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vannahfanfics · 3 years

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Making Up For Lost Time

Category: Action, Drama, Romantic Fluff

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Characters: Momo Yaoyorozu, Yosetsu Awase

Hey, everyone! I’m super pleased to present the piece I did for the @bnhabigbang! Please check out my partner @rachiebird’s art; they worked really hard to bring this story to life. And enjoy!

Momo’s steps were quick and light as she walked as fast as she could down the hallway. The south wall was lined floor-to-ceiling with windows, giving a picturesque view of the bustling city streets weaving through the skyline of towering skyscrapers. Normally, Momo would stop to admire the matchbox-sized cars trundling through traffic lights and the ant-like people shuffling down the sidewalks, but now was not the time for idling. Momo had been summoned to the agency’s owner, and she had an inkling of what it was about.

I’m going to get my first solo assignment!

Though she couldn’t stop to admire the view, Momo did allow herself to pause and do a little happy dance. It had been six months since her graduation from U.A. She had been toiling night and day to impress her superiors, running herself ragged filing paperwork, patrolling the city, and corralling small-time crooks. She had been hoping that her boss had taken notice of her efforts, and this summons surely indicated they had paid off. Momo was practically vibrating with excitement when she reached the ornate mahogany door at the end of the hall.

She sucked in a breath, steeled her nerves, and then knocked loudly.

“It’s Creati!”

“Come in,” came the poised reply. Momo entered and bowed respectfully before looking to her employer, Uwabami. The model-slash-superhero offered her a lucrative position pending her graduation, and though Momo had her reservations, she had taken it due to the comfort of knowing the beautiful hero already. She had been relieved to discover that though Uwabami prioritized model work, she still provided ample opportunity for her up-and-coming sidekicks to involve themselves in hero work.

The blonde-haired woman smiled pleasantly as Momo approached the desk. “Creati, I believe you are familiar with the Chief of Police,” she said with a wave to the uniformed gentleman sitting in the plush chair across the desk.

“Yes, of course. Lovely to see you again,” Momo acknowledged courteously. The man only nodded silently. Momo could see the worry lines creasing his brow and the nervous sweat dampening his face. Clearly, whatever this meeting concerned was not just the run-of-the-mill mission. Momo found herself straightening up, trying to seem dignified and worthy of the honor she was to be bestowed.

“The Chief of Police has visited multiple agencies looking for sidekicks who are willing to participate in a very important operation. When he enlightened me to the details of the job, you were the obvious choice,” Uwabami revealed with a proud smile. Momo couldn’t help the giddy grin that bloomed on her face.

“Thank you! I won’t disappoint!” she ensured radiantly, bowing once more. As Uwabami gestured, Momo hastily took a seat and turned slightly to listen to the police chief. He stroked his stubble with a long sigh, sounding just as wearied as he looked.

“The police force has been investigating a drug-smuggling ring for nearly a year now. They are responsible for eighty percent of the contraband traffic past our borders. We’ve invested many lives and resources into investigating and apprehending this organization, and we have finally prepared a sting operation to capture many high-level officials within their ranks,” he explained. Momo listened with furrowed eyebrows, amazed that she was being involved in such an important matter.

“The sting operation is to take place at a bar that is notoriously a villain gathering place,” Uwabami continued stoically. “The police force has requested our aid in staking out the bar and providing backup should their operation go south. You have developed a knack for performing under pressure and devising quick plans when things turn ugly, Creati, so I recommended you as our contribution.”

“I’m honored, Uwabami. I won’t let you down!” Momo vowed solemnly. She began to bristle with excitement. Surely, other young heroes would be invited to participate; she wondered if she would encounter any of her old classmates and they could fight side-by-side again, just like old times. Just as she was wondering, the police chief piped up that she would be acting with a partner.

“As a matter of fact, he arrived several minutes ago and should be joining us shortly.”

Just then, a knock resounded in the room. Momo whirled around to peer over the back of the leather chair, watching with wide eyes as the doorknob jiggled and the door swung open. Her eyes widened as a tall, dark-haired young man with his forehead covered in a diamond-patterned bandana strolled in.

“Welder?!” she exclaimed at the same instant he froze and gasped, “Creati?!”

“Perfect! You two are acquainted. That will make things much easier!” Uwabami hummed in delight. Momo sunk down in the chair to hide the rosy blush coloring her cheeks. “Easier” sure was a way to put it, but not a word she would use. Sure, they went to high school together, but there was a matter of… unresolved feelings harbored between them that could complicate matters.

She’d known that Yosetsu had developed a crush on her early on in their first year. She’d never really been able to decide whether or not she’d wanted to reciprocate, considering the harrowing ordeals they constantly underwent throughout high school. So they’d persisted in this unspoken stalemate, stewing on fledgeling affections that never got the chance to take flight.

Life sure had a funny way of dredging up the past.

Yosetsu eyed her uncertainly as he approached the desk, easing down into the chair on the other side of the police chief. Momo had busied herself looking at Uwabami, but she could feel Yosetsu’s gaze prickling her nerves. It felt like he was studying every aspect of her, drinking in the way that she’d matured in the short time they hadn’t seen one another— and honestly, it made her heart race in all the right ways.

She squirmed in the chair as the police chief continued to explain their duties.

“It would be suspicious if we infiltrated the bar with too many sidekicks, so you two have been chosen to perform this aspect of the sting. You will pose as villains and enter the bar to gather intel on an important drug transaction that one of our informants revealed to us.”

