I lay on my bed, staring up at the ceiling, then down again at the phone in my hands. The picture on the screen always made me smile—me grinning at the camera in an arcade, and somewhere in the background, Kaito was playing a fighting game, half-turned toward the lens, throwing up a lazy peace sign with that usual confident half-smirk.
I traced the picture with my thumb.
"Hard to believe we're actually going to U.A. soon…" I murmured under my breath. "It still feels surreal."
One more month of freedom before everything changed.
It felt like only yesterday I met him. Elementary school—back when I was awkward, quiet, and constantly stared at like I was something fragile. Being a Yaoyorozu meant people treated me like porcelain or royalty… neither of which I ever wanted to be.
And then, in the middle of recess, this boy with messy black hair and bright, almost mischievous eyes walked right up to me and said:
"Yo. You look lonely. Wanna hang out?"
Just like that.
No hesitation. No fear. No awkward bowing or stiff politeness. Just… a greeting. Like I was normal.
I remembered blinking stupidly at him before nodding. And somehow, that one moment spiraled into years of him dragging me around, pulling me out of my shell, showing me what having an actual friend felt like. We hung out every day we could. Even when his family situation got darker, even when he tried to isolate himself, he always came back—smiling, joking, being… Kaito.
And now look at us. Two recommendation students headed straight into U.A.
I sighed happily and sank deeper into my blankets.
"Kaito… I hope we do this together for a long time."
My daydreaming shattered when my parents called from downstairs.
"Momo! Dinner!"
I quickly sat up, brushed my hair, and headed down. When I walked into the dining hall, both of them looked up—my father, tall with a sharp jaw and well-kept black beard (Kenji Yaoyorozu), and my mother, elegant as always with her neat bun and warm eyes (Aimi Yaoyorozu).
The moment I sat down, they exchanged a look… and smirked.
Oh no.
My mother served me food with a suspicious sparkle in her eye.
"So," she began sing-song, "how is Kaito? We haven't seen him in a while…"
My father chimed in with a teasing grin, "Are you two going through something you want to tell us?"
I nearly slammed my forehead on the table.
"Father, please.""Mother, don't encourage him!"
They laughed, thoroughly enjoying my suffering. It had been like this for years—from the moment Kaito introduced himself to them, shook their hands politely, and then somehow charmed them within five minutes. Ever since, the teasing never stopped.
We ate—my parents occasionally glancing my way with knowing smiles—and when I was finally done, I thanked them politely.
Not that they were done.
"So," my father asked casually, "when are we seeing Kaito again? It'd be nice to catch up. He's practically family at this point."
I froze mid-step.
Mother added cheerfully, "Oh yes! Invite him to dinner soon!"
I muttered something that definitely wasn't a real answer and practically bolted out the door.
Fresh air hit my lungs like salvation.
I needed escape.
And training.
And… Kaito.
Without thinking, I dialed him. The phone rang twice before he picked up, sounding breathless.
"Wassup, Momo?"
I blinked. "Are you exercising already?"
"In the middle of something," he said between breaths. A faint voice called something in the background, too muffled to understand.
Then silence for a moment.
As if he was listening to someone… or thinking.
I swallowed, suddenly anxious. "I wanted to ask if you'd train with me today. To prepare more for U.A., you know? And… to get away from my parents before they start pestering me again…"
He let out a soft huff—half laugh, half exhale.
"Yeah. Come over. Dad's not patrolling today. He said you can come."
Warm relief washed over me.
"Thank you," I said more gratefully than intended.
I rushed inside, grabbed a training bag, and called the driver. Twenty minutes later I was standing at the familiar gate of the Asahina household—large, traditional, and worn with signs of hundreds of training sessions. I knocked.
The door slid open.
Kaito stood there.
Shirtless.
Sweaty.
Muscles defined from years of brutal training: broad shoulders, sculpted pecs, tight abs forming a perfect six-pack. His hair was damp, clinging to his forehead. His sweatpants hung low on his hips—he looked like a model pretending to be a delinquent.
