that was hit was the disembodied hand on his face, which clattered against the floor. Momo gasped.

“It’s pointless… I’ve been won over by the way All Might looks when he wins!”

The following argument was chaotic, some people eager to stab or otherwise attack him, but Tomura raised a hand to pause the villains as he put the hand back on his face. Momo wasn’t sure what the right choice was… whether to keep pushing or just cut their losses. Bakugo hadn’t budged an inch in his opinions, but Tomura was similarly stubborn. Who would bend first? Bakugo seemed more than willing to push Tomura, even if it could spell his end.

Luckily, with the click of a button Tomura had his arms pinned back again behind him, inert and immobile. Bakugo grimaced like a wild animal in a trap, glaring at everyone in the room. Momo let out a breath at seeing him properly restrained again, and as she heard the metal components slot into their locked place, she once again admired Hatsume’s ingenious engineering–Bakugo was at least partially secured without anyone having to get up close and personal with him.

They could try again. As long as they had him, they could keep pushing and pushing. Even the most upright student would break at some point when there was no other option, right? Everyone had a breaking point, when they realized the heroes weren’t coming and this was the new path laid out for them, where they had no choice but to go that route and make a new life for themselves.

In the midst of their arguments–

“Hello! Pizza delivery~!”

And then chaos broke out.

This whole kidnapping situation was a wreck, Momo decided as she watched Bakugo try and slam himself against the bars of the warehouse cell she had locked him in. Her warehouse.

“We need to lay low for a bit, you keep him for a bit,” Tomura had demanded of her.

He owed her.

“Bitch, you really just gonna keep me in here forever?” Bakugo shouted at her from the middle cell, “Your precious leader, your real boss got merced by All Might! You’re fucking toast!”

She pursed her lips. “He’s not my boss.”

That was the one silver lining of this whole disaster, the whole chaotic whirlwind of the bar getting raided, ending up transported to some nomu storehouse, and then getting further teleported away by All for One. The League had all gathered around one phone, Tomura keeping one finger on Bakugo’s throat. Mr. Compress had been knocked out in the chaos, so they hadn’t been able to marble him properly, and he heard the whole mess of a news report on the Kamino-flattening battle that ended with All Might a skeleton of his former self and All for One behind bars.

Finally.

He was finally out of her hair, no longer looming over the whole underworld. It made her want to go home and see what Giran thought of the news, if he was half as ecstatic as she was at the new power vacuum. A power vacuum that Tomura might be able to take advantage of, but plenty of others could as well. Tomura was getting stronger, but he was vulnerable, and Momo knew him well enough to have some hooks in him she could take advantage of as he climbed higher.

Including doing him the favor of holding Bakugo hostage while he figured out where to set up his new base, now that the two major bases of operations All for One had given him were Detroit Smashed out of existence.

“–Are you even listening?” Bakugo snarled.

“No,” she told him truthfully.

More profanities. Was this wild animal of a boy really trying to be a hero? Luckily, she wasn’t the one trying to break him in, so she could just babysit him until Tomura was ready to try his monologues again.

Momo was too exhausted then to do anything else. The past few days had passed so fitfully, she felt unmoored. She had gone back to the apartment periodically, but Giran was probably getting suspicious of where she was for the past few hours while this whole Kamino business went down. Could she pass it off as time spent with Hatsume?

She stared at the restraints keeping Bakugo’s hands back, perfectly restrained, quirk neutralized. The designer was fresh in her mind, she hadn’t seen her in days, what if Hatsume had been near Kamino… she thought there were no casualties according to reports so far, just some injuries, but things were still early… If there were people buried beneath the wreckage…

Just a quick visit, she decided. A quick hello to put her mind at ease.

“Behave while I’m gone,” Momo told him, “I’ll be back.”

“I’m going to tear this shit apart,” he snapped.

She’d like to see him try. As she left, she considered the door to the warehouse. It could be locked from the outside, but from this side…

Just in case, she created a new lock on the inside. Couldn’t get in or out without a key.

Momo entered the lab, her mood immediately lifting at the familiar location. The goggles and coveralls on a hook for her. It was somewhere she belonged, somewhere new, that she had made a place for herself with her own two hands.

Or perhaps, more accurately, by combining hands with Hatsume.

Her chest felt light the closer she got to the center, the core of the lab where Hatsume was always whirring, building, designing brilliantly. Like a forge, Momo just threw in materials, and suddenly a fully realized design would be spit out. And of course the warmth from that forge didn’t hurt, that soft smile, the overlapping hands as they fiddled with tightly-packed components… Momo could feel the tension leaving her body at the memories.

And there was Hatsume, the forgemaster herself, standing in front of her workbench, completely still, staring away from Momo and to the wall for some reason. Whole, uninjured.

“Hatsume!” Momo exclaimed, grin wide.

She spun around, face distraught.

Momo paused, surprised. Then surged forward. “What’s wrong?”

Hatsume took a step back, dodging Momo’s attempt to grab her shoulders.

What was going on? Momo stared in hopeless confusion. This wasn’t like Hatsume, this wasn’t what the lab was. It was a place to be happy, to get close, not to have that sort of distressed expression.

“What have you been doing with the blueprints?” Hatsume asked, voice quiet like she was afraid of something.

Hatsume had never asked before. She had been satisfied to just hand them to Momo, accepting the materials in return like a deal made in heaven. “...Why?”

Her eyes hardened. “Answer me.”

“I… enjoy them.” Momo said. Slowly. Stepping delicately. “They’re lovely. I… I try to build them myself, sometimes.”

Hatsume was still staring at her, something fierce in the jut of her lip. “And what do you do with them when you build them?”

This couldn’t be… Momo tried to smile reassuringly. Had Hatsume started suspecting something? “I just enjoy them, like I said. It’s gorgeous engineering.”

She took another step forward, arms out, wanting to feel that warmth once again. Why was Hatsume being so unlike herself?

Hatsume took another step backwards. “I saw it. On the news.”

On the news? When would–

Momo stiffened. Kamino.

“And the… the baby I created, used on–” her breath hitched, “–on that hero student, it was my baby trapping him. The baby you asked me to design!”

Momo saw their beautiful foundations, the hours upon hours spent in this building tenderly building each piece starting to crumble, and her whole body thrummed with panic. She wasn’t Tomura; she wasn’t supposed to turn things to dust like this, not so fast and not so terribly painfully.

Hatsume kept backing up, like she couldn’t stand to be near Momo. “I was so happy to have someone at my side, finally, for once, that I didn’t even stop to think… why did you care so much? Why were you so willing to give me anything I wanted, just for an occasional blueprint? All I could think of was how good it felt, being able to use anything, being able to talk without someone who understood me… how could I have been so blind?”

“Hatsume,” Momo rushed out, desperate, “I love every moment I spend with you, I love talking with you, watching and helping you design things, those feelings were never a lie, having you at my side was also–”

“Was also getting you closer to your goal, wasn’t it? Your goal that I never…” She ran a hand through the locks of her hair, almost laughing in disbelief. “I thought I didn’t need to think about anything other than about what I would make next, I never stopped to consider what you were so excited for.”

When Momo was a child, one of the ways she would entertain herself was to build houses out of cards. Delicately setting up those triangular foundations, stacking them up, creating a delicate structure that could be blown away by an errant wind. One time she had been determined to make sure it stayed up, and had crafted a glass case that would completely encompass it to protect it from Giran trying to clean up or even random wind currents.

A small earthquake near their area sent enough tremors through the ground that it collapsed anyway.

But Momo couldn’t, wouldn’t let her bond with Hatsume end the same way. She needed to pull out all the stops if she was going to catch the cards before they all landed on the ground. Maybe she hadn’t set up enough, hadn’t pulled Hatsume far enough towards villainy before this unfortunate reveal, but these weren’t inert cards and heartless weather events Momo was dealing with. They were both people, and people could be bargained with.

Momo couldn’t back out now with the evidence out in the open. The only thing left to do was commit. “Hatsume, please, I’ll tell you everything.”

By now, Hatsume had backed herself up against a wall, so there was nowhere to run as Momo approached. That meant she would have to listen.

“My secret, can I tell it to you?”

Hatsume’s brows were still furrowed, afraid or angry Momo couldn’t tell, but she responded, “What.”

Another step closer. “I’m not truly quirkless.”

Momo held out her arms, bare and exposed. As she walked, she dropped screws from them, letting them fall and bounce against the ground like rain. It left a trail in her wake, a pathway towards her target.

“My quirk is creation. If you can think it, I can create it. That’s how I could get you all those supplies, no matter how obscure or controlled. The rarest, most dangerous substances in the world can be made in the palm of my hand. Isn’t it amazing?”

Hatsume swallowed hard, staring as screws dripped down from Momo.

“But even I have my limitations. I can only create what I know, but you… you can create what doesn’t exist yet.”

She was close enough now that she could grab Hatsume’s hands. Though Hatsume flinched, she didn’t run away.

“Don’t you see, Hatsume? We’re a match made in heaven. Even in the biggest hero school in Japan, they’ll still restrict you in various ways, and you’ll be at the mercy of any supply chain being disrupted. And all your inventions can only be used by those hero students, don’t you want more?”

Hatsume’s eyes were spinning, searching Momo’s face for something. Momo didn’t know what she would find aside from sincerity; she was stripping every pretense away in hopes it would be enough to keep her.

“At my side, there will be nothing you can’t do. Don’t you want to see how much, how big you could get? You’re a genius, Hatsume, don’t let them tie you down. With me, you’ll have the freedom to do anything.”

She shifted hands, pressing one palm against Hatsume’s. Slowly, carefully, she created a glass vial of wonderflonium, the thing that had first brought them together, the rare and explosive substance the government strictly controlled. Momo tilted her hand just enough to let Hatsume see what exactly she had put in the palm of her hand.

Momo put her other hand on Hatsume’s cheek. Hatsume’s breath hitched, so she forged forward. “Think of what we could do. Together. Our potential is unlimited, so please…” Momo was so close to her now, they could embrace in an instant if Hatsume would have her. “…join me. Together, we’ll have the kind of power that can take over the world.”

There was a long, nerve-wracking pause. Momo had laid it all out, knew that she had offered Hatsume the world and didn’t regret it at all. By now, Hatsume had to realize how advantageous it would be to join Momo.

Slowly, Hatsume’s fingers curled, her wrist tilted, and she properly held, accepted the wonderflonium. Momo’s heart pounded as Hatsume brought it close to her chest and took a deep breath. She knew she would understand, her brilliant, perfect, beloved Hatsume…

Then Hatsume snapped her arm out, flinging the wonderflonium to the side.

It exploded.

The blast sent the two of them tumbling to the ground. It was a miniscule amount, but the potent power of it had thrown everything nearby to the ground, collapsed several shelves, and even dented the wall it exploded against.

Hatsume had ended up on top Momo, looking down at her with a fierce expression. As the ringing in her ears from the explosion faded, Momo heard, “Join you? In villainy?”

“In freedom,” Momo countered, head whirring as Hatsume almost seemed to be rejecting her offer of unlimited power.

“In hurting people. I know I have a one-track mind, there are times I don’t seem to think beyond what I’m immediately building, but ultimately,” she took a ragged breath, “I wanted to help people, make their lives better and jobs easier. I thought I was helping you, and the world was being made better thanks to me, but you…”

Tears fell from Hatsume’s eyes, landing on Momo’s cheek and sliding to the ground.

“You took our babies and made them hurt people. Our beautiful, precious babies…”

She slammed a fist on the ground next to Momo’s ear.

“Forced to help kidnap an innocent student! Don’t you see how fucked up that is? How could you believe I would stand down and just let you trample over my good intentions?”

“Hatsume…” Momo reached up to wipe some of the tears.

She slapped her hand away. “D-don’t try to act sorry now.”

“I’m not sorry,” she told her truthfully, “I simply don’t think you understand, hero society isn’t all it’s cracked up to be, it’s necessary to–”

“They aren’t even heroes yet!” she shouted, “you guys attacked and tried to kill teenagers! No matter what’s wrong with hero society, I can’t let those babies be used to hurt innocent people.”

This wasn’t working. Hatsume was too idealistic, Momo hadn’t pushed hard enough early on and now there was a roadblock. Her inventor was not going to turn to her side.

Her throat went tight. “Please, Hatsume, I don’t want to lose you.”

Tears were still flowing, and a fresh wave hit Momo’s face. Hatsume’s lips pursed as she stared down at her. “Then you shouldn’t have forced our babies into villainy.”

Hatsume started to stand then, backing up as if she was going to leave.

Probably forever.

Everything Momo had built here, the hours upon hours in this laboratory, literally exploded and blown to pieces. The first girl her age she’d had anything resembling a friendship with abandoning her, running away thanks to the brainwashing of a society painfully reliant on imperfect heroes. Hatsume would leave her here, probably call the police, and Momo would never come here again, never see Hatsume again. They would be parted. Forever.

She snatched Hatsume’s ankle and pulled.

Hatsume fell down, landing on her side. She tried to scramble back up, but Momo dove to get on top of her. This time it was Momo with wet eyes.

She would not let Hatsume go. There was still a miracle in the back of her mind, the future she envisioned for them, that she refused to believe was impossible.

“I’m sorry,” Momo choked out, cheeks soaked with tears.

She put her palm over Hatsume’s mouth and created chloroform gas.

It hurt to watch Hatsume struggle, hands coming up to claw at Momo and try to pry the hand off of her. Momo then created some chloroform-soaked cloth, a strip of tape on either side of the fabric, and pressed it over Hatsume’s nose and mouth. That left her hands free to grab Hatsume’s. When Hatsume tried slide her hands out of hers, Momo interlocked their fingers, an intimate and secure handhold.

Hatsume shook under her, head going left and right to try and shake off the cloth, legs kicking out. Momo hated to see Hatsume so desperate to escape from her, but at the very least she seemed to be weakening, chloroform finally taking effect.

Eventually she stopped fighting entirely, and Momo breathed out a sigh of relief.

Things weren’t over yet. She just needed more time with Hatsume. With more time, she could persuade her, could tell her all the flaws with heroism, and could demonstrate the world they would build together.

Yes, this was a regrettable turn of events, but Momo could save it.

Hatsume would understand, with time.

Chapter Text

Hatsume glared at her from behind the bars.

Momo smiled awkwardly. “I’m sorry I had to do that, but you’ll understand in time why it was necessary.”

There was no response. Hatsume simply sat on her cot in her cell, neatly locked up and securely in place for Momo to persuade her with nothing else in their way.

The boy in the next cell over spat, “Fuckin’ psychopath, one of us wasn’t enough?”

...Almost nothing in their way.

Momo sighed at Bakugo’s interruption. She had opted to keep him in full restraint mode, arms entirely behind his back and quirk basically neutralized. Turns out he was a dog who liked to bark, though.

“I’m not talking to you,” she said primly.

“Well I’m talking to you,” he shouted, “you better let us the fuck out or I’ll blow up this entire warehouse.”

Momo wagged a finger. “Not with those restraints of yours. Haven’t you noticed what a great job they do wicking up your sweat?”

He slammed the neckpiece of the restraint against the bars of his cell, then choked at the press against his throat. Momo chuckled, as she had tried the same thing before and found it wouldn’t break, not without possibly snapping the neck of the captive.

As he struggled to catch his breath, Momo came close to Hatsume’s cell. The door was closed for now, but she walked right up to it. If all went according to plan, she wouldn’t have to keep it that way for long. “Hatsume,” she said sweetly.

All she got was another glare from her.

“I think we’ve both had some time to calm down, so I’ll offer again…” Momo stuck her hand through the bar of the door, just wide enough to get her wrist through. “…Join me, and our babies will take over the world.”

Hatsume was looking at her, like she was expecting something else behind Momo’s eyes. Eventually, she turned away. “No.”

She clenched her fist. “Hatsume.”

“Did you think kidnapping me would convince me to become a villain?”

She took a deep breath and pulled her hand back. It would take time, she reminded herself. But now that she had Hatsume here and not out running around outside, she had plenty of it. “I’ll give you some more time to think about it,” Momo decided.

Bakugo stood up, getting right up against his bars like he would bite her if she got too close. “I’m allowed to fight you, you know.”

She raised an eyebrow, recalling an outburst of his back in the bar about having gotten a teacher’s authorization or something to fight. “What, you wouldn’t fight if your precious little heroes didn’t give you the okay?

He pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t put my hero career at risk.”

She laughed. Cackled even. “You see Hatsume? Heroes learn early on what’s most important. Not saving others, not even saving themselves, but saving their careers. You put your faith in these people to protect you?”

Bakugo slammed his shoulder against the bars. He had done so a lot when he had first been locked up and nothing had even dented, so Momo thought it was silly he was trying again. The yakuza who used to own this building knew how to reinforce their cells for even the burliest bodyguard to be completely captured once they were locked in.

“I’ll be back soon enough,” she told Hatsume, “is there anything in particular you want to eat?”

She didn’t respond, just looked at the wall again.

Momo sighed. She remembered the first few days after Giran had taken her, she had been quiet too. There had been moments, when she wasn’t crying, where she had given the complete silent treatment while she struggled to orient herself… but she had given in eventually. Once she accepted that her parents weren’t changing their mind and coming for her, she had settled into her new place just fine.

“I’ll bring a pizza,” Momo decided arbitrarily.

She left, ignoring Bakugo’s shouting behind her.

She returned with some cheese pizza and a few paper plates. Surely the two of them were hungry by now, especially Bakugo. She knew that he had been de-marbled and fed a few times by the League, but he definitely hadn’t been fed since the stuff at Kamino had all went down.

But first of all, she would feed her favorite. “Hatsume,” she crooned, “you hungry?”

No response still. A stomach rumbled, but it was unclear whose. No matter, she still approached Hatsume’s cell first with a slice of cheese on a paper plate. Technically there was a very small rectangular gap on the floor, presumably for feeding situations like this, but pushing Hatsume’s food on the floor seemed uncivilized. So Momo made the key for the cell and clicked it open, swinging the door out so she could enter the cell herself.

“Is cheese okay?” Momo asked, still fishing for a response.

All she got was Hatsume staring at her, brows furrowed, shoulders terribly stiff. Momo was gentle as she approached, placing the plate beside Hatsume on the cot since there wasn’t a proper table set up in here.

“I’ll leave this here–”

There was a slam against her back, Hatsume shifting, and Momo was shoved onto the bed. The breath was knocked out of her for a moment, but she recovered quickly enough to turn and see Hatsume sprinting out.

Momo got up slowly, watching as Hatsume ran towards the exit of the warehouse. She took slow steps, trying not to be offended at how fast Hatsume grabbed the door handle, trying to make it turn, and slammed her body against the door in an attempt to force it open.

It didn’t budge.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” Hatsume shouted, then screamed, “Help! Help! Help!”

