Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jiro jaywalked across the street at a brisk pace as if she was late to an important event or meeting. In this case, reality was a lot simpler than whatever impression you would get by gawking at her. She was merely attending a study session with some classmates from school. Jiro, despite all aloof pretenses, was actually someone who was insanely earnest about being late. If there was anything her mom drilled into her, at the very least, punctuality would be considered among the top of the list. “Always be on time or ten minutes early!” was something her mom used to nag ad nauseum when Jiro was in middle school. Not because she was a strict parent, in fact, her parents were 9 times out of 10 the opposite and Jiro was luckily well behaved. Jiro’s mom just wanted her daughter to give a good first impression—being musicians, they’re used to artists being late all the time, themselves included—Jiro would be different.

Jiro would like to meet their expectations.

It’s the least she could do If she wasn’t to be a musician after all.

Having crossed the street, Jiro ended her jaunt to take in what she was seeing. She checked the address on her phone again because she honestly couldn’t believe it, even though it said so on maps, Jiro assumed there was probably some mistake or it was marking things weird. But as she started jogging down the street trying to get a sense of how big the property was, Jiro began to realize after the fourth lamppost that the Yaoyorozu property was huge, if not gargantuan. And it only seemed to continue expanding into the ether.

While no stranger to wealth herself, being the progeny of two musicians who’re still successful into their 40s after all, Momo’s wealth is something of another dimensional plane. Jiro stuck to the side of the road she assumed rested Momo’s house, the left side, because the map application listed the right side as a extraordinarily large nature preserve protected by the city. After running for about two minutes in a straight-line along the intimidating yet quaint—half brick but mostly metal—Japanese fence, Jiro could see a blurry figure far off in summer haze, the intense endless buzzing of the cicadas replacing whatever they were trying to say. The figure waved and Jiro casually raised her hand in kind. It was the most she could suffice given that her focus was on making sure the items in her shoulder bag, didn’t jump out of said shoulder bag, in her haste.

As she arrived closer to what she assumed was a fellow student of Aizawa, standing what she was hoping was the entrance of the property, Jiro would be swiftly disappointed when she found the casually postured Kaminari, with his overfriendly smile on his dumb overfriendly face.

Kaminari is character whom Jiro personally couldn’t understand how he was able to get into UA, let alone into one of the best hero classes in the entire world, at least on paper. In fact, that Kaminari is in her class period makes Jiro seriously question that accolade.

Unbeknownst to her, Kaminari is in class 1-A because his quirk was well suited to electrify the robots he could kill-steal from other candidates at the entrance exam. In the three months leading up to the entrance exam, Kaminari crammed the most he ever had in his life to pass with a decent score. When he heard all Kirishima did was study for about eight months consistently leading up to the exam, and Mineta studied for about a year, he nearly exploded from how embarrassed and stupid he felt. With how beautiful all the girls are at UA, Kaminari was truly grateful for all of the hard work he put in, Jiro was one of many.

Kaminari snapped his fingers and pointed to Jiro as she got closer trying to catch her breath, walking this time instead of jogging, “Sup, like the shirt.”

Oh god he’s actually winking, Jiro thought to herself in such a way that was probably visible on her face. She appreciated that he helped defeat the league of villains but why did he have to be so cringe?

“Uck, don’t even try,” she replied in disgust.

“Hey, I just complimented what you were wearing, didn’t mean I was complimenting you,” he tries his best to jest.

In all honesty, Kaminari did genuinely think Jiro looked really cute in her oversized shirt and black jeans, her own aesthetic sense of style and disposition is what made her stand out to him, and what makes him glance over at her in class to catch what she’s wearing. Jiro too also appreciated Kaminari’s sense of style, he was clearly the kind of guy who actually read men’s fashion magazines and tried his best to copy what they write. It was honestly kind of charming, in a very “he’s trying so hard and it’s so obvious but I still kind of respect it” kind of way. Today he pulled a loose attempt at business casual out of his wardrobe, a black button-down with jeans and a casual necklace his dad gave him. In his right arm he was carrying a prestige red leather school bag.

“Oh, I’m sorry, who needs to leech off of whom this study session?”

They both start walking towards in the same direction in the hopes that the property entrance will soon show itself.

“Uh…. Yao-Momo?”

Jiro returns with an unamused look, her right earjack pointed and fierce like shiv, ready to stab.

With his hands up in defeat Kaminari admits, “Okay, I can say I was extra-interested in coming today after finding out you were coming too.”

“Maybe I would say nicer things about you if you weren’t extra stupid when you use your quirk, and only semi-stupid all the time.”

“Oh, come on, you’ve only seen me use my quirk seriously once.”

“One is all I need Dummynari.”

Kaminari sighed into a whine, “Aw man, you’re brutal sometimes.” He can never win with Jiro, can he?

“…Wait,” he realized with the smug confidence of cat who’s accidentally led its prey to a dead end but wants to play it off as intentional, “Doesn’t that mean you do have nice things to say about me?”

While still walking at her normal place, Jiro was visibly shocked, no pun intended. It was the first real slip in a few months so she honestly didn’t know how to respond in a way that didn’t sound suspect.

“U-uh, no?”

“That’s not what you said.”

“Well, that’s well… whatever.”

“Hm, I rest my case. I’ll save you the embarrassment of another question for now.”

“Fuck off.”

Kaminari laughed and shoved his left hand into his pocket, far too self-satisfied with his microscopic victory.