Both Momo and Yosetsu sucked in a small breath. No doubt it was a high honor to be given such a vital role, but posing as villains in a hub of criminal activity could have deadly consequences if they weren’t up to snuff. Momo felt a bead of sweat roll down her face, which she discreetly wiped away while tucking a swathe of her hair behind her ear. She could do this!

“Based on the information you gather, the police, pro heroes, and other sidekicks will move in to apprehend the criminals. This will be a very dangerous mission; it is rumored that the head of the gang is making an alliance with a Colombian drug lord who has traveled here specifically for this deal,” the officer warned. “Although it will be unfortunate if they cannot be captured, it is a possibility, since there will be a high level of security and plainclothes gang members in the bar. Your safety is of the utmost importance. If you feel your lives are in danger, pull out.”

The idea of accepting defeat left a sour taste in Momo’s mouth, but given the gravity of the operation, she swallowed the bitter seeds of protest rising in her stomach. She could see Yosetsu clench his jaw out of the corners of her eyes; he had always been a brash one, so being told that it was very likely they would have to retreat probably didn’t sit well with him, either. Still, they respectfully held their tongues, something that made Uwabami smirk confidently.

“These are sophisticated young heroes. I am sure they will perform admirably and make educated choices,” the woman assured the officer. The man whistled through his teeth as he ran his hand through his sweat-damped hair.

“Of course. They both came highly recommended, as did the other sidekicks involved. However, as police we must always prepare for the worst-case scenario. We don’t want young talent sacrificing themselves needlessly.”

After a moment of silence, the man slapped his knees and stood. “Very well, then. I have discussed the major details with Uwabami, so she will brief you on the timeline and all the other necessities. On behalf of the police force and the citizens of Japan, I thank you for accepting this task.”

Both Momo and Yosetsu jumped to bow as the man took his leave. They took their seats again as Uwabami leaned over her desk with clasped hands, eyes glittering and a terse smirk on her lipsticked mouth.

“Now, listen carefully, you two…”

Momo smoothed the ruby red party dress down the length of her curves as she turned this way and that in the mirror. The police force had provided her with a suitable disguise that still allowed use of her Quirk— a sleeveless one-and-a-half-skirt dress with a plunging back, with ruffled fabric that swished around her thighs as she walked. Though she was quite used to showing skin due to the necessities of her powers, for the first time she found herself nervous to bare so much to the world.

Well, not really to the world, but to one individual in particular.

“You look nice.”

Momo jumped and whipped around, hand slapping over her heart as she gasped. Yosetsu smiled apologetically, fiddling with the watch around his wrist.

“Sorry. I suppose I should have knocked, but I’d figured you had finished changing.”

The agency had rented them adjoining hotel rooms across the bar to prepare for their operation. The police force and other heroes were also holed up in the building, setting up a command center. She could hear them through the thin walls of the hotel room, barking orders as they prepared for a crucial night. It made her nervous, so she tried to fixate on something else— inadvertently studying the way Yosetsu’s suit flattered him almost mouthwateringly well.

The black fabric cut his figure sharply, and his coat hung unbuttoned, revealing a rumpled dress shirt. His hair was tousled with gel with his bangs falling over his signature headband, and his dress shoes gleamed in the lowlight of the room. It was the perfect balance of lazy and sexy, the perfect look for a faux villain— and complemented Yosetsu’s personality so well.

As Momo felt her face heating up, she returned her gaze to the mirror to fumble with a necklace. She cursed internally as her shaking fingers struggled to clasp the gold chain. She froze when she felt the pads of rough, calloused fingers brush over the nape of her neck.

“Allow me,” Yosetsu’s breath puffed against her styled hair. Her arms dropped of her own accord, allowing him to secure the chain. Her heart hammered in her throat as his fingers lingered for a second, skimming down the valley between her exposed shoulder blades.

Then he was gone, shoes clunking as he walked towards the door.

“It’s almost time. We should head to the bar.” Was it her imagination, or did she detect bitterness in his tone? Frowning, she skated her fingertips over the back of her neck, where his touch had been only a few short seconds ago. Confused and conflicted, she followed after him, the click of her heels heralding the start of a trial neither of them knew they were in for.

They could hear the music pumping out of the bar as soon as they stepped out of the hotel. The bass boomed through the night air, mixing with the rumbling of the car engines speeding by and the hum of drunken conversation of the patrons loitering outside the bar. Yosetsu protectively looped their arms as they strode across the crosswalk, and tightened his grip as Momo’s sultry figure earned a few whoops and whistles from the staggering drunks. Momo tried to seem unbothered as he escorted her, but her nerves tingled under her skin. She wasn’t sure if it was the unwanted attention, or the wanted attention.

The bouncer looked them up and down before wordlessly stepping aside, swinging the door open for them. A sea of bodies writhed beyond, reeking of alcohol and sweat as the neon lights flashed overhead to dye them green, yellow, blue, pink, and white in rapid succession. She gripped tightly on Yosetsu’s bicep as they ventured inside, and she felt the muscle tense under her manicured nails— but he said nothing, only kept pressing forward. No one gave them a second glance as they skirted the outside of the dance floor, heading for a nondescript metal door nestled near the bathrooms.

Yosetsu knocked once on the door. It jumped open, halted by a swinging chain, and a bloodshot eye peered through the crack.