That didn’t sound like it would be good for her voice. Momo was up behind her by now, so she put her arms out to rest against the door, on either side of Hatsume. It gave her the perfect position to say into Hatsume’s ear, “This area is basically abandoned, no one will hear you.”

Hatsume spun around, stared at Momo’s face for a moment, and then started grabbing at her. She pawed at her hips, shoving her hands into any pockets she could find. It was kind of nice, having Hatsume all over her like this, so Momo stayed in place and let her grope around as she liked.

Eventually Momo had to laugh, loud and amused. “Looking for a key?”

Her eyes snapped back up to Momo’s, wary.

“I left it outside,” Momo informed her, “That way I don’t have to worry about this sort of escape attempt.” She leaned close, nose almost touching Hatsume’s. “It’s useless to try, but this was very cute to watch.”

Hatsume’s hands were still holding onto the fabric of her clothes, shaking. “…How long are you going to keep us here?”

Momo took Hatsume’s hands, tried to steady them in her own. “You? Just until you understand me and agree to join me. Bakugo? That’s up to Tomura and the rest of the League.”

Hatsume’s lip quivered, and her breath hitched. Momo’s heart broke at the sight. She kept an iron grip on her hands, and Hatsume’s forehead fell against Momo’s shoulder just as a sob ripped out of her.

Did Giran feel like this on his first day with Momo, when she had cried endlessly? Is this why he had picked her up out of the car and carried her all the way to the apartment, letting her soak his suit with her tears?

“Aww, shh, it’ll be okay,” Momo reassured gently.

“You’re sick,” Hatsume choked out, “let me out. If you ever cared about me, let me go.”

Momo sighed and pulled one hand out to pat Hatsume on the back, then pushed her even closer to her, something like a proper embrace. “It’s because I care about you that I can’t let you go.”

More tears. That might be good, to let Hatsume let it out. Breaking down meant she would be able to be rebuilt. At the very least she seemed to have given up on escape for now.

Eventually, Momo scooped Hatsume up, princess-style so Hatsume could keep her face buried against her shoulder. Fortunately Hatsume’s resistance must have been used up, as she allowed it without a fight, and even clung to Momo properly, arms around her.

After a bit, Momo discovered that a whole human body was perhaps heavier and harder to carry than she expected. She really should do some weight training like Magne suggested. She might have rushed that last meter or two, but she was able to lower Hatsume onto her cot, just beside the uneaten slice of pizza. Now that Hatsume’s face wasn’t against her body and was visible again, Momo stared. It was a mess, cheeks flushed and glistening with tears, eyes rimmed red with the eyelashes wet.

It made her heart ache. She hoped Hatsume would surrender soon, so they could move past this turbulent stage and into a brilliant future where they happily worked together, just like they used to.

She reached out, running a thumb along Hatsume’s cheek to wipe up some of the tears, and was pleased to see she just stared blankly instead of slapping her hand away.

“The fuck is going on between you two?” Bakugo’s grating voice interrupted the tender moment.

Momo grimaced and straightened up. Oh yeah, he was there too. “Mind your business,” she told him primly.

“Kinda hard to when there’s no privacy in this place.”

“That’s to keep an eye on you.”

“Then I’m gonna keep an eye on you too.” His eyes narrowed. “For real, what the hell do you two have going on?”

The moment was ruined. Hatsume wasn’t actively crying anymore, just sitting there like a broken doll, and Bakugo was asking idiotic questions that she didn’t know how to answer. With pursed lips. Momo left Hatsume’s cell and locked it properly. Even if she had precautions to prevent her escaping the warehouse door, it was best to minimize opportunities.

“You just gonna run away?” Bakugo taunted.

Momo was almost mad, but then Bakugo’s stomach growled loudly and she was reminded of their positions here. With a smirk, she prepared another plate of pizza, and shoved it through the rectangular gap on the ground. “Don’t worry, I didn’t forget to feed you either,” she told him.

His nose scrunched. “How the fuck am I supposed to eat that?”

His arms were still behind his back, in full-restraint mode with them pressed fully together. He had no hands to pick up any food, but Momo knew it wasn’t impossible… if he was willing to get on his knees and eat like a dog.

“Figure it out,” she told him flippantly as she marched away.

She ignored his profanities as she created her key for the inside lock in her palm and left the warehouse. Kidnapping people was tiring, and trying to persuade Hatsume was even worse. It had to get easier, didn’t it? Soon enough, Hatsume would understand and they could look back on these days and laugh together.

All she wanted to do now was go home and sleep.

But Giran wouldn’t let her. “Momo, I saw the news.”

She had been on a straight path to her bedroom to collapse, but he must have heard her open the front door and gone out to block her. He stood in the middle of the hallway with his hands on his hips, like he got to decide when they talked.

Momo already knew she had been caught on film from Kamino. She had reviewed the footage on the subway, blurry and although she wore a mask, her red cape was distinctive enough that Giran of all people would immediately identify her. Hatsume had figured it out from seeing her own restraints on Bakugo, but Giran was sharp and familiar enough to have figured out why Momo had been out for almost the entire day.

“I’m tired,” she told him plainly.

She was so tired she wasn’t even scared of his reaction anymore. So what if he didn’t approve? She had gone and thrown her lot in with the League already, had become a red blur on a police report they would put out wanted posters for. She just wanted to sleep now.

“I’ll bet,” he said with a frown, “that whole situation at Kamino looked pretty tiring.”

There was something bitter in his voice that had her raising her shoulders defensively. “Sounds like you understand perfectly.”

He stared at her, like he was expecting something beyond annoyed resignation. “...You joined the League.”

“Congratulations for catching on,” Momo said sarcastically, “can I go to bed now?”

He took in a sharp breath. “I told you not to get directly involved. You’re putting yourself in danger.”

She spread her arms out. “I’m here, aren’t I? Whole and alive.”

“For now, yes, but the risks are way too high. The police will be looking for you now, you’re–”

“They’re my risks to take, not yours, so calm down.”

“Don’t be an idiot, of course it’s risky for me too, if you got caught, or hurt, I’d… I’d…”

“Have to find a new supply source, right?” Momo spat.

His mouth opened, something like hurt flashing in his eyes, a gratifying sight. So he was afraid of losing his infinite supplier.

She crossed her arms. “Back off, Giran, if you’re going to act like this, it’s time we renegotiate our terms.”

He swallowed, brows furrowed. “Our terms?”

Momo wasn’t a helpless kid anymore. If Giran cast her away… she’d find a way to survive. She could pass as an adult now. “You need me more than I need you. I’m not a child you can just take and own anymore, I’m a business partner, and you need to respect my terms.”

His voice started to shake, “Momo, a business partner? What–“

She forged on before he could try to manipulate her out of setting her new terms. “You need to back off, otherwise...” She thought about how much it hurt seeing Hatsume try so desperately to escape her. “...I’ll run away, and you’ll never get anything from me again.”

There was that stricken look again, like he might cry. His fists were clenched tight, shaking. Would he understand, or was he that desperate to micromanage her that he’d risk losing his greatest asset?

“You… you don’t have to run away.” He said, voice strung tight like it was about to snap, “Please, Momo… there will always be a place for you here, no matter what, so please… don’t…”

Her heartbeat quickened. He was struggling with the words, not the smooth operator that played his clients like a fiddle, but like a violinist who got onstage and discovered someone had broken all his strings. Was she winning a negotiation? Against Giran? “Even if I’m part of the League?”

He nodded helplessly, then paused a moment before forcing out more words. “I wish you wouldn’t, I’m begging you to reconsider, but–”

“I’ve chosen my path,” she said firmly, not willing to be manipulated out of this.

His shoulders shook, and he turned away, leaning against the wall, clearing the path if she wanted to go to bed.

Still, she paused at his strange behavior. He hadn’t fully admitted his defeat yet. “Giran?”

“I’m sorry,” he was so quiet, “I’m so sorry, Momo… you’re right, we should go to bed, it’s late, I can’t…”

Despite her tiredness, she saw a victory in sight and wanted to reach out and grab it. She hadn’t been able to persuade Hatsume yet, but perhaps she could get one win tonight. “I’m staying in the League. And you’re going to stop trying to push me away from it.”

“Okay,” he surrendered simply, quietly, still not looking at her.

It was like that wall was the only thing keeping him standing. Momo walked past him to the entryway of her bedroom, floating like she was in a dream. Giran had actually surrendered? She looked down at herself, her hands, and marveled at herself. She could make a grown man shake and surrender with just the threat of withholding her quirk.

“Momo?” Giran’s throat sounded raw. “I’m… I’m sorry… I didn’t realize you felt that way, I thought… I felt like, maybe… maybe we…”

She huffed. Why was he trying to ruin her success with the last word? “I told you that I wanted to become stronger, this shouldn’t be a surprise.”

With that, she closed her door behind her.

Chapter Text

Momo was wary in the morning. Last night she had twisted Giran’s arm into accepting her place in the League, but after a night’s rest she wondered if he would attempt to fight her anew. At least she had some rest as well, and would have the energy to counter any attempts to persuade her out of fighting. She wasn’t sure what kind of mood she would find Giran in when she walked in the living room.

Still, she picked up her hairbrush and hair elastic before leaving her room.

He was there, sitting on the couch, eyes on the television. He looked at her a moment, then back at the screen, as though avoiding her eyes. So he wasn’t going to confront her directly, then. She walked over, sat down on the ground, and faced the screen as she scooted between his legs. She handed him the hairbrush.

He took it.

The television’s volume was low. Momo wasn’t sure if Giran had done that to avoid waking her up, or if he really just didn’t care much what was actually being said. He didn’t turn it up, as his hands were soon full of hair, gently brushing from the tip at first.

He seemed to be brushing slower than usual. More clumsily too, based on the way his hands seemed to slip and shake.

About half-way up her hair, he started, “Momo…”

She waited for him to continue.

“...Did you ever want to leave?”

Where was this coming from? “What do you mean?”

“When I… when I took you. Did you ever want to leave?”

She shrugged. “Maybe? I missed my old room and stuff, I think. But I got over it pretty quickly.”

The memories were there, but they were distant. She might have cried in her room for a few days about it, but those feelings passed and she was attached to this place now.

His hands were still shaking; her hair would turn wavy if he kept this up. “You repaid your father’s debt a hundred times over, by now. Probably more.”

She knew. “Yes?”

“You don’t have to stay here,” he said simply, as if he wasn’t trying to drive a stake in her heart, “not if you don’t want to.”

How could he keep brushing her hair while saying that sort of thing? “Where would I even go?” She asked, voice tight.

“Back to your parents?”

She clenched her fists. “I don’t want to.”

“Didn’t you miss them?”

“Not anymore.” She was frowning. “Do you want me to leave?”

The hairbrush clattered on the ground. Momo almost turned around to ask why, but suddenly there were arms around her shoulder, and a forehead against her crown. She stiffened at the surprise hug from behind, unsure what his game was here. “No,” he said, “I don’t want you to leave.”

She breathed out, relaxing into it. He still wanted, needed her. She still had this place, in his apartment, in his arms.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered into her hair, “I’m a piece of shit, but please stay.”

This was exactly why she could never betray him. Her eyes were feeling wet already, her body filling with warmth at how nice it was to be wanted. To know he wasn’t planning to abandon her. She leaned back into his chest. “I’m staying.”

He squeezed her tighter.

They stayed like that for a minute. Momo wasn’t sure what to do; she hadn’t expected Giran to be this shaken about last night’s threat. But it was nice to feel him cling and hear him beg, a confirmation that had her muscles finally relaxing. She had leverage on him, a hold that could be exploited as needed.

Eventually though, he had to let go, and he picked the hairbrush off of the ground. He was almost to the end, so Momo offered her wrist and he took the hairband off of it.

As he completed the last few brushstrokes, leading the hair back up into the ponytail, Momo said, “I’m going to go out today for some League business.”

His hand paused, but soon enough he jolted back into form and finished up her ponytail. “…Okay.”

He let go of her hair, and she hopped up. “I want bacon for breakfast.”

“Will do.”

Even though he said that, he stayed sitting on the couch, a hand massaging his temple like he was trying to release a headache or something. She allowed him to rest a minute, going to the kitchen herself. She selected a tea, started the water boiler, looked up at a cabinet…

She glanced back to the living room. He hadn’t gotten up yet.

Slowly, she reached up and opened the cabinet. Up there on the top shelf where Giran couldn’t reach without a step stool was the good frying pan, the one that never stuck to food.

A good breakfast would be nice today. After all the stress she’d been through.

Up on her tiptoes, she grasped the handle and tugged it down. She placed it on the stove, obvious, and busied herself with selecting teacups.

Giran finally entered the kitchen, and Momo tried not to pay too much attention at how he froze, staring at the frying pan. He eventually continued, gathering up the bacon and starting it sizzling in the pan. He even threw in two eggs and started some toast. A nice full breakfast.

Giran served the plates as Momo poured the tea. He turned on the radio and they listened to debriefs on the Kamino incident.

All for One was mentioned, sent to Tartarus.

Momo looked towards Giran, wondering how he felt about it. Frustratingly, he seemed to be barely paying attention to the radio, just staring at the wall like he was in a haze.

“Are you glad All for One’s gone?” She asked point-blank during a commercial break.

He blinked at her, almost confused. “Well, there are pros and cons.”

“You won’t be under his thumb anymore.”

He stared a moment, then laughed. “For now. He’s not dead yet. And it can be frustrating to always be on-call for him… but he did a lot to keep things consistent behind the scenes. The underworld is bound to be unpredictable and generally less stable while he’s gone.”

“Instability means more people looking to advance, more movement, more people needing favors. Could be good for you.”

He sighed. “Perhaps I got too used to stability…”

She waited for him to elaborate, but he did not. The commercial break finished, and they stopped talking to hear the rest of the news.

Once breakfast was done, Momo started collecting her things and heading for the door.

“Momo?”

She paused partway to leaving. “Yes?”

“You said you would stay.”

It was a little embarrassing to have it repeated back to her. “Yes.”

“That means no matter what happens, you have to make it back here to stay, okay?” He swallowed hard. “Try to stay safe, and do whatever it takes to come back home.”

There was a sudden lump in her throat. “I know that,” she deflected, turning away.

She left, hoping she didn’t look too flustered.

Momo returned to the warehouse newly invigorated. She loved Giran, surely Hatsume could grow to love her as well. She had to give her what she wanted, and all would be well. So what did Hatsume really want?

When Momo entered the warehouse, she was unfortunately reminded of the blond thorn in her side, sitting sullenly in his cell, watching her like a hawk.

She would stay far away from those cell bars. She’d much rather get up close and personal to her favorite inventor. “Hatsume, I brought you breakfast.”

Hatsume’s hair was messed up, probably from sleeping, and there were dark circles under her eyes. After placing the wrapped convenience-store sandwich and a plastic water bottle next to Hatsume on the cot, Momo reached out to run her hands through Hatsume’s hair.

She flinched, backing away from Momo.

The motion made Momo frown, and she decided to back away for now. Closed and locked the cell door behind her.

As she started for the door, though, Hatsume spoke up. “What’s all that stuff in the corner?”

Momo spun, excited at Hatsume showing an interest in anything other than escaping. “Oh! That’s to bottle maple syrup!”

“...Why?”

“I happened to have a lot that I needed to package.”

“So those weirdly shaped bottles are meant to hold syrup.”

“Yes! Want to see?” Momo didn’t even wait for an answer before she picked up one of those triangular bottles and brought it right up to Hatsume’s cell. “I shaped them to look like the U.S. state New Hampshire. I almost did Vermont, since it’s more associated with maple syrup, but the design was too top-heavy.”

Hatsume was near the bars now, showing an actual interest. She reached out, taking hold of the container to look at it closer. “I’m no good with geography,” she told Momo, running her fingers along the edges.

Momo was cheeks hurt with how much she was smiling. They were having a conversation again, and not one where Hatsume was crying and begging to be let out! Even if Hatsume was looking at the empty glass container in her hands instead of Momo’s eyes, it was progress.

Progress unfortunately interrupted by the center of the warehouse being filled with a purple mist, and a certain adult brat stepping out. “Yo, how’s my future teammate doing?”

Tomura paused when he saw the two of them. Hatsume took several steps back, as if spooked again. Momo took a deep breath, put her hands on her hips, and turned to face Tomura. “What?”

“...Oh, I see.”

Something about the smugness in his tone had her eyes narrowing. “What?” she repeated.

He chuckled, like he had it all figured out. “You saw your wonderful senpai-in-villainy kidnapped someone and wanted to try it out for yourself, right?”

Her face flamed. “Absolutely not. I kidnapped her for my own reasons completely unrelated to yours!”

Instead of admitting to misunderstanding her, he just tilted his head. “Yeah? What are you planning to do with her?”

“…I’m going to convince her to join me.”

She could hear the smirk in his voice. “Ah yes. Completely unlike my plan. Say, Bakugo,” he said, tilting his head towards the other captor in this warehouse, “have you decided to join the League yet?”

Bakugo spat on the ground. “I’ll never join you.”

Tomura sighed. “Have you noticed how the heroes struggle?” He swept his gaze around. “Even your precious All Might, whose victories you lauded, is now–”

He paused. Looked at Hatsume’s cell. Looked at Bakugo’s.

“Momo.”

She had almost started to leave, convinced this would take awhile, but she deigned to answer. “What?”

“Did you feed him breakfast? Your prisoner has a sandwich. Mine doesn’t.”

That was just like Tomura to be paying attention to what he wasn’t getting compared to others. “...He’s your prisoner, you should feed him.”

“I’m busy, and you said you would take care of him.”

She stood stiffly. He was sort of technically her boss in this context, but she wasn’t totally beholden to him. “I didn’t say I would take good care of him.”

“Go get him a sandwich too.”

She clenched her fist. Was he actually going to command her like that? “Really?”

He turned his nose up. “You’re part of the League now, you gotta pitch in.”

With a huff, she turned to Kurogiri. “Fine. Take me near a convenience store.”

Momo did her best not to stomp as she stepped through the portal. She reminded herself that Tomura was a good contact to have, perhaps even more so now that All for One was out of commission. He had Kurogiri completely loyal to him, and the League certainly had notoriety now. She had even invested her own people into it, Mr. Compress and Magne part of the fabric that made the group, so she wanted to keep it close.

Having to take care of Tomura’s hostage while he figured out a new base and generally stabilized wasn’t that big of a deal, but it stung to be criticized by a guy who couldn’t even tie his own shoes.

She wondered if All for One’s doctor, Ujiko, might have some base or lab that Tomura could commandeer. Though she thought if that was the case, it should have been figured out by now.

Unless Ujiko went no-contact.

She held back a snicker in front of the cashier while she paid for a sandwich. Perhaps Ujiko wasn’t quite perfectly loyal to his master’s protege. That might be better for Momo, let Tomura taste betrayal so her loyalty felt comparatively sweeter.

