Word Count: 2,986
"Oiii, Yaoyorozu, I'm coming in, okay?" the muffled voice of Jirou called from outside Momo's tent.
"Okay, just a minute—!" Momo called, struggling to get her bindings on faster.
"God, they're serving porridge for breakfast," Jirou complained as she ducked inside. "There's not even anything in it, either! Just plain old rice and wa— what are you doing?"
Momo paused her wrapping. "I'm… binding my chest so that no one finds out I'm a girl?" she said slowly, looking at her new friend with confusion.
"I— that's not good for you!" Kyouka cried, crawling over to her friend and unwinding the long strip of cloth.
"Well, it's not like I can just go around without it, now can I?" Momo sourly said, fighting the urge to cross her arms. "There's only so large a man's pecs can get before they're no longer pecs."
"No, no, no. You still need to flatten your chest and all, but good heavens, Momo! You can't just use a strip of cloth! It's not good for your ribs, and it'll restrict your breathing way too much. We're in the army. You can't just be endangering your health like this."
"Well, then, what do you recommend?"
"I'll be right back," Kyouka said, removing the last of Momo's bindings and slipping out before the latter had any opportunity to protest. Not that she didn't do so to herself, but her friend was back soon enough anyway.
Kyouka threw something at Momo. "You're way bigger than me, so any binders I have for myself won't fit you, but for now just a regular shirt of mine could work. It's made of canvas, so it'll probably itch like hell, but it's better than what you were doing. One of my aunts was a seamstress, so I can make you something proper in a few days."
Momo looked at the white shirt she now held in her hands, unsure of how to feel as she pulled it on. It definitely was a tighter fit than what she was used to, and looking down, she knew it didn't flatten her chest quite as much as her own bindings did. However, she didn't feel like she was being suffocated; heck, for the first time since running away, she could actually breathe regularly.
Kyouka grinned at her. "See? Way better. Not perfect, but as a temporary solution, it works quite nicely, doesn't it?"
Before she could respond, the tent flaps rustled, and the girls jumped to put a shirt on Momo before a blond-haired stranger poked his head in.
"God, have you guys had this morning's gruel yet? It's so bland!" he complained, then paused and blinked. "Hey, you're Haku, right? Is that an undershirt? Kinda hot for that, isn't it? But whatever. You do you, dude. Jirou, you were wearing one this morning too, huh? I wonder if I'm the only guy not wearing one. You southerners get cold so easily."
"Get out, Denki!" Jirou said with irritation, her face flushing red as she pushed the man out. She briefly waved goodbye to Momo as she herself left, dragging Denki with her.
Momo smiled as she finished dressing. Uraraka crawled out from under her helmet with Deku and stretched. "Good thing that Denki guy isn't the brightest, huh? You would've been toast if he figured out your secret."
"Lucky indeed," Momo hummed, absently reaching a finger over to affectionately poke Deku, who chirped happily.
Uraraka crawled over to Momo's shoulder, and from there, she squeezed the human girl's cheeks affectionately. "Hup, hup, hup! Your first day of training awaits! I was thinking of some rules for you last night, so just remember now, listen to that Todoroki guy, and no fighting. We don't want a repeat of yesterday. Unless, of course, someone else starts it. Then you gotta kick that other guy's butt."
"But I don't wanna kick the other guy's butt."
"Hmm, you're right. Who knows how often men clean those things. Either way—"
Outside, Iida neighed nervously, effectively silencing the dragon.
"Ohh, whatever. I'll be waiting in here until you get back!" Uraraka said, handing Momo her sword. "Do your best, Yaomomo!" She wiped away an imaginary tear as she watched her human go. "My little baby, off to destroy people."
"What took you so long?" Jirou whispered as they got in line.
Momo shuffled her feet uneasily, wondering if she could trust Jirou with knowing about Uraraka. "Well, I, uh—" she began.
