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Momo woke up to Todoroki standing stiffly by her bed, holding a small bouquet of daisies he must have awkwardly bought from the campus shop. His expression was unreadable as always, but his hand was gripping the stems so tightly that one was bending.
“Happy birthday,” he said, a little flat, a little too formal.
Her heart warmed anyway. “Thank you, Shoto.”
That was how the day began—sweet, simple, promising. She had no idea how it would spiral into chaos.
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The plan was straightforward: brunch at a quiet café in the city, a walk around, and then Todoroki’s secret “surprise.” But nothing with Class 1-A ever stayed straightforward.
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First, villains. Of course villains.
They had just been seated by the café’s large window, sunlight spilling across their table, when the first crash shattered the moment. A car alarm blared, followed by panicked screams.
Todoroki’s eyes flicked up immediately, sharp and alert, even as the waiter set down their menus. Through the glass, Momo saw a group of masked villains tearing across the street.
“Stay here,” Todoroki murmured automatically.
But Momo was already creating. A long, gleaming staff materialised in her hands, and she was on her feet before the window even finished splintering.
The fight was quick, messy, and public. Todoroki slid across the pavement with icy precision, walls of frost cutting off the villains’ escape. He moved with a quiet intensity, each motion sharp and practiced.
And Momo—he couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering on her. Her dress fluttered as she swung her staff, elegant but fierce, blocking a blow meant for him. She was radiant, powerful, beautiful. Even in the chaos, she seemed to glow.
He almost missed his cue to trap another villain in ice because of it. Almost.
Meanwhile, from Momo’s perspective, she was struck by something else entirely. Shoto was breathtaking—not in a polished, rehearsed way like her parents’ wealthy friends expected of her, but raw and natural. His movements were fluid, his speed incredible. Fire flared around him and she felt heat brush her cheek before he swept it away, all without losing control. The ease in which he balanced fire and ice—it left her in awe.
By the time the pro heroes arrived, it was over. Momo’s once-pristine dress now had dust streaking the hem, and Todoroki’s sleeve was singed at the shoulder.
He looked at her, guilt flashing across his features. “I didn’t mean for this to happen today.”
Momo only shook her head, catching her breath. “You didn’t cause this, Shoto. And besides…” she allowed a small smile, “…it was impressive.”
The tips of his ears went pink.
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They tried again. After giving statements to the arriving heroes and assuring civilians they were fine, the two returned to the café. This time, their food arrived without incident.
Momo finally began to relax, delicately sipping her tea while Todoroki studied the steam rising from his own cup. For the first time that day, it felt like they might salvage their plans.
Until Todoroki suddenly froze.
His hand went to his pocket. Then the other. Then both at once, a frantic pat-down that ended with his face going pale.
“…I… forgot my wallet.”
Momo blinked. “Oh.”
His brows furrowed, lips pressed thin. “I—don’t have my credit card. I thought I brought it but… it’s not here.” He stared down at the table like it had betrayed him. “On your birthday.”
The weight of his mortification was heavy enough to fill the air between them.
Momo reached for her purse without hesitation, sliding out a card and setting it neatly on the bill. “It’s alright, really.”
But Todoroki looked like someone had told him he’d failed a test he hadn’t studied for. His shoulders were tense, jaw tight, eyes downcast.
“It’s not alright,” he muttered under his breath.
“Shoto,” she said gently, catching his gaze, “I don’t mind. Truly.”
She could practically feel the embarrassment radiating off him like heat from his fire side, but she offered a soft smile, hoping it might ease the sting.
For a moment, he just stared at her—like he couldn’t understand how she could be so forgiving. Then he nodded, silently vowing to himself that he would make this up to her somehow.
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The “surprise” came next. Momo brightened when he led her to the gates of the city zoo—until the moment they walked in and the reality hit her.
She sneezed. Then again. And again.
By the time they reached the small mammal enclosure, her eyes were watering so badly she could hardly see.
“Momo?” Todoroki asked, horrified, watching her fish tissues from her bag.
“I’m ah-choo! allergic to fur,” she managed between sneezes.
His eyes widened in horror. “I didn’t—how did I not know this?”
The rest of the trip was spent with Momo valiantly trying to enjoy herself while sneezing into a tissue every three minutes. Todoroki stayed quiet, looking more and more defeated with every step.
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By the time they reached the dorms that evening, Todoroki looked utterly destroyed. They stood just outside the front doors, the glow of lights seeping through the windows where their classmates waited inside. The muffled sound of laughter and music carried faintly to where they stood, but Todoroki didn’t move to open the door.
His hand lingered on the handle, knuckles white, shoulders hunched as if carrying the weight of the whole day.
Momo turned toward him, concern flickering. “Shoto?”
He didn’t look at her at first. When he did, his expression was cracked open, raw in a way she rarely saw. His eyes were red at the corners, his voice low and trembling.
“I’m the worst boyfriend,” he admitted. “I’ve never celebrated anyone’s birthday before. Not even my own. My father never let us. I thought—I thought I could make yours special, but everything went wrong. Villains, the zoo, the money—” His voice caught, shaky. “You deserved better. I’m sorry.”
The night air was cool around them, quiet except for the faint noise from inside. Momo’s chest ached at the sight of him—this boy who had survived so much, who still carried scars that went deeper than anyone could see, now standing outside their home and thinking he had failed her.
She reached out, gently touching his hand on the door. “Shoto,” she said softly, “I’m not angry. How could I be? Today was the most eventful birthday I’ve ever had.”
His brows pulled together, confusion breaking through the self-loathing in his eyes.
“My parents used to throw me parties,” she continued, her voice steady, “but they were never really for me. Just rooms full of their friends, expensive gifts I never wanted, and polite conversations with people I didn’t know. It was all material, never personal. But today… it was just us. Even with everything going wrong, it was real. That means more to me than any present ever could.”
Todoroki stared at her like she’d just handed him something precious. His shoulders loosened, the tension melting from his posture, and for the first time all day, the corner of his mouth tilted upward.
“You really mean that?”
“I do,” Momo said, squeezing his hand on the handle. “Today was perfect in its own way. Because it was with you.”
Todoroki swallowed hard, eyes shining, and finally turned the door handle. Together, they stepped inside—where their friends erupted into cheers, streamers, and the glow of candles on a cake, carrying them into the rest of the night and Todoroki finally let himself breathe—knowing that, despite everything, he had given Momo something she’d never had before.
A birthday that was hers.