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It started with a textbook.
Not because either of them forgot theirs.
Not because the library had run out.
Simply because Momo's copy
happened to contain an explanation that Izuku wanted to compare with his own notes.
"...Would you mind if I borrowed it?"
Momo looked up from her desk.
"My strategy textbook?"
Izuku nodded.
"Just for one evening."
"I'll bring it straight back tomorrow."
She smiled warmly.
"Of course."
She slid the thick hardback across the table.
Mmm
"Take as long as you need."
"Really?"
"Mhm."
"I trust you."
Izuku accepted it with both hands.
"...Thank you."
That evening...
Izuku settled onto his bed.
His own notebook sat open beside
Momo's textbook.
As usual, he found himself stopping every few pages to jot down observations.
Alternative strategies.
Possible improvements.
Questions.
Connections to previous lessons.
Eventually...
he frowned.
"...Oh."
He'd nearly written directly into the textbook.
He immediately moved his pen away.
"...That would've been bad."
Instead, he copied the thought into his notebook.
Satisfied, he continued reading.
The following morning...
Izuku returned the book.
"Thanks again."
"I hope it was useful."
"It really was."
Momo smiled.
"I'm glad."
She opened it absent-mindedly as they walked toward class.
Something fluttered onto the floor.
A small yellow sticky note.
Izuku immediately froze.
"...Wait."
He picked it up.
"I didn't..."
Momo looked curious.
"What is it?"
He turned it over.
On one side… his handwriting.
A short note he'd apparently written while reading before deciding not to mark the book itself.
Instead of throwing it away...
he'd tucked it between the pages.
"...I'm so sorry!"
He looked horrified.
"I didn't mean to leave that in there."
Momo blinked.
Then looked at the note.
Interesting point.
Would this strategy still work if civilian evacuation routes changed halfway through the operation?
She read it once.
Then… smiled.
"...May I keep it?"
Izuku looked completely confused.
"...Why?"
"I've never thought about that before."
She slipped the note back between the pages.
"I'd like to."
The next afternoon...
Izuku found the textbook sitting on his desk.
A pink sticky note marked one page.
Curiously, he opened it.
‘Possibly. However, changing evacuation routes would also alter line-of-sight for support heroes.
What do you think?
— M.Y.’
Izuku stared.
Then laughed quietly.
"...No way."
He looked toward the front of the classroom.
Momo was arranging her notes before class.
She glanced over.
Caught his eye.
And smiled.
A tiny smile.
Just enough to let him know...
The conversation wasn't over.
The next note took three days.
Not because either of them had forgotten.
Quite the opposite.
They'd both spent far too long thinking about what to write.
Izuku borrowed the textbook again after their Heroics lecture.
"Thank you."
Momo smiled.
"You're welcome."
Neither of them mentioned the sticky notes.
Neither of them needed to.
That evening, Izuku found another pink square tucked neatly between two pages.
He smiled before he'd even unfolded it.
‘Your evacuation idea was excellent.
I do, however, think you've underestimated how quickly panic spreads through large crowds.
Would adding smaller safe zones reduce congestion?
— M.’
Izuku chuckled.
"...She's challenging me."
He loved it.
Not because he wanted to prove he was right.
Because she'd taken his idea seriously enough to build on it.
He reached for a green sticky note.
‘Possibly.
But if civilians split into smaller groups, communication becomes harder.
Maybe drones could relay updated instructions?
(Also... thank you.)
—I.’
The next morning, he slipped the note into the book before returning it.
Neither of them said a word.
Within two weeks...
The sticky notes had become a routine.
Yellow. Pink. Green. Blue.
Every colour meant another question.
Another idea.
Another conversation.
The textbook slowly became thicker.
Not because of the pages.
Because of everything tucked inside them.
One afternoon, Jirō happened to walk past as Izuku carefully placed another note inside.
She paused.
"...What are you doing?"
Izuku looked up.
"...Returning Momo's textbook."
Jirō narrowed her eyes.
"...With stationery?"
"...Maybe."
She looked inside the book.
"...Are those sticky notes?"
"...Maybe."
"...Midoriya."
"...Yes?"
"...Why are there about fifty sticky notes
in Yaoyorozu's textbook?"
Izuku blinked.
"...Fifty?"
He opened it.
"...Huh."
He hadn't noticed how many there were.
Jirō stared at him for a long moment.
Then slowly smiled.
"...That's..."
She shook her head.
"...Actually kind of adorable."
"It's just discussion."
