"Momo, darling! They'll be here any minute!"
"Yes, mother!"
"Remember, darling, they're international! Make sure you wear one of the dresses!"
A sigh accompanied Momo's favourite yukata as it was hung back up in her closet. The clicking of her mother's heels was already echoing down the long corridor before she could call out an affirmative, and it was only once the noise had disappeared around the far corner that Momo allowed her shoulders to slump in exhaustion.
"Yes, mother."
So much for curling up on her bed and cracking open one of the books she'd ordered during the week. With all her assignments done and her textbook reading two chapters ahead, Momo had prepared for this weekend to be nothing but relaxation, along with some Quirk practice. What she hadn't been prepared for was her father clearing his throat at dinner last night, and announcing that she would be present for their meeting tomorrow.
After that, last night had been a flurry of research.
Richard Wise. CEO of Overhaul International, a relatively new not-for-profit company that specialised in robotics. Quirk, unknown. Age, mid thirties. He'd been in the field for longer than she'd been alive, a childhood prodigy much like others considered her, but there was no reason she could think of to bring her into family business, just on the prospect of meeting him.
And then she'd found out he had a kid around her age, and her stomach had dropped.
Michael Wise was an enigma, the kind that worked for the secrecy they wore. There had been no photos, not even on the school websites that some less than reputable sources had claimed him to attend. The patents to his name were for chemical compounds that she'd need longer than a single night to understand. The few papers he had published made her mind race with potential.
And then there was his Quirk, crushing the veneer of optimism she'd allowed to fester.
Momo's father supported her heroic dreams. He'd never made a secret of being enchanted with the idea of nobility, and his daughter's desire to follow it. Her mother hadn't been so easily won over, but the U.A recommendation was a good indication that she'd been given a chance.
Momo trusted her parents.
She didn't trust Michael Wise, or his father.
Complete matter manipulation, and the ability to create anything? On paper, it was a match made in heaven. A perfect combination, so perfect that she didn't even feel that bad about being suspicious of people running a charity. Momo was still berating herself with getting too caught up in the academic papers to fully investigate Overhaul International.
They had been interesting! Interesting enough that she'd skipped breakfast that morning in order to read some more. So many new metallic compounds that could be used in fascinating ways! The chance of this meeting being genuine instead of a veiled Quirk marriage offer was what eventually pushed her towards a black dress near the back of her closet, flattering for her full figure yet showing or hinting at nothing.
If nothing else, they were being let through the perimeter around the estate that Momo wasn't supposed to have noticed. Her parents hadn't said anything about it, and the staff were being oddly hushed even when she knew they would whisper in corridors and rooms that they thought were abandoned. Really though, her bedroom window overlooked the grounds further than most of the hedges surrounding the property. She could see the new cars parked alongside them, and the men wearing black suits that concealed a number of shiny weapons.
At least the prospect of visitors had lifted the oppressive atmosphere that had been hung around the house like a thick fog. The worried lines on everyone's faces; either those higher up in the staff hierarchy who knew what was going on, or those lower who had felt the tension and reacted accordingly, had relaxed for the first time in a week.
All except the men in the black suits outside. Zipping her dress up all the way to her collarbone, Momo stepped back in front of her window, the shutters drawn in such a way that while she could see outside, nobody would be able to notice her stare. That left her free to watch as the front gates opened, and one of the men waved a limousine through.
It wasn't large by the standards that she had seen, but it was certainly sleek. What it lacked in length, it made up for in a gleaming exterior and an engine that didn't let out so much as a whisper across the echoing expanse of the mansion's front garden.
Her father would approve of that. They'd clearly done their research.
The driver, as was standard procedure, was the first person to exit the vehicle. Tall and intimidating, his maroon eyes swept across the landscape, stopping so quickly on Momo's window that she almost missed the fact that the man was staring directly at her. He either had a sensory Quirk, or his instincts were that good. Considering his occupation and the nature of his passengers, she wouldn't doubt either.
Still, it was enough of a jolt to get her moving, turning her back to the window and hurrying into a pair of low heels. Arriving at the meeting late and drawing more attention to herself was the last thing she wanted to do here, after all.
With the threat her own shoes posed to her ankles, it took close to forty seconds for her to reach the foyer, doing her best to rush down the stairs before the front door opened and not kill herself in the process. Her parents were already standing in position, her mother's arm looped around her father's elbow, and it was to her relief that her mother ran her eyes across her chosen dress before offering her a warm smile.
Her father's identical expression was appreciated, but given that he would have been happy if she showed up in a potato sack, that was a much lower bar she had to pass.