The pair continued at a comfortable pace down the sidewalk and along the embellished fence in the hopes of finding another member of the impromptu study group. Kaminari snuck small glances at Jiro in the hopes that the part of his hair that falls in front of his face could mask it. Being it was the first time the two of them have casually walked next to each other without sidestepping death a few minutes prior, Kaminari found it fascinating to notice the small idiosyncrasies in Jiro’s stride. Kaminari, due in large part to his affability and generally extroverted disposition, has had the opportunity to have something of an actual conversation with every student in class 1-A and even some correspondence with 1-B. And every time Jiro is made a topic of conversation, everyone says, to some extent or another, that Jiro seems “cool” or “aloof and mysterious” with her detached eyes. Having talked to her, Kaminari understands that Jiro’s generally quiet, at least at school. Looking detached is probably just a byproduct of how her eyes are shaped—she doesn’t necessarily intend to come off like how others see her, at least, that’s the way Kaminari sees it.

What Kaminari was looking for wasn’t anything perverse, in fact, it was the little things. The awkward stride as if she’d never walked next to a boy before, despite trying her best to appear otherwise. The anxious way she tugs the strap of her black tote bag, probably not because of Kaminari himself but because they’re going to see Yao-momo, and the fact her property was ginormous. At least, far bigger than they both probably expected. Even so, Jiro always seemed kind of anxious anyway. Kaminari noticed early on that if someone like Mineta, who doesn’t sit next to her, came over and entered a conversation him and Jiro were having, Jiro would suddenly become less talkative, and less confident in her responses. Jiro is like this normally despite her confidence during tense situations such as the USJ incident.

Kaminari is not necessarily a man who thinks, so his analysis is more so something he’s been implicitly processing over time. Even so, noticing the little things and thus understanding her better has made Kaminari interested in Jiro generally, outside of being a teenage boy.

He honestly found it kind of endearing.

Among all of this internal processing, Jiro did notice Kaminari periodically making side glances at her while they were walking in silence.

She honestly found it kind of creepy.

Chapter Text

“You can’t be frickin’ serious…”

Hanta Sero gazed up in awe at the towering gate before him at what must’ve been a 150 degree angle. At the very least, an arc steep enough requiring him to shield his eyes from the sun with his right hand, pressing his fingers into his coarse bangs.

It’s like… twice my height. Sero had a small growth spurt when he was eight, putting him a decent distance above other kids since the third grade. He would tease all his friends about it throughout most of middle school until a loose compatriot of Sero’s confided that the jesting genuinely hurt his feelings. He decided from that point to cease the juvenile ragging, a good hero is good to others, right? At least in terms of that particular topic. In short, he’s always been taller than the average Japanese person, but this is the first time Sero’s ever felt truly small.

When his parents made the left on to the claustrophobic yet limitless road where the Yaoyorozu family supposedly dwelled. Even his father’s jaw began to drop witnessing the ceaseless metal fencing continuing to stand alert in peaceful confidence. As immaculately embroidered as the fence was, Sero wondered what or whom was resting behind; what was so precious that all who could not fly should be kept out lest invited? Either way, ten minutes early to when he was expected to arrive, Sero climbed out of his family’s mini-van, and his father rushed away as if chased by the police to tend to the rest of his afternoon—the intimidation from the Yaoyorozu estate served as little needed “encouragement.”

Sero pulled his phone from his pocket, arched his head down, hand following to block the sun, and glanced at the time: 9:20am.

Early. Thank goodness his parents drove him because otherwise he would’ve been late at the rate he lethargically staggered out of his house. Even if that meant he was going to have to stand in the blaring summer heat for far longer than he would’ve wanted in his khaki pants and blue polo; an outfit he drowsily chose not considering the weather as he was wearing an undershirt, but because he was entering the abode of The Yaoyorozu family, whom seemingly was wealthier than he realized.

Sero checked the LIIE group chat made for this hangout. you could argue it wasn’t necessary to create one, since the plan was to study for only Saturday. But for the host, having a group chat made organizing the actual time and knowing when people arrived was useful according to the vice-president, so everyone obliged.

Sero casually typed, “I’m here” after waiting another five searing minutes, he didn’t want to be too eager or anything.

After pondering for far too long if the text he sent was far too short, Sero hears a hurriedly rhythmic sprint from his right, he turns to face it. Lo and behold does he find the culprit to be Ojiro, the mild-mannered tail-kid two seats up a row over.

Sero greets Ojiro, right hand raised, trying to act nonchalant as if he wasn’t just seeing this person gallop down the street full-throttle with a fleshy tail half his size, “’Morning.”

“Good morning…Sero,” Ojiro heaves while trying to catch his breath. “You’re the first person I’ve seen on this entire road so I hoped to catch up with you as fast as possible.”

Sero scans the long stretch road behind Ojiro, “That so? Well, I guess this place is pretty eerie now looking it…” Sero was too distracted by the gratuitously embroidered fence to really pay attention to how long the street was, but he could guess that it was pretty far from the main road, given he couldn’t even find the street it was so far.

While Sero searched for the ephemeral road that they both supposedly turned off of to reach the gate they’re at now, Ojiro spoke little. While friendly, like all the other members of Class 1-A, Ojiro certainly wasn’t garrulous if he didn’t need to be. He opted instead to examine the gate Sero positioned himself in front of. Ojiro was the glad he entered on the road that was closer to the entrance, or at least, that’s what he assumed. Ojiro also took note of the barricade between the Yaoyorozu property and the outside world. The fence, while warm, welcoming, and well dressed, were more like prison bars, both for those who live inside the enclosure and out.

Sero, having now been looking for the street for a bit too long, didn’t know what to do. He was reaching the end of the first semester yet he’d never had a serious conversation with Ojiro. They sat too far away in class for them to naturally have a conversation by proximity, that pleasure was left to Kirishima, Bakugou, and Midoriya. Kirishima was often the one who initiated conversations and Midoriya had this puppy like charm that made him non-threating, but this was uncomfortable territory for Sero. He kept staring in the hopes of something, anything, changing in the universe to prevent whatever awkward interaction that was soon to begin.

Thankfully, Ojiro volunteered, “Hey Sero, look!”