"Mhm."
"I'm serious."
"I know."
She laughed.
"...That's why it's adorable."
That evening… Momo opened the textbook in her room.
Another note waited inside.
This one wasn't about hero strategy.
She frowned curiously.
‘Question.
How do you read so quickly?
Every time we study together you're somehow three chapters ahead of me.
—I.’
Momo smiled.
Then reached for another sticky note.
‘Years of practice.
I also suspect you're stopping every three paragraphs to think about alternative outcomes.
Am I correct?
—M.’
The reply arrived the next day.
‘...Maybe.
(Yes.)’
She laughed aloud.
A genuine, unguarded laugh.
One that echoed around her otherwise quiet room.
By the following weekend...
The notes had changed again.
They still discussed hero tactics.
And rescue operations.
And training.
But now...
Other questions had started appearing too.
Have you read this author's other book?
What's your favourite All Might interview?
Which hero agency has the best rescue philosophy?
Have you always liked tea this much?
The textbook no longer contained just one conversation.
It contained dozens.
Each one tucked carefully between the pages.
A history of two minds slowly learning more about each other.
Not through dramatic conversations.
Not through grand gestures.
But...
Between the lines.
And neither of them had realized yet...
That somewhere between debating strategy and recommending books...
They had quietly started looking forward to the next sticky note more than the next lesson.
By the end of the month...
the textbook barely closed anymore.
Not because of its pages.
Because of everything hidden between them.
Sticky notes.
Tiny diagrams.
Hand-drawn arrows pointing toward interesting paragraphs.
Questions.
Answers.
Counterarguments.
The occasional terrible doodle from
Izuku whenever he'd been studying for too long.
Momo had carefully kept every single one.
She'd even started arranging them by chapter.
"...Goodness."
She smiled to herself.
"I suppose this has become two books."
"Yaoyorozu?"
Momo looked up.
Itsuka Kendo stood beside her table in the library.
"Mind if I borrow your strategy textbook?"
"Mine?"
"Yeah."
"Iida said yours has the best explanations."
Momo glanced down at the book.
For the first time… she hesitated.
"...I'm sorry."
Kendo blinked.
"...You don't want to lend it?"
"It's not that."
Momo looked genuinely apologetic.
"It's just..."
She searched for the right words.
"...Someone else is already using it."
"Oh."
Kendo smiled.
"No worries."
"I'll ask Midoriya."
Momo's eyes widened slightly.
"...Please don't."
"...Huh?"
"I mean..."
She quickly composed herself.
"I promised him he could borrow it after training."
Kendo looked between Momo… and the very obviously well-used textbook.
Then smiled knowingly.
"...Got it."
She didn't ask any more questions.
She didn't need to.
Later that afternoon… Izuku arrived outside the library.
"You wanted to see me?"
Momo nodded.
"I finished chapter twelve."
She held out the textbook.
"Your turn."
He accepted it with both hands.
"Thank you."
As he turned to leave, Momo called after him.
"Oh, and Midoriya?"
He turned back.
"Yes?"
She smiled.
"I've left something near the end."
His curiosity immediately took over.
"You have?"
"I'll let you find it."
Izuku made it exactly twenty-three minutes.
That was how long he managed to study before curiosity won.
"...Near the end..."
He flipped carefully through the final chapters.
Nothing.
Another page.
Still nothing.
Then...
A pale blue sticky note slipped gently onto his desk.
Unlike the others… there wasn't a question written on it.
Just one sentence.
‘I always enjoy reading your thoughts.
— M.’
Izuku read it once.
Then again.
Then a third time.
A smile spread slowly across his face.
It was such a simple sentence.
No complicated strategy.
.No debate.
No analysis.
Just… honesty.
He reached for a fresh sticky note.
Stopped.
Picked up another one instead.
Then another.
Nothing he wrote felt quite right.
Eventually… he smiled to himself.
Sometimes the simplest answer really was the best.
‘I always look forward to reading yours too.
—I.’
The following morning, he tucked it
carefully into the same page.
Momo found it during lunch.
She smiled so brightly that even Iida noticed.
"Yaoyorozu?"
She looked up.
"Yes?"
"You appear to be in an exceptionally
good mood today."
"...Do I?"
"You have smiled no fewer than six times in the last minute."
She laughed softly.
"I suppose I have."
Across the room...
Izuku happened to glance up from his notebook.
Their eyes met.
Neither waved.
Neither spoke.
Momo simply gave the smallest nod.
Izuku returned it with one of his own.