After a quick text, Kurogiri created another portal and Momo was able to return to the warehouse.

“…ultimate power, we could 100% level every city,” Tomura was in the midst of explaining.

Bakugo rolled his eyes. “Not causing property damage during a fight is the real challenge, so that’s way cooler.”

“I brought breakfast,” Momo announced, handing it to Tomura.

She certainly wasn’t going to try and feed Bakugo herself; she’d probably get bitten.

Luckily it seemed Tomura was up for the challenge, as he approached the cell, hand outstretched with the packaged food. A foot or so away though, Tomura realized another issue.

“...He can’t eat it with his hands behind his back” Tomura noted out loud.

Momo had the remote. “You could feed him by hand through the bars.”

Bakugo’s expression of disgust was a little gratifying at least. “I will bite his hand off.”

Momo smirked. “You want to get up and close to Shigaraki Tomura’s hands? Want to disintegrate your teeth?”

“Momo,” Tomura chastised again, as if she were a child, “release the arm locks.”

She took a deep breath. Tomura is a valuable ally… she repeated to herself as she slowly pulled the remote out. With an attempt to sigh out the tension, she pressed the second-lowest button to unlock the arms. They came apart with a chck sound.

Almost immediately Bakugo started rolling his shoulder, stretching his arms. Momo supposed they might be sore after being held in that position all night. When he glared at her, she couldn’t muster up any sympathy though.

Tomura reached out, sandwich in his hand, almost like a child trying to feed a zoo animal. Bakugo looked every part the animal, glaring and radiating danger. Fortunately for Bakugo, Tomura had little enough sense to get closer, getting close to the actual bars…

Bakugo snatched his wrist, and shoved his hand against a bar.

Momo gasped, surging forward instinctively to try and pull Tomura away. Tomura struggled in return, dropping the sandwich and pulling back. At the very least, it seemed he had been sharp enough to pull his pinkie against his palm, even though Bakugo was trying to pry that pinkie away and press it against the bar with the others. Momo half-hoped he would open his hand and dust Bakugo’s wrist skin to teach him a lesson, but it seemed he was resolute to just resist, kicking against the ground as he tried to escape the grip.

Tomura had pulled back away from the bar by the time Momo reached him, but Bakugo still had a vise grip around his wrist, trying to pull him back towards his cell to force him to disintegrate it. Momo grabbed at Tomura’s arm and forced him to twist it up towards Bakugo’s thumb, a classic self-defense escape move. That finally allowed Tomura to slip out of his grip, and he and Momo tumbled to the ground.

As they got back up, she realized his shoulders were shaking. She reached out again, concerned, but then his head turned up towards the ceiling and he laughed. “Oh that was clever. I like you, Bakugo Katsuki.”

Bakugo bristled at the compliment. Meanwhile, Tomura was still chuckling as he picked the sandwich up.

“Momo, you give it to him.”

Another deep breath. Classic Tomura; he was amused but didn’t want to put himself at risk again. Momo obliged, but instead of pulling the same idiotic move, she tossed the sandwich through the bars. Though Bakugo watched it with his eyes, he didn’t dive to catch it, just let it fall against the ground.

Tomura eyed her. “You should be a little more polite to my guest.”

“I prefer to not be attacked,” Momo told him primly, “I can’t be polite to people who have no manners.”

Tomura rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Make sure you feed him three meals a day. And that’s an order. I need to go back and focus on the matter of our new base.”

Momo plastered on a smile. “I’ll do my best.”

He narrowed his eyes at her. “I will come back within the next couple of days, probably.” He turned to Bakugo then. “So be ready, consider whose side you really want to be on.”

He left with Kurogiri, making the warehouse suddenly feel quiet even with the rambunctious hostage.

Momo let out a big sigh. Of course Tomura would leave someone else to deal with his mess. She glanced sideways at Bakugo, who still hadn’t gone to pick up the sandwich. “If you want to eat with your hands do it now, I’ll be relocking the full restraints before I leave.”

Because he was dangerous. He was definitely actively considering and planning all sorts of escape routes, so it would be unwise to leave him in the warehouse without supervision and his hands free, even with his quirk neutralized. Although Momo had initially thought he would be an easy recruit, it was becoming clear to her that he was probably more hassle than he was worth.

Her gaze shifted to someone easier on the eyes. Hatsume was standing, back against a wall, staring at her with wide eyes. Momo smiled; she was so much more cooperative, yesterday’s escape attempt notwithstanding.

She hadn’t eaten her sandwich though. “Hatsume? Aren’t you hungry?”

Hatsume glanced towards Bakugo. “I lost my appetite.”

That was no good, one couldn’t do good work without good fuel. “Oh dear, would you like something else? A particular drink perhaps?”

There was a plastic water bottle, not to mention a weak faucet in the bathroom section of the cell, but perhaps Hatsume wanted a juice or something.

However, she shook her head slowly in response. Momo came up close to her cell. “Are you sure? It really wouldn’t be any trouble.”

Hatsume stared at her, not responding at first, then turned her gaze onto Bakugo again. “I hate seeing my baby like this.”

It stung, the reminder of how Momo had used her babies against her will. How she had hurt Hatsume.

Bakugo let out an offended Hah sound. “Who the fuck are you calling your baby?”

“Not you,” Momo snapped dismissively before turning to Hatsume with her eyebrows upturned, “I’m only doing what’s necessary. And you made it so he had to suffer less, don’t you see? Otherwise we’d have to keep him chained up the way the heroes did at the sports festival. This is more humane, don’t you think?”

Hatsume was still shaking her head slowly. “You had his arms fully locked the whole night. You’re taunting and threatening him with the different modes I designed. I…” Her hands came up, cradling her face. “...I never imagined how my babies could be twisted into cruelty like this. Now it’s staring me in the face.”

The haunted expression on her face tugged at Momo’s heartstrings. “I could put up a visual barrier between your cells? So you don’t have to see,” she offered.

Thinking about it now, Momo didn’t like that Bakugo and Hatsume’s cells were right up next to each other. Their cots and everything important weren’t too close together, but if Hatsume were near that side, Bakugo could reach out and grab her. She hadn’t bothered to address it, since Hatsume had space to avoid that and Bakugo’s hero student sensibilities didn’t make him seem inclined to attack his fellow kidnappee. But if It made Hatsume uncomfortable…

“No!” Hatsume raised a hand as if to pause the thought. “I think this is… this is something I need to confront. You can leave it.”

Momo frowned, but if Hatsume wanted to keep her baby in view, that was fine. “What do you want me to do, then?” Momo asked.

She wanted Hatsume on her side, so she needed to figure out what could be a negotiation point. What kind of reward would allow her to lure her inventor to her side?

Hatsume shifted her feet. “Let us go.”

The request made Momo sigh. Hatsume didn’t seem to understand this negotiation stuff, if she was asking for something impossible like that for nothing in return. “You know I can’t do that.”

Hatsume turned away then, taking a seat on her cot facing the wall. Still not eating her sandwich.

“Come on Hatsume,” Momo pleaded, “Let’s talk about this,”

No response.

“Would you like a new lab? I could get you one. All the equipment you could dream of.”

No response still.

“Hatsume? Can you hear me?”

She was certain she could, but still no response.

It seemed Hatsume had gotten into a surly mood. That was a shame, but Momo was certain it would pass. One got bored of the silent treatment eventually, especially in a place like this with nothing else to do but talk to ones captor. “Alright, I’ll be back soon enough.”

Before she left, she glanced at Bakugo again. He was watching them carefully, brows furrowed like he was working out a complicated calculation in his head, and he hadn’t even touched his sandwich. Well maybe Momo couldn’t get Hatsume to agree to concessions yet, but she had Bakugo under her control. She pulled out her remote again, pressing the button to put the full lock on with no warning.

He grunted at the force, arms shoved together, but didn’t even dignify the disrespect with any profanities. It seemed everyone was in a quiet mood now.

Momo left, creating the exit key in her palm to get out, and locked the door behind herself.

On her way back home, she received a text from Giran. It was no words, just a link to an article.

Second UA student goes missing under mysterious circumstances…

There was no question what it was about, but Momo opened it nonetheless. Inside, she saw Hatsume’s school photo smiling at her, and desperate quotes from her parents begging for their child to be found soon.

She closed the article, feeling nauseous. Is this what happened when parents reported their child missing? Dramatic pleas and requests from the public for information? Such dramatics. Had they ever visited their child’s lab before she hadn’t come home last night?

When she entered the apartment, Giran was about to leave, scarf already wrapped around himself. “Momo, did you see the article I sent you?”

“Yes.”

She brushed past him, taking off her shoes.

His brows were furrowed as he asked, “Isn’t she your inventor?”

“Yes.” Shoes off, she took off her cloak as well.

There was an awkward silence before Giran said, “Aren’t you… did you want to secure her safety?”

Now Momo understood his odd behavior. “Oh! No, that’s alright. I know exactly where she is.”

“Oh.” He let out a sigh of relief, and took his shoes off. “That’s good, then.”

Then he paused, scarf halfway off his neck.

“...Momo.” There was suspicion in his voice.

She went to the kitchen to grab a snack, and he followed. “Hmm?”

“Did you have something to do with her disappearance?”

She tossed him a clementine. Instinctively, he started to roll it against the table. She grabbed two bowls as he took a seat. “I’m simply in the process of negotiating with her, so she’s occupied.”

He narrowed his eyes at her, not even looking down as he pierced the skin of the clementine with his thumb. “Willingly?”

“...Not yet.”

He paused in his peeling. “Momo.”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “I’m actively persuading her, I’ll make it work.”

He frowned, but continued peeling. “Kidnapping is one of the trickiest crimes to pull off. There are a lot of factors to consider, and it looks like this could turn into a high-profile case. You’ll have police and pro-heroes looking for her.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“How much does she know?”

Momo was well aware of the risks. If Hatsume escaped before being persuaded, she would know Momo’s face, her quirk, and the location of her current warehouse. “Enough.”

He sighed, placing the peel into one of the bowls. “Do you have any blackmail? Something to keep her quiet in the case of her being rescued?”

She didn’t want blackmail. She wanted Hatsume to come to her senses and realize Momo’s path was the best for her. Hatsume was smart, at some point she would realize. “I’m working on it,” she lied to Giran, knowing exactly what he thought was best as well.

Giran handed her a slice of the clementine. She accepted it, popping it into her mouth and enjoying the bright flavor despite his concerned expression. “If she knows too much, I can bring in an assassin–”

“No thank you,” Momo said tersely.

Part of her was insulted he thought she wouldn’t do the job herself if it truly needed to be done. Just because he hated getting his hands dirty, he thought Momo should waste money on someone to do what she could do with a drop of cyanide.

But Momo didn’t want to kill Hatsume. That was the last thing she wanted. Even if Hatsume somehow escaped or was rescued, Momo could just chase her down and drag her back again. Murdering her like she was some sort of loose thread would be the epitome of giving up.

Another slice of clementine into her hand, and she chewed it with little gusto. Giran put one in his mouth as well, but then he started putting the new slices he pulled off into the other bowl for them to eat as they wanted.

Giran swallowed. “...You have to think about this Momo. Her parents will keep putting pressure on the authorities for her.”

Unlike yours, was unspoken. “I know what I’m doing.”

Even if they wanted to, there were very few leads they could follow. If Hatsume had ever mentioned Momo to her parents, perhaps they could extrapolate Momo’s name or her username on the forums they had met on, but their texts were mostly aimed at meeting each other, lacking any identifying information or details that might lead to the warehouse Hatsume had never been told about.

“Momo…” Giran sighed again, as if she were still a child.

“This is my work, not yours,” she snapped, “I’ll tell you if I want your advice.”

There was pain in his face. Served him right for doubting her. He took a deep breath, staring at the clementine peels instead of her. “I… sorry Momo. I’m not… used to this.”

“It’s fine,” she said, deflating a bit.

“I’m still here,” he added, “I’ll try not to pressure you, but if you really want to be… business partners… then please rely on me when you need it.”

She sat up straight. “I’ll rely on you when I need to.”

She hadn’t needed to so far.

Once again, he sighed, but he didn’t push it. They finished off the clementine together, but separated for other business. Giran had his deals, and Momo would need to get lunch ready for the captives soon enough.

Chapter Text

Lunch had no progress, with both hostages being stubborn. At the very least, Hatsume seemed to have eaten the sandwich from breakfast, but she still didn’t talk to Momo despite attempts at conversation. Bakugo still hadn’t eaten his sandwich, and though Momo slid lunch under the grate he didn’t bend over to eat that either.

When she came back for dinner though, both of their lunches were gone. It seemed they weren’t so stubborn as to starve forever.

And Hatsume started a conversation with her!

“Momo…” She started, hands on the bars of her cell, as if she was trying to get close to her.

Momo’s heart swelled, and she immediately came close in return. “Yes?”

“You said you want me to work with you.”

She nodded vigorously. “Exactly, our skills combined would have infinite potential.”

Hatsume looked her right in the eye, no longer as dead and haunted as she had before, but something of a spark in them. A spark almost like when she had a new baby cooking in that brilliant head of hers. “Would you do anything for my cooperation?”

More nodding. “Anything for you.”

“Then let’s strike a deal. Release Bakugo, and I’ll join you.”

That got a reaction from him, “The fuck? I don’t need your–”

“Hatsume, you know why I can’t do that.”

The expression on Hatsume’s face twisted, distraught. She reached out a hand, and Momo instinctively took it. “You can see he’s never going to join the League, right?”

“Damn right,” Bakugo muttered.

Momo sighed. “I know, but Tomura…”

“Sooner or later he’ll get bored of trying to persuade him, and what’ll happen to Bakugo then?”

“...Don’t underestimate how stubborn he can be,” Momo said with a small laugh, “he’s used to getting his way.”

Hatsume’s grip tightened. “Momo. He’ll kill him.”

She didn’t have an immediate response to that. Eventually she said, “That’s not… a guarantee.”

“That’s not a ‘definitely not’ either.”

Momo pursed her lips. “So what? He’s Tomura’s hostage, not mine.”

“I don’t see him here managing him.”

Tomura was busy.

“He just left you with him.” Hatsume’s face was right up against the bar, voice low. “And he saw how vicious Bakugo was. I’m sure he would believe it if he somehow… escaped.”

That sort of suggestion was ridiculous, so Momo started to pull back and away.

Before she could slip out of Hatsume’s grip though, Hatsume held on tight and pulled her closer. Not like an attack, but like a request. Hatsume spoke in a whisper, “And then we could be alone.”

Momo froze. Glanced at Bakugo, who was, as always, watching them intently. When he met her eyes, he frowned even deeper. “Don’t make idiotic deals like that, I’ll get out of here on my own sooner or later,” he said, and it was unclear if it was to Momo or Hatsume.

Hatsume tugged at her hand again, forcing her attention back on her. “Momo, you said you cared about me. How am I supposed to believe that if you only do what makes you happy without considering my feelings? Please do this. For me.”

She had missed those eyes, wide and sparkling, and that face directly speaking to, addressing, and interacting with her. It felt like seeing sunlight through a storm cloud, a glimpse of what she could have if she just did this one thing for Hatsume.

It was dangerous.

Momo twisted her hand out of her grip. “Y-you know I can’t do that,” she repeated, like an idiot.

Hatsume’s face started to close off again, eyes shuttering. She stepped away from the bars.

Momo ran out of the warehouse like her feet were on fire. She couldn’t bear to watch Hatsume shut down again.

Momo forced herself through another meeting of Giran’s. He had told her she didn’t need to, but she didn’t want to be alone with her thoughts tonight.

It was almost comforting to watch Giran work, seeing him fiercely in his element instead of all shaky and hesitant as he had been in the apartment recently. He artfully maneuvered a man twice his size into loaning himself in exchange for a passport that could get his wife out of the country. He made some big promises, claiming it was incredibly complex to create a good forgery.

All lies, of course. Momo could have the passport done now if he so wanted. But that wait time was what kept them in suspense, kept them waiting and begging for Giran to come back. Made them believe it wasn’t a pittance for him, but a huge favor he was going out of his way to do. It was advantageous psychology.

As they made their way home, Giran driving, Momo broached a topic. “Did you ever lie to All for One?”

He had been bouncing along to the radio, and seemed a tad startled at the question. “Hmm?”

“Like you did with that guy. Did you ever lie to All for One about things like that?”

He scratched his chin, shrugged a shoulder. “I guess not so much, he’s the type who you’re better off not trying to lie to, although…” He glanced at her, but his eyes immediately returned to the road. “I guess maybe if you count lies by omission.”

“Like what?” Momo wanted to know just how far Giran pushed, how far was appropriate to push.

“...I didn’t tell him about you at first,” he admitted slowly, “considering your quirk, I wasn’t sure if…”

She took in a sharp breath. She understood. “Ah.”

Giran laughed then. “It ended up being a null point anyway. He’s got eyes and ears everywhere, not just me, and he figured out you existed pretty quick. I pretended to not know if you had a quirk or not, but…” He sighed. “The moment he saw you, he knew.”

“He knew?”

“Not precisely, but he knew you weren’t quirkless. I had to give it up then, once he figured out your quirk he would have understood exactly why I hid it, so I hedged my bets and told him. Better off keeping at least a little trust.”

Momo frowned. “Was he mad?”

Giran laughed. “Well I’m still here, so he wasn’t too mad. He saw right through me, told me that if I felt that strongly about it, I could keep you and your quirk, so long as I…”

She waited. “So long as you…?”

“Well, I’m still working for him, aren’t I? So he wasn’t too mad.”

That made her frown even further. “Not anymore, he’s in Tartarus.”

“For now.”

She rolled her eyes at his caution. Nobody escaped Tartarus. He was as good as dead there. She decided to change the topic, before they began a new argument. “So he understood you lying to him?”

He scoffed. “He tolerated it. I’ve fostered a bit of goodwill, not that there’s a lot in him, but it’s worth something.”

Momo nodded, considering her relationship with Tomura. Though she found him obnoxious, she was certain there was goodwill there.

How much could she afford to spend?

Though Giran knew about her League work, once they got home she waited until she heard his snoring to get back up. She would be sleepy tomorrow, but Giran would assume that was because of staying up for his meeting. She supposed she was still in the habit of keeping secrets, not wanting to give him anything that could possibly be twisted into leverage.

In the dead of night, she made her way to the warehouse.

Momo opened the warehouse door. She was strangely surprised to see the light was still on, though in retrospect she realized it wasn’t like either captive could reach the light switch. Despite the light, both of them were lying in their cots, Bakugo’s face pressed against the wall and Hatsume’s arm over her face as they slept.

The sound of the door made them stir, though. Momo marched towards Bakugo’s cell quickly, not wanting him to catch his bearings. By the time she reached his cell, he had awoken enough to turn around, sit up and glare.

“Gonna try sleep deprivation torture?” he asked with a raised eyebrow.