"SHITTY BASTARDS," a vaguely familiar voice boomed, and every single body within a half kilometer radius jumped. "DO NONE OF YOU PEA BRAINS KNOW HOW TO EVEN LINE THE FUCK UP IN THE MORNING?" In stormed the same butter-blond angry boy who had assigned Momo and Jirou to the toilets the day before, his teeth grinding so loudly, the sound of it grated her ears.
Momo froze as he passed her and Jirou by, but he completely ignored them in favor of singling out someone who just a few meters away. She watched him go, utterly terrified, and saw him stop in front of the redhead boy of yesterday. Ah, poor Kirishima, she thought, but there wasn't much she could do about it now.
"And you, fucking hairbrain, what are you smiling about!?" angry man yelled, completely disregarding the concept of a personal bubble.
Kirishima grinned back at Mr. Angry Butter Hair, a literal ray of sunshine in the face of anger. "Well, it's a beautiful morning, sir!" he said. "What's there not to be smiling about?"
As the now-enraged Mr. Angry Butter Hair began to howl something unintelligible, Jirou leaned in and whispered into Momo's ear, "he's scowling so hard, it looks like his eyebrows are kissing," causing the latter to suppress a snicker.
"Hey, Bakugou, what are you doing?" the deadpan voice of Captain Todoroki said, and all the recruits flinched once more upon realizing that their leader had come in without any of them noticing in the slightest.
Mr. Angry Butter Hair (complete with knitted brow) turned around without missing a beat and yelled, "YOUUUU! PIECE OF CRAP HALFLING! CAN'T EVEN PROPERLY TRAIN YOUR MEN TO STAND UP IN THE MORNING! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING? HOW ARE YOU GOING TO DEFEAT THOSE BITCHASSES THE HUNS, HUH?!"
Unfazed, Captain Todoroki replied, "Well, first off, I'd actually work with them instead of just yelling at them in hopes that that would do the job. You can't be mad at someone for being ignorant, now can you—"
"HELL YEAH, I CAN!"
"That's unreasonable," the captain continued. He stared Bakugou much like a bored cat would, which made the latter even more pissed, if that were even humanly possible. However, before Bakugou could start yelling again, Todoroki addressed his men. "Soldiers, I expect you to assemble here swiftly and silently before the clock strikes five every morning. Anyone who fails to do so will answer to me," he said as he first pulled a longbow off his back, then his shirt.
Jirou elbowed her friend when she noticed Momo's staring.
"What?" Momo whispered, giving Jirou a confused look, but the latter merely smiled smugly to herself.
Bakugou loudly tched, crossing his arms and glaring at Todoroki. "Tough guy look, huh? I didn't realize how fucking extraneous shirts were in this case."
In one swift motion, the captain nocks an arrow and points his bow at Bakugou, who unflinchingly glares death straight in the face. Murmurs swept through the trainees. He wouldn't actually, would he?
Todoroki abruptly pivoted and shot the arrow; it landed at the very top of a nearby wooden pole. "Thank you for volunteering, Bakugou," he evenly said. "Retrieve the arrow."
"I'm here to fucking help you train these shitheads!"
"It looks like I'm going to have to train your attitude as well. Retrieve the arrow, Katsuki."
Bakugou scowled and cracked his knuckles. "Don't use my first name, you mixed bastard! I'll get that fucking arrow, and I'll do it with my god damned shirt on," he snapped as he stormed over to the pole, baring his teeth as if that would somehow help him climb.
"Wait, one more thing," Todoroki added. He briefly turned to the men and motioned for them to surround Bakugou for better viewing and disappeared into his tent for just a moment before returning with two large, brass weights. Bakugou squinted at them with hostility.
"This is strength," the captain explained to his men as he tied one of the weights to Bakugou's wrist. "And this is discipline." He attached the other weight to Bakugou and turned to properly face the soldiers. "You need both to reach the arrow."
Momo noticed Bakugou struggling to cross his arms and knew in an instant that she had no chance of passing this test. If the assistant captain found it hard to function with those weights on, what chance did she, a girl raised indoors to be married off, fare in this challenge?
