Feel the feels :')

Shouto instructed Momo to meet him at the coffee shop. However, due to the swath of middle schoolers who got too giddy about why they were always together, the two concluded that it'd be best to relocate themselves. Since both knew the conversation they were about to have would be a heavy one, they chose a secluded spot downhill at the park across the street. The two sat underneath a tree. Above, the clouds concealed the sun and tinted the sky a slight hue of gray. Neither said anything at first, for they were both internally rehearsing their first line. However, Shouto, being more direct by nature, made the first move.

"Gomen'nasai, for yesterday. I had a lot on my mind. I was wrong to take out my frustration on you."

Although he spoke in his usual impassive voice, Momo could tell that it was a sincere apology. At first, she wasn't sure how much of the pandora's box he was going to open up, and she wasn't sure how much she wanted to know. However, when she decided to become a hero, she accepted the reality of having to learn dark truths and grim secrets. Sensing that it would be rude to keep quiet, she spoke up.

"Daijoubu. I thought over what happened after I went home, and I understand why you reacted the way you did. You don't have to tell me more than you're comfortable telling."

Shouto paused.

"No, it's only when you're pushed out of your comfort zone that you truly grow."

With this set as the motto for the ensuing conversation, Shouto told Momo everything. He told her everything he had told Izuku and more. He traced an overall chronology of the past twenty years: Endeavor's frustration with perpetually being second-best, Endeavor's plan B, Endeavor's fury at the card probability dealt the first three children, Endeavor's finally obtaining his "perfect creation," Shouto's brutal training, his mother's eventual insanity, his vow to never use his fire side, reconnecting with his mother post Sports Festival, his father's recent meltdown, and his spat with Yoarashi. After he'd listed the major events, he backtracked and vividly recounted scenes from his early childhood.

"I still remember my fifth birthday. That morning, I saw my siblings playing soccer in the garden. I got excited, but as I ran down the hall and towards the stairs to join them, my father appeared, grabbed me by the arm, and dragged me to the training hall. That was the first day he threw me on the treadmill and made me run until I could barely breath anymore. When I was on all fours, he told me, 'you can't give up now because you're going to succeed me.' When my mom found out, she pleaded with him to stop, and he told her to stay out of his way. I hoped that he was just in a bad mood that day, and the next morning, we would all go on like nothing ever happened, but when I saw my mom crying later that night, I knew that wish was a fantasy.

"I wasn't allowed to play with the other kids anymore because they lived in 'a different world,' and I was homeschooled from that point on. Only, home for me was a prison, and I was an indefinitely detained inmate who had no idea what I'd done to deserve that punishment. It was the same for my mother, but she knew what her crime was: trying to protect me. Everyday, my dad would belittle her. When he did, my siblings would all run away. Out of the four of us, I was the most attached to her, so instead I would hide and listen. I didn't want to leave her alone with him, even though there was nothing I could do to stop him. I listened to him verbally abuse my mother until she was sobbing and asking for forgiveness. I thought that beating her with words was the worst thing he could do—until I saw him beat her with his hands.

"It was late spring ten years ago. We stood in the training hall. At that point, I was too scared to look him in the eye. He told me that we were going to 'work on endurance today.' The next thing I knew, I felt like my insides were going to come flying out from my mouth. My father punched me in the stomach with full force. I collapsed on the ground and vomited. I genuinely thought I was going to die in that moment. He scolded me, 'If something like this defeats you, then you'll never be able to surpass All Might, and you won't even stand a chance against the small fry of the villain world.' I cried my lungs out, and my mom heard. She bursted into the training hall, dropped to the ground to check on me, and told my old man not to lay another finger on me. That was the only time I ever saw her get angry. Then, he slapped her—right in front of me.