“Password,” the doorkeeper grunted.

“Caipiroska,” Yosetsu responded smoothly. The doorkeeper squinted at them, and for a moment, Momo frantically wondered if the police chief had been given the wrong password by their informant. In the next instant, however, the door slammed shut and they heard the jangling of the lock chain. The door swung open again to reveal a hulking, muscle-bound guard looming so tall that his close-cropped hair brushed against the upper frame. He nodded curtly at them before allowing them to pass.

The secret lounge was far quieter than the outside bar, but no less seedy. A sapphire blue light bathed the room, washing over leather couches circling round tables laden with cocktails of all sorts and colors. Men in suits and ladies in dresses sprawled over the furniture, giggling and flirting and kissing passionately. Every few minutes, a couple would get up to disappear behind white velvet curtains, no doubt to continue their lustful pursuits in more private settings. Women in stiletto heels and maids dresses roamed the tables, delivering more alcohol. In the center was a white tile dance floor, where a small crowd of patrons were dancing provocatively under the swinging white lights.

This is where Yosetsu led her, swinging her around to face him and settling his hands on her hips. She sucked in a breath and looked at him in shock, prompting him to whisper in her ear with a smirk, “We can see everything from here. Keep an eye out for our mark.”

Momo’s cheeks flushed in embarrassment. How could she be so foolish? Of course that was his plan. It had nothing to do with wanting to dance with her.

She continued to convince herself of that as she peeked out of her lashes and started copying the movements of the other girls, swinging her hips to the bumping, bass-boosted music. Yosetsu used his grip to slowly wind her in a circle, and she peered beyond his sturdy frame at the tables, studying each and every person she could see. After several minutes, she spied a foreign-looking man smoking a fat cigar sitting with several well-dressed Japanese men. He seemed to be using an interpreter, whispering lowly in his ear before the translator spoke to the men in accented Japanese.

Momo tapped Yosetsu on the shoulder and discreetly gestured with her chin. Instead of looking, he continued moving her in a slow circle until he was in a position to get a good glance at them.

“That’s our man,” he hummed lowly in her ear, making the hairs on the back of her neck rise despite her attempts to remain professional. “Let’s keep an eye on them.”

Gracefully, he guided Momo such that her back was now against his chest. Following his lead, she slowly snaked her arm up to loop around his neck, hands teasing at the hairs peeking out from underneath the back of his headband. Her hips slowly swung from side-to-side as he held them, and his head was tucked against her shoulder as she leaned her head back, his breath puffing against her exposed neck. They watched the group through fleeting glances, waiting for them to move their conversation where prying eyes couldn’t see.

To anyone else, they seemed to be just a couple enjoying a steamy dance, not two heroes spying on a group of drug lords brokering a trade deal. Momo was grateful for the pounding music, because her heart was liable to beat out of her chest. Every glide of Yosetsu’s hands over her waist and hips sent a fire through her nerves, and every ghost of his breath over her skin a shiver up her spine. Her head began to swim with the overwhelming sensations, clouding the importance of her mission in a dizzying fog. All she could think about now was him, so close to her, and how she wanted him to touch her more, more, more…

She squeaked when he abruptly grabbed her by the chin to smother her mouth in a searing kiss. Her eyes shot open and she froze, but Yosetsu was not looking at her— his gaze was fixed upon the table of smugglers. After what seemed like forever, he broke the kiss, and she looked in shock at the table to catch the Colombian man snorting and turning his head.

“He was staring at us,” Yosetsu explained quietly. Momo wasn’t sure if it was a way to keep their cover, or a show of possessiveness— and she wasn’t sure which explanation made her heart stutter more.

Before the pair of young heroes could resume their dancing act, the group of drug dealers rose. They sauntered across the lounge to a small hallway, which most likely led to a back alley. Momo and Yosetsu held their positions for a few minutes before following; Yosetsu led a giggling Momo by the hand, grinning like he was leading her away for a secret rendezvous. As soon as they were veiled by the darkness of the hall, he ceased the act, putting on a serious face. He shrugged out of his coat to reveal several metal rods strapped to his sides, and rolled his sleeves up so he could have proper use of his hands for his welding Quirk.

His eyes were narrowed as he edged to the slightly ajar back door, which was spilling cool night air into the hall. Momo tried to focus on the task at hand, and not the way the moonlight cut across his jaw in such an attractive way. They could hear snippets of conversation floating in, and it wasn’t your ordinary bartalk. It slowly faded into nothing, and Yosetsu risked a peek out of the door.

“They’re heading to a warehouse down the street. Come on.”

They crept out into the night, crouched low and eyes peeled. The group of men were striding confidently down the cobblestone alley, which was flanked by two armed guards sweeping the area with piercing gazes. Momo and Yosetsu huddled down behind a dumpster, watching the men disappear into the warehouse through a side door. A large, black, unmarked van was parked a few feet away— likely to transport the drug dealers’ haul.

Momo pressed down on the jewel on her necklace, which contained a small walkie-talkie.

“The suspects have entered a warehouse down the street from the bar. There are two guards visible, but likely to be more in the adjacent buildings. There is one black van parked near the side door,” she reported. The microphone buzzed a second later with the investigator’s affirmative and order to stay put while they moved into position for the raid. Momo and Yosetsu watched as a disguised police cruiser slowly rolled up to the end of the alleyway, and snipers crawled to the edges of the neighboring rooftops.