Todoroki glanced at Bakugou and nodded. The latter grinned excitedly and jumped at the pole.
"DAMMIT, LET ME TRY AGAIN! THIS POLE HASN'T GOT SHIT ON ME!" Bakugou yelled, cracking his knuckles in preparation for a third attempt to get to the arrow.
His determination truly was remarkable, considering the fact that he had to continually use his teeth to simply keep himself from sliding all the way back down. Even then, were the inevitable splinters in his gums really worth gouging tooth trails into the pole?
Todoroki had to physically restrain him. "No, Bakugou, you need to stop fighting the pole," he said through gritted teeth, struggling to undo just one of the weights.
"NO, FUCK YOU."
"My, my, my. What have we here?" an exhausted, deadpan voice said, and in an instant, everyone, from the soldiers who dozed off out of boredom to Bakugou himself, was stone still and silent.
A tall, scruffy man with bloodshot eyes rode into camp on a horse, surveying everyone and everything with a lazy eye. "And here I was thinking that this place wouldn't be a cockfight in a pigsty. General Endeavor sure knows how to lie, doesn't he?"
The blond man from yesterday zipped up to the new man without a care in the world and immediately began chatting away; the latter simply walked towards the crowd packed around the pole.
Momo shrank back in awe and fear, and she felt Jirou inch closer to her.
Todoroki's eyes were steeled and narrowed at the stranger; he released Bakugou (who didn't stop scowling as he slunk away) but didn't back away as the stranger dismounted and sauntered right up to the two of them and crossed his arms.
"Tell me, kiddo," he said with a disinterested glare, "what are you doing running a camp for men?"
"Kiddo?" Bakugou spat, storming right up to the man. "I am seventeen fucking years old, you hunk of stale garbage, and that is—"
Todoroki stepped between them. "Calm down, Bakugou," he said quietly as he put his arm in front of Bakugou to silence him. Then, to the stranger: "I am Shoto Todoroki, the captain, a position entrusted to me by the emperor's second-best general Endeavor. And you are?"
The stranger grunted. Whether it was out of approval, interest, displeasure, or anything else was anybody's guess, but at least he answered the captain's question. "Shouta Aizawa, one of the eight advisors to Emperor Nezu, here to keep an eye on you when he—" it was then that Aizawa jerked his head at Present Mic— "leaves for the capital again tomorrow. He's very bad at non-intervention."
"Thanks." The blond frowned, then left the conversation and walked away to his tent.
"See what I mean?" Aizawa narrowed his eyes at Captain Todoroki. "I was instructed to merely make sure you didn't burn the place down, but considering that little show I walked in on, I think that we'll have to take more drastic measures."
"FUCK OFF, OLD MAN!" Bakugou snapped again, but he stopped cold the second Aizawa flicked his bangs out of his eyes and leered. (Even Momo could feel its power, and she was meters away.)
"And what might your name be?" he said in a low voice and blinked.
The spell for silence was broken the instant Aizawa blinked, but it seemed Bakgou's yelling mood had gone with it. He still scowled and stared the older man in the eye, but he managed to quietly grit out a, "Katsuki Bakugou," with some semblance of respect. "Assistant captain, as selected by the emperor fuckface himself," he added with a bit more of his usual flair.
Aizawa nodded, seemingly unbothered by the grave insult to the throne. He surveyed the rest of soldiers, their neat ranks and files long gone, with a critical eye. Then, at last, he spoke once more:
"Test them. Remember their names and results. I'll be by the river. Send them to me when you're finished with them." He looked at Bakugou and began to walk away. "Katsuki, get my horse. You're coming with me."
Bakugou scowled and snatched the horse's reins. "The name's Bakugou. Get it right," he muttered. Everyone's attention gradually turned back over to Captain Todoroki until—
Aizawa stopped in his tracks, ignoring the way Bakugou slammed into him, bent down to the latter's eye level and leered once more.