Sero turned around to face where Ojiro was pointing and saw his more amicable fellow classmates Kaminari and Jiro jogging toward them, with their red leather school bag and casual black tote bag respectively, the former choosing to wave his leather school bag as a greeting. “Hey!”

“Good morning!” Ojiro replies with earnest. The only person he’s even remotely familiar with in this study group is Kaminari since he sits behind Ojiro who usually talks to Shouji in class.

“Ahhhhh , thank god we made it!” Kaminari sighed with relief when arriving. He dramatically places his hands on his knees as if he’s ran ten blocks, “I’ve been walking down this road for at least 30 minutes, I thought it’d never end!”

Sero smirked, “If it makes you feel any better, I got dropped off in front of the gate and Ojiro took only like, ten minutes from the other side.”

Kaminari sarcastically smiled back “No buddy. No it doesn’t.”

“Gee, some friend you are.” Sero retorts in faux-offence.

“Don’t worry, I’ll happily show you how good of a friend I can be.”

“Thanks man, but I don’t swing that way.”

“I will fight you.”

“Since when were you Bakugo?”

Kaminari sighed into a beaming smile with a small fit of laughter. Sero chuckled in return but not from Kaminari’s old-man position. Ojiro also laughed a bit himself at the expense of his explosive classmate, though he wasn’t as familiar with the tumbleweed haired UA student as these two, so Ojiro couldn’t find it funny in the same way.

Jiro exhaled into a grin though not much else. Jiro was actually interested in participating in the small exchange, but… the words weren’t coming out. It was just the right amount of people to send her amygdala awry, which ultimately amounted to her being strangely quiet and stand-offish.

Kaminari properly stands up at a speed not fitting of an old man. He walks up to Sero and, as casually as if he was getting the mail, performed a peculiar ceremonial ritual known only to the most obscure cultists. At least, that’s what Jiro thought of the “secret handshake” the well-acquainted boys were demonstrating before her.

After finishing his handshake with Sero, Kaminari proceeded with a less elaborate performance with the tail-kid, “Good to see ya Ojiro.”

“Same to you,” Ojiro responds as if he’s lucky to even get an “exclusive handshake.”

Following the tradition with Ojiro, Kaminari then caught himself, balling his hand into a fist and slamming it against his palm with a small clapping sound, “Yo Sero, how’s our boy holding up with today’s special study session with him?”

Sero blinked, pleasantly surprised in Kaminari’s humorous reminder. “Oh yeah! Hold on, let me check to see if they’ve said anything.” Sero still held his cellphone, so he, among anyone else in the group, was in the best position to unlock his phone again and check LIIE, which was conveniently open. Sero skimmed the sports festival era chat that contained the contact information of Kaminari, Sero, Kirishima, and Bakugo—in which he found three percolating dots from Kirishima at the bottom of the screen, insinuating he was composing a new message. “Kirishima’s typing something now!”

Sero read the messages out loud in a relatively monotone reading voice:

“Guys, I’ve been here for two hours already and I REALLY want to go home.”

“Help me.”

“Please help me.”

Sero began chuckling while reading aloud.

“Oh shit, he’s arguing with his mom again!”

“Yo, she took like one step in the room and he flinched lol”

Both boys heaved into another fit of laughter. Kirishima had a tendency of amping the teasy parts of his personality around bakugo, and so his classmates were always entertained to witness his seemingly unbreakable irreverence.

Kaminari is just able to push through “I’m dead, man! I’m fucking dead!” during his laughing contest with Sero.

As frustratingly disconnected as she seemed prior, Jiro subtly exhaled again into an even bigger grin than the one she wore before. The suffocating grip held on her stomach that, for one reason or another, prevented her from speaking began to loosen. Jiro was far more familiar with the one Katsuki Bakugo than she would like to be, sitting to the boy’s left for the prior three months will do that to any good samaritan, let alone a well-meaning girl like her. Anyone attempting to make lite of Bakugo’s character is commended in Jiro’s mind; and, even better, making of fun of him never ceases entertaining—for he is an absurd character after all. makes a funny face? Kirishima will probably point it out. He exclaims some expletive in between classes? Kirishima will mimic him in a manner so uncanny it can even make the good-natured Midoriya snort. Seeing that a similar dynamic can be brought about even outside of class filled Jiro with a kind of familiar comfort, that alone made her smile. Though at the same time there was enjoyment to be found in those who were laughing together before her. Jiro loosely noticed a tangential feeling flicker in her lower heart at seeing Kaminari so amused, though she couldn’t quite put her finger on why that was, and simply ignored it for the time being.

“Heyyyyyy!”

Kaminari, at a rate far too startled—along with everyone else in a more relaxed manner—turned to see Mina Ashido’s boisterous bubblegum presence rush toward them at a rapid pace, chic handbag dancing and everything.

As the closest one to her, Jiro more timidly than normal, produced a “Hey,” facing her left palm toward Mina while trying her best to smile.

As she was approaching the group, specifically the punk, as if she hadn’t been sitting near her a day prior, Mina emphatically clasped Jiro’s hand like she was catching a firefly. “Jiro! It’s so good to see you!”

Jiro, not used to people being this close, couldn’t muster up an initial response. Mina’s energy emanated off of every pore and every joyous crease from her beaming face; cosmetically enhanced with makeup so on point it looked professional. In truth, it was intimidating—even if Jiro could respond. Mina genially continued, her purse falling to her elbow due to all the jostling, “I’m so glad you came! Always glad to have another girl to suffer with!” Mina scrunched up her face extra tight in tandem with her overemphasized ‘suffer.’

Jiro finally worded out a sentence, a shaky one, while looking off to the side, “O-o-oh it’s nothing, really. Like, the more the merrier, right?”

Jiro moved her eyes up again to see Mina not looking at her but instead one of the boys behind her. she was trying to be subtle but as Jiro was right in front of her it was obvious. It was playful, if not a tad menacing, as if she was a big cat—like a lioness formulating the structure of her next long hunt.