Just as the sirens blared in the quietude, all hell broke loose.

Momo and Yosetsu whipped around as the back door of the club burst open, and a small squadron of suit-clad men wearing sunglasses stormed into the alleyway. One of them immediately morphed into a large, warthog-like creature and charged the dumpster. Momo and Yosetsu sprang away in opposite directions; the villain’s sharp tusks slammed into the metal, punching through it like it was no more than paper. Momo rolled out into the alley, producing a sword and a shield and bracing herself for battle.

She never had a chance to use them.

“Creati! Look out!”

Yosetsu’s shout was drowned out by the crack of a gunshot. Blood exploded from Momo’s left shoulder, and she screamed as fiery pain rocketed down her arm and bloomed across her upper trunk. It felt like liquid lava flooded her veins, melting all the starch in her knees. She crumpled to the ground with an agonized groan, her sword and shield clattering down beside her. She could see out of her blurry, tear-filled vision that the warthog man was preparing to charge once more, and tried to use her Quirk to produce a flash bomb to buy them time.

Except, nothing happened.

As the panic showed clear on her face, one of the crooks cackled.

“What’s the matter, dollface?” he jeered. Momo’s breath began to hitch as she realized that she’d been struck with a Quirk-negating bullet. Is this it?! Am I going to lose my Quirk forever?

“Ah, don’t fret, pretty thing,” he chuckled as he approached, grabbing her by the face and squeezing her cheeks. “It’s not one of those permanent models, I’m afraid. But you’ll still be helpless for quite a bit.” Momo shuddered at the sinister tone dripping from his voice. “Both of ya.”

He forced her head to turn so she could see Yosetsu. He had been struck in the abdomen, and was lying in a puddle of his own blood, trying to staunch the wound. The tears rolled down her cheeks as the villain jerked her head back to face him. “Aw, he don’t look so good, does he? I hope he lasts the night. We got some work to do. Until then, pet, take a nap.”

Her world swirled as he pistol-whipped her across the head. Stars sparked in her eyes as she flopped limply to the ground, darkness rapidly encroaching on the edges of her vision. The last thing she saw before the curtain of black fell was Yosetsu reaching for her and gasping for breath as blood dripped from his lips. Amongst the gunfire and sirens and shouts, she heard his pained whisper.

“No… Not yet… I haven’t told her…”

A dull ache pounded in the side of Momo’s head as she slowly drifted into consciousness. Despite her first instinct to dissolve into a frightened tither, she forced herself to remain calm in the haze. She kept her breathing deep and steady, her eyes closed, and her body relaxed. As she rose into lucidity, she fought past the pain to focus on the voices bouncing around her. She recognized the man that had struck her among them.

“Sleeping beauty better wake up soon. That bullet wears off in one minute,” he growled, “and we need her to play perfect little hostage for those damn cops.”

Momo began counting down in her head. Sixty. Fifty-nine. Fifty-eight. Fifty-seven. She could recognize now that she was tied to a chair. Her bullet wound ached beneath its blood-soaked dressings, and she could feel the dried substance sticking to her skin.

“You would think two young sidekicks would be more valuable to ransom,” another chortled, “but they’ve just been feeding us bullshit. Maybe we should kill one of them and show them we’re serious.”

“I’m surprised that the other one is still kicking anyway,” laughed yet another, a deep-voiced man who carried the authority of a boss. “We were quite generous to bandage his wound, but I still expected him to bleed out. He’s a spirited one, too. Took a chunk outta Raiken’s arm!” he guffawed. Momo heard a low snarl, probably Raiken nursing the bite wound he’d earned from her colleague. It was a great relief to learn that Yosetsu was still alive, but that was only one hurdle surmounted.

Forty-three. Forty-two. Forty-one.

“I can’t believe they fell for our little ruse,” hummed Momo’s attacker. Her heart jumped against her sternum in fright; it had all been a setup?! “This’ll teach them to snoop where they ain’t wanted. Surely the lives of two hero hopefuls is a good enough trade for us to fly the coop to South America, eh?”

So, they were trying to barter their freedom for their lives. A clever plan, but dangerous for the two sidekicks if the powers that be refused to comply. Most likely, they were scouring the surrounding area for the two of them, hoping to still bring the gang of drug smugglers to justice.

Twenty-five. Twenty-four. Twenty-three.

Momo heard the twang of a fingernail against glass, and one of the crooks mumbling about preparing a syringe of the Quirk-incapacitating solution. She heard chairs scraping and a metal door banging open as the gang of villains left, mentioning something about checking on Momo’s partner. She kept her head hanging low, relying on the timbre of the approaching footsteps to plan her counterattack. The blood rushed in her ears as her anxiety mounted. If she got the timing just slightly off, the remaining villain would raise the alarm, and she and Yosetsu would have no hope of escaping.

The footsteps stopped in front of her.

Three! Two! One!

Just as the villain prepared to plunge the needle into the meat of her arm, Momo produced a large metal rod from her thigh. It shot straight up to knock into the man’s wrist, sending it flying up and the solution squirting out of the syringe. Knives sprouted from Momo’s wrists and ankles, slicing through the ropes binding her arms and legs to the creaky plastic chair. Before the man could recover, she surged forward to clap her hand over his mouth, and produced a length of rope from her person. She trussed him up and duct-taped his mouth, leaving him wriggling and squeaking muffled curses on the floor. For good measure, she struck him over the head with the metal rod, knocking him out.