"Funny," he said. "I could have sworn I named my horse Fumikage. But if you so insist that 'Bakugou' is correct, then so be it, Katsuki." He stood up straight, turned around, and continued walking away, leaving a stunned collective (Bakugou in particular) behind.
Bakugou didn't even grumble as he led the horse away.
Momo had thought that getting through tens and dozens of trainees would have taken more time than it did, at least when the test was as one-on-one as fetching an arrow with weights on. In hindsight, it was pretty ridiculous of her to expect that, since not one person made it beyond Bakugou's tooth marks.
But she still would have liked more prep time before she stood before Captain Todoroki with her hands in front of her, waiting for the brass weights to be tied onto her wrists.
She glanced backwards at Jirou, just to see if she could provide some comfort for her frazzled nerves, only to find her friend chatting idly with Kaminari.
Her right wrist suddenly felt very attracted to the grass.
Momo turned her attention back to the captain (still shirtless, she noted, much to her dismay), then looked at her end goal arrow.
Her left wrist joined the right all at once in its inability to resist the ground.
The sun had risen a considerable amount since the initial morning lineup. Indeed, if she had to guess, it seemed to be perhaps seven in the morning? That was weird, since it didn't feel as if enough time had passed to make it seven, but it was hard for her to think. The sun was in her eyes.
"You may begin," the captain patiently said, and he stepped out of the way.
Momo blinked once or twice, then stepped into the shadow of the pole, taking yet another moment to size it up. Well, here goes nothing, she thought, clenching and unclenching her fists, trying not to think too much about how many splinters she was going to have to pick out of her soft, sensitive fingertips later. Taking a deep breath, she stepped up to the challenge.
Something was different about the Yaoyorozu boy. Shoto wasn't quite yet sure what it was, but he definitely was an oddball. Just watching him struggle to even get a hold of the pole made him wince inside. The boy clearly wasn't strong enough to make it even a few centimeters off the ground, and while Shoto had to give him kudos for tenacity, he couldn't help but wonder how a farm boy could be so pale and weak. Surely he'd had his fair share of chores back home?
Then again, hadn't he also mentioned something about a bad accident? Something so awful, it led most everyone into believing that he was dead?
Again, Shoto found himself wondering how Yaoyorozu had gotten himself to training camp if he had once been so sickly. Still sickly, judging from his china-pale skin and inability to even properly lift the weights tied to him. Shoto didn't consider them to be particularly heavy; a strong child could easily lift just one, yet it seemed this boy could lift none.
"That's enough," he decided aloud, stepping forward and putting a hand on Yaoyorozu's shoulder.
The boy (was it really in his place to call Yaoyorozu a boy? After all, he looked hardly a year younger than himself) turned around (was that a flash of panic in his eyes?) as hastily as he could. "But I—"
"You're incapable," Shoto said flatly. He reached over and untied one of the weights. "That is all." Upon relieving the other wrist, he looked at Yaoyorozu, finding only red-faced embarrassment in his expression. "You are excused to meet with Aizawa by the riverbank."
What was that twinge in his chest as he watched Yaoyorozu practically slink away in shame?
He sighed, shaking his head to get rid of the feeling. "We've got a long way to go."
author's note iv. does wearing a shirt tighter around the chest even work as an okay binder? i guess it would depend on the material. i almost chest bound with a bandage strip for a day just to test out how it felt to exercise with it and just the general comfort of it, but i do know that doing it like that is really bad for your ribs, so i decided against it. and that's also why i added that in. pls take care of your ribs o v o.
anyway, sorry about being gone the last two weeks. I try my best not to take hiatuses, but the week before last i wasn't Feeling It, and last week i was on a trip for band. yeah. so, i say thank you for the music— uh, i mean reading. follow/fave if you're new and interested; reviews are greatly appreciated, if that's what you're into, and i hope you have a greaaat daaay~~