Mina shifted her sights back to her initial target, her black and yellow globes perforating through Jiro so effectively as to make the bewildered girl feel transparent.

Jiro couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not.

“Exactly,” Mina amicably replied while releasing Jiro’s hand and lifting her trendy purse back onto her left shoulder.

Kaminari felt comfortable enough at this point to begin interacting with the pink one, “Minaaa!”

“Kaminariii!” she replied with equal enough inflection as to seem mocking.

They both snapped their fingers and pointed, playfully swaying toward each other, like they planned the bit beforehand, before stopping at a comfortable distance for conversations.

“Like the shirt, and the necklace—very handsome,” Mina complimented while crossing her arms.

Kaminari rested his right hand on his hip, while gesturing with his left at the little denim Mina was wearing, “Your skirt looks cute. Did you do something with your horns today?”

Mina playfully rubbed her fingers up and down the ivory objects her head as if to showcase them, “Why of course, I filed them today just for you.”

“Why thanks,” Kaminari joked while swinging his hips side to side for emphasis. Mina giggled at his foolery, exciting Kaminari because a girl actually thought he was funny.

At this point, Sero had walked up to join the two jokers, “’Morning Mina, nice to see ya.” Sero scrutinized Mina for a brief second, “Your makeup looks awesome today.”

“Nice to see you too Sero—my love, you look dashing,” Mina greeted in a faux-amorous tone. Sero understood it was joke at the very least and conveyed accordingly, he wasn’t shrinking away like some boys his age might.

Mina took a breath, “I feel like there was someone else…” She scanned the immediate area around the opulant gate, starting to her left with Sero and eventually panning around to Ojiro to her right, who’s kept a bit of a distance.

“Ojiro!” Mina declared as she earnestly walked toward him.

“Good morning Mina,” He greeted in pleasant modesty as if they were addressing each other for a business meeting.

As she shook his hand, Mina briefly inspected Ojiro. They haven’t had a real conversation before despite sitting so close together in class. Mina was more likely to talk to basically anyone else than him, and Ojiro was fine with that. As such, he could understand why she would be inspecting him like this specifically, for they haven’t really looked at each other much either, at least not seriously.

“Hm, you know, you look… good,” she flattered with a cherry-like charm and a nod. It was subdued but also distinctly crystal at the same time, like you would break your hand trying to crush it. Mina Ashido, despite having branch-like horns and Lily-like skin, is alluring to many in a very conventionally attractive way. Ojiro, being no exception to seeing her in this way, didn’t know how to respond.

“Thanks… U-uh, you too,” he returned while trying not to look away. Mina was still shaking his hand, staring directly at him.

“Thank you. I look forward to studying with you,” she smiled.

“Me too.”

“Awesome.”

She finally let go, and turned around.

“Well, looks like we’re all here!” she notes genially. Her sentence coupled with a sense of completion as if having checked a box on a to-do list, like she could finally move on to the next segment of her day.

“Well, better late than never, I guess” Sero responded while glancing at his phone. While insouciant, there was the tiniest shed of worry in his voice. Everyone was on time but Mina, and with her introduction, now it was 9:32am.

“Oh come on, Yaomomo’s not going to be that pissed because we’re a minute late,” Kaminari skeptically contended.

“I mean, you say that but,” Sero, phone still in hand, extended his egregiously long arms to both sides “I dunno man!” Even with an armspan trumping most Japanese people, Sero’s Demonstration not only emphasized how big he was, but how tiny he compared amongst the backdrop of the monolithic Yaoyorozu gate. “If you aren’t worried, then go ahead and ring the doorbell.”

“If you don’t mind then… I will!” Kaminari retorted, realizing that was what he had to do in order to save face in front of the girls even though he would’ve preferred it if Ojiro had rang the doorbell or something.

“Be my guest.”

After turning his head to find it, Kaminari stared at the inhuman metal intercom system set up just to the left of the gate. He himself appeared as if Sero requested him to pet a brown bear. While he talked a big game, Kaminari himself couldn’t gauge how well Ms. Yaoyorozu would take their tardiness. While the young Yaoyorozu herself seemed the most eager of anyone else to lead, let alone participate, in their study group, she was the lawful good type—and was class vice-president after all. So, for a few seconds, the teenager just stood there, the blazing heat and trepidation sapping all of his vitality.

What would a hero do? The punk one thought in brief.

Jiro raised her hand, breaking the short tension in the air, “Hey uh, I’m already here, I can just do it.” This was true, Jiro was the closest to the box among the five. Even if she’s not optimally the one to talk to Momo first, seeing the relief on Kaminari’s face when she finished her sentence was the assurance she needed to confirm her decision as the right one.

Kaminari quickly nodded and concurred at a higher pitch, “Sure, that sounds like a great idea.”

Jiro then turned to face the communication device before her. While there was a speaker on the box, she couldn’t decipher whether the button below was a doorbell or activated a microphone, because she then would have to decide what to say. At this point, everyone rearranged themselves in front of the gate as a kind of vanguard, a united front to intimate the imposing entrance before them. While it worked as effectively against an inanimate barrier as you would expect, the impromptu group felt ever so slightly steeled in their resolve to confront whatever beasts lay inside. Because while you could see a vast forest of trees on either part of the street, those who dwelled inside the Yaoyorozu estate felt evermore abstruse and inhuman. It was almost as if that the walls themselves were not to keep nefarious characters out, but to protect any standard citizen from those who reside within. Even so, that isn’t to downplay their general impressions. They were absolutely confounded with their current situation, an enervating position ever clearer when they all decided to actually face the domineering gate itself.

Kaminari was the only one among them to speak now having stood here for a solid thirty seconds, as shaky as he sounded, “Wow… I knew she was rich, but I didn’t think she was this rich…” His group remained mouth agape.