As she rose, something flopped against her neck. Her hand flew to catch what it was, and she gasped in delight— the fools had neglected to take her necklace! She pressed down on the jewel, praying that it was within reach of the receiver.

“Hello? This is Creati! Can anyone read me? Hello?”

“Creati?” buzzed Uwabami’s voice from the other end, and Momo nearly sank to the ground in relief. “Where are you?”

“I’m not sure. Welder and I have been taken hostage in an unknown facility,” she responded, creeping to the door and peering out. The hallway was nondescript, lined with doors. “I overhead the villains talking about ransom demands.”

“They’ve asked for ten million yen and transport to Colombia for your lives. We’ve been stringing them along, but their patience is wearing thin,” Uwabami said stiffly. “It’s been eight hours since you were abducted from behind the bar. We lost the van in the chase, and wherever you are is disrupting the transport signal from your necklace.”

“Underground?!” Momo realized with a gasp. It would explain the complete stone interior and the lack of windows. The only light came from flickering fluorescent lights. “I understand, Uwabami. I’ve managed to incapacitate one of the gang members and free myself, but I have no idea where Welder is, nor an exit.”

“I would tell you to stay put, but we’ve had little luck locating you,” Uwabami sighed. The frustration and stress was clear in her voice. Momo smiled, touched that her mentor was so concerned for her well-being.

“Tell the police force to take to the air. I’m going to attempt an escape, and when I get outside, I’ll fire flares. They should be able to find us then!”

“Be careful, Creati. These men are very dangerous. Don’t do anything rash.”

Momo grimaced at the unspoken order for her not to look for Welder, but focus on finding a way out. As she ended the conversation, she hovered in the doorway, debating what to do. It would be the practical choice to look for an exit and alert the police and heroes to their location. However, once she fired the flare, the gang would be alarmed. They would try to cut their losses and flee; they could leave Yosetsu as is, but they could also kill him on the spot or attempt to flee with him to continue to use him as a hostage.

Finding a way out was the obvious choice, but Momo just couldn’t bring herself to abandon Yosetsu. He’d risked his life to save her from the Nomu once, when leaving her behind would have been the logical choice. She’d always hoped to repay him— and now she had her chance.

Besides, he’d said he’d wanted to tell her something. For better or worse, she wanted to hear it, even if she already knew what it was. Once and for all, they could end this unspoken tension between them that had been brewing for three years.

Somehow, that was the most important thing.

Momo slunk out into the hall, crouched low and eyes peeled. As she passed each door, she pressed her ear against it, straining to hear anything that could lead her to Yosetsu or the way out. The blank halls and windowless doors blended together in a labyrinth-like haze shrouded in silence and the dull fluorescents. Momo crept through them like a mouse slinking into the lions’ den, desperate for crumbs of information. Just one could mean the difference between life and death.

She arrived finally at the end of the hall, marked by a stairwell. The door creaked as she opened it; darkness clouded the landings, veiling the areas above and below. Momo stared up the stairs, knowing that she should proceed upward since she thought she was underground. However, her instincts told her that Yosetsu was somewhere down below. Swallowing, she stole down the steps, further into the gangs’ hideout.

Once more, she was met with a hall lined with doors. Except this time, one of them was open, spilling light and sound into the passage. Momo crept as close as she dared, and cringed when she heard the unmistakable sound of fist striking flesh.

“I bet your pretty girlfriend won’t think you’re hot shit anymore, huh?” came a sadistic cackle. Another smack echoed through the gloom, followed by an agonized groan and the splash of blood against the ground. Momo slowly tip-toed to the cracked door, peering ever-so-slightly through the gap. She managed to hold in her strangled gasp when she spied Yosetsu, tied to a chair and surrounded by the four men from the alleyway and the apparent leader of the gang.

Yosetsu’s face was a mosaic of black-and-blue bruises. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned to reveal soiled bandages, dyed red where the bullet had punched through his abdomen. His headband hung around his neck, causing his sweat-soaked hair to hang onto his swollen face. Yet she could see his muscles straining against his bonds and the fresh blood seeping through the bandages with every jerk he made to wrestle free.

“Look at ‘im! What a tough lad, eh? Eager to get off and rescue your princess, little hero?” The villain grabbed Yosetsu by the chin to force him to look up. Even through the swollen flesh around his eyes, Momo could see the seething hatred burning in his dark irises. “She’s such a pretty little thing. Ever since I saw her walk in that bar on your arm I wanted a taste. Maybe I should, eh? Leave you here to bleed while I go have a bit of fun.”

“You motherfucker! Just fuckin’ wait until I get outta these, I’m gonna fuckin’— gaaaaaaah!” Yosetsu’s obscene curses were cut short as the man sucker-punched him in the gut, right over his wound. Blood spurted through the bandages, puddling on his already stained slacks. Yosetsu wheezed and moaned as he doubled over as far as his bindings would allow, while the crooks cruelly laughed at his misery.

“All right. That’s enough fucking around,” the boss grumped. “I’m tired of waiting on these assholes. I think it’s time to show them we’re serious. Let’s go get the girl.”

Yosetsu’s head snapped up, showing an expression of horror.