She raised her cloak, covering her forearm as she created a gun. “No, you should go right back to sleep.”

Once the tranquilizer gun was ready, she whipped it out quick as she could and shot Bakugo right through his pant leg. He flinched, but hadn’t dodged in time. Once he realized what was happening, he jumped up and scraped it out of his leg using a cell bar. “Don’t you fucking try it,” he warned.

That was alright. It was a strong tranquilizer, so even if only a bit got in it would be enough to knock him out for some minutes. Soon enough, despite a string of curses and profanities, his words started to slur and he collapsed against the ground.

After making his key, she clicked open his cell.

“Momo?” Hatsume’s voice was panicked, but slowed with sleepiness. “What are you…?”

Momo leaned over, creating a syringe with another tranquilizer and injecting it into his skin directly. “I’ll be back,” she told her.

Momo hoisted him over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry, and created the key to leave the warehouse. Once outside, she tossed Bakugo’s body down and made a small electric scooter with a compartment in the back. She loaded him in, covered him with a tarp, and carried on. Where did it make sense to leave him?

Momo decided she didn’t want to leave him too close to her warehouse, or he might leak some information about Hatsume’s whereabouts to the police. It was probably best to leave him in some strange neutral location.

To avoid suspicion, she packed her red cloak in her bag and put on a black one. Someone going down the streets at this time of night probably looked strange, but hopefully she wouldn’t be immediately identified as one of the new League members without her signature red cloak.

In the end, Momo decided to take him to the easiest location that she had ties to, that wouldn’t reveal any new information. The old villain bar that Kurogiri had run, now wrecked and abandoned, still at least had a roof she could put him under. He’d wake up in the morning and be able to haul himself home, she was sure.

She laid him out on the floor, and he looked surprisingly peaceful. When he wasn’t snarling at every villain who tried to speak with him, his face almost looked gentle. Before leaving, she undid those beautiful restraints. She wouldn’t let the heroes have Hatsume’s wonderful prototype.

She scootered away, but she couldn’t go home just yet. Instead, she made her way back to the warehouse, eating some power bars along the way. Inside, Hatsume stood up immediately when she entered, apparently much more awake now. Her hair was a mess, a strap of her tank top hung off a shoulder, and her necklace with the wrench draped across her collarbone. Despite the mussiness, her eyes were wide and alert. “What did you do with him? Did you take him to Shigaraki’s new base?”

“Not quite.”

Momo re-entered his cell, carrying his restraints. She maneuvered to the vials in the back, unclipping and digging into the secure compartment where the vial holding all his sweat was stored. Once they were out, she poured them in a small area on the wall of his cell. The amount of liquid was surprisingly little, suggesting he had been dehydrated or cold and struggled to sweat.

Regardless, she had enough to drip some of the potent stuff along the wall. Just in case, she dripped some nitroglycerin out of her own fingers to supplement. Then she dropped the restraints right by it. Carefully, she created a lighter, a tiny stick, and lit the stick on fire. She took several large steps back, and threw it onto the nitroglycerin.

An explosion tore up the area of wall, creating a hole large enough that a person could crawl through. Momo came closer and kicked at it a few times, making sure that it was a plausible escape route. The restraints looked suitably broken, if Hatsume would accept the insult to her design then Momo could claim that it overloaded and Bakugo’s quirk leaked out.

Momo finished up by creating several boards, covering up the hole and hammering nails into the wall. Tomorrow she’d make some metal and a proper welder, but tonight she didn’t have the energy to make that much equipment.

Hatsume was staring, wide eyes zoomed into the destruction. As Momo stared back, her gaze eventually turned up and met hers.

“You made me a deal, I decided to accept,” Momo told her simply.

“...Ah.”

“I’ll be back in the morning.”

Before she left the warehouse, she turned off the light; she hoped Hatsume would sleep soundly tonight. Momo probably wouldn’t.

Chapter Text

After a morning welding job, starting from the outside, Momo re-entered the warehouse, flicking the light on.

Hatsume looked exhausted, hair mussed and tank top hanging down over her shoulder. Momo realized with a start that she hadn’t been able to change her clothes, which was probably uncomfortable. After placing the wrapped convenience-store sandwich next to Hatsume on the cot, Momo started to lift up her shirt.

That made Hatsume’s eyes open fully. Understanding dawned on her face as fabric fell from Momo’s stomach, another black tanktop, and a set of cute gold-colored pajamas.

“Is there anything else you’d like to be able to wear?” Momo asked.

“...No.”

Momo smiled at an actual response, no matter how small. She left the cell, locking the door behind herself for now. “I need to go tell Tomura that his hostage escaped. You’ll behave, won’t you?”

No response again, but Momo would draw more reaction out of her later. She had plans for Hatsume, now that she was planning to cooperate. Firstly though, she had to pull out her phone and call Tomura. He didn’t pick up. She tried again.

Instead of picking up, he texted back, What?

With a sigh, she texted him, He escaped.

There was a swirl of purple, and almost the entirety of the current League of Villains stepped into the warehouse, aside from Dabi.

She tried not to let her wariness show, but Mr. Compress opted to explain, “We were in the middle of a strategy meeting, but Shigaraki said–”

A loud curse drew everyone’s attention to Tomura, who was staring at Bakugo’s old cell, a clear recently-repaired patch in the wall. “No fucking way.”

He grabbed onto two of the bars, bare-handed, and they disintegrated away to nothing.

Momo took a deep breath and explained, “The restraints weren’t designed for long-term use, I suspect that after several days they overloaded, allowing his quirk to leak out.”

Tomura groaned, scanning the disrupted ground, scattered remains, the cell next door… Where Hatsume stared right back at him, arms around herself like she was trying to hold herself together after watching him disintegrate that cell.

He spun around suddenly, eyes laser-focused on Momo. “Why is your hostage still here?”

“Her quirk isn’t explosions.” Momo was sweating.

It was like he could smell her nerves, and he stalked towards her. “With his idiotically heroic rules, there’s no way he would have left someone here without trying to save them.”

Momo held her ground, even as he got closer. “If he were in a rush to escape–”

He reached out towards her as if to grab her, and she closed her eyes. It was a rare situation where she had definitively fucked up, even if it was on purpose, and she was ready to face the consequences. Nothing happened though, not even a touch, and she opened her eyes.

Mr. Compress was standing in front of her, an arm extended, blocking the two-fingered grasp Tomura had been aiming at her.

“She was managing two hostages without support,” Mr. Compress told him firmly, “An accident was bound to occur.”

Tomura glared. “I wasn’t going to disintegrate her.”

Slowly, Mr. Compress lowered his hand. Tomura reached out again, tugging at the collar of her cloak to pull her towards his serious expression, definitely suspicious of her. “So he ran away without your captive.”

Tomura needed something else, a proper explanation. “Maybe it’s because I got her agree to join me last night. Perhaps Bakugo doesn’t want to save people willing to work with villains.”

He narrowed his eyes, glancing back at the cell. “She’s still locked up.”

“She’s on a probationary period as we figure things out.”

He let go of her then, but it wasn’t a full acceptance. Instead, he made his way to Hatsume’s cell, standing right by the bars. “So you agreed to work with Momo?”

Hatsume’s hands were shaking, but she plastered on a grin as she met his gaze. “Yup!”

Momo’s heart soared at her confidence, officially acknowledging and accepting the deal. Tomura’s cheeks shifted, a smile, wide and cracked. He reached a hand through the bar, holding it out to Hatsume. “I see. Let me welcome you to our side, then.”

The color drained from her face at the weapon held out in front of her. She glanced at Momo, who gave a tiny nod to reassure her. Hastume took a deep breath, focused in on Tomura, and took his hand.

He kept a pinkie up.

Their hands released, nobody disintegrated, and Tomura appeared much more relaxed than before. In spite of Bakugo’s ‘escape’, he seemed to have satisfied himself with Momo at least having success in her department.

“Good luck with your little inventor,” Tomura told her, “once she’s through her probationary period, bring her around, let’s get reintroduced properly.”

“Will do,” Momo assured.

The League left, Mr. Compress sending a relieved thumbs up at her as he stepped through the portal, and Toga for some reason making little kissy faces at her. As soon as the purple mist shrank to nothing, Hatsume fell to her knees.

Momo sprinted to her. “Are you okay?”

“He could have killed me,” Hatsume said, eyes wide and staring at the ground.

“But he didn’t.” Urgently, Momo unlocked the latch of the cell and came in to hold Hatsume and comfort her.

Hatsume flinched as soon as she touched her shoulder.

Confused, Momo paused, hand coming back to hover. Hatsume seemed to ignore her, turning away and standing up on shaky legs. “He could have killed you,” Hastume added.

Momo laughed lightly. “But he wouldn’t.”

Apparently Hatsume didn’t want to swoon into her arms, so Momo made her way out of the cell, not bothering to lock it behind herself. Once in the center of the warehouse space, she began to create from her stomach. She started with creating a large, familiar workbench. When she glanced back at Hatsume, she was staring at that replica of her lab workbench with wide eyes. Emboldened, Momo began to create more. The folding toolbox Hatsume loved, complete with tools that rattled as they landed on the ground. Then the seat Hatsume sat in while hunched over precise small-scale work.

Momo continued, starting to fill the warehouse with what she could remember. Shelves and even half-finished prototypes she had gotten close looks at. She had to pause at points to force down some granola bars from her bag.

Meanwhile, Hatsume stayed in her cell, looking through the open door, iris’s shifting as though zooming in on every detail Momo made. Eventually, Momo stopped and took a seat, curling her fingers towards Hatsume in invitation. “You’re one of us now, and you have a whole lab to play with. Didn’t you miss it?”

Hatsume nodded slowly, fists clenched. “Yes… yes I’d like to make some babies. It’s been… awhile.”

She walked out of the cell, deliberate steps that only barely paused as they passed the threshold of the door and into the makeshift lab. It was not as big and definitely not as stocked as Hatsume’s original lab, but it was a start. Momo would take it day by day and create some more things every time she came to visit. Soon enough Hatsume would have a beautiful garden of supplies and resources that she could thrive in, and would blossom into that same excited, vibrant inventor that Momo knew.

Already, Hatsume walking around in this space, in Momo’s space and not dashing for the escape screamed success. Her hands weren’t grabbing at Momo, looking for a key to escape, but instead running over the containers and benches as though checking to make sure they were truly solid.

“...This table still has its burn mark,” Hatsume commented.

“Is it in the right place?” Momo asked, “I thought you’d appreciate it being familiar.”

Hatsume let out some breaths, almost like a laugh. “You paid a lot of attention.”

“Of course.” Why wouldn’t she?

Hatsume pawed through some of the tools on the ground, eventually selecting a few and bringing them to her main bench.

Momo leaned over her shoulder. “What will you build first?”

At first Hatsume said nothing, staring towards the wall. Abruptly though, she twisted around to face Momo. “What about another jetpack? I think I can make the design more comfortable than it was before.”

“And what would you want for prototyping?”

Hatsume began listing components, including volatile chemicals and materials to create the force needed to push a person off the ground.

But Momo still remembered what happened last time she had given her wonderflonium. So she waited for Hatsume to finish, then said, “How about starting with something with less… explosive ability.”

It pained Momo’s heart to see the light in Hatsume’s eyes dampen, but she wasn’t so foolish as to drop an escape route right into the hand of a girl who had only just agreed to work with her after great hesitation. “So you won’t make me anything, huh.”

Guilt raced through her, but she steeled herself. “I told Tomura the truth, you’re on a probationary period. I haven’t forgotten how you first rejected me.” She reached out, fingers touching Hatsume’s on the table. “It hurt my feelings, you know, for you to try to escape me so desperately. I don’t want to give you that kind of opportunity again.”

Another long silence. Almost long enough that Momo opened her mouth to fill it, but then Hatsume’s hand tilted, opening up her palm and grasping Momo’s gently. She smiled at Momo. “I was shocked, at first. It took me some time to get used to it, but you can trust me now.”

The acceptance helped unfurl that tight feeling in her stomach, and Momo felt comfortable lifting the linked hands, squeezing it between them. “It’s because I trust you that I know you’ll understand my hesitation. There’s plenty of safer things you can start with inventing as you get comfortable in this new space, without exploding anything.”

There was a sparkle in Hatsume’s eyes. “Power Loader was always telling me not to explode things too… but it never stopped me. Why bother fighting it?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure to keep a close eye on you to make sure you’re being safe.” Momo placed her other hand over theirs. “So you better explain in thorough detail each baby you plan to create, so I understand all the risks.”

Hatsume’s smile never faltered, but it took a moment of staring before she put her own hand over Momo’s second hand, a reassuring motion. “Of course, I understand.”

They settled on a grabbing device, something long and flexible that could be operated from a controller. Momo had watched Hatsume draft up the initial blueprint and squinted over the requested materials. Overall, it didn’t require anything that could be used or combined into something explosive. So Momo had allowed it, creating herself a seat and watching closely as Hatsume started putting pieces together.

Momo sighed dreamily at delicate yet firm movements placing components, twisting wrenches to tighten bolts, and more. She could watch those hands forever, showing off their confidence and expertise.

“So I’m on your side now.” Hatsume started, eyes not leaving the in-progress prototype.

Momo was still hypnotized by her smooth building process. “Yes, I’m glad you decided to join.”

“But what exactly did I join? Does that mean I’m part of the League of Villains now? Is Shigaraki my boss?”

She pursed her lips. “He’s not your boss.”

“But he’s your boss?”

Momo let out a little huff. “I decided to join the League, and he is the leader of the League, but I’m more like a part-time member than a full lackey. You’re my inventor, so I might ask you to make stuff for them, but you don’t have to work with them directly if you don’t want to.”

“So are you my boss then?”

That phrasing was… uncomfortable. “No, we’re partners.”

“But you’re still telling me what to do, and restricting what I can create.”

“For now,” Momo said firmly, trying to convince herself as well, “but in time I will give you complete freedom. Don’t fuss over the specifics while you’re still getting used to this.”

The ensuing silence made Momo believe that Hatsume had absorbed herself back into her task, arranging the motors precisely.

“So what’s Giran then?”

Momo’s eyes snapped up from the device. “Hmm?”

“Is he really your uncle?”

Ah yes, that lie. Though Momo was still hesitant to give Hatsume total freedom, she was telling the truth when she said she trusted her. She didn’t need to lie anymore. “No.”

“Then what is he to you? Another boss?”

Momo wished she knew. “...He did raise me. That wasn’t a lie.”

“Is he also a villain?”

“Yes.”

“I see.”

There was nothing else said. Momo let the sound of metal-against-metal fill the space, each piece coming together gently. No attempts to create a weapon or escape route that she could see.

Still, as another hour or so passed, Momo got up. “I should get us some food.”

“Alright.” Hatsume’s eyes never left her work. “Have fun.”

Momo took a deep breath. She didn’t want to be the one tearing Hatsume away from her passion, but there were limits to what she could allow. She put a hand on Hatsume’s wrist, signaling it to stop turning the wrench that was tightening a bolt. “You’ll need to be in the cell while I’m gone.”

Slowly, Hatsume stood up. “Not quite fully trusted, huh?”

Momo tried to smile. “It’s a probationary period. I want you to be free, but let’s work up to it.”

No response, but Hatsume willingly stepped into her cell, not an ounce of fight in her as she settled onto her cot. “You better come back soon.”

“Of course,” Momo responded easily, “I love spending time with you.”

Yesterday had been somewhat awkward as Hatsume and her developed the new boundaries in the warehouse-turned-lab. Hatsume had free reign in the warehouse when Momo was there, and could request any materials that didn’t have an obvious explosive application. When Momo was gone though, she had to be in her cell. There was always the possibility of Hatsume finding creative ways to utilize the tools or materials given while Momo wasn’t keeping a close eye, so it was safer all around to keep her away from that sort of tempting situation.

Though Hatsume had seemed stiff that morning when they first set things, by the evening she seemed to have settled, becoming about as enthusiastic as she used to be. When she finally finished her grabber, making it stretch across the warehouse to pick up a leftover glass maple syrup bottle, her eyes had sparkled and her words had raced with explanations and praise for her baby.

It felt like before again.

So when Momo went to the warehouse today, pizza box in hand, she felt light. Things had been rocky, but just as she thought, all they needed was time. With time, Hatsume was understanding. Momo wasn’t completely naive, she knew Hatsume was perhaps just making the best choice in her situation, but it really felt like they were connecting again.

Even now, Hatsume’s face lit up when Momo opened the door. She bounced off her cot, eager and ready for another day of inventing at her side. Momo placed the pizza box on the table, then approached and unlocked the cell.

Hatsume zoomed out, heading straight for her latest prototype-in-progress, a set of leg supports that could allow a person to run particularly fast without tiring.

“Don’t forget to eat,” Momo said with a laugh, “You can’t create babies if you don’t have any fuel.”

Hatsume seemed to waver between the prototype and the pizza box, conflicted, but as Momo stared, she finally settled on the bench beside the table and took a slice. “Join me?”

“Of course,” Momo responded.

Momo specifically brought a full pizza so they would both be well fed. Hatsume usually only needed a few slices, but Momo could easily polish off the box. She dove into it, practically inhaling the easy calories.

Hatsume started, “You trust me, right?”

Rather than open her full mouth, Momo simply nodded.

“Then considering how much you trust me, this should be a simple request. I’d like to call my parents.”

Momo swallowed. “Why would you want to do that?”

“I want to reassure them. After all, I’m staying here willingly now, it would be good to let them know I’m okay and they don’t need to search for me anymore.”

Though Momo hadn’t shared any of the missing person reports with Hatsume’s face on it, she was surprised to hear how confident Hatsume was that her parents would be looking for her just because she was gone.

“And… I miss them. It would be nice to hear their voice.”

Momo smiled reassuringly. “Didn’t you say your parents didn’t understand you?”

There was something in Hatsume’s eye, almost like suspicion, though that didn’t make sense. “That doesn’t mean I don’t want to talk to them. They don’t get my babies, but they still care about me.”

“I care about you and your babies,” Momo told her sweetly, “so you don’t need to feel obligated towards them anymore. When you’re a villain, you’re free from that sort of thing.”

For a minute, all Hatsume did was stare. In the quiet, Momo indulged in another slice of pizza, trying not to worry about how Hatsume had only had one slice so far and barely started the next. Was her appetite okay?

“Momo,” Hatsume started slowly, “what happened to your parents?”

Suddenly Momo was the one with the lost appetite. She put her newest slice back down. “What does it matter?”

“You started to tell me, once, but never got into it. Why?”

“They’re in the past now, I don’t interact with them anymore.”

“Why?”

She couldn’t look at Hatsume as she confessed, “They didn’t want me.”

More quiet. After all, what was there to say to that? It was just a fact, a depressing one that Momo couldn’t change. The immutable past that she had left behind when she took Giran’s hand.