Jiro determined she’d have a response in the off chance she would have to speak anyway. So, with her decision made, she carefully moved her finger onto the only viewable button on the silver square.

It rang.

An obscured but refined voice immediately spoke out, Jiro retracted her finger as if she was nearly bitten by a dog, “Everyone, I’ve been waiting for you!”

The massive barrier swiftly opened with laborious seeming creaks and moans, juxtaposed with an eager “Please, come in,” from the intercom.

The kids dubiously shuffled themselves, and began moving through the opened gap and onto the path toward the Yaoyorozu mansion.

While the gate was opening, to further abate back the silence, Kaminari voiced an additional thought he’d been carrying, “Does Yaomomo live in like, a zoo or something?”

Jiro replied as soon as she was by him, “If anyone needs to be put in a zoo it’s you Kaminari.”

“If that means I get to stay with Yaomomo, that doesn’t sound too bad.”

Jiro glanced at him; face wrinkled in sheer disgusted incredulity.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that!”

Chapter Text

While the crew of five traversed the grounds of the Yaoyorozu estate they felt an increasing unease. As those in the hero course, one of the best in the world, they all had an inclination towards justice. And as such, it felt almost devious to be walking among such affluence. It’s not because the asphalt road was particularly fancy or the trees surrounding them were uniquely impeccable; but more so as though the journey’s distance to reach this point, the iron guards of the land, and how perplexingly long the Yaoyorozu driveway actually was, coalesced into an atmosphere of opulence that encompassed the whole area. It was like affluence itself emitted from the ground like oil and rained through the environment in the most noble possible manner. By the time they reached the manor they almost felt voyeuristic, as though they’re about to climb through some poor damsel’s window after stalking her house for two days.

They were now able to fully drink in the striking contours of the mansion up close. It was western-style, wide, with a smooth alabaster exterior. There were two floors, with a balcony suspended above the entrance, balanced gracefully with four white columns on the porch. The group noticed two sets of grey double windows from either side of both the balcony and the entrance. And finally, the building was topped with a grey shingled roof, including a more extravagant design than what would be more custom for a Japanese-style abode. They approached the mahogany double doors, one the tiniest bit ajar, and stopped, partially to get their bearings of the place but also to work up the courage to enter.

“Well, I guess that’s where we go,” Kaminari shrugged while walking up to the door and putting his hand on the right knob. The top half of the doors consisted of an opaque glass that didn’t give an indication either way of whether there was someone else on the other side.

“You sure about that, man?” Sero questioned.

“Eh, this doesn’t really seem like the kind of family to simply ‘lock their doors’ anyway. We’d probably get vaporized on the front lawn if they really didn’t want us.”

“I guess.”

“Not to defend Dummynari but…” Jiro interjected. “Since Yaoyorozu already responded on the speaker, maybe her invitation earlier also included the main entrance?”

Ojiro chimed in, “Yaoyorozu could still be putting things together or something, so she might’ve left the door open.”

“Yeah, she also answered weirdly fast when I pushed the button so I think that also says something.”

Sero complied, “I mean, she did want to know when we were here after all.”

A collective agreement was felt from all other interlocutors in the conversation.

“…W-wait, But… you didn’t defend me though,” Kaminari mentioned, skeptically lost.

“Exactly. Yep. You got it.” Jiro smiled. “Maybe you don’t need the study group after all.”

Kaminari flashed Jiro a face filled with rejection and dejection, tied together with a big whiny bow, “Oh really now?”

Sero chuckled, “We should probably go in before Yaomomo gets pissed at us for taking forever.”

“Let’s gooo!” Mina emphatically cheered.

Kaminari sighed—defeated, and proceeded to turn around and open the front door of the Yaoyorozu mansion with the level of anxiety of someone opening the front door to their childhood home.

The group thinned into a single-file line and marched through the doorway—Ojiro using his tail to close the entrance behind them. Now in the comparatively cool foyer of the Yaoyorozu mansion, the crew could take in the eminent interior before them. While there was a space to take off their shoes at the door and supplant them with the conveniently placed scandals to the right of the entry way. They were in different sizes, so some members had to deal with scandals that were either a tad too big or too small.  The foyer itself housed a single grandiose staircase that arched its way to the second-floor overlook; and there were three doors that assumably led to different sections of the house: one to the left of the entryway, one to the right, and one quietly resting just to the left of the stairs on the opposite end of the room. In between the stairs and the far door was a long table with two shelves placed against the wall, with several framed photographs the kids weren’t brazen enough to inspect, accompanied by a small potted fern.  Even though atmosphere was overall cozy with a simple dark hardwood floor, a large red carpet across the center stretching between the twin doors, a regal chandelier twinkling warm light, two shoulder-height potted plants in both corners of the room closer to the entrance, and white painted walls—the teenagers themselves didn’t know if the rest of the home, let alone the family, was as quaint as this initial impression. What could be surmised so far could be summarized in two words, sophistication and grace, like the young Yaoyorozu herself.

Some were trying their best to process the initial reverence by simply tracing the various facets of the first room, while others were more interested in their actual objective. Sero was not the first to see, but the first to act upon noticing the arrow drawn on the piece of the printer paper pointing toward the door on the right. The arrow was delicately drawn in blue pen and rested upon a well cushioned wooden chair, the kind that would be common in a dining room. Given that the rightward door in the foyer was left open for the group to see, it was not hard for Sero to complete the rest of the equation. As he moved where the arrow was pointing, the others—out of fear of looking silly—followed in suit.

The group entered the dining room in various stances, some blithely ambled in because the table that encompassed most of the room took their attention. While others, who were more trepidatious, inclined for more careful steps.

Kaminari traipsed forward and quickly set out to claim the chair closest to the door. “Alleyoop!” he joked, as he jumped onto the chair he pulled out at the end of the table. Sero followed suit and walked over to pull a chair for himself right next to Kaminari, Jiro continued walking behind.