“What—? No! No! You can’t! I won’t let you!” he shouted as he desperately scooted after them, clenching his teeth. Frustrated tears sprung to the corners of his eyes as the men ignored him, heading for the door. Her heart broke as he began screaming, begging for them to take him instead, and writhed so violently in the chair that he fell flat on his face. He continued to brokenly plead to the men’s retreating backs, voice cracking with desperation.

Momo scurried away in a panic, looking around at the array of doors. She needed to hide, but there was no guarantee that any of them were unlocked or unoccupied. However, she only had seconds to make a decision. She dove over to one and twisted the knob, momentarily grateful that it was unlocked. She slipped inside and closed the door just as the men entered the hall. She held her breath and listened to them pass, not daring to breathe until their footsteps had long since faded.

The only sound now was Yosetsu’s continued wailing. Momo chanced a look over her shoulder, mindlessly inspecting the room, and froze.

Facing her, a man was sleeping on a bunk bed in the corner. His side rose and fell with deep snores, and his mouth hung open to pool drool over his pillow. One of his hands hung off the bed clutching a beer bottle. He was on the top bunk, and if it slipped from his grasp, it would plummet to the ground and shatter— surely awakening him.

Panic began to rise once more as she saw the bottle began to slip through his fingers. She kicked off her heels and sprinted across the room, frayed carpet muffling her footfalls, and managed to catch the bottle just as it plunged from his grip. She stood still there for a second, listening to his unchanged breathing pattern. Then, she slowly set the beer bottle down on the unoccupied second bed.

She backed carefully away from the bed, picked up her heels, and reached behind her to open the door. Still watching the sleeping man with wide eyes, she slipped back into the hall. His form slowly eclipsed as she closed the door again. She then finally allowed herself a deep sigh of relief, pressing her head against the door.

Slowly, the blood rushing in her ears faded, replaced by Yosetsu’s pathetic grunts and groans. Adrenaline pulsed once more through her veins, reminding her of the task at hand. Heels clacking together in her hand, she hurried to the door, throwing it open with a cry of his name.

Yosetsu immediately ceased his struggles.

“Yaoyorozu?!”

“It’s all right, Awase! I’m here!” she cried, rushing to his side. She produced a knife to slice through his bonds, tossing the ropes aside. He melted off the chair, groaning, and she dragged it away from him. He rolled onto his back, pressing his hand into his bleeding wound. His dark eyes fixed on her, flooded with relief.

“Thank goodness… I thought… I thought they were…” he coughed weakly. She knelt beside him, hands fluttering over his body as she panicked with how to help him. He had already been gravely wounded by the gunshot, and repeated beatings hadn’t helped. She forced a smile, tucking her disarrayed hair behind her ear as she tried to seem less worried than she was.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to get us out of here,” she assured him. He frowned.

“No. You should leave me. It’s too dangerous, and I’m nothing but a liability like this—”

“No!” she snapped, making his eyes widen a little. “No,” she repeated softly. “I can’t leave you behind. You and I are on this mission together, and we’re going to end it that way.”

His breaths were labored as he stared up at her. Confliction was clear in his bruised, swollen face.

“Yaoyorozu, I don’t know if I’m gonna—”

“Don’t say that,” she scolded gently. She placed her hand on his cheek, and despite the pain, he leaned into her touch, his eyes fluttering. “Don’t. I’m going to get you out of here, and then you can say what you wanted to tell me.”

He looked up at her in shock, but she was already rising, hefting him up by his arm. Her shoulder burned in protest, but it was nothing compared to the agony Yosetsu was stricken with. He groaned and yelped as he struggled to his feet. When he righted himself, he immediately slumped against her, nearly disbalancing her with his weight. Yet she persevered, staggering with him out into the hallway.

Time was of the essence. Soon, the crooks would discover her absence and scour the compound for her. She had to reach the exit, and fast.

Just as they stumbled into the stairwell, alarms began to wail. A bright red light doused the staircase in its bright blinking glow, and angry curses and shouts bled through the walls.

“Yaoyorozu, leave me—” Yosetsu began to insist again. She ignored him, dragging him as fast as she could up the steps. She abandoned her heels; they clunked down the steps, vanishing into the dark depths. Every strike of the hard enamel-like surface against the concrete sounded like a death knell heralding their inevitable demise.

Despite the villains scurrying around searching for her, they made it to the top stair with no incident. She kicked the door open to be greeted with a rush of early dawn wind. The sunrise was peeking above the horizon, spilling golden light over a sooty, dirty warehouse district. They had not been underground after all; the building had been lined with metal to reflect potential airwaves, which had disrupted the tracking device in her necklace. They stood upon a flat roof, four stories up and helpless.

Momo produced a flare gun from her leg and pointed it upwards. A bright red flare burst forth, rocketing into the fading night sky to glimmer with soft fire. Yosetsu pressed the jewel on her necklace for her, and it crackled with activity.

“This is Creati! Do you copy? I have Welder with me! I’ve fired a flare; we’re in some sort of packaging or manufacturing district.”

“Uwabami here! We’ve seen the flare and are also locked on to your location. Hang tight, you two! We’re on our way!”

Though it was reassuring to know that aid was en route, Momo couldn’t breathe easy yet. They still had to survive until rescue came. She gently laid Yosetsu on the rooftop and hurried to the door, using her Quirk to make a large plank of wood. She jammed it under the doorknob; it wouldn’t hold for long, but it could buy them time, which they sorely needed. Angry shouts were rising up, floating up to mingle with the stars and stain them with wroth.