"Every morning from that day on, I watched my father beat my mother over the kitchen table. Every time it happened, I was too paralyzed by fear to move. Every afternoon, I'd cry in her arms on her tatami bed. Despite all the pain she was hiding, she would just stroke my hair and tell me to 'become who you want to be' and that I wasn't 'a slave to my bloodline.' I forgot these words for the longest time. Even though her quirk was ice generation, her arms always felt warm to me. But, eventually, she grew cold and reached her breaking point. One morning, when I waltzed into the kitchen. She was on the phone with her mom, telling her that she couldn't raise me anymore because my 'left side looked just like his father,' so she grabbed the kettle off the stove and poured boiling water on my face. I must've passed out from the pain because when I woke up, my face was bandaged, but my skin still felt on fire. My mom would've given me painkillers, so I knew that it must've been my father that applied first aid.

"The next day, I found out that my father sent my mom to a psychiatric ward for mental instability. And just like that, my rock was gone. Once it was, all I could feel was anger and hatred towards my old man. I looked him in the eye and told him that he was the reason my mother went insane. That was the last time I ever looked him eye-to-eye. For the next ten years, my life was nothing but a rigid mix of training and schoolwork. I guess it, ironically, still is. I figured that the best way to survive back then was to stop feeling. I wasn't sure what my destiny was. I wanted to be a hero, but I didn't want to give him the smug satisfaction of thinking he won me over. To some extent, I still don't.

"In my entire life, I can probably count the number of times my father's called me by my real name. He mostly refers to me as his 'ultimate masterpiece' or 'perfect creation,' and my siblings as, 'failures.' At least they didn't have to spend their entire day locked in that training hall. I still hate that hall, and I still hate him for calling us that. He brought me into this world as a project and tool—not as a son. He still has no idea how just how much that hurts.

"Now, just when I've reconnected with my mom, this all happens. In order to become the hero I wanted to be, I needed to talk to her. Now, he's cutting me off again. He's convinced that she's an obstacle for me. He's reminded me everyday since he found out, and I know he has Fuyumi, my sister, report my whereabouts. I'd block his calls and texts if he didn't pay for my cellphone. I know I've been given a second chance, and I won't waste it. Even so, when I saw everyone with their provisional hero license, I couldn't help but think to myself, 'everyone is making leaps and bounds forward, but I'm just walking down that path one shaky step at a time.' And that's everything."

Silence.

Momo had a habit of placing her hand over her mouth whenever she observed any vulgar conversation or behavior, but in that moment, she was clamping it over her mouth. It was almost as if she was trying to keep herself from bursting into a sob—even though it wasn't her life. Her entire body trembled, and she couldn't look Shouto in the eyes. A storm of sorrow, shock, and disbelief brewed inside her, paralyzing her from the inside out. Even though they were both U.A. recommended students from prestigious hero families, their life stories couldn't have been more different: that of her's was a plotless, carefree children's tale in comparison to his coming-of-age tragedy. In that moment, she wished she had a quirk that allowed her to go back in time and swap places with him—but there were no such miracles.

"That's awful, just awful…Thank you for trusting me with this information," she choked out. Not wanting to leave the most recent matter unaddressed, she forced herself to speak up again, "Have you tried going to the hospital since then? If the receptionists are the same, they might just forget to check the records and let you in."

"No, but I don't know if that'll work," Shouto answered.

Even though his reply was concise, she heard the shakiness in his voice. I've never heard him talk like that before, she realized. Mustering up the courage, she pried her hand away from her mouth and slowly turned her head towards Shouto. He was gazing into the distance and staring at the dark clouds, his eyes hidden underneath his bangs. On the outside, he looked perfectly composed. Not a single muscle twitched on his body. However, the air of calmness he gave off was a mere facade, and Momo knew it. There was no way anyone could be okay after detailing every bit of his abusive childhood—especially if his conflict hadn't truly come to a close.

Momo wanted to be a hero. She wanted to help out those in need. Reaffirming the vow she made to herself and her family, she admonished herself for being so silent, for not being able to say anything, for just passively sitting in this disquietude. How could she wait for Shouto to reassure her like he did during their battle with Aizawa, when he was the one that needed reassurance? No, feeling helpless was not an option this time around. Momo took a deep breath, forced the trembling in her body to cease, and inched closer towards him. She resisted the urge to look away, and instead kept her eyes locked on his face. She lay her hand over that of his. Shouto was caught off guard, and instinctively he jerked his hand away, but when he did, Momo gripped his hand just a bit tighter—refusing to let him shrink away. The unexpected action made Shouto turn to face her. Although Momo felt nervous, she knew she couldn't back down now.