“Other side. Dumbass.” Jiro insulted so brusque and matter-of-fact as if to be clairvoyant, like her words were a foregone conclusion.

Mouth agape for the second time today, Kaminari gestured toward Sero completely flummoxed. But all Sero could do was shrug his shoulders and continue toward the other side of the room with everyone else, no support to be had. “Wow, thanks bud,” was all Kaminari could say in response.

The five placed themselves at the far end of the table, leaving one space for the famed Yaoyorozu daughter. The empty chair rested on the side of the table facing the windows which were fancifully shielded by the flower embroidered carob-colored drapes. The hickory-colored table was completely spotless and smooth to the touch, a product likely carved and imported from the type of country most of the group couldn’t even point to on a map. In fact, brown and beige was the general motif for the room, brown hardwood floors, pecan and taupe chairs; near the windows there was fireplace which looked perfectly maintained with little wear, and placed above it was a pleasantly composed green and white oil painting depicting a farmhouse surrounded by its quaint hilly fields. Given the selection of colors and that each of the seats were cushioned, the dining room almost prided itself on being as comfortable as possible. Added in tandem by the magnificent chandeliers dangling above both ends of the table, illuminating the room in such a way as to extract out as much richness out the colors as possible.

Next to the empty spot at the far end of the table sat the still bedazzled Mina Ashido, to her left was the visibly uncomfortable Ojiro. Across the table from Ojiro was a quietly uneasy Sero, to his left was still embarrassed Kaminari, and Jiro occupied the end—musing, unaware of Kaminari’s feelings.

Do people… actually eat in here? she pondered. The room looked so clean and so perfect as to be recently constructed. Realistically, that was probably not the case. There were likely professional employees whom regularly cleaned the mansion, potentially extra scrupulously because guests were attending. But if you scrutinized the fireplace, for example, it appeared completely unused, as if merely for show.

Sero took it upon himself to break the silence the group had been carrying since they entered the building, only once disrupted by the amateur musician.

“Man, this place is crazy.”

Ojiro, amidst such opulence and with a beautiful girl to his right responded, “Yeah, I feel so out of place, it’s making me nervous…”

“Me too…” Sero agreed.

Then suddenly, the necks of all within the group sharply turned as if they had heard a gunshot. But what they heard was merely a set of small wheels rolling over tile.

Thump. Thump. Thump.

They can make out the minor clacking of plate-ware that jostled with each thump.

Then suddenly, the thumping stopped.

All five, now staring at the same open door-frame, an additional passageway on the side of the room, could finally see who and what was making that noise.

Momo Yaoyorozu entered the dining room, all the while pushing a small wooden cart carrying a refined and immaculate tea set, six cups, and two plates with six sweets in total. She was wearing a red polo shirt that covered her white shorts, it looked the kind of outfit someone would wear while playing golf rather than tutoring her fellow classmates. While Mina might naturally emit exuberance, Yaoyorozu in this case exuded effervescence, as if the word “bounce” oozed from every nook or cranny of her figure. The group could almost imagine the singers reciting the most eminent of choirs as Yaoyorozu asked them—as eager as a newlywed greeting their partner after their return home, “What is it?”

Mina, Jiro, Kaminari, Sero, and Ojiro, all trying to match the same energy, replied in harmony “Oh, it’s nothing.”

Chapter Text

The atmosphere in the room shifted after Momo’s entrance. It went from a disquieting lavish entrancement, to a mildly bewildered amusement. It was novel to see the historically composed and stern Momo Yaoyorozu girlishly place the groups’ designated tea cups on the table; along with the two plates of sweets which were vertically layered on a thin metal display so any piece could be easily accessed. She left the plates for the confections on the cart she walked in with, the assortment of desserts seemingly serving as decoration for the time being. After gingerly resting the tea pot, whose origin likely predated The Perry Expedition, on the table near Jiro, Momo beamed and gestured her fellow student to begin pouring.

As Jiro lifted the pot and began filling her cup, Momo commenced a small speech she prepared for when everyone arrived.

“Hello everyone, and good morning. Welcome to my family’s estate, and our eagerly-awaited day of study!” Momo clapped; the rest of the group, who weren’t themselves pouring, awkwardly followed suit. “It is a true pleasure to host just to two of you, but five? It vividly demonstrates the faith you have in me as your classroom vice-president, and it is imperative that I fulfill that trust.”

“I promise,” she punched the air above, “I will not let you down!”

…

The room was silent, Sero’s tea pouring notwithstanding, and Momo’s fist was left helplessly suspended in mid-air, much higher than what was socially acceptable. For the first time, the young Yaoyorozu appeared frightened, like a child lost at the mall.

Ahem, Momo cleared her throat, and pulled out her phone from her left pocket trying to stay on script.

She continued with her prior well-bred manner of speaking, “Given that we all have different strengths in varied subject matters, I thought it would be good for us to complete a small practice exam I made so we have a good understanding in regards to what would be the most prescient to focus on. I do appreciate everyone sending me the scores of our most recent exams,” Momo looked directly at Kaminari “in private of course.”

Kaminari did his best not to crawl out of his chair, nor look at anyone else sitting.

With great speed, Momo’s thumbs darted across her handheld device, “I have just sent into the group chat the exam with a set number of questions from each subject. It would be wonderful if everyone could take out some notebook paper to write down their answers. The test itself should take twenty minutes to finish, after which, we use the following ten to correct our answers. Any questions?”

The new students of amateur instructor Yaoyorozu had finished pouring themselves tea by this point. Each of them still silent, swept up in the room’s heavy and distilled atmosphere composed of a mix of anxiety for the test to be, and uncertainty as to whether arriving on this Saturday morning was, in fact, a good idea.

Following what was, for many of them, an exercise in brief but searing frustration, all five kids relinquished their pencils and returned their gaze to the ebullient tutor poised before them. Momo had not for a second lost any of the enthusiasm she entered the room with twenty minutes prior, an earnest smile was still embroidered across her face.