The flare flickered down, disappearing behind an adjacent warehouse.

Momo crawled on her hands and knees to Yosetsu. He lay on his back, holding his wound again. Blood seeped through his fingers, and his eyes were lidded as he stared glassily up at the sky. If it weren’t for the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest, she would fear he’d bled to death.

“Awase,” she whispered as she shimmied up beside him, trying to stay low so no one would spy them from the ground. She knew he was in a bad way, as his only reply was a strangled breath. “Hold on, Awase. Help is coming. Hold on,” she pleaded softly as she helped apply pressure to his wound. He groaned in agony, head rolling and smearing sweat against the white concrete of the roof.

“I’m so tired,” he slurred. His eyes were drooping, prompting Momo to slap him lightly on the cheek a few times. His lashes fluttered to look at her, eyes unfocused.

“Stay awake, Awase!” she begged. Tears began to bead on her own lashes as the panic seeped into her bones. She pushed hard down on his abdomen, desperate to control his bleeding. He’d lost so much already, dripping the whole way up the stairwell.

That fact settled into her frazzled brain, and she looked slowly to the door, barred only by the wood.

The metal door heaved suddenly, making her jerk in shock. The wood quivered under its assault, but held firm, at least for now. Angry shouts and curses boomed beyond, but were soon drowned out by the rising whips of helicopter blades. She looked up to see red lights blinking amongst the fading stars, and the black bulk of the chopper rapidly approaching.

“Look. Look, Awase, it’s a helicopter! It’s a helicopter,” she laughed giddily and looked down. The chuckles died in her throat as she watched him struggling to stay conscious, gurgling as blood bubbled in the back of his throat. “Awase! Awase, stay with me!” she screamed. With a surge of strength, she sat him up against her, holding the back of his skull. His eyes rolled in the back of his head for a second before he blinked rapidly, gaze settling on her face. A dreamy smile spread over his busted lips.

“You’re so fuckin’ beautiful.”

“Awase! Don’t talk like that. We’re gonna make it through this, we’re gonna—”

“Please,” he whispered hoarsely. Momo’s words faltered on her tongue. His hand rose to cup her cheek, fingers softly tracing the line of her jawbone as his eyes drank in every ounce of her being.

“Ever since I first saw you, I’ve loved you, Yaoyorozu.” The tears rolled down her cheeks as she silently stared down at him, heart breaking as he strained to get out the words. “I know I’m not— I’m not worthy of someone like you, but I thought— I thought if I worked hard, maybe someday— someday I—”

As he erupted into a fit of hacking coughs, Momo pressed her forehead to his.

“Awase, Awase, listen to me. You’ve always been worth something to me. You’re my hero, Awase,” she sniffled, her tears dripping down to travel through the blood spatters across his face. “I never forgot what you did for me. You saved me, even when you didn’t have to, and I lived every day to honor that life you gave me.”

He groaned as she hugged him tight, burying her face into his neck and rocking back and forth.

“Don’t go,” she whimpered. “Don’t go, don’t make me live like this. I want— I want to do it right. I want to make up for the time I’ve wasted. Awase, please—!”

She could hear the wood cracking under the assault on the door, just over the deafening helicopter blades. The wind buffeted them as the flying machine descended, ruffling Momo’s dress and sending her hair flapping around her face. She straightened up, the tears staining her cheeks, as Awase clung to life. Just as the wood buckled and the door crashed open, he used the last of his strength to reach up and weld his hand to the footrail of the helicopter and his other arm around Momo’s waist.

“Go, go, go, go!” Uwabami roared over the wind. The helicopter’s engine whined as it surged away from the roof. The villains could only watch frustrated as the two heroes were borne away, and more helicopters and police cruisers surrounded their complex. Momo clung to Yosetsu as he dangled from the helicopter, watching the climax of their harrowing mission unfold on the retreating ground. As the rising sun finally peeked above the horizon, it was greeted with a flood of red and blue.

With the coming of the dawn, and the end of their ordeal, Momo finally succumbed to the exhaustion. She drifted down into the darkness, the wind fading into serene, empty silence. She cast one more prayer into the abyss, a prayer that Yosetsu would still be there when she awakened.

When Momo opened her eyes, she was met with blinding white. Her eyes burned with the intensity of the pristine roof tiles and walls. She rolled her head with a groan; the pounding headache had returned with a vengeance. A soft pillow embraced her ailing cranium, providing some relief with its cloud-like plushness. Similarly, cool sheets were draped over her form, and fresh bandages wrapped around her wounded shoulder. She could tell that she was wearing a hospital gown, as the thin fabric rustled over her skin.

Her heartbeat jumped on the monitor, alerting Uwabami to her restlessness.

“Creati?” the woman gasped, jumping up from her chair to rush to her bedside. Momo smiled sleepily at her mentor, relieved to see a friendly face after so long surrounded by hostiles.

“Uwabami…”

“Relax, my dear. You’re safe,” she cooed and rested a soothing hand on Momo’s forehead. Her palm was refreshingly cool, causing Momo to melt into the mattress in relief. Fresh panic soon incited her nerves, however, as she remembered Yosetsu.

“Welder! Where is he? Is he safe? Is he…?” She dare not finish the sentence. Her bottom lip wobbled at the possibility alone. Uwabami tutted soothingly, stroking her hair.