But Hatsume couldn’t quite let it go. “What were they like?”

The question threw her off-balance. No one had ever asked her that, no one ever had reason to. “W-what do you mean?”

“I’m curious. What were they like? Their personalities? Their quirks?”

It was strange trying to dredge up those memories. They felt locked, stuffed into a box in the back of her mind that got kicked occasionally, but which she always kept shut. She was almost scared to open it.

But Hatsume was looking at her, not at one of her babies or catatonic as she had been the first day, truly looking at her, like it really did matter what Momo knew and thought of the people who had abandoned her. And somehow, the things she had never had reason to say out loud came loose from her tongue.

“My mother has a fat redistribution quirk.” Starting with the quirks was easiest, just basic facts. “She adjusted her face and body to whatever the trends were. Probably saved a fortune on plastic surgery, but she still had expensive tastes. She would explain to me different designer brands, how to select good quality items from a lineup. She had… had a lot of attention to detail. If I slouched even a little bit, she’d… tap my back. Remind me to straighten up.”

Even a decade later, Momo didn’t slouch. It felt wrong.

“She’d even tap my father when he’d slouch, telling him a CEO should stand upright and proud. He liked the idea of starting a company, I think, even if it stressed him out. There was a lot of competition, and although he got lucky at times, he’d still come home radiating that stress. When I… when I was messy, I think that stressed him out even more. But if I was doing well, if I had learned something new that my mother could brag about, he’d soften. He… he seemed to like me, in those moments.”

How deeply could a child understand that sort of thing? Momo wasn’t sure, but at the time she had felt confident in his love, blissfully unaware of how shallow it truly was.

“Still, he was at work most the time, and not doing great. His quirk is Lucky Break, something he can activate once a day by choice, but he can’t actually control the exact effect. I think he thought with a quirk like that, things would be easy. He wanted things to fall in his lap, so when starting and running a company got more complicated than that, he still kept looking for easy solutions. Early on, he decided that rather than relying on chance, he’d guarantee his company’s success with the help of villains. That’s when he met Giran.”

Hatsume’s eyes widened.

“His competitors failed one-by-one, until he gained a foothold in the market. And yet, despite all the help, all the advantages, things didn’t take off… and eventually Giran came to collect the debt he didn’t have the money to pay back.”

It was almost embarrassing how rapt Hatsume was, practically unblinking as she listened, as if all this ultimately mattered. As if it were something fascinating and not just the story of an idiot that ended up putting Momo into this position.

“But lucky for him, he had me. And my quirk had shown up by then, another cheat-like quirk that was more valuable than any amount of money. He couldn’t quite use me, he had paid villains for help behind the scenes but his actual business was legitimate, and he wasn’t about to start a black market reliant on a child. But Giran… Giran could use my quirk, in the underground of villainy I could be an incredible asset, so my father offered me up, and Giran accepted me as payment.”

Though Momo’s gaze had drifted to the wall, almost zoning out as the explanation fell out of her, she returned it to Hatsume to check on her, and was surprised to see the edges of her eyes were wet.

“How old were you?” Hatsume whispered.

“Five years old.”

Hatsume blinked, and tears squeezed out of her eyes. With a sigh, Momo reached over and wiped one away with her knuckle.

“You don’t need to pity me,” Momo told her firmly, feeling something close to embarrassment, “It’s over now. I’m happy where I am now.”

“You were just a kid,” Hatsume choked out.

It was awkward watching someone else cry over her. Though it had hurt to pull out all those details, like prying thorns out of her skin, Momo mostly felt numb now. Like reciting a newspaper article. An out-of-date one, at that. After the Yaoyorozu’s had given up Momo, her father had apparently gone at business with renewed vigor, and successfully built up the multi-market conglomerate of his dreams.

And Momo had escaped the kind of awful parents who would use their child as a bargaining chip, so in the end both of them had won.

Strangely, Hatsume got up with her arms outstretched. Momo didn’t respond at first, but soon Hatsume’s arms were around her. Once again she was overwhelmed with awkwardness, but not enough to not raise her own arms and hug Hatsume back. She had missed this, the contact between them that wasn’t just fighting or dragging Hatsume back from another escape attempt. So she just let herself breathe into the embrace, the rare warmth that seemed to be settling her from the inside-out.

She knew this feeling, this traitorous and vulnerable weakness that seemed to salve the ache pounding beneath the skin. She loved Hatsume, dearly, terribly, desperately and against all better judgement screaming that a villain and a hero-school student could never walk the same path. And these small requited moments, tears shed over a stupid story and a simple hug, had those affections becoming monstrously strong, dragging Momo through the worst and most difficult route. Was this worth the risk of keeping a UA student hostage? Was this worth the resources and time to maintain this captive situation? Was this worth letting go of Tomura’s hostage?

Hatsume squeezed her tight, and Momo breathed out. It was definitely worth it.

“I’m sorry,” Hatsume whispered, “they shouldn’t have done that to you.”

Momo stiffened at the reminder of her parents. Had she once felt this way in their arms? When her mother praised her for identifying a knock-off purse? When her father first heard about her Creation and had spun her around in the air, laughing and shouting about how damn lucky he was to have a child with such a powerful quirk?

None of that prevented them from giving her up.

By now Hatsume had composed herself again, enough to back up and allow Momo her space. Her tears were wiped away even if the whites of her eyes looked a little red. She took her seat again, sniffling. There was still pizza leftover, but neither of them reached out for another slice.

“Your parents sucked, clearly,” Hatsume said, voice steady.

Momo huffed, lightly amused at the language. “Yes.”

“I understand why you think the way you do, but…” Hatsume trained her eyes on her, firm. “...I still want to talk to my parents.”

Under the table, Momo clenched her fists. “That isn’t necessary.”

“You trust me, don’t you? How are we supposed to become equal partners if you won’t let me make one little phone call?”

Momo wanted to trust Hatsume. She wanted to trust that Hatsume loved her back, and really would just call to reassure her parents and not try to slip in some sort of clue as to her captor or her whereabouts. She had been so sweet recently, seeming happy in this cage Momo had filled up into a lab.

But Momo wasn’t an idiot who was unaware of the situation she had engineered. Hatsume hadn’t wanted to join at first, and it was Momo who dragged her in here until she changed her mind. It wasn’t impossible that Hatsume was playing pretend, biding her time until Momo let down her guard to escape. Was Momo willing to gamble on Hatsume’s feelings?

People did what was advantageous for them. Momo kidnapped Hatsume because it gave her a chance, however small, of keeping her by her side forever. Giran took Momo and kept her, made her happy for a decade because he’d be guaranteed a supplier. And Hatsume was being a cooperative hostage because whether she was truly falling into villainy or trying to escape, it would get her closer to her goal. Until Momo could guarantee Hatsume’s villainy or, at the very least confirm her feelings for Momo outweighed her heroic ideals, she couldn’t be certain what her game was.

“Momo, please?” Hatsume pleaded through Momo’s silent brooding.

Maybe she would hate her for it, but Momo wasn’t a gambler. She smiled gently, trying to soften the blow. “I’m sorry Hatsume, but I can’t let that happen. Not now, so early on.”

No response, but Hatsume’s eyes whirred. Momo wondered what she was searching for; would she find evidence of Momo’s doubt on her face? She tried to stay steady, even as her heart wavered at Hatsume’s disappointed expression.

“...I guess all I can do is work on my baby,” Hatsume declared, standing up.

Momo let out a relieved breath that Hatsume let it go. They could go back to their happy place, working and building together.

Chapter Text

Momo and Hatsume developed a wonderful rhythm together. It was incredible being able to spend so much time with her darling inventor, no interruptions, no school even to keep her away from Momo most the day. She hoped Hatsume appreciated being able to truly focus as well.

But there were little moments, little requests that made Momo hesitate.

Hatsume had gone back to making a new restraint system, this time something spidery that could be tossed and would wrap itself around every available limb or protrusion. Highly flexible, applicable to targets of many sizes and shapes, and quick to toss out without having to think too hard. However, each leg was painstaking precise but repetitive work, so Hatsume was on autopilot, with her brain unfortunately free to think beyond the baby in front of her.

“What about going outside?” Hatsume asked.

“I don’t think that’s necessary.”

“I’m feeling cooped up in here.” She batted her eyelashes at Momo. “Do you want me to get a vitamin D deficiency?”

Momo made a pill out of her palm, and grabbed one of the plastic water bottles she had brought for her. “Would you like a supplement?”

Hatsume laughed. “Oh my, my teachers always said to Just Say No to drugs.”

Momo waited, hands outstretched.

Eventually, Hatsume plucked the pill off her palm and swallowed it down with some water. Momo grinned at how she accepted it.

Unfortunately, she didn’t back off at that. “Seriously though, how long until I can leave the warehouse?”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Momo explained, “If you get seen on the street, police or heroes might try to take you.”

“I thought they were too incompetent for that.”

This just showed that Hatsume truly didn’t understand yet; she wasn’t ready to be let out. “They’re not incompetent per se, they can be effective at their goals, but their goals are all off.”

“Goals of protecting the peace?”

“Goals of shoving down anyone that is dissatisfied with the status quo. How much money gets spent on advertisements and merchandise and galas just to hype up pro-heroes egos? How much of that money could be spent on better infrastructure or social services?”

“It’s not only taking money, but creating business. Managers, toy manufacturers, public relation specialists and more get work. Seems good for the economy,” Hatsume tapped her baby, testing the give of the extension, “I’m basically guaranteed a job once I graduate.”

Momo frowned. So Hatsume was still thinking of herself as a student of UA. Did that mean she was banking on getting back there? “You said you wanted to help people, not just heroes, didn’t you? All those jobs are pretty squarely just helping heroes”

Hatsume paused in tightening a bolt, attached to a brace for some tubing. “...Not all the jobs. There’s civilian support gear, too.”

“With severe restrictions.”

“Well even if my babies are just used by heroes, that’s still helping to protect civilians, so everyone is helped in the end.”

“Except villains.”

A deep breath. Hatsume pulled the wrench too tight, and the tubing broke beneath the bracket. “…”

Momo emphasized, “The support students at UA will likely create something intended to hurt me one day.”

Hatsume stared at the broken piece in front of her, not meeting Momo’s eyes. “Not hurt. Capture, maybe.”

“You really believe that?” She asked with a laugh, “That not a single villain has been hurt by pro-heroes?”

She sighed, grabbed some duct tape, and started to wrap around the broken tubing. Momo put out her hand, pausing Hatsume’s work, and created a replacement piece from the back of her hand. This one was coated in metal, sturdier, and wouldn’t break at a tight bracket or even a blade. Hatsume accepted it, but still didn’t meet her eyes.

“No I… I know villains get hurt.” Hatsume frowned. “I know you’ll get hurt.”

At least Hatsume seemed disturbed by the thought. Momo didn’t respond, there was nothing she could add to the facts. If Hatsume ever tried to return to UA and continued her life as a support student, she and Momo would inevitably be in conflict.

Hatsume’s hands, which had been working to add the new tubing, suddenly paused. “Unless… what if you weren’t a villain?”

Momo raised an eyebrow. “I’m part of the League, there’s no going back for me.”

“But what if there was? There was footage of Kamino, but it was limited, I don’t think there was a clear shot of you.” Her head raised now, looking into Momo’s eyes. “You’ve never been arrested, right? So you could put this all behind you.”

The absurdity alone was enough to make Momo laugh. “I’m in way too deep to just back out like that.”

“Are you really, though? You’re a teenager who got into this as a literal toddler, even if someone somehow figured out what you’ve done, the courts would have to be sympathetic, right? You could just… you could stop. Live a normal life.”

“Where? Back with the family who gave me up in the first place?”

“N-no, you could…” Hatsume dragged a hand through her locks of hair, thinking. “My… I could ask my family to take you in. You could live with me. We could be together. Out in the open, not trapped in this building forever.”

Momo’s heart stuttered against her ribs. “It’s not that simple. I’d need documentation, I couldn’t go to school, law enforcement would start asking…”

“Well we can explain then! We could even lie! Like that you were born and raised in a remote village or something that didn’t do any documentation. And you ran away, or something.”

“It can’t be that simple,” Momo repeated, trying not to imagine the future Hatsume was painting, the two of them as normal girls, just hanging out and going to school and holding hands in the sunlight.

“It could be.” Hatsume put down her baby to grab Momo’s hands, squeezing them together. “There’s nothing tying you down to villainy, so leave. Join me, Momo, and our potential would be unlimited.”

The plea made Momo stop breathing a moment. Hatsume’s eyes were sparkling, full of hope, dreaming already of the safe, civil future she was imagining for them. What if it was that simple? What if it wasn’t too late to take her place in society, and file in line with everyone else? What if she could stop fighting and finally relax, safe, into Hatsume’s arms? All Momo had to do was make that key to let them out of here, and she could leave this all behind hand-in-hand with Hatsume. She wouldn’t need this warehouse.

This warehouse Giran had gotten her.

Suddenly, she felt nauseous. She slid out of Hatsume’s grip. “I can’t.”

Hatsume’s lips pursed, frustrated, “What could there possibly be that–”

“Giran,” Momo admitted, fast but almost a whisper, “he’s my… I mean, basically… he’s the closest thing I have to family.” She took a shuddering breath. “I can’t abandon him, not for anything.”

There was a painful silence, rejection hanging heavy in the air. Momo wasn’t happy to do it, but there was no path she could imagine herself on without Giran, not even an idealistic suggestion from Hatsume could change that. Momo had to steady the path and she could get them both… had to pull Hatsume onto her side, so she didn’t have to give anyone up. Hatsume would give in eventually.

Slowly, Hatsume went back to her work. She said nothing else. Momo hoped that was a good sign.

Before she could get too comfortable though, a purple mist appeared out of the corner of her eye, and Hatsume immediately stiffened. Momo also braced herself for Tomura’s entrance, but was surprised to see a top hat lead through the portal.

“Mr. Compress!” Momo exclaimed.

He tipped his hat as he entered, but the portal didn’t immediately close behind him. Instead, a girl with blond hair and a school uniform stepped out. “Hello~!”

Momo tried not to look uncomfortable with the unexpected visitors. She knew Mr. Compress well, but Toga was hard to read. She was enthusiastic, but not always predictable.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Momo asked, trying not to seem nervous at how they eyed Hatsume outside of her cell.

“Shigaraki is interested in another cell signal jammer,” Mr. Compress told her, “and I wanted to check in.”

That drew a smile to her face. With everything going on, the League going wild and Momo occupied with Hatsume, they hadn’t had a chance to catch up. “I’m doing quite well. How about you?”

He laughed. “Well it’s been chaotic for sure. How is your…?”

Toga’s voice came from behind her, towards Hatsume’s bench. “Your girlfriend~?”

Momo jumped, turning. How had she not noticed Toga slinking around to the point that she was practically hanging over Hatsume’s shoulder? Hatsume was also surprised, based on her wide eyes and stiff smile.

The word Toga used was belatedly processed, and Momo tried to school her expression even as her cheeks heated up. “She’s my inventor.”

“ Your inventor,” Toga repeated with a knowing grin.

Momo did not appreciate her tone. “I’ll get you guys a cell phone jammer in just a minute, Tomura told me to prepare it,” she lied.

She went to one of the various bins she had created for Hatsume to store parts and put her hand into one at random. Tomura hadn’t told her ahead of time, but she wanted it to be plausible that she would have it on hand. Once obscured from the view of the others, she began creating the invention,

“Hmm, you smell good,” Toga’s voice crooned.

Momo stood up with haste, turning and marching to the lab bench.

Toga had taken a seat next to Hatsume, uncomfortably close and leaning even closer to sniff at her. “You smell like a girl in love.”

Momo shoved her arm between them, slamming the jammer on the table. “Here you go.”

Toga pressed her cheek against Momo’s arm like a cat that didn’t know when to quit. “Aww, you feeling jealous? Don’t worry, I have my own crushes.”

Fortunately Mr. Compress intervened, tugging Toga by the collar of her uniform and picking up the cell jammer at the same time. “Thank you for your assistance.”

“Anytime,” Momo told him, and only him.

Toga giggled. “I’ll try to visit again.”

“That’s alright, Mr. Compress is more than enough,” Momo informed her with a strained smile.

All that did was make Toga giggle again.

Behind her, Mr. Compress shrugged apologetically, but at least the portal re-opened then. They left, leaving an awkward mood behind.

Momo sighed and turned to Hatsume, knowing her face was red but not willing to run away. “I apologize, some of the League members like to tease–”

Hatsume’s brow was furrowed. “Cell jammer?”

She stiffened. That was one of Momo’s first requests of Hatsume, long before things had been revealed. “...Yes.”

“I see.” Hatsume’s lips were quirked up, but her gaze was blank and angled towards the table. “So even back then…”

She tried not to imagine how Hatsume felt, knowing another one of her babies had been unwillingly drafted into League business. “I’ve considered your work worth using from the start.”

Hatsume closed her eyes. Took a breath. “I guess I’ve been an accomplice from day one.”

“And now you’re an accomplice by choice,” Momo said, praying it was true.

“...Yes.”

Another day by Hatsume’s side. Momo felt so blessed.

She tried not to look too closely at the bags under Hatsume’s eyes while she let her out of her cell. It was nothing a little breakfast couldn’t fix.

“I’ve been thinking about circuitboards,” Hatsume said after eating, “I’ve just been using default models, but could you create a custom one? For maximum efficiency?”

“Or course, just give me the specs.”

They worked it out over paper, a more compact design with less weight but the same amount of electrical power that was needed for her components. The first prototype that Momo created, Hatsume had squinted at, tapping and soldering a bit, adding a few wires and a battery, but then had sighed and asked Momo to create another one with a few specs changed. Once Hatsume was satisfied with the second version, she flung the first one behind herself against a wall.

“That’s dangerous!” Momo exclaimed, “Those are live wires!”

“I’ll clean it up later,” she said with a dismissive wave, “after I fix up my babies.”

Hatsume brought them all out, aiming to replace their components. She laid them out on the table, the grabber she had made first thing which could flexibly stretch and grab across long distances. The leg supports that could allow the user to spring and sprint nearly as fast as an engine quirk. The latest restraint system, a ball that could be slammed against something to open up and start coiling around whatever it hit. Each invention with circuitry that she could replace.

“Okay, so I’ll make two more…” Momo muttered, already starting to create.

As they landed on the table, Momo was surprised to see Hatsume looking up at her instead of the new boards. “You’re amazing,” she said.

Momo tried not to blush at the basic compliment. “Thank you.”

Hatsume’s eyes were trained on her, like there was nothing else in the world that mattered. “Seriously, the fact that you’re able to create these designs in such detail shows a powerful understanding of each underlying piece. You never even went to school, right?”

The sudden intensity was confusing, but not unwelcome. “No, but school’s overrated, I’m sure.”