Momo claps her hands together, generating a surprisingly quaint crack, “Wonderful! We have finished exactly nineteen minutes since I started the timer. Good job everyone, give yourself a round of applause!”

Yaoyorozu’s attempted celebration began with the most tepid of responses, initially instrumented by only herself. Jiro was the first to awkwardly put her hands together after witnessing Momo’s disquieting one woman band, followed more confidently by Kaminari. Once the lightning ridden quirk user had provided some well-needed noise to the room, the rest of the group followed suit.

Momo continued, “Now then, to keep right to our schedule, let’s begin correcting our tests. I have the precise answers with me and I will simply read them out loud.” Momo then pulled out her phone, and with a mere few taps, evoked what some in the group would consider an inconspicuous harbinger of shame and dismay.

While the process of a mere answer check is brief, it doesn’t lessen the impact when one realizes they’re undeniably incorrect on the same questions they always get wrong for every exam they take. Within the limited time when Momo was reading out the answers Sero whispered a brief exchange with Kaminari, eventually catching the attention of Ms. Yaoyorozu as she finished. “Is something the matter Kaminari, Sero?” she inquired.

Kaminari responded candidly, as if he didn’t realize he was moments prior committing a rude act, “We were just talking about, as a treat for finishing our practice exam, possibly taking a break to tour your uh… magnificent home for a few minutes?” Jiro was unamused with Kaminari’s demonstrable pride at remembering the word ‘magnificent.’

Momo sounded as if someone was turning her volume slider down each word, “A break? Well, we have a particular schedule I would prefer to ke—”

Mina interjected, “Ooooh, an exclusive Yaomomo mansion tour? Sounds exciting, doesn’t it?” Mina gazed at Momo with her iconic bumblebee eyes—which, in that moment, tried to evoke as much sympathy from Ms. Yaoyorozu as possible. Mina’s influence was not to be understated, both Kaminari and Sero both adopted the same posture, seeking a concession from their fellow classmate.

Momo brought her hand to her mouth, lightly clenched into a fist, and collected her thoughts. She acquiesced, “I suppose we could take a brief walk around the first floor of the estate.”

“Woohoo!” Mina exclaimed in jubilation. The rest of the table provided more subdued responses, Kaminari provided an incredibly exaggerated sigh of relief, along with a far more reserved one from Sero. Ojiro left little to read, instead he silently absorbed the room he was already sitting in, trying to imagine what the rest of the mansion was like. Kyoka, on the other hand, traced her field of vision across the table, starting from her right with the now relaxed Kaminari, and ended with Yaoyorozu, fist still pressed against her red polo. Despite her previously palpable energy, Jiro had still noticed something off about her class Vice-President, something that was only more apparent now that the schedule had changed. Jiro couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was, however, she still felt a mild sadness, delicate yet opaque.

Chapter Text

Despite UA Academy being the premier hero school in the world, most of its students do not come from a place of high status or privilege. UA academy as an institution is heavily subsidized by the Japanese government, which can only get away with having such a luxurious campus by enlisting the help of various members of staff like Cementoss, or other heroes whom are friends with Principal Nezu. Because of this, UA tuition fees are the same as any other private high school in Japan with incredibly generous need-based scholarship opportunities. That isn’t to say the average UA student is impoverished, far from it. Most students at UA academy come from various elements of the middle or upper middle classes, for those are the ones that can often afford the expensive cram school programs necessary to pass the dismayingly difficult paper exam. Most of class 1-A are derived from this aforementioned economic make up, with someone like Midoriya Izuku, raised by a single mother, being on the lower end of the income spectrum. For those born of affluence, their lives trended toward what had been the norm before the rise of quirks, the continued perpetuation of wealth and power. Momo Yaoyorozu is an anomaly in how she desired to venture into hero work despite her incredible levels of intelligence and leadership skills, which could translate perfectly into a future megacorporation’s CEO. For whatever reason, Momo Yaoyorozu opted against a life of relative leisure and safety.

One was remiss to catch Momo Yaoyorozu flaunting her wealth at UA Academy, with the only real demonstration being the limousine that drove her to and from school every day. Of course, everything else about Ms. Yaoyorozu was a living, breathing testament to her family’s lineage whenever you talked to her, but she brought her vast wealth to attention as little as possible. Because of her relative humility, after a few months, most in Class 1-A had forgotten Momo’s fortune, until today. While each hallway felt narrower than you’d expect, each room made even the relatively wealthy punk daughter of two successful musicians feel destitute in comparison.

A second gym!? She thought to herself in reserved, but mildly envious, disbelief. Even if the second exercise room was more of a free weight/ballet room than a weight-lifting area like the first gym, nevertheless, the Yaoyorozu mansion did in fact have two gyms. But not only that, several bedrooms, bathrooms, storage closets, two study rooms (that aren’t libraries), a wardrobe, an actual library to store the rest of the books, a luxuriously prepared kitchen, and something approximating a mini theater. These are merely a portion of the total rooms or areas of the estate, but listing any further would be excessive.

Returning to the second gym, Momo continued her tour with a clear indication of discomfort, “And here we have a secondary exercise room, focusing on free weights, recovery exercises, yoga, tai chi, ballet, or combat practice. In the small closet in the corner behind you there are several types of mats for the various potential uses for this room, no matter how esoteric.”

While the makeshift tour group of Class 1-A were completely ignorant of what the term “esoteric” even meant, everyone understood how oddly specific the rooms in the Yaoyorozu mansion could be. Even so, this did not prevent members of the group from finding their own entertainment.

“Now, who do you think could lift the heaviest weight, and why is it me?” Kaminari asks with an overconfident shrug.

“If by heaviest you mean heavy for a toddler, then yeah it’s probably you,” Jirou responded back very matter-of-fact.