“It’s all right. He was gravely wounded, but he pulled through surgery and is expected to make a full recovery.”

For a second, she was stunned into silence. Then, one small, croaking hiccup bubbled out of her mouth. All her suppressed emotions came bursting forth, causing her to burst into wracking sobs. Uwabami continued to gently caress Momo’s hair as the girl wailed and cried and wept until her throat was sore and her eyes were out of tears.

After thirty minutes of emotional duress, her wits returned to her. She steadied her breathing around occasional stuttering hiccups and sniffles, and Uwabami gazed adoringly at her.

“I am so proud of you, Creati. You did so well. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal, but you never abandoned hope and you rescued your comrade. You are the pride of my agency.”

Momo tried to bite back the fresh tears that threatened to spill again.

“Thank you, Uwabami,” she choked out. She took a moment to compose herself once more before swallowed and looked hopefully at the older hero. “Can I… Can I see him?”

Uwabami smiled knowingly.

“Of course you can, my dear.”

A few minutes later, Momo was hesitating in front of the hospital room door. A placard read “Awase Yosetsu” in neat handwriting. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other and chewed on her bottom lip. What should she say? Was there anything to say after an emotional confession as death knocked on your doorstep? Yosetsu had been so out of it that maybe he didn’t even remember it. What would she do then?

She agonized over the uncertainties for several minutes. Eventually, she decided to just face whatever was to come and found herself rapping on the door before she could change her mind.

“Come in,” came Yosetsu’s hoarse voice. She timidly opened the door, peering around its edge with owlish eyes.

He was propped up in the hospital bed, his abdomen swathed in clean white bandages and his face an even uglier watercolor of yellow, purple, and black bruising. His eyes were bright under the swollen lids, however, and he smiled so broadly when Momo shyly stepped in that the split in his lip burst open and bled a little down his chin.

“Hey,” she said meekly.

“Hey,” he drawled. Damn it, how was it so possible for a man to sound so sexy while looking like he’d been a punching bag for a training boxer? She clasped her hands behind her back as she timidly approached the bedside. The sheets rustled as he eagerly sat further up in bed, that stupid grin never leaving his bleeding mouth.

“How are you feeling?”

“Like dog shit, quite honestly, but I’ll live.”

She giggled at his brutal honesty and uncouth vocabulary, mostly in relief at his high spirits. His gaze softened as she slowly sat down on the edge of his bed, her thigh bumping his. She sat there silently for a moment, absently tracing patterns in the cotton blanket covering his legs.

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” she said finally, peeking through her lashes at him. His grin widened, impossible as it seemed, and his eyes glittered happily. His hand snuck out from beneath the blankets to grasp hers. A scraped thumb brushed over her skin, sending tingles up her arm.

“S’only because of you,” he purred, bringing a heat to her cheeks. “Yaoyorozu—”

“Momo,” she corrected. His eyebrows raised and she smiled sweetly. “Please, call me Momo.”

“Okay… Momo,” he said slowly, like he was enjoying the way it rolled over his tongue. A goofy lilt came to his grin, and he said, “Can I kiss you, Momo?”

A fierce fiery blush spread across her face, followed by a sheepish smile. Words failed her and so she nodded, scooting herself closer to the injured man. As before, Yosetsu cupped her face and brushed the pad of his thumb over her cheekbone.

“So fuckin’ beautiful,” he breathed in utter awe. “Way too beautiful for the likes o’ me.”

“Stop talking and kiss me,” she demanded. He laughed at her braven confidence, but obeyed her without complaint. He leaned in to press his lips against hers in a sweet kiss, much at odds with their steamy lip-locking in the club. Yet to Momo it was so much more riveting, for she could feel the love bleeding through every roll of his lips against hers. His tongue timidly swept across her bottom lip, pleading for entry, and she granted it. No sooner did his tongue dive into tangle eagerly with hers, drawing a satisfied hum from the depths of her throat.

Her hand traveled up the planes of his torso, feeling the scratchy surface of the bandages contouring chiseled abdominals, before resting at his sternum. She could feel his heartbeat thumping against her palm, a steady rhythm that synchronized with hers as their lips moved together in passionate tandem. His hand had slid up from her face to bury into her tousles of fluffy black hair, winding through the strands like he was committing their feel to memory.

As much as she wanted to kiss him until the end of time, she had to breathe at some point. They broke apart, both flushed with breathlessness and smiling adoringly. He ran his hand through her hair once more, then cupped the back of her head gently.

“Stay with me awhile?” he asked hopefully.

“Of course.”

He smiled broadly and scooted himself over in the bed so she could crawl up beside him. She tucked her body close to his side, and his arm wormed behind her head to cradle her against him. His fingers painted abstract patterns across her side, while she rested her hand over her chest again, enjoying the feeling of his heartbeat pulsing against her skin and the rise and fall of his breaths. It lulled her into a pleasant drowsiness, along with the body heat of the handsome man beside her.

She smiled sleepily as she felt Yosetsu press a lingering kiss into the top of her head. She snuggled further into him, tucking her nose into the crook of his neck, and exhaled deeply.

She allowed the darkness to take her again. After all, they had all the opportunity in the world now to make up for lost time.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

#awamomo #momowase #yaoyorozu x awase #awase x yaoyorozu #momo yaoyorozu #yaoyorozu momo #awase yosetsu #yosetsu awase #my hero academia #mha #bnha #boku no hero academia

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