“It’s impressive,” Hatsume reiterated.

Having all the attention on herself was overwhelming, so she tried to redirect it. “You’re the impressive one. You’re creative, constantly innovating and making new things, or improving what exists. I’m… all I’m doing is trying to keep up with you.”

Hatsume giggled at that, leaning a bit closer. “Not a lot of people can keep up with me.”

Momo swallowed hard. “It’s worth the effort.”

The smile on Hatsume’s face was wide, sincere, and had Momo’s heart racing. Recently, those had become more frequent. Momo still didn’t fully trust her, but it was hard not to react to the cuteness of Hatsume’s happy face. Hatsume was with Momo, and she was happy.

The future she imagined for them, side-by-side, felt closer every day.

As if Momo’s poor heart wasn’t working hard enough, Hatsume reached out a hand, placing it over Momo’s. “Didn’t you once say we were a match made in heaven?”

“Ah?” Momo struggled to remember, but eventually set her memories on that day when Hatsume had first learned of her villainy and Momo had made the offer… though it was initially refused. “Y-yes. Back then. You can think of anything, I can create anything. It feels like we were made for each other, doesn’t it?”

Hatsume’s fingers intertwined between Momo’s. “Was that the only thing?”

Her palm felt hot against Hatsume’s. “...What do you mean?”

“That’s one kind of match, but do you think we match well in other ways?”

Momo’s breath caught. She had never said this sort of thing before. She wasn’t even certain Hatsume was trying to imply anything. “I think we’re very compatible. In many ways. Do you… do you think so too?”

Hatsume brought Momo’s hand up to her lips, just barely pressing her lips against it. “In many ways… yes.”

That was too much to be a coincidence, and something inside Momo snapped. She stood up abruptly, taking the few steps to get right up to Hatsume, who turned with the motion.

Momo put her free hand on the table behind Hatsume, almost boxing her in. “Are you lying to me?”

It seemed too good to be true. A trick to get her guard down? Or trying to ingratiate herself towards Momo for more privileges? Momo had felt the spark between them many times, had even been teased by Toga’s observations, but she still found herself doubting when explicitly faced with the possibility.

There was nothing but sincerity in Hatsume’s eyes. “No. Momo, I… I like you. A lot.”

Unable to hold back, Momo surged forward and caught Hatsume’s lips with her own.

As they connected, eyes slipping shut, Momo’s heart soared. Hatsume was hers. She was hers. She wanted Momo, perhaps as much as Momo wanted her. Their hands parted, only to wrap around each other, Momo’s hand going against Hatsume’s cheek to guide a proper angle, and Hatsume’s grabbing the back of Momo’s head so even when Momo tried to pull back, Hatsume pressed her to prevent them from losing a moment together. Hatsume’s lips shifted, almost licking at Momo.

Oh. Momo flushed, unsure and way out of her depth, but giddy. Hatsume wanted a long kiss, didn’t want to part yet. Momo responded slowly, feeling her out, afraid of her heart jumping out of her chest but not willing to give up this opportunity. Was this how it was supposed to be done? Hatsume seemed to be shifting slightly, strangely, and Momo struggled to keep up with what that was supposed to signal. Hatsume had never mentioned a past partner, so this had to be her first time too, right? Momo’s palms were sweating; she hoped Hatsume didn’t notice. She couldn’t exactly feel any sweat at the back of her head where one of Hatsume’s hand was, and the other hand… where was the other hand?

There was a slap against her spine, and she was abruptly wrapped up in dozens of extensions, twirling and wrapping around her body.

By the time she opened her eyes, Hatsume was stepping into her leg supports and swinging her grabber out towards her cell. Why? What was going on? Testing her prototypes? Now? “H-Hatsume?”

The grabber snatched something from under the covers of Hatsume’s cot, pulling back so fast Momo barely registered the familiar glass shape. But what could Hatsume want with one of her maple syrup containers? And why was it in her cell?

And what was that clear liquid inside?

Momo finally registered that something was happening, and started to produce blades out of her body where some of the extensions were wrapped around her. But fuck, the material was coated in metal that meant the blades would struggle. Her next thought was vaseline to slip out, but she knew the design would just tighten with any more leverage. A grinder? A saw? Could she get her body up close and break it without slicing her skin open?

While Momo panicked, Hatsume flung the container to the wall, where it shattered and splattered the liquid all over, including onto the discarded circuitboard with the live wire.

Realization struck with the ensuing explosion, blasting Momo off her feet.

When Momo had checked the vials in Bakugo’s restraints, that were supposed to store all of his explosive sweat, it had seemed low. And Bakugo and Hatsume’s cells had been right next to each other, with bars wide enough they could squeeze their hands through.

Belatedly, Momo realized that although the method to open the vial compartment was complex, involving delicately pulled pins and unstrapping things in a way someone restrained could not do with one hand, it wasn’t technically completely locked.

A design oversight. And the designer who knew it inside and out stood in front of her, cackling like a mad scientist as the explosions reflected and glowed in her eyes.

Hatsume’s legs were primed, equipped with the legs Momo knew would allow her to accelerate out of here with haste. Maybe that was why Hatsume was confident enough to turn and face Momo instead of immediately running through the new hole in the wall.

“I do like you, Momo, and I wish things could have been different, but I won’t become a villain,” she declared, confidence oozing out like it used to, daylight shining out behind her from that escape route, a halo of freedom, “Watch out, because it’ll be my baby that catches you one day. When that happens, I’ll visit your cell every day until your release!”

Momo gaped at her, trying to catch her breath. “Y-you can’t do this.”

Hatsume blew her a kiss. “Try to keep up.”

But of course Hatsume sprinted out, shooting out the wall into the sunlight while Momo stumbled in the darkness. Momo struggled to breathe, focused on her skin, her creation. She knew the metal Hatsume used in this restraint, she just had to stop thinking about how shattered every piece of her felt and focus.

A small, circular diamond saw, with a strong heavy base. She created it out of her calf, already on and spinning. She approached the spinning blade with her body, trying not to shake. Just enough to cut through the material, but not so much she tore open her own skin…

She got one near her thigh. But each extension was its own independent restraint, so unlike rope cutting one did not loosen any of the others. She grimaced and kept at it, angling for another, and another… She had to hurry if she wanted any chance of catching Hatsume before she was gone forever.

She slipped, and the saw nicked her left shoulder. She yelped, pulling back, and tried not to fluster at the wetness she felt dripping down. At the very least, her left arm was cleared now.

With a whole arm for leverage, she was able to complete the other ones, and although part of it still clung to her waist, there was enough free that she staggered up onto her feet and sprinted to the hole. “Hatsume? Hatsume!”

Momo started towards the direction she might have gone, then hesitated. Or had she gone to the left instead? Her head was a mess, and as much as she spun around, looking for any sort of clue, Hatsume was way outside her vision by now, surrounded by abandoned buildings and structures. She sprinted in one direction at random, and then with no other clues she found herself turning back, picking another direction, and still not hearing or seeing anything.

A wave of loneliness washed over her. Of course Hatsume had left. Of course someone so brilliant wouldn’t stay by Momo’s side forever. Hatsume had everything, a family, a future, a place guaranteed in the world and accepted by society.

Why would she let Momo drag her down?

Her throat was tight, struggling, and she wasn’t sure why she was still calling out, “Hatsume?” as if she would answer.

She had gotten used to Hatsume at her side. She had hoped, desperately, against all reason, that Hatsume felt the same.

She turned back and took slow steps to the warehouse. The empty warehouse. The warehouse Hatsume would probably tell the police or whatever pro-hero she might run into in her escape. Still, Momo returned to it, breaths coming fast. She stepped through the exploded hole, saw the laboratory inside with no inventor to use it, and choked.

Momo bent over, felt the strain of the restraints around her waist like some sort of sick, delayed embrace, and sobbed.

What kind of villain was she, pathetic tears dripping through her fingers? Had she truly believed that Hatsume could be turned, or had she just not wanted to let her go? Now everything was falling apart, exploded once again because Momo had refused to let go of that warmth Hatsume had shown her.

She took in a shuddering breath. No more warmth, no more weakness. Hatsume had chosen her path, but Momo would keep up, ram into her from the opposite direction. Hatsume could keep making her babies, could keep trying to ensnare Momo, and Momo would do the same. She wouldn’t be gentle anymore, hiding in the shadows and appearing only out of necessity. Momo had chosen her path, and it was time she commit.

Her sobs dissolved, wet laughter trying to replace them. Why had she thought a little side work with the League made her a villain? And the maple syrup? Market manipulation? Deep down, she was still fighting the way Giran had taught her to, in the shadows, gently, safely.

It had kept Hatsume safe from the truth for awhile, but now all the cards were out. What was the point of hiding anymore?

Now she was definitely laughing, cackling. She was free. She had no reason to hold back, it was time to become the villain she always said she would be.

Chapter Text

Momo stewed in her own thoughts, even as she went to Giran on the couch to do up her hair. She breathed slowly as he ran the brush through the strands.

Hatsume was gone. For now. They were on opposing sides; Hatsume had made that abundantly clear. She would never willingly work with Momo.

Giving up wasn’t her style, though. “Giran… do you know anyone who can infiltrate UA?”

His brushing paused. “Is this about your inventor?”

She pursed her lips. Even though she told him to back off and stop hovering around her activities, he still paid attention to the news. Leave it to him to put together the pieces, seeing the last kidnapped UA student returned home, then the news that UA would be shifting to a dorm system that would severely complicate any attempts to directly engage with Hatsume.

“It’s for the League,” she lied.

He chuckled, continuing to brush. “Well the League is the only group that’s been able to infiltrate UA so far, so they’re the experts more than I am in that department.”

She frowned. Tomura had given her a wishy-washy ‘we’re busy’ and ‘I don’t have any plans for that’ when she last talked to him. Apparently their new focus was recruiting and potentially taking in other villain groups instead of going immediately back on the attack, so Tomura wasn’t eager to throw himself or the League into UA’s high security force filled with pro-heroes at the moment.

So Momo huffed. “You said you would help me.”

“I will,” he said with a sigh, “in whatever way I’m able.”

She started to cross her arms, but realized he had her hair raised up now, so she paused to give him her hair elastic. Once he finished the last of it and her ponytail was complete, Momo started to get up, determined to go brood more in her room while plotting her next step.

But he paused her with a hand on her shoulder. “Momo…”

She waited.

“How would you feel about a break?”

“...What do you mean?” She turned face him.

“Like a… a vacation. Or something. A change of pace.”

She narrowed her eyes, suspicious. What was he playing at? “Like where?”

“Uh, I don’t know. What would you want? I’ve got enough assets we could dream big… Disneyland? Hawaii?”

“What would we even do?”

“Relax, or something. It just feels like…” he hesitated, but forged on, “I’ve never really given you the opportunity to do certain things that uh… that some kids get to do. I don’t want you to miss out on things. Being serious all the time ain’t sustainable, let’s take a break and just exist for a bit.”

It felt like there was a stone in her gut. So this was his solution to her trying to be more independent? Try to ploy her even further, entrench her with the illusion of a family vacation?

Momo took a step back. “I appreciate the thought, but we both have too much to do to disappear for long.”

“I could rearrange things, as long as we plan it right, I should be able to cover my responsibilities.”

Another step back. “I’m busy.”

“Momo…” His eyes were pained, almost pitying. “I think you need a break.”

So that was the truth of it. Anger flared under her skin. “I don’t think you get to make those decisions for me.”

Before he could say anything else, she spun on her heel and marched to her room, slamming the door behind herself. As soon as it was locked, she crouched down, curling in on herself.

What would it be like? Traveling with Giran without a care in the world. Would he match their passports? Would they share a family name then? On their fake passports for their pretend family?

Her hands went to her face, trying to smooth out the creases on her forehead. It hurt when Giran taunted her like this, pretending that she ultimately mattered beyond her quirk. It was effective, and it hurt now that she was old enough to identify it for what it was: Yet another desperate ploy to keep her at his side… and to force her to take a break from the dangerous villain work he didn’t agree with.

She inhaled, a shuddering breath. They weren’t family, their bond was a deal, and she trusted Giran’s ironclad deals but it hurt to think about the fact that he wasn’t her dad, and her father was probably sitting pretty in some office with a family photo on his desk, a mother and father and son but no daughter anywhere to be seen.

A thought struck, and she stopped breathing a moment. She stood up.

Hatsume was cloistered in UA, but Momo could redirect. If she wanted to be a big enough deal that heroes Hatsume equipped would come after her, she had to make her mark. Kidnapping Hatsume was one thing, but it was so private and mysterious and looped into the League’s chaos that news stories were crediting it to “The League of Villains” rather than “Little Red”. Her heart had been set on Hatsume, but there were others.

Others to take vengeance on.

Spinner sat stiffly in the driver’s seat. “So uh… where did you get this limo anyway?”

“Don’t ask silly questions,” Momo said from the passenger’s seat.

The original chauffeur was neatly tied up and asleep in a dumpster for at least the next few hours, the keys to this Lincoln limousine plucked straight from his pocket. She had called Mr. Compress to help out. Apparently he didn’t have a license, but he offered up Spinner who “had driving experience”.

Momo somewhat doubted that at how many people honked at them along the way, but overall he seemed able to follow the GPS built into the vehicle. That GPS wasn’t the only amenity; both seats had temperature control, and the several seats in the back had individual controls including a chair massage option. There was a mini-fridge of snacks and drinks as well back there, not that she could see them now with the opaque glass divider up and blocking the view from both compartments.

Most importantly, even the air was separated between the compartments, in theory for the driver and the passengers to set their own preferred cabin temperatures, but Momo had a suspicion that the passengers might just not want to breath the same air as “the help”.

“Is this the right place?” Spinner asked nervously, slowing down outside of a school.

Momo stared at the gates of the boy’s private school. “Yes. Now we wait.”

Spinner put the car in park and breathed out, shoulders relaxing for the first time since he got his hands on the wheel. “So uh… why do you want this kid anyway?”

“He’s the heir to a fortune. I’ll squeeze his parents for cash.”

“Ah…” Spinner tapped his sharp nails on the wheel. “You’re not worried about getting caught? If they’re rich they probably have a lot of resources.”

She smiled. “I’ve got a few other things set up to make sure they don’t take any risks.”

For some reason, Spinner was still tapping his finger. “…I dunno, it feels kind of weird to punish a kid for who his parents are.”

“I’m not planning to hurt him. I’ll just have him captive for a little while.”

After all, he hadn’t had a choice as to who his parents were. Just like Momo. She wasn’t going to hurt him, but perhaps she could show him just how unlucky he was to have them in his life.

Among the crowd, a familiar face started towards their vehicle. A pointed chin, narrow eyes, and dark hair. Like looking into a distorted mirror, if she were a middle school boy with a tousled haircut.

Momo pressed the button on the dashboard to open the back cabin, and Yaoyorozu Ichiro stepped into the limo, just as he did every day after school.

The GPS had been reset, this time headed towards a new location. Spinner carefully maneuvered down the streets it directed, carefully chosen to imitate the path she had observed this car taking almost every day.

Meanwhile, she pried open a tube she had manually connected to the passenger cabin’s air filtration system. She pressed her palm over the opening, and created sleeping gas.

Slowly, she counted down in her head. It would take time for it to fully permeate the cabin, but once it was heavy enough the next step in the process would be easy.

Kidnapping was much easier when it was premeditated. No desperate scrambling to shove someone down, instead she had these neat, clean methods that allowed for a smooth operation.

She could even prepare larger things in advance, like a whole car.

Spinner parked the car in the tight parking lot, abandoned since the business it belonged to it just went out of business. “Alright, what’s next?”

By now Ichiro would be asleep. Momo released the tubing, and pulled two gas masks out of her bag just in case. She handed one to Spinner as she put the other one on. “Now we transfer.”

They got out of the car, and Momo carried her bag out. From it, she pulled out duct-tape and a straight-jacket, as perfectly sized as she could guess from the videos and reconnaissance she had done. When they opened the back door, Ichiro sat slumped against the seats, peacefully asleep.

She dug through his pockets, pulling out a phone. She had watched Ichiro during the reconnaissance stage, had seen him open it while coming out of school before, simply using his thumbprint to unlock it. While he was unconscious, she used his finger to unlock it and swiped to contacts. After copying the information for Mother and Father, she dropped it on the floor. Spinner and she maneuvered him into the straightjacket and Momo slapped some duct tape over his mouth. Momo left Spinner to carry him, and hurried to the other car in the parking lot.

This had been prepared over the course of several days. It was her first time making a whole car, but by going piece-by-piece it wasn’t too hard. Plus, that meant she got to create the license plate herself, basically a copy of a random car she had seen on the street the other day. Additionally, the interior of the backseat was reinforced, with no way to unlock from the inside.

Spinner tossed Ichiro into the backseat, then got behind the wheel. Both of them took their gas masks off now that they were out of the limousine. There was no point keeping that vehicle, not when its GPS capabilities made it an easy mark for police to hack into once the Yaoyorozu’s realized their son wasn’t coming home from school. No, it was much better to let them find the empty vehicle and Ichiro’s phone somewhere random, like this parking lot.

They wouldn’t be able to track her to the next stage.

Chapter Text

By the time Momo had Ichiro strapped to a chair, he was wide awake. She had dismissed Spinner, ignoring his concerned glances back to the terrified child. Now it was just the two of them, a sound-proofed conference room, an iron chair, and a camera in an abandoned office building.

Momo stared down at him through her red domino mask. He was young, not even having gone through puberty yet. As she watched, his skin rippled and adjusted, sometimes changing color but mostly growing and shrinking various aspects, trying to rip the duct-tape off. She saw some wriggling under the fabric of the straightjacket, so she suspected something similar was going on underneath.

His quirk was similar to their mother’s, apparently. Some sort of body-morphing ability, though it seemed pretty surface level and bound to his mass. Still, she could imagine how fortuitous such an ability would be for an actor. The Yaoyorozu’s had probably realized early on and had him audition from a young age.

She hit the “record” button on the camera, and made a blade under her cloak. She walked leisurely to her hostage, stepping behind him and bringing the knife up towards his face as she stared at the lens of the camera.

“Dear Yaoyorozu’s,” she started, voice drawn so painfully polite it could snap and lash out at any moment, “You look like you’re doing well, managing one of the top conglomerates in Japan. Your son also looks well, growing popular as an actor. He has a bright future ahead of him, which I’m sure reflects well on you guys. Aren’t you lucky?”

She brought the knife down to his throat. She could feel him trembling against it, and pulled back just a smidgen so he wouldn’t cut himself with a swallow.

“Even luckier, despite being kidnapped, this villain is willing to give you a chance before she dispatches him! How exciting, yes? All I’m asking for is for eight billion yen! Seems like a small price to pay for the safety of your flesh and blood, isn’t it? Although…”

She pulled the knife away from his throat, and put her hands on his shoulder. She was still staring, smiling at the camera.