An “Oooooh she got you there,” could be heard from Sero in between Mina’s laughing fit and Kaminari’s feckless nonresponse.

Kaminari separated from the group and walked from the right side of the room—where everyone was standing, to the left—where there sat a large rack of free weights and dumbbells with an impressive wall mirror lording over them. The weight display rested on top of a 3 x 4 rectangle of black rubber floor tiles that stretched from the corner to about one-fifth of the room. The piercing artificial lights were necessary when the sun could barely grace the exercise room at this time of day from the thin angular windows at the top of the opposing wall.

Momo attempted to interject with a, “Uh, everyone, how about we continue with the tour instea—”

“If that’s how it is, then I’ll just have to show you guy how much of a hero I am,” Kaminari postured, in a tone almost convincing you he was merely pretending to do what he was about to. The young Yaoyorozu wilted.

With a strained grunt, Kaminari proceeded to lift a 50lb weight from the center of the rack’s top shelf. His right hand, now desperately white-knuckling the weight, was stiff despite how loose the rest of the arm appeared, which at this point was practically dangling the whole set up. Even so, Kaminari kept his back straight and bore a proud grin in spite of his detractors.

“Well, aren’t you going like, lift it?” Sero questioned.

“Yeah, pump some iron!” Yelled Mina.

Kaminari appeared increasingly distressed as the rest of the group moved closer to get a better look at his soon to be feat of strength. Even with his reservations, Kaminari adjusted his posture again, and began straining his entire body in an attempt to lift the heavy weight. The best way to describe Kaminari’s expression would be something akin to an incredibly intense bowel movement. His demeanor, increasingly red by each second, was intensely contorted, you could see the muscles in his face working as hard as those in his biceps and his back. With all of his effort, Kaminari was about halfway through a full curl.

“Don’t drop it!” Heckled Sero

Kaminari did his best to not mind him, not because it wasn’t irritating, but because if he tried to acknowledge Sero at all he would risk dropping the weight, which would land directly on his toes.

After a painful 45 seconds, Kaminari successfully lifted a weight still too large for his stature into a full curl.

A small “Wooooo!” could be heard from Mina accompanied by some light clapping.

“Rrrrrrrgh,” Kaminari grunted with a smile, barely able to speak.

“Not bad,” said Jiro. Followed by a “Nice job, man!” from Sero.

Kaminari moved the arm with the weight to the side so he could attempt to flex both arms. Now in this new pose, another question remained, one Kaminari didn’t have a good answer to.

“Uh Kaminari,” Ojiro spoke up. “…Will you be okay to put that weight back?”

A surprised expression could be seen from Kaminari, along with an audible “eh?” before his right arm collapsed, dropping the weight along with a loud slam.

An individual gasp or “Woah!” could be heard echoing through the gym by each member of the tour group. Thankfully, because of his arm’s positioning, Kaminari narrowly avoided breaking his foot. However, he grabbed his shoulder out of instinct.

“I’m good!” Kaminari claimed still holding his shoulder.

After the initial shock ended, Mina paced over to grab the dumbbell saying, “I got it!” Along the way.

“My word, Kaminari, are you alright?” Momo asked, hands still to her mouth.

Kaminari finally let go of his right shoulder and walked over to Momo, “Yeah… yeah, I’m alright, see?” Kaminari moved his shoulder around to demonstrate its usage.

The young Yaoyorozu, with remorse palpable, yet so delicate—put her hands on Kaminari’s shoulder, “I’m so sorry, I…”

Kaminari looked visibly nervous at her gesture, “Don’t sweat it, seriously.”

Jiro made her way to the two discussing at a surprising speed, almost like she was trying to stop something. Sero accompanied her but at a more casual pace.

Momo nodded without saying anything else, and removed her hands. Kaminari gave his friends a thumbs up to reinforce his good health.

Meanwhile, Ojiro observed as Mina attempted to pick up the weight. Ojiro in this case was perplexed; instead of bending at her knees, he watched as the young Ashido bent down at the waist to pick up the dumbbell. While Mina wore a denim skirt, and it was long enough to cover anything sensitive, Ojiro received a surprising view of Mina’s entire legs, both of which were pink and incredibly toned. As perverse as Ojiro felt by seeing that, what impressed him was Mina’s ability to tightly grip the weight and carry it up with her. It was quite clandestine even with her sleeveless ware, but Mina Ashido had an impressive amount of muscle it turns out.

After she stood up, Mina turned and noticed Ojiro staring at her. An “Oope, sorry about that,” left her lips, the accompanying smile nullifying any potential communicable embarrassment.

While there was some struggle, Mina successfully placed the 50lb weight back on the rack, its material not providing any sound.

Ojiro spoke, not realizing the words were audible until it was too late, “…I didn’t realize you were so strong.”

Mina seemed excited, “Well, of course I am! I’ve wanted to be a hero for a long time. You have to do weight training at some point, right? So, I thought I may as well start early.” Her last words came asserted with a small fist. Ojiro, noticing the little bicep muscle that flexed along with her hand, nodded.

With even more interest, Mina continued, “Y’know, you seem pretty strong yourself. Very… well built.”

“Uhm... Well, I’ve been doing Karate for almost as long as I can remember… So, I guess I have a bit of muscle, yeah.” Ojiro replied, his words quiet and measured.

Mina giggled, “You don’t need to be humble, you have a lot of muscle!”

Ojiro was flustered, his tail shifting around in response.

Mina continued her hands now at her hips, “I mean, c’mon, have you seen yourself in your hero uniform? You have a nice chest.”

Ojiro, completely taken aback and unsure of what to say, simply replied with a “Thank you.”

“You are very much welcome.” Mina said, sounding very satisfied with herself.

“Alright everyone, let’s continue with the tour!” Momo announced, still uncomfortable with her position as guide.

“Yes, ma’am!” Mina replied, while her and Ojiro joined the rest of the group.