I froze.
My brain stopped functioning.
My throat went dry.
He noticed. The slight flex in his chest, the stupid smug grin told me everything.
"What's wrong?" he asked innocently. "Everything look good?"
Then, without missing a beat:
"Well—of course everything does."
I slapped a hand over my burning face. "Kaito!"
He laughed and waved it off, leading me through the house toward the backyard. As always, the moment the door opened, I took in the sight:
A massive training field.
Grass torn up, craters scattered around, scorch marks, dents in the ground from shockwaves. This place had felt the force of Kaito's childhood… and his father's.
Speaking of which—
Kaito's father stood near the far end, arms crossed. A tall man, built like he'd been carved out of stone, with platinum-white hair tied back and a stern jaw. His eyes—dark and sharp—were the same as Kaito's but colder.
Akihiko Fumikage.
The pro hero Iron Bastion
The moment he spotted me, he nodded politely. "Momo. Good to see you."
I bowed. "Good afternoon, sir."
He stepped closer, glanced between me and Kaito, and in the most deadpan tone said:
"So, is your girlfriend ready?"
"W-We're not—!" I yelped, face exploding with heat.
Kaito burst out laughing.
His father smirked lightly—just a little, because he rarely showed emotion—and patted my head once before turning serious.
Training began.
And I understood why Kaito was the way he was.
I had never been pushed that hard in my life. Squats, burpees, push-ups, running drills, resistance training. Akihiko's expectations were inhuman—but Kaito kept up like he wasn't even tired.
I collapsed on the grass at one point, wheezing, barely able to lift an arm.
Kaito jogged past me, only lightly sweating.
I glared at him.
He winked. "Come on, Momo. You'll never survive U.A. if you can't keep up."
I wanted to throw my shoe at him. Instead, I lay there staring at the sky, thinking the same thing I always did when I watched him:
So this is what the singularity quirk phenomenon looks like…
Kaito's quirk—Singularity—was overwhelming in every sense. Even before it fully awakened, it had reshaped his body: higher muscle density, superhuman reflexes, enhanced healing, stronger bones, quicker nerves. His energy output, his speed, his strength—everything reached levels no fifteen-year-old should have. Now able to manipulate Gravity and Kinetic energy, absurd.
But the scariest part was how casual he was about it.
He trained like he was born for it.
Like being strong was the natural state of his existence.
I eventually checked my phone. The sky had turned orange—the sun dipping behind the city.
"Already…?" I whispered.
My parents would worry—and worse, they'd interrogate me about Kaito again.
I stood and bowed quickly. "Sir, may I shower before I leave? I brought clothes."
Akihiko nodded. "Of course."
I hurried inside, showered, dried my hair, changed, and collected my bag. When I came back out, Kaito was waiting at the door, leaning against the frame.
"You leaving already?"
I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "I have to. Or else they'll… ask things."
He snorted. "Good luck with that."
I rolled my eyes but smiled.
His father waved from deeper inside the house. "Goodbye, Momo. Train harder next time. And bring Kaito to see us sometime!"
I stammered something non-committal and stepped toward the awaiting car.
As I was getting in, I looked back one last time.
Kaito stood under the dim porch light, hands in his pockets, hair falling over his eyes, watching me with that lazy grin that made my heart skip a beat before I could stop it.
"See you tomorrow," he called.
I smiled softly. "Yeah… see you tomorrow."
The door shut, and the car started moving.
I leaned back, exhaling deeply.
Now came the real storm—my parents, their knowing looks, their teasing questions, their insistence on inviting him over. I loved them, but sometimes they were relentless.
Still… despite everything, despite the embarrassment, despite the exhaustion…
My chest felt warm.
Because moments like these—training with him, laughing with him, being at his house—made everything feel right.
And soon… we'd be going to U.A. together.
Maybe… maybe fate really did put Kaito Asahina in my life for a reason.
I rested my head against the window.
"…Kaito," I whispered to myself.
The city lights blurred past, and for the rest of the ride home, I couldn't stop smiling.