“By the time you get this message, you should be informed of the explosion that took place at your Naruhata warehouse. Every hour that you delay in my demands, another bomb will go off on a different warehouse. Try to disarm them if you want, but fair warning that they’re quite volatile and you have a lot of locations, so those bomb squads better be careful!”

Finally, she pulled out a large remote, a single large button on it.

“And no funny business, or I’ll set off all the bombs at once. Get it? Perfect! Then this is how I want you to deliver the money…”

She listed a location, and added all sorts of elaborate details about where exactly to go, what to do, what kind of briefcases to use to carry the copious amounts of money she was demanding from them. Once she was done, she tapped the knife against Ichiro’s shoulder just to give them a scare, then went up and turned the camera off.

From her bag, she pulled out a hotspot and a small computer she had created the other day. She set things up, plugged the camera in, and started to download.

While that transferred she decided to entertain herself. She turned back to Ichiro and ignored his flinch as she reached out towards him. She snatched the duct tape off of his mouth.

This was her first time directly speaking to her brother.

“Hello Ichiro,” she said sweetly, “it’s nice to finally meet you.”

“Y-you won’t get away with this,” he stammered out, “crazy villain.”

“Oh dear, you’re shaking,” she noted, tilting her head, “am I that scary?”

He took in a deep breath. The determined expression he made may have been practiced beforehand for some big film. “I’m… not scared. The heroes will beat you.”

Momo would relish in crushing that sense of naive security. “You don’t think your parents will give me money for you?”

Another shuddering breath. “They- they will. They’ll do anything for me.”

That made her cackle, laughs echoing on the walls of the room. “You believe they love you? That they care about you? That they could never throw you away?”

“I don’t believe, I know.”

That drew another round of laughter out of her. Is this what she could have become? A child blind to the selfishness of the world? “A little lesson, Ichiro: When the chips are down, people don’t care about anything but what benefits them. I bet right now you make them so proud, don’t you?”

He pursed his lips, trying to look tough as she stared him down. When he finally broke eye contact, shifting to stare at the wall, Momo stepped back and returned to the computer. That first bomb in Naruhata was set to go off in two minutes. By now everything had been transferred, so she sent the footage to every broadcasting company she could find and, finally, to the Yaoyorozu company support email.

As she hit ‘send’, she decided to tease him further. “You’re their perfect, cute little heir, so talented. You’ve been getting guest appearances on various shows, but you’ll be acting in a horror film this summer, right?”

“Have you been stalking me?” He asked.

She chuckled at his hesitation. “Yes, but all that was surface level. I’ve just been curious about you for a long time, you know. It’s kind of you to do the occasional interview, but I want to know more than what they usually ask.”

“C-creepy villain,” he muttered.

Momo twirled the knife in her hand, reminding him exactly what kind of situation he was in. “Tell me about your parents.”

He shivered. “L-like their address? Their quirks?”

“What are they like?” she asked, voice cloying, “How did they treat you? How do you feel about them?”

All her memories of them were distant, old moments that had been collecting dust so long that they had lost all their color. She saw them on television on rare occasions, felt their presence every time she walked past one of the stores under their umbrella, but she wanted to know how they seemed to a child who had the misfortune of being stuck with them longer than she had. She knew that the company had turned around, knew that her father wasn’t using any villains underground that she or Giran knew about, but she didn’t know what things were like around the dinner table.

“You’re weird,” was all Ichiro said.

She stopped spinning the knife and instead pointed it directly at his throat. “Tell me.”

When else would she get the chance to know what life could have been like for her?

Ichiro drew in a shaky breath. “I-I don’t know. I love them, they’re nice to me. They take care of me.”

“Not very articulate, tell me what they’re like. Surely that fancy school of yours has taught you to be able to speak more than that.”

This time he took a moment to mull it over, and Momo happily waited. She wanted his true thoughts, well put together. “Mother is… she knows a lot. She’s been helping me with auditions and stuff. She manages all that stuff for me.”

“Does she tap your back?” Momo questioned, “Remind you to straighten up?”

Out of everything she had said, that seemed to disturb him most. He stared at her with wide eyes and a furrowed brow. “Y-yes. She does. How did you-?”

“And your father?”

“...He’s busy, a lot.” His gaze drifted downwards. “Obviously. He has a lot to do. But… but he’s still proud of me. Says that having me was the luckiest thing to happen to him.”

She could hear their father’s voice in her head, I’m so lucky to have had a child with a quirk like yours, and it made her grip the knife handle so tight her knuckles turned white. “And your sister?”

He tilted his head, just barely, not enough to shift his throat. “I don’t have a sister?”

Ah. So that’s what the Yaoyorozu’s had decided to go for. Not even a shrine to memorialize her. They wiped her away from their history entirely, creating a new first-born without a glance back to the one they had given up.

They would look at her now.

Breezily, she opened up her phone and scrolled through some news sites, noting that several had gone ahead and broadcasted her threat. Footage of the explosion on the top of the Naruhata warehouse made clear the validity of her power. The news was aflutter with concern, heroes and police attempting to reassure the public that it was under control while also asking for the public to share any information they might have. The Yaoyorozu’s had even offered a direct cash reward for any helpful info that led to them getting their son back. It made her giggle, knowing they were wasting their money.

There was a burner phone in her bag, which she turned on. She input a number she had copied earlier and rang it. At first, no one picked up. So she called again.

It took four rings before she got a response, “Who is this? I’m busy–”

“Tell whoever you’re with that you just got a work call and need to excuse yourself, if you don’t want me to blow up your warehouses now.”

There was a pregnant pause, and then she heard a distant series of excuses, movement, and then the voice up against the receiver again. “What do you want?”

“I want you and your wife to sneak out of whatever authorities you might be meeting. Tell them she might faint from the stress and you’re taking her home, whatever it takes. But I want you both to go to a very specific set of coordinates. Understand?”

“ ...Yes.”

“I have my eyes on you. If you try to get the police or any pro-heroes involved, all your warehouses go boom, understand?”

“ And my son?”

She rolled her eyes at how he acted like he cared. “I’ll kill him too if I so much as smell a pro-hero on you.”

“ ...I understand. I’ll cooperate, so please… don’t hurt him.”

Hearing her father roll over so pathetically had her ego soaring. So what if he had thrown her away? She could dig his grave if she wanted.

Now that he was cooperating, she gave him coordinates, told him to call once he was there, and hung up.

Ichiro was staring at her, wet eyes. “...My father’s coming?”

“Your mother, too,” Momo told him, “You excited to see them?”

“Are you going to hurt them?”

She laughed, loud and amused. “Oh, I don’t know, it’ll depend on what they decide.”

Momo’s phone rang again, but it was her actual phone instead of her burner.

Giran is calling…

She frowned, and rejected the call before putting her phone on ‘Do Not Disturb’.

Ichiro swallowed hard. “What does that mean?”

All she could do was smile at him. This perfect, precious son the Yaoyorozu’s had created after making a mess of Momo. Had her father felt like he lucked out? Getting to trade a child to clear his slate, and then getting to have a new ‘firstborn’ he could play family with?

Ichiro was pitiful, being so confident in his parents’ love. He didn’t realize what they truly were; beneath that layer of graceful pride they were as selfish and self-centered as everyone else. They gave Ichiro life, but they would discard it if it meant saving their own skin.

With a start, she realized he would soon become the one person in the world who could understand Momo. Sighing, she stepped closer to him, reaching out a hand to cup his cheek. “Oh Ichiro… I’ll help you realize the truth.”

He shuddered at her touch.

That was fine. He was young, unlike Hatsume; he could still learn how to live a new life. She could open his eyes to the cruelty beneath the surface of the Yaoyorozu’s and then show him her path of freedom and vengeance. The thought made her giddy, a brother she could keep and care for just like how Giran had cared for her.

Her phone rang, this time it was the Yaoyorozu’s.

It was showtime.

Momo texted Kurogiri, Let them in.

“Step through the portal,” she said to the Yaoyorozu’s over the phone.

And then they were there.

Kurogiri dropped them in the middle of the room so they fell, landing on their hands and knees. Momo enjoyed watching them struggle to get up, clearly shaking and flustered. The portal was closed in an instant, so even if they had erroneously brought some authorities with them to the ‘meeting point’, they wouldn’t be able to chase them here. She was excited for them to realize how doomed they were, and to look up at her with fear.

But instead, their gazes fell behind her to lock straight to Ichiro.

“Mother! Father!” Ichiro exclaimed, seeming to relax despite the dangerous situation they were all in.

Her mother started to stretch her arms out towards him, but Momo stomped on the floor between them and held up the remote to remind them exactly what the risks were. “If you move, every bomb is going off at once.”

The parents paused, finally facing Momo properly. Though Momo’s memories were vague, her father seemed older with more lines in his face, and her mother looked mostly the same aside from a more subdued hairstyle. The two of them were definitely smaller than she remembered; where she used to crane up her neck to see them, now she was on an even level. With her mother, she thought she might have even been a few centimeters higher, enough to look down at her with disdain through her mask. Her father was probably a bit taller, but he was hunched slightly to embrace his wife so his eyes were at Momo’s level, both fury and fear in those eyes the same color as hers.

Her father was the first to speak. “...What do you want with us? The money is coming, I’ve arranged for my butler to deliver it. If you can just wait for him to get it together…”

She cackled. “You think I really care about the money?” Chuckling, she shook her head. “That’s just to keep the police and heroes busy. They’ve probably got that location staked out to hell and back, I made sure to leave some amusing little clues to lead them on a goose chase. That way I could talk to you guys unobstructed.”

Her mother was shaking, still glancing towards their son. “T-then what do you want, villain? Is this some sort of sick revenge scheme?”

Momo’s heart hammered in her chest. This was the moment, the explanation, the reveal. “You could say that.”

With that, she removed her mask.

And there she was, Momo Yaoyorozu in all her glory, staring at the parents who had given her up all those years ago. How would they react to their past coming back to haunt them? Initially, their faces were confusion, staring at her with furrowed brows. But soon… well, no, their expression didn’t change, though her father tilted his head.

“Er, I’m sorry…” he said, still squinting, “...are you perhaps an ex-employee? I’m afraid my memory’s not the best. If this is about last month’s layoffs…”

Momo’s jaw went slack, and only her fury kept her from collapsing on the ground from the embarrassment and insult that crawled over her skin.

They didn’t recognize her.

Everything felt slow, like she was underwater. She forced words out through the drag, “I-it’s me, me, don’t you remember?”

All she got was more confusion, her mother glancing at her father with concern. As though Momo was the crazy one here. As though she had used a child to save her own skin and then forgotten that child. As though she had ruined someone’s life and just peacefully blocked it out of her mind to the point where even when confronted she would just be confused.

“Um…” her mother stepped closer to her father. “We’ll give you what you want, if you just tell us what exactly…?”

Said like a stranger. Like a poor victim to some crazy villain’s whims. Like she was completely innocent and hadn’t sent Momo’s head and heart reeling into oblivion.

Momo took several steps back. This wasn’t how it was supposed to happen. They were supposed to be scared, shocked, terrified. They were supposed to care.

She almost bumped into Ichiro behind her. He was also looking at her like she was just some random villain who he had the misfortune of being targeted by. Her breaths quickened, and she stumbled backward even further, away, away from the people she had thought couldn’t hurt her anymore.

Even now, they weren’t looking at her. Her mother was cautiously approaching Ichiro, no longer blocked from him, and her father was just eyeing the remote in her hand that she could detonate at any moment.

As soon as her mother’s hand touched Ichiro’s shoulder, like he mattered to her, Momo snapped, “Maybe this will remind you.”

She dropped the remote, letting the corner bounce against the floor, and extended her arm. Out of that arm she created a gun, big, heavy, the same gun that Giran’s hired muscle had pointed at the Yaoyorozu’s a decade prior.

Momo pointed it at them now, and finally, finally with evidence of her Creation, understanding dawned on their faces. Widened eyes, closer to terror than anything else. Then her parents glanced at each other, as if communicating silently. What did that mean? What did they think? Momo stood stock still, anger thrumming in her veins but unable to move without seeing how they would act now, knowing the truth.

Her mother started first, hands tightly gripping Ichiro’s restraints as she spoke awkwardly, “Momo… I’m so sorry, we thought you were dead, we… we missed you.”

Her father joined in then, “Yes, we missed you terribly, I know this is a strange situation…”

“ Very strange,” her mother added.

“...but we’re just relieved to see you’re still alive.” He spread out his arms, put on a smile. “Come here, let’s forget about this and go home. Together.”

Momo wanted to vomit.

He took a step closer, ignoring the gun, arms still out as though she could just dive into them and act like her childhood had never happened. “...Really, this feels like a miracle. Put the gun down, and we can become a family again.”

Momo tilted the gun up to aim directly at his face, enough of a warning that he aborted his attempt to get closer. She knew what they really thought of her, what they had thought of her ten years ago, and she wasn’t going to let them manipulate her now. “Y-you don’t get to act like this,” she sputtered.

“Dear…” Her mother said awkwardly. “We’re happy to see you. Truly.”

“No, you don’t get to pretend that I was taken from you, not when I was given,” she declared, fire in her veins begging her to kill them right now for the audacity, “not when it’s your fault I turned out like this. How can you act like this? Like I was anything more than a gambling chip Father had to give up when his luck ran out?”

“...We didn’t want to,” her father insisted softly, as if he was capable of mollifying her, “we had no choice, that villain would have killed us.”

“Oh because it’s all about you, isn’t it? Saving your own skins. What about me? Why couldn’t you save me?” Tears welled up in her eyes, but she was too furious to be embarrassed at the weakness. "Why didn’t I get to have a family?”

Her parents didn’t say anything to that at first, and her eyes slid to Ichiro, still in his chair, staring at her with pity n his face.

Momo swung the gun away from her father’s face, and pointed it right at her brother.

“No!” Her mom shouted, wrapping herself around Ichiro.

Momo laughed, high and unfocused trills. She shook with each laugh, and could see the Yaoyorozu’s flinch with every sudden movement. They were pathetic… her brother most of all.

“You think they love you?” she shouted at him, “Are you happy that you got to take my place? Are you feeling so damn lucky that they got rid of me so they could spoil you? Well it’s time for you to see our parents how they truly are!”

She steadied her grip, then directed her next words to her parents.

“Let’s go through this again, why don’t we? Show Ichiro exactly what you are. Either he dies, or both of you do.”

“M-Momo, don’t be rash,” her father started.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Momo screeched.

Everyone jerked back at that, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was the choice her parents would make.

“You could take the bullet for him… or you could go on living your comfortable lives again. Let him pay for your mistakes, just like I paid for yours. Nobody would blame you, just say the villain who kidnapped him went crazy, and you would have endless sympathy.”

The room was frozen for a long moment, nobody willing to make the first move. Momo watched her parents, conflict and fear warring on their faces, and Ichiro glancing between them.

“...Mother?” He said softly, “Father?”

Her mother’s hands lifted off of him, and Momo let out a breath. That was right, in the end they weren’t willing to sacrifice themselves for a child. Just like everyone in the world, they were selfish, only caring about what was advantageous for them.

Then her mother took a step in front of Ichiro, blocking Momo’s aim. “I’ll take the bullet.”

Momo stared at her, standing proudly in front of her son like she was actually willing to die for his sake. It was an unfamiliar sight.

Even more unfamiliar was her father taking a sidestep to place himself in front of his wife, chest wide open for a shot. “I’ll take it, too.”

Everything except Momo’s hands shook at the sight. That was her family, banding together to defend a child. Why now? Why not her?

“I really will shoot!” Momo reminded them, still searching their expressions for an explanation.

All she saw was determination. Fear, yes, but her father had his brows set, and her mother’s gaze was steady. Momo was waiting for them to cower and jump out of the way, or beg for a deal, or anything, but they stayed firmly in position, staring down the barrel of Momo’s gun.

“You’re pretending,” she called out, hoping it was true.

But there was no doubt in their expressions. Her mother responded, “I already lost a child once, I won’t do it again.”

There was a shudder in Momo’s chest, a silent sob. So that’s what Momo was. A lesson they learned, then graduated from with no glance back to the case study they had mangled.

“I love Ichiro,” her father declared, fierce eyes boring into hers, “I’ll do whatever it takes to protect my son.”

Her whole body seized up, disgusted roiling over every centimeter, and there was nothing she could say in response to those words she had never gotten for herself.

So she pulled the trigger.

Like everything was in slow motion, she watched her parents eyes widen, then clench shut in preparation for the pain. Still, in spite of how they stiffened, neither of them jumped out of the way, abandoning Ichiro at the last moment. They stayed steady, protected him, the way they had never done for her.

There was a click as she let go of the trigger, and she dropped the gun. It clanged on the ground, loud and heavy. Slowly, her parents opened their eyes, and started to pat themselves, as though looking for the wound they couldn’t feel.

But the gun she made was the exact same as the one she had that fateful day–a flawless visual copy, but nothing internal. A replica as functional as a toy.

There was nothing else to be said. She started for the door, taking one last glance back towards her brother. There it was again, that pity on his face. He wasn’t the same as her, not at all.

He had been worth saving.

She bolted out of the room then, and out the first window she found in the hallway. She smashed it with brass knuckles she immediately discarded, and created Hatsume’s jetpack as she leaped out. It carried her away, prevented her from splattering against the ground.

Navigating through tears, she got as far as she could with the fuel she had.

This hadn’t been what she wanted at all, though now she struggled to think of what she had wanted out of this. This had made sense when she started, so why was her head now a mess?

Eventually, she was able to get back to her apartment, wiping her tears with each step. She just wanted to collapse and wake up, discovering this was all just a bad dream. As soon as she stepped in the door, she heard running in the apartment.

“Momo!” Giran exclaimed, “You wouldn’t answer your phone, but I saw the news–” He stared her up and down, “Oh Momo...”

He spread his arms as if he would embrace her, and Momo recoiled away. “Don’t touch me!”

She couldn’t handle any more of her heart being manipulated tonight.

Giran’s eyebrows rose, but at least he froze. There was an awkward hover, and then he pulled his arms back. Momo breathed easier at the reassurance. She could be an asset, at least, if nothing else. He wouldn’t risk losing her quirk by ignoring her request.

Still, he stepped forward, an ache in his eyes Momo tried not to look at. “Why would you go after… them?”

He couldn’t even say the Yaoyorozu’s. She had done so much crying that the anger flaring in her gut was a welcome change. “I wouldn’t have had to, if you hadn’t…” she choked again, struggling with the mess she wanted to lay at his feet. “...this was all because of you!”

She wasn’t sure if the hurt in his face was worth it.

But it was true, it hurt her too, but it was the fact of the situation. Her parents had given her up, but Giran had taken her. Just because she had this quirk, he had let a child become payment, and forced her to grow up this way. Why couldn’t he have just killed all of them that day, and spared Momo this torture?

