[POV – Momo Yaoyorozu]
The air was too still.
Momo had lived in luxury her entire life, but this silence wasn't luxury—it was tension coiled like a spring, just waiting. She stood at the edge of her family's courtyard, breath misting as the morning air carried with it the chill of unease. Her recommendation exam had been a success. Or so she'd been told. But even with flawless technique, the right tactical calls, and the quiet nod of one Principal Nezu, she felt…unsettled.
She glanced at the open spellbook on her lap, one of Izuku's copied notes. His handwriting was meticulous, precise, but every so often a little side-comment or doodle of a spell-circle reminded her of how human he was. Not just a mystery of power and chaos anymore—but a friend. A partner.
Maybe something else, one day.
A soft ding came from her phone.
Izuku Midoriya:
"Still no results. You okay?"
She smiled despite herself, fingers flying over the keypad.
Momo:
"As okay as I can be while attempting elemental spell theory and balancing logistics for the Yaoyorozu global portfolio."
A pause. Then three dots pulsing. Then:
Izuku:
"So… the usual 😅"
She laughed, loud enough that a gardener turned to look. She offered a polite nod, then excused herself into the tea room. She'd created two new gadgets earlier that morning: a compressed rune lantern and a smoke bomb engraved with a fail-safe spell. The Black Widow notes Izuku left her were insightful—undercover, adaptable, never frontal assault. If she was going to fight in a world of quirks and powers, she'd do it smartly. Subtly. Like a shadow in the light.
And if U.A. accepted her, she'd have to refine it tenfold.
She closed the spellbook and whispered: "I hope you passed too."
[POV – Izuku Midoriya]
Izuku stared up at the cracked ceiling of his room. The symbols he'd painted last night still shimmered faintly in chalk and copper thread—protective runes mostly, with one silent ward for clarity of mind. It wasn't paranoia. Not anymore.
It was ritual. Order from chaos.
Magic was a part of him now—whispers in his blood, something wild and shaping. He could feel the lingering power from the Shield of the Seraphim he'd cast during the practical exam. The runic burn on his palm had faded, but the memory remained: civilians crouched behind him as debris rained down, his hands glowing red and gold, and that still voice in his soul murmuring: you're more than you were meant to be.
He hadn't told anyone—not even Momo—that the shield had healed them. Just a little. Like the spell had absorbed the raw chaos of battle and turned it into something merciful.
"Shield and spark," he murmured, twisting the phrase between his fingers like an incantation.
A knock at the door.
His mother peeked in, a cup of tea in hand. "You've been up since five again, haven't you?"
"Yeah," he smiled sheepishly. "Just… waiting."
"You already did your best." Her voice was kind, but tired. She'd seen what magic could do. What it cost.
"I know," he said. "But I keep thinking about the robot. The Zero Pointer."
She set the tea down. "You destroyed it."
"Yeah, but what if that's why they reject me?"
Her brow furrowed. "Izuku. That thing could've killed someone. You protected people. That's not a flaw. That's being a hero."
He let her hug him. Brief. Warm. His father had called last night too—said nothing important, just that he was proud. That was enough.
But Izuku still kept his journal open next to the bed. One page for spells. One for U.A. theories. One… for questions.
About his birth mother. Her name still eluded him. A mystery tightly guarded by both time and magic.
[POV – Civilian Observation]
Mustafu had changed.
The crime rate dipped. Petty vandalism stopped. Locals whispered about a them—a boy and a girl who left no names, only soot and light and safety.
"They were here again," a store owner muttered, sweeping up neatly stacked debris and a glowing sigil carved gently into her broken sign. She didn't wipe it away.
"They're not heroes," a grizzled officer said under his breath. "They're ghosts."
But the people didn't mind. Not really.
They just nodded to one another when they saw the new rune carved into the alley wall—three curves interlocking, drawn in ash.
[POV – Pro Hero Sector (off-screen conversation)]
"…whoever they are, they're undermining real pros."
"They haven't hurt anyone. But they are interfering."
"Someone's training them. Or they're naturally gifted."
"I want names," the officer growled. "Before they draw more attention."
But nothing came. No names. No leads.
Only whispers.
[POV – Momo Yaoyorozu | Evening]
Her breath steamed in the cold.
She met Izuku on a rooftop near the train line, their usual spot. He looked tired. So did she. But there was something between them now—a quiet current of mutual strength. A bond forged in stolen hours and sleepless nights.
"They'll post results soon," she said, brushing hair behind her ear.
"Yeah." He didn't look scared. Not anymore. Just… ready.
"Whatever happens," she said, "we made a difference."
"You helped me become someone," he said. "Not just someone with power."
They didn't touch. They didn't need to.
Magic pulsed faintly under his skin. Tactical resolve burned behind her eyes.
They had changed the city.
And tomorrow…
The world would decide if they'd earned the right to change it even more.