There was a girl, and she was crying. That was the first thing Kido noticed as she made her way down the alley, her hands tucked into the front pocket of her hoodie. She tried to ignore her and keep going, but as she came closer the girl gave a particularly loud and wet sniffle. Kido's gait slowed and stopped, and she found herself unable to look away from the hunched figure. She studied her, studied the curly orange hair, the shaking shoulders.

"Hey, you," she spoke, and instantly regretted it. The girl froze and looked up at her, and Kido found it hard to breathe for just one second as red eyes bore into hers. She hated dealing with emotions, hated dealing with tears or tantrums or nightmares, but somehow she couldn't just walk away from her.

"Are you okay?" she asked, hating the gruffness in her voice, but unable to show concern any other way.

…

Later she would discover why she felt that way— it was Momo's power, and one she couldn't control. Kido could sympathize, having had similar troubles as a child. And so she laid the event to rest in her mind, and stopped poring over that moment in her mind at night, stopped analyzing why her heart had flipped when she'd seen Momo's teary eyes for the very first time.

"I wanted to go shopping," Momo announced from the door, and Kido looked up, met her eyes, felt the customary hitch in her throat. Couldn't the girl learn to control her ability already? Momo hung off the door jam with one hand, waiting for an answer, but Kido didn't know what she wanted her to say.

After a second she nodded, not understanding how it included her, but Momo shuffled her feet, looking down at her ragged sneakers. "Would you come with me? I don't want anyone looking at me—" without waiting for her to finish, Kido crossed the room, patting her on the head as she passed.

"I'll meet you outside," she told her, unable to explain what it was about that sentence that made her want to help in any way she could.

…

As the weeks passed, Kido had grown used to Momo standing too close, to her clinging to her sleeve, even to her holding her hand, careful to keep close in the crowd. Kido endured it as much as possible, trying to keep her face calm and unaffected as the ginger girl laced their fingers together and gave her a bright smile that made her heart thump and skitter.

Today the train was more crowded than ever, though, and Momo hugged Kido's arm to her chest. Kido felt the back of her neck go hot from embarrassment, and she cleared her throat four or thirty-seven times on the way home.

The doors opened and Kido shook her off at the closest opportunity. When she looked down at the other girl, she looked to be pouting, her arms crossed.

"It was hot," Kido explained weakly, though that didn't explain why her mouth was so dry, or why she took Momo's hand a moment later.

Momo instantly brightened, and smiled at her with a delight that Kido felt was surely indecent for an idol of her status.

…

Kido heard the voices exclaiming, heard the cameras going off, and her heart stopped dead. She'd been meant to meet Momo here, but she was running late, and it seemed her friend was paying the price.

She shouldered her way through the crowd, gritting her teeth and uneasy from the contact, until she found Momo, who seemed to be trying to explain to her fans that oh she was just meeting someone, she'd be right here, and—

Kido never gave her the chance to finish her sentence. She seized the younger girl's hand, and threaded her way back through the crowd. For awhile, it was tough going, but then they turned a corner, and having lost site of them, the Kido could use her powers.

She paused, panting, leaning against the wall.

"Thank you for always saving me," Momo said, cheerful, seemingly not resenting her fame like she used to.

Kido squinted at her. "You should learn to turn off your powers. It's a burden on everyone." Especially on me, she wanted to say, but Momo would misunderstand. She'd think she meant it was a trouble to hide her, not that it was a trouble to push away the dreams about her, to push away the thoughts, to halt her eyes that drifted towards the shining sun whenever she entered the room.

Momo puffed up one cheek, planting a fist on her hip in annoyance. "I've been doing that for months," she grumbled, "but I didn't realize just how bad fame could be on it's own."

Kido's chest went cold, and she fought to keep a flush off her face. "Then how come I can't—" she stopped herself, but Momo had heard enough.

She looked up at her, face suddenly sly. Kido found herself afraid of that face, and stepped back as Momo stepped forward.

"How come what?" she replied, mischievous. Kido couldn't reply.

"Oh come on!" Momo shouted suddenly, ruffling her short hair with both hands in frustration, and Kido was suddenly reminded how young she was. "Did you think I was squishing your arm on my boobs for my health? Did you think I really can't order shit off the internet instead of you taking me shopping twice a week? I like being with you," she continued, taking another step forward, and this time Kido didn't step back. "I…like you," she finished.

"I. Yeah." Kido replied lamely, always a master of romance.

But it didn't matter, because Momo understood, and she dragged Kido's head down to hers and kissed her soundly, and none of the people passing seemed to notice the two of them furiously making out in the alley way.