It lasted barely a second.
Yet somehow… both of them understood exactly what it meant.
That evening...
Mina wandered into the common room to find Izuku deeply focused on writing something.
Not in one of his hero notebooks.
On a yellow sticky note.
She leaned over his shoulder.
"Ooo..."
"What'cha writing?"
Izuku instinctively covered it with his hand.
"N-nothing!"
Mina gasped dramatically.
"Midoriya!"
"You've become secretive!"
"I haven't!"
"You absolutely have!"
She narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"...Is this about Yaoyorozu?"
His face immediately turned bright red.
"...W-what?!"
"I knew it!"
"I didn't say anything!"
"You didn't have to."
She grinned mischievously.
"I've never seen anyone spend five minutes deciding how to write one sentence."
Izuku looked down at the note.
"...Is it really that obvious?"
Mina smiled.
"...Only to someone who's done exactly the same thing."
For the first time...
Izuku wondered if maybe… just maybe… these little conversations tucked between the pages of a borrowed textbook had become something more than either of them had intended.
And if they had...
He wasn't entirely sure he minded.
The sticky notes continued.
Even after Mina's teasing.
Even after Kendo's knowing smile.
Even after the textbook became so full of little coloured squares that it barely fit back into Momo's bag.
Neither of them suggested stopping.
Why would they?
It had quietly become one of the best parts of their week.
One Thursday afternoon, Izuku returned
the textbook as usual.
"Thank you."
Momo accepted it with a smile.
"You're welcome."
She opened it instinctively.
A yellow sticky note waited near the front.
‘Question.
If you could redesign one part of the Hero Course curriculum, what would it be?
—I.’
Momo smiled.
That was a difficult one.
She liked difficult questions.
She reached into her bag for another
sticky note.
Then paused.
"...Midoriya?"
He looked up.
"Yes?"
"You don't happen to have an hour free
after classes tomorrow?"
He blinked.
"...I think so."
"I was just thinking..."
She held up the textbook.
"...Some questions are becoming rather difficult to answer on sticky notes."
Izuku laughed.
"...That's true."
“So..."
A hint of pink reached her cheeks.
"...Would you like to discuss this one over tea instead?"
For a moment...
He simply stared.
Not because he didn't understand.
Because he had.
And the realization made his heart beat just a little faster.
A smile spread across his face.
"...I'd really like that."
Friday arrived surprisingly quickly.
Izuku reached the campus café almost twenty minutes early.
"...Too early."
He laughed to himself.
"...Definitely too early."
He bought two teas anyway.
Five minutes later...
Momo walked through the door.
She spotted him immediately.
"...Good afternoon."
"Hi."
She looked at the cups on the table.
"You already ordered?"
"I wasn't sure what you'd like..."
"So..."
He gestured sheepishly toward the second cup.
"...I remembered you usually drink jasmine tea."
Momo looked at him.
"...You remembered."
He blinked.
"...Of course."
Warmth spread across her cheeks.
"...Thank you."
She took the seat opposite him.
For a moment...
Both of them glanced toward the textbook lying between them on the table.
Then they laughed.
"We actually brought it," Izuku said.
"Mhm."
"I suppose we did."
They spent almost two hours talking.
Not writing.
Talking.
About hero strategy. About rescue operations. About books. About teachers. About internships. Every now and then one of them would open the textbook to point at a particular page.
Only to discover another forgotten sticky note tucked inside.
Each one made them smile.
By the end of the afternoon...
The tea had gone cold.
Neither of them had noticed.
As they packed up to leave, Momo carefully closed the textbook.
She rested a hand on the cover.
"...I think we have a problem."
Izuku tilted his head.
"A problem?"
She nodded very seriously.
."We're running out of room."
He laughed.
"...We are."
"There are no empty pages left."
He thought for a moment.
Then smiled.
"...Maybe..."
"...we don't need the book quite as much anymore."
Momo looked at him.
"...No?"
He shook his head.
"I still like the notes."
"So do I."
"But..."
He smiled warmly.
"...I think I'd rather hear your answers."
For a heartbeat...
Everything else seemed to fade away.
The chatter of the café.
The clink of cups.
The rain beginning outside.
Momo smiled.
It was soft.
Quiet.
Entirely genuine.
"...I think..."
She gently lifted the textbook into her arms.
"...I'd rather hear yours too."
They left the café together, walking side by side beneath a shared umbrella.
The textbook remained tucked safely under Momo's arm.
Its pages were full.