The second their eyes locked, Momo felt her mind race. All the thoughts, doubts, and beliefs she previously had surged through her mind like whitewater rapids, and she began to question what she was really trying to accomplish. Until now, she believed that she was doing this out of debt and duty. She owed him for restoring her self-esteem, and she had a job as the vice president to ensure her peers' well-being. However, was that really it? If so, then what would happen after this encounter? Certainly, letting him vent his frustrations was equivalent to him restoring her faith in herself. Then what? Would they stop interacting like they had been for the past couple weeks now that the contract was fulfilled? Would she wait for one of them to become indebted to the other and repeat the entire cycle? No, she couldn't and wouldn't. Momo realized that her interactions—no, her friendship with Shouto—shouldn't be based off of some feeling of indebtedness. She didn't want everything they'd said and done together in the past couple weeks to be a one-time act. She was doing this because she wanted to be there for him. These were the simple favors and unspoken expectations that came with a genuine friendship. Although Shouto had Izuku as confidant, he couldn't be the only one there for Shouto. With this paradigm shift in thinking, she was able to find the words she needed to address him properly.

"Todoroki-san…No, Todoroki-kun, listen. I won't pretend like I know what you're going through because I don't. All my life, I've been a sheltered child upholding some pretentious philosophy. I just didn't realize it until now. Frankly, you had a right to be mad at me yesterday. I only approached you with the yellow slip that day because I felt like I owed you. I know it sounds trivial, but those three words you said to me during the battle with Aizawa-sensei, 'I voted for you,' meant a lot. I was down in the dumps and insecure even though I had no real reason to be, but you snapped me out of it. The truth is, you didn't have to get targeted tutoring from me to prevent suspension. I only told you that because I thought that it was a way for me to repay you, but when I realized that it wasn't the actual class material you were struggling with, I tried to get closer to you to find out the real issue. I wanted to help, but my vision became a bit clouded along the way, and the means I adopted weren't the best. I'm sorry I wasn't honest with you from the start. I really am.

"But now, I'm done with that crap. I don't want to betray your trust again. I want to be your friend because I like spending time with you, and I like you for you—bad jokes, seriousness, and everything. I know it might be hard to believe me after what I just told you, but if you give me a chance, I'd be grateful. I don't know how to deal with your father, and I don't know how you've managed to live with that crap and still come out the amazing person you are. But, I do know that these aren't things you should feel obligated to deal with alone. If you ever need an ear to lend, if you ever feel like talking would ease your burden just a little bit, then I'm more than happy to be that person because that's what friends are for."

When she finished her speech, she found herself frozen with anxiety. What would Shouto say next? How would he react? What was going on in his head? She gazed at him, praying that he understood the message she'd poured her heart into conveying. Momo felt the muscles in his hand relax, and she saw his shoulders shift upwards as if an invisible weight had just been lifted off of them. A wave of relief washed over her. He looked at her straight in the eyes, and he looked just a bit more tranquil than he had a minute ago.

The two sat there, neither moving. Although it was only for a second, it felt like time had froze, creating a snapshot in their collective memories that would not be forgotten. The breeze billowed by, gently brushing itself against their cheeks. Nothing besides the rustle of the leaves could be heard. Eventually, the two students broke out of their trance. Momo returned to her original position, taking her hand off of Shouto's once she realized it'd been there a bit too long by new friend standards. Shouto, similarly, averted her gaze before finally breaking the silence.

"Don't apologize for anything. I took up your offer back then, and I'll take it up again."

It wasn't quite the answer she expected, but if her time at U.A. had taught her anything, it was that people and life are full of surprises. You really are a piece of work, she thought to herself. She smiled and stole a quick glance at Shouto, who was now on his two legs.

"I'm glad to know."

A/N: I hope y'all find that kawaii-desu. Let me know what you think :)