Clasping her hands below her navel, Momo took a deep breath, hoping that the slight flush on her cheeks wasn't as noticeable as it felt. Even with her dedicated hero training, running down a staircase in a long dress and heels was exhausting. The struggle for enough balance to pull it off was just as strenuous as any other core exercise.
Her heart had managed to calm down from its slightly rushed pace as the door swung open. The driver she'd seen before marched through, nodding once towards her family before stepping to the side, the door held open in one hand and his head slightly bowed.
Richard Wise hadn't seemed to age a day since the photos she'd seen. If she didn't know any better, she would have assumed all those pictures had been taken yesterday. He stood at eye level with her father, though his barely tamed mane of blond hair made him seem just that little bit taller. His grin was wide and his eyes alight with a spark that didn't dim even when he reached forth for a handshake, which her father, already bent low in a bow, didn't grasp.
Seemingly impervious to the embarrassment that even Momo could feel, Wise just laughed, a sharp barking noise that she'd never heard coming from someone wearing such a nice suit, and sketched his own quick bow.
Sloppy, but not bad for someone who didn't live here. Though, he did look like he had at least a bit of Japanese heritage…
Still, that left one more visitor, stalking up silently behind the blond man. The first thing she noticed was that he was tall. Whereas her heels almost put her on even footing with his father, Michael Wise still had almost half a head over her. With his short dark hair and black suit, there wasn't much differentiating him from one of the security detail outside, aside from his expression. Whereas all the men outside were either focused or carefully blank, the younger Wise just looked bored.
His bow, if it could even be called that, was even less formal than his father's. The angle at which his waist bent would have had to be measured under a microscope. His head wasn't better, offering a nod as though it had been forced out of him by someone pulling a string.
A near silent scoff echoed through the foyer. One of the mansion staff; Sakurai, an older gentleman that had been in their employ longer than Momo had been alive, made no attempt to hide his scorn for the lacking show of respect.
Some form of emotion flickered across the younger Wise's face. His eyes drifted up and to the side, catching Momo's gaze for a single heartbeat on the way.
Her body moved on its own.
"Welcome to our home!" Forcing a smile, Momo stepped forth, reaching both hands for one of Wise's and surprising herself with the force she put into the handshake. He seemed just as taken aback, the cold fire vanishing from his expression as he glanced down at her. With their height difference and the lack of distance between them, Momo was all the more relieved she'd chosen a dress that wouldn't allow cleavage.
"...Thanks." His voice rumbled through her chest. Momo stepped back quickly, mindful of the eyes still on her as she offered her own bow.
"Please leave any coats here, refreshments have already been laid out." She'd been introduced to enough guests to know the drill by now. Momo turned around, avoiding the looks her parents were sending her and instead locking eyes with Sakurai. He nodded, silent as a grave, and moved forth to accept a pair of jackets from the driver that had accompanied their visitors.
That was a clear indication if any that she hadn't imagined the dread crawling along her spine. Her parents had seemingly missed it, trapped in enthusiastic conversation even as they walked. Michael certainly hadn't, and judging from the assessing look he'd pinned her with before following his father, he knew she hadn't either.
Somehow, someway, Michael Wise was dangerous.
She would have to stay on her toes.
"Fascinating what you can do with a pair of spoons and a dream, at least that's what my late wife always used to say. Didn't ever make her any less late, though!"
She'd been wrong.
"We actually started dipping into the prosthetics market because of her mother. One day I told my wife, I said to her, "honey, I promise you, one day I'll build your mother a heart!"
Michael wasn't the dangerous Wise.
Richard's jokes were outrageous. They were hardly even jokes in the first place, but they still had her father roaring with laughter every few sentences. Her mother, once the only bastion of hope she'd had in this world, had yet to let go of her father's arm. The look on her face was sickeningly sweet, and the flush on her cheeks only grew every time he laughed and squeezed her to him tighter.
It struck Momo, two minutes into this conversation, that she couldn't actually remember the last time her parents had friends over. Business associates? Certainly. Board members or regional managers, occasionally. There was even the odd lawyer or two that Momo had brewed tea for.
In none of those meetings had she heard her father laugh. The warm smile she knew in private was packed away for business. There was no telling who would walk through those doors next, looking to take advantage.
Now, twenty minutes later, she was almost wishing for the return of the good old days. Her posture, usually perfect, had managed to slip enough that the straight indentation she'd left in this couch over many years was digging into her spine. The talk of business that had been promised had yet to come to pass, as Richard launched into yet another story that had her father cackling and her mother giggling demurely into his shoulder.
Surreptitiously, she risked a glance at Michael. He had yet to move since the meeting began, slumped in his seat like someone had thrown him over the back of it. If it wasn't for the occasional blink, she would have assumed he'd fallen asleep with his eyes open.