Giran’s voice cracked as he spoke, “I’m sorry, I know I fucked up, but I still…”

“It’s your fault!” She felt like Tomura, lashing out, begging for someone else to blame.

He started to reach out again, but she took a step back. No, no more of that cruel kindness that he doled out to keep her pacified. “Momo, please, I’m sorry–”

“It’s too late to be sorry now, now that you’ve ruined my life!”

Heated, Momo brushed past him and ran to her bedroom. She slammed the door behind herself, louder than she ever had before, and locked it. To be certain, she created a doorstopper that she shoved under the door, then created and nailed in a new deadbolt. There was no way Giran could try and become her comfort again, the way he did when her parents first gave her up and she clung onto the first person who acted kindly towards her. She could hear her doorknob rattling, then incessant knocking, Giran trying to talk to her through the door, but she created some noise-cancelling headphones to block out the noise.

The last thing she created before diving onto her bed was tissues, which she used to mop up the mess that was her face now, dripping with tears and snot. Clutching those against her face, she cried herself to sleep.

Chapter Text

Hanging out with the League of Villains was better than the apartment, where Giran awkwardly reached out and seemed determined to talk about the whole “kidnapping and threatening blood relations” thing. Momo had been dodging him off thus far, but each attempt had her heart tangling into all sorts of knots she was terrified at the thought of untangling.

So Momo was getting to know the League better instead, who aside from some jokes pretty quickly backed off when she said she didn’t want to talk about her big kidnapping stint. The League had finally secured something like a base, but today they were hanging out in an abandoned building to meet a potential recruit Twice was bringing along.

She sat beside Magne, trying to play some sort of ‘training’ game that mostly felt like an excuse to slap Momo’s hand. Momo stared intently at Magne’s hands, hovering under hers, waiting. Magne spun the hands quick, bringing them up over Momo’s and angling down, and once it seemed Magne had committed, Momo pulled away as quick as she could.

At least Momo dodged most of it, but the tips of her fingers were still slapped downwards. Magne sighed at her performance, “Getting better, but you gotta react faster.”

Momo pursed her lips. “I thought it was a false alarm.”

The game was a challenge where Momo had to pull out in time to not get hit, but would also lose if she pulled out and Magne wasn’t actually going for the full slap. Trying to figure out the validity of the threat every time Magne twitched slowed her down enough that she hadn’t successfully escaped a slap yet.

Toga, sitting nearby, tilted her head. “Even if getting hit and a false alarm are both losing, I feel like panicking about a false alarm is probably less of a loss than getting hit.”

Magne snorted. “Depends on the situation. Good to practice as if both have equal consequences.”

Momo sighed. Another factor to think about in each situation, balancing the pros and cons of pulling out without being certain of a threat.

Before she could muse further on the point, the entrance to the building opened, and Twice walked in, their next potential recruit following close behind.

As soon as Momo saw the plague-doctor’s-esque mask on the face of the recruit, she narrowed her eyes. That was characteristic of Shie Hassaikai, one of the bigger yakuza groups, though their scope was somewhat limited by their lacking resources. Giran tended not to work with them, citing that their radical philosophies made them volatile contacts, plus frequent police surveillance of the group had him avoiding them for his own safety as well.

Momo tried to catalogue this man’s face as Tomura and him had a discussion about the future of the underworld. Giran might have said to avoid them, but Momo was on her own now; she could work with who she wanted to.

“I didn’t come here to be asked to join your group,” the yakuza said, immediately raising everyone’s hackles.

He went on, describing the yakuza’s current position, claiming to have some sort of organized plan, but wanted the notoriety Tomura and the League had built for themselves.

“Come under my wing, let me show you how you should be used. And then I will become the next ruler.”

Momo grimaced at the man’s ambition. She was enabling Tomura’s ascent, but she had a rich background and deep connections with him at this point. Though she had her own sense of competition, not wanting to be unable to turn against Tomura one day if she needed to, she still wanted him to become powerful enough that he would be a beneficial contact. She wasn’t eager to put him or herself under this random yakuza guy just like that.

The proposition itself was insulting. Based on the way the others in the League were raising their eyebrows and looking at each other in disbelief at the audacity, the League was in agreement at the inanity of the request.

Tomura was the same. “Go back.”

Beside Momo, Magne started to get up, unwrapping her magnet. “I’m so sorry Mr. Yakuza, but we’re not gathered here to be ‘under’ anybody.”

As Magne continued to share her philosophy, she activated her quirk, and Momo knew what was coming. She wanted to teach this yakuza a lesson about insulting them, ramming his head against her magnet. The yakuza was pulled towards them helplessly, and Momo at first was content to watch Magne show him a little brutality.

But then she saw him remove a glove, and there was an ugly thought in her head. Why?

Why would he take off his glove while being forced towards his enemy? Maybe this would be a false alarm, but…

“It’s because I want to live a life without shackles that I am here!” Magne continued, “Where we belong is for us to decide!”

Just as the man’s head smacked against the magnet, Momo reacted, pulling Magne back. Not expecting it, Magne stumbled back, but held onto her magnet with one hand.

The man’s hand braced itself on the magnet, brushing against Magne’s hand, and suddenly things fell apart.

Momo couldn’t even scream, that’s how fast it happened, Magne’s magnet turning to particles, and… Momo’s eyes widened. “My arm!” Magne screeched, falling back.

It wasn’t there anymore.

Though the yakuza was hunched over, not seeming about to attack again, Momo jumped ahead of Magne to head off any further attacks. Her hands were shaking, knowing that Magne was one of the strongest people she knew and had been blown away, but maybe if she made a shield fast enough…

She brought up her own arm to prepare, and suddenly there was a force that shoved her upper body back, a hot, tingling sensation grazing her upper shoulder.

Momo stumbled back, and suddenly Tomura was jumping in front of her, his hand outstretched towards the yakuza’s arm.

“Shield!” The yakuza shouted, and suddenly there was another man in the room, also wearing one of those weird plague masks.

Tomura grabbed his arm, and it disintegrated.

As Momo tried to catch her breath, she realized there were at least a half-dozen others who had suddenly appeared, all wearing Shie Hassaikai masks. The man who had jumped up to protect the man they had been talking to was clutching at his wound, but still standing. Momo was still standing as well, but as soon as things started to turn into a tense discussion, enemies on either side, she turned back to Magne on the ground.

Magne was breathing fast. “M-my arm,” she repeated, looking at Momo aghast.

Momo pretended to dig into her bag, and created some gauze and bandages.

…

...Or tried to, at least.

Momo started to breath fast. Was she in shock? She shook her hand, ignoring the pain in her upper shoulder at the motion, and tried again. Focused on the structure and shape of gauze.

Nothing.

The discussion behind them was coming to an end, the yakuza saying, “Once you’ve calmed yourself, call me.”

Suddenly Mr. Compress was beside them, shedding his jacket and wrapping Magne up in it. “We have some proper supplies at the main base.”

Momo wanted to make the supplies now, but her creation still wasn’t working. She had to be in shock, right? It would come back, she just needed a minute to calm down.

“Momo,” Tomura’s voice was right next to her, making her jump, “you were shot.”

She paused. Put a hand against that hurting shoulder, and drew it back to find blood. “Ah.”

He turned to everyone, mostly gathered around Magne and lifting her up as she cried from the pain. “We’re going back to the base to recover.”

Momo took several steps back, still trying to create gauze or something. Where was it? Where was it?

Tomura noticed her strangeness. “...Momo?”

“You guys go ahead to the base,” she said, forcing her voice to stay moderately level, “I’m going to go to Giran’s.”

Tomura’s face relaxed slightly. “Alright. Make sure to cover up that wound.”

She nodded; Tomura knew she should be able to create bandages. She would be fine. She had to be fine. So she hurried out of the building, not looking back.

As she walked down the streets, she could feel there was something wrong, which she felt in the depths of her soul. Something missing beyond the flesh and blood that had been torn away with the bullet.

She was terrified.

Would she faint in the street like this? She wasn’t sure. She just wanted to lie down in her bed, she wanted Giran there to hold her and dress her wound. He said he would always be there if she really needed it right? All she had to do…

She focused on creating that emergency beacon he aways reminded her she could use. An obnoxious design that would automatically activate his phone’s alarm even if it was on silent, sharing her location immediately and alerting him that she needed him.

With a start, she was reminded she couldn’t create, and despite the perfect image of the beacon in her head, her hands were empty.

Now she was truly panicking.

She stumbled down the streets, in the vague direction of the apartment. Should she call Giran then? Tell him… She swallowed hard, the truth setting in.

Momo did not have her quirk.

And if she didn’t have that powerful quirk, what reason did Giran have to take care of her?

He couldn’t know. She didn’t want to see or hear his disappointment, his frustration upon the realization one of his top suppliers was suddenly unavailable. She couldn’t bear to face that, to see every precious memory she had with him retroactively proven to be for her quirk instead of her.

Her phone rang, and she saw Giran on the caller ID.

Hands shaking, she answered. She had to act natural, buy some time, she didn’t want him to realize…

“ Momo, are you okay? Shigaraki told me you got shot, where–”

She hung up. Turned off her phone. Threw it as far as she could and changed course. Her steps continued, but not towards the apartment anymore. She wasn’t sure where she was going. Where was there to go if she no longer had her quirk? She went with haste, not wanting to be too close to her phone, in case Giran was desperate enough to find a way to track her location with it.

There was an alleyway, tight and abandoned. Walking wasn’t helping with the blood loss, so she sat down, leaning up against the wall. She glanced down, and was relieved to see that the bullet hadn’t gone very low, but there was still blood. Haphazardly, she wrapped her cape around it as best she could, thinking the whole time how much easier and cleaner it would be to just create some bandages.

She curled in on herself, absolutely lost. What was there for her without her quirk? She couldn’t go to Giran like this, but it’s not like a criminal like her could just waltz into a hospital… especially with no sort of documentation.

Momo shifted, and her necklace slipped down in the space between her collarbone and her knees. She blinked at it, the little wrench shining from her sweat and taunting her with her mistakes. She lost Hatsume, now she’d lose Giran as well.

...Unless?

She swallowed hard. What did she have to lose at this point? Without her quirk, she was just a girl, effectively an orphan with nobody in the world to call hers.

But there was a time, long ago, where Hatsume had cared enough to create this jewelry for emergency situations.

Would she still respond?

Momo pulled the two sides of the wrench, then spun the mechanism and let it close again. A tiny light in the center started blinking, and Momo knew Hatsume’s would be buzzing and beeping with Momo’s coordinates now.

She laid back against the wall. Perhaps Hatsume had thrown out her half of the necklace once she escaped. Momo wouldn’t blame her, after having been kidnapped. But Momo was so tired, her whole body feeling hollow with absence of quirk, and all she had left at this point was hope that some way, somehow, Hatsume might still care about her.

Her eyes slipped closed, and she tried to steady her breathing. Her shoulder still tingled with a strange ache, and she was careful not to press against it as she attempted to relax.

“Momo?”

A dream? Momo sighed dreamily at the voice.

“Momo, what…?”

There was pressure against her arm, so her eyes fluttered open. They met Hatsume’s golden irises.

Momo smiled, relieved at the sight of her. Hatsume’s fussing, checking her over, even a palm against her forehead to check temperature was a welcome distraction from the emptiness that pounded against her skin, begging to create but unable to.

“What the hell happened?” Hatsume spoke softly, but seriously.

As she cupped Momo’s cheek, Momo leaned into the touch. “Got shot.”

Her eyes widened. “You should have called the police. Or… ugh, I gotta get you to a hospital.”

Momo shook her head. “No, no you know I can’t do that.”

Hatsume grimaced. “I’m not a doctor.”

She reached out with her good hand, grasping at Hatsume’s clothing. “I don’t care. Just want you.”

There was a wobble of Hatsume’s lips, which she steadied with a deep breath. “Okay, can you make some like, bandages or something?”

The reminder had Momo struggling to hold back tears. “No.”

“No? Maybe just some layers of cloth then?”

“No,” Momo repeated, voice tight, “I can’t create anything anymore.”

There was a strange pause, and Momo waited to hear if that changed anything.

Instead of running away though, Hatsume tugged Momo upwards. She followed along obediently, letting Hatsume set herself beneath her good shoulder. Hatsume started them walking, letting Momo rest her weight on her along the way.

Chapter Text

They ended up at Hatsume’s old lab.

Momo was surprised when they entered to discover it looking the same as she last remembered. Including the dent in the wall made when Hatsume threw wonderflonium against it. There were still shelves fallen, inventions scattered, and the general mess that Momo had left behind when she dragged an unconscious Hatsume out of the building.

“…It looks the same,” Momo commented.

“Since UA went to the dorm system, I’ve had to do everything in their labs. Anyway, half the reason I still used this space even after getting into UA was…” She glanced at Momo.

Momo flushed. “Ah.”

She set her down on a bench, and Momo did her best to stay upright as Hatsume went to some corner and dug through boxes. Eventually, she pulled out a plastic container and carried it triumphantly to her.

“First-aid kit,” Hatsume explained as she opened it up, “In case of lab accidents.”

That made sense. Gently, they worked together to remove Momo’s arm from the sleeve of the shirt, and then Hatsume set to work. She wiped it relatively clean, though blood was still flowing.

“At least it doesn’t seem like an artery or anything?” Hatsume muttered uncertainly.

She placed some layers of gauze over the injury, and started wrapping the bandages around it. Momo tried not to flinch each time the gauze shifted, but was mostly unsuccessful.

When the last of the available bandages was wrapped, Hatsume sighed. “I’m really not a hospital or a doctor.”

“That’s alright, I’m just happy you came at all.”

That wrench necklace was still around Hatsume’s neck. Hatsume let out an amused scoff. “I told you I would, didn’t I?”

Momo leaned over. “You did… still, after everything, thank you.”

Hatsume took a seat next to her, and there was a quiet after that. As peaceful as it seemed, Momo couldn’t help but feel disconcerted. Her fists clenched as she prepared herself to confess the truth of what happened.

“I… lost my quirk,” she clarified,

Hatsume tilted her head. “That can actually happen?”

She thought of All for One. “Yes. It… it must have been something in the bullet. After it hit me, all of a sudden I wasn’t able to create anything.”

A dense, ugly fear clawed at her chest. The League and her had decided not to bow down to the Shie Hassaikai, but did they have the power to take quirks away? If so… perhaps the outdated yakuza could grow to a much more significant threat than originally anticipated.

“Why were you shot?” Hatsume asked.

“Negotiations with some yakuza went sour.”

She frowned. “I wish you weren’t in such dangerous situations.”

Momo felt inclined to agree, now that she had no quirk to back her up in an emergency. “Well now that I’m just… just a girl, maybe I’ll have to stay away.”

Beside her, Hatsume went stiff, turning just enough to stare intently at her. “…Leaving villainy?”

“I don’t know.” Momo brought up her feet onto the bench, so she could curl in on herself. “Ever since I was given up, it’s been… creation has been the thing that made me valuable. That made me worth taking, and raising, and… and caring about. Without it…”

If Giran had walked into the Yaoyorozu’s house that day and she was like this, quirkless, she would not have walked out with him.

“Giran won’t love me anymore,” she said simply, struggling to not imagine in lurid detail the kid of disappointment that would overtake his face upon the realization that his greatest asset had turned useless in her wild quest to become a greater villain.

He had loved her, she was certain of it. Or more accurately, he had loved her quirk, feeding it every single day and singing it lullabies as a child to keep it happily willing to provide for him. Momo had clung onto that security, used the promise of her quirk and her cooperation to drain comfort from his arms so she could feel like someone cared about her.

But there was nothing to hold him to her anymore. If she went back, she’d have to see what he thought of her alone, detached from the quirk that had given him so much power, and with a heavy heart she had to confront that she wasn’t confident enough to face the truth.

“I can’t go back to him,” Momo said hopelessly, “He’s not my real dad, once he realizes I’m worthless...”

She’d rather run away forever than be forced to recognize that no matter how much she wanted it, Giran would never be the father she wished she had.

“There’s not a place for me anymore.”

Warmth enveloped her hand. She lifted her head just enough to see Hatsume’s hand on hers. “What about here? With me?”

Momo swallowed hard, trying to hold back tears. She wanted it, had imagined it before, but now… “I can’t be your supplier.”

“That’s alright. You could be my lab assistant. Or something.”

She shook her head, distraught, “No, like this, I’m just… you’re smarter than me, I wouldn’t really help, you could have anyone with you and still succeed, so if I can’t even give you the tools you need, I’m really not worth–”

Suddenly, her chin was grabbed, and Hatsume forced her to look at her. “Momo.”

Then her face was pulled forward, lips meeting hers. This time their kiss was short, soft, a confirmation instead of a distraction.

Hatsume pulled back. “I don’t want ‘anyone’, I want you.”

Now Momo’s tears spilled again, uncertain and aching. “I’m a villain.”

“You could change sides,” Hatsume whispered.

“If I ever had to–if I have to fight against Giran, against Tomura and the others, I can’t, I really can’t,” Momo choked out, “I can’t help you hurt them.”

“Even if they throw you away? For something like losing your quirk?”

Momo nodded helplessly. “I love you, Hatsume, but I’m so messed up, there’s too many people in my heart, I’m so weak and I don’t even have a quirk to help protect me from all this.”

Hatsume embraced her, slowly, and Momo sobbed into her arms. She had no clue where to go from here. Would Hatsume really let her stay by her side, even after everything she’d done? Even if she wouldn’t be able to help her invent tools that would be used against villains? Just hanging on uselessly, would Momo herself be enough?

They stayed like that, Momo wringing warmth out of her, for a long while. Slowly, Momo pulled herself together, physically at least. When she was more composed, Hatsume pulled away just enough to pick up some rags, normally used for cleaning up oil, but now the perfect replacement for soaking Hatsume’s shoulder.

She blew her nose into the mess of fabric, and wiped at her eyes. Her breathing was better now too, though it hitched whenever she thought too long about the fact that she could never see Giran again.

“Momo,” Hatsume spoke softly, “I’ll be right back, but I need to run to the restroom real quick.”

Momo nodded. She had already taken up so much of Hatsume’s time, she couldn’t begrudge her a moment to take care of herself. Still, she watched longingly as she walked away, to the door that led to a compact little bathroom, nothing more than a toilet and sink so Hatsume didn’t have to leave the lab on long days.

As time passed though, Momo found nervousness creeping up her spine. Had that been too much? Was Hatsume trying to escape her again? Her just accepting things seemed too easy, like Momo had missed something essential.

Slowly, quietly, Momo approached the door. Once close, she was able to hear a muffled voice, and all her senses went alert. Hatsume was talking. She pressed her ear up against the door, trying to make out the dialogue.

“…Come get her?… Yes, yes of course… the address is…”