Its margins crowded.
Every spare space occupied.
And yet...
Neither of them felt as though the story inside it had reached the end.
If anything...
It felt as though they'd just turned to the first page of a brand-new chapter.
The sticky notes became less frequent.
Not because either of them lost interest.
Quite the opposite.
It was simply… hard to leave someone a written question when they were already sitting across from you.
Study sessions became a regular occurrence.
Tuesday afternoons in the library.
Friday tea after Heroics.
The occasional weekend spent buried beneath stacks of strategy books.
The textbook was still there.
Always.
But it was opened less often now.
Its conversations had quietly moved off the page.
One afternoon, Momo found herself alone in the library.
She reached into her bag.
Pulled out the now very familiar strategy textbook.
The cover creaked softly as she opened it.
Dozens of coloured sticky notes greeted her.
Yellow. Pink. Green. Blue.
Each one marked a moment.
A question.
A memory.
She smiled.
Then… for reasons she couldn't quite explain… she felt a tiny pang of sadness.
"...It's been a while."
There hadn't been a new note for
almost three weeks.
"Am I late?"
She looked up.
Izuku hurried into the library carrying far more books than any one person reasonably should.
"...Only by two minutes."
"Oh."
He laughed.
"I ran into Iida."
"I should've known."
He set the books down before taking his usual seat opposite her.
His eyes landed on the open textbook.
"...Looking through the notes?"
"Mhm."
She carefully turned another page.
"I'd forgotten some of these."
Izuku smiled.
"So had I."
They spent several quiet minutes simply reading.
Every now and then one of them laughed.
Or shook their head.
Or pointed out a particularly ambitious strategy that, in hindsight, had absolutely no chance of working.
"...We really wrote a lot."
Izuku chuckled.
"...We really did."
As Momo reached the final chapter...
something fluttered loose from the back cover.
A single pale yellow sticky note.
Unused.
The last one.
She picked it up carefully.
"...There's one left."
Izuku looked over.
"...Really?"
She nodded.
"It seems we've finally reached the end."
For a moment...
Neither of them spoke.
Then Momo smiled to herself.
She picked up her pen.
Slowly, neatly, she wrote.
‘I think we've run out of pages.
— M.’
She slid the note across the table.
Izuku looked at it.
Smiled.
Then quietly turned it over.
He uncapped his pen.
Thought for a long moment.
Then wrote.
‘Then let's use new notebooks.
I'd happily fill a hundred of them if it meant I could keep talking with you.
—I.’
Momo read the words once.
Then again.
Her heart skipped.
She looked up.
Izuku was smiling in that familiar, gentle way.
Completely unaware of what he'd just said.
"...Midoriya?"
"Hm?"
"...Do you realize that was one of the most romantic things anyone has ever said to me?"
His smile disappeared.
"...It was?"
She nodded.
"...Oh."
His ears immediately turned bright red.
"I-I didn't mean-"
"I know."
She laughed softly.
"I know you didn't."
He covered his face with one hand.
"I was just thinking about..."
"...Talking."
"I know."
"And notebooks."
"I know."
"And..."
"I know."
She stood.
Walked around the table.
Izuku looked up, still blushing furiously.
"...Yaoyorozu?"
She leaned down.
Very gently… she pressed a kiss against his cheek.
It lasted barely a second.
When she stepped back… his brain had quite clearly stopped functioning.
"I..."
"..."
"...I..."
She smiled warmly.
"I think..."
She held up the little yellow sticky note.
"...we've officially reached the end of this book."
Izuku managed the smallest nod.
"...Y-yeah."
"But..."
She glanced toward the stack of blank notebooks sitting on the shelf nearby.
"...I don't think we're anywhere near the end of our conversation."
He followed her gaze.
Then smiled.
A real smile.
The kind that reached his eyes.
"...Neither do I."
Several months later...
The strategy textbook rested proudly on Momo's bookshelf.
Its pages still overflowed with colourful notes.
Questions.
Ideas.
Conversations.
The beginning of something neither of them had recognized at the time.
Beside it… sat a brand-new notebook.
Its cover was dark green.
Across the front, written in Momo's elegant handwriting, were two simple words.
Volume One.
Inside...
The first page contained only a single sentence.
Written by Izuku.
‘Question.
How many notebooks do you think we'll need?’
Directly beneath it...
Momo had written her reply.
‘Hopefully enough to last a lifetime.’
The pages after that...
Were still blank.
Waiting patiently for the next conversation to begin.