It was after one particularly slow blink, one eyelid moving at a time, that he seemed to pick up on the fact that he was being watched. With a surprised cough, he ducked his head, brushing a hand against the ground for a moment before straightening out one of his shoelaces.
When his head rose again, the ridge of his brow had dipped slightly. If Momo hadn't already been looking at him, she would have missed the brief instant where his hair had lightened from a dark brown to something resembling purple. What was that about?
Abruptly, he stood up, cutting off whatever his father had been about to say to him. "Restroom," he muttered, turning to Momo's parents and raising an eyebrow at them.
Affronted from the lack of respect, Momo's jaw dropped. Before she could pick it up, her mother had hopped up and down in her seat, much to the enjoyment of both older men who were still sitting down.
"Momo, darling, why don't you escort him?" As if that statement hadn't been mortifying enough for her on its own, her mother threw in a wink. "It's a big house, after all."
Feeling more than ready to escort herself under a pile of blankets and never emerge, Momo nodded woodenly, absentmindedly smoothing the creases out of her dress. Michael was waiting near the door behind where they had been sitting, one hand drumming out a random beat on the wall beside it.
Passing behind the couch her parents were sitting on, Momo nearly tripped over her heels when a slender hand reached out and tugged on her dress, deftly avoiding yanking any flesh despite the lack of room between it and the fabric. Her mother smiled up at her, tugging twice more before she got the message and leaned down enough for her mother to press her lips against one ear.
"You shouldn't stare so much, darling. Even a man will pick up on it eventually."
The shade of red on Momo's face and the noise that escaped her mouth probably made it look like her mother had physically burned her. With her eyes on the floor and her ears steadfastly ignoring the tinkling of her mother's laughter, Momo marched right through the doorway, her unwavering gait actually forcing the man standing next to it back a step.
"I thought I told you to go before we left!" Richard called from back inside the room. Despite the distance she was putting between them, his voice was still loud and clear.
"We left, like, twelve hours ago. Maybe thirteen."
Despite the fact that the man jogging to catch up with her was almost certainly heavy, the footsteps that slowed to an even pace right behind her were barely audible. The need to be a good host warred against the awkwardness of the situation, and the awkwardness won out, making for a very silent, though mercifully short trip.
Eventually, they arrived at the door, and she couldn't put it off any longer. Knowing she'd already been caught staring once, she turned her body to the side, instead choosing to glance at him from the corner of her eye.
He… wasn't paying attention.
Perplexed, she turned to him fully, watching his eyes as they darted around the hallway, resting on nothing for longer than it would take to acknowledge it before moving on.
It was only after the first full rotation that he noticed her looking. This time it was his turn to turn away awkwardly, though rather than just avoiding her gaze, he seemed to be locked outside the window they were standing beside.
"Sorry, I just wanted to get away from T… my dad for a bit, you know?"
Lie, her mind riposted, so quickly and explicitly that she surprised herself with the certainty of her deduction. Her mouth was opening, ready to ask for answers to questions that she had no place posing, when she was suddenly interrupted.
Not by him, or anyone else who happened to be in the mansion.
Grrrrrrrrrrlllll…
People with food based Quirks needed to get used to the feeling of being hungry. Even Momo, in her position as a wealthy heiress, was accustomed enough to the feeling to be able to ignore it. The memory came back to her in a flash; sitting in bed that morning, scrolling through scientific journals that the man standing in front of her right now had written, so engrossed that she'd forgotten to present herself for breakfast.
Had she known that he could open up the ground beneath her and let it swallow her whole, she might have even begged him to do it.
The look on his face was unreadable. His fabricated resignation had fallen halfway off, too caught off guard by the noise to remember that he'd been pretending to want some distance from the others. If she wasn't so mortified, maybe she would have had the wherewithal to call him out on it.
Instead, after a moment, he cracked. The grin spread across his face quickly as he whipped his head to the side, hiding a chuckle underneath a hand. Contemplating whether she should lock herself in the bathroom instead, Momo straightened out her dress again, waiting out the few seconds it took for him to recover himself.
When she glanced up again, she almost had to do a double-take.
The smile on his face didn't look forced at all. It actually resembled his fathers' a fair bit, the glee completely unrestrained. It took her so off guard that when he reached out and took her hand in his, she forgot to protest.
"Huh? Wha-?"
His hand felt warm, engulfing hers completely. She missed a step, her heel catching unexpectedly on the carpet, and the arm that steadied her was even warmer. He didn't even seem to notice the added weight, making sure she had her feet underneath her before gently dragging her along once more.
"There was a kitchen back this way, right?"
Momo nodded, feeling lightheaded.
It wasn't just the low blood sugar, either.