"Good morning, Kendo-san. Shoda-kun." Monoma greeted them with a gentle smile.
Shoda's face brightened right away. "Morning, Monoma-kun," he said, an amicable grin tugging at his cheeks.
Kendo answered too, but her eyes stayed narrow, alert—like she was waiting for him to cause a scene out of habit. "Good morning, Monoma-kun… Did you reflect on what happened yesterday?"
"Ah… yes. Of course," Monoma replied.
The words were correct. The delivery was half a step too quick, the kind of "of course" that sounded like it had been prepared in advance.
Kendo's stare didn't soften.
"…That was fast," she said.
"I'm efficient."
"That wasn't a compliment."
Monoma's smile held. "I know."
Shoda looked between them like he'd walked into a conversation that had started three scenes ago.
Monoma took a small step closer, lowering his voice as if this were business. "Actually, that's why I came over. Your Quirks are essential to my plan to pass the practical exam—especially yours, Shoda-kun."
Kendo flew a hand to her mouth like she'd just witnessed a miracle. She turned her face away, sniffing like she was fighting back emotion, eyes glittering suspiciously bright—more sparkle than tears.
"Monoma-kun…" she choked out, voice quivering on purpose. "Have you… finally changed?"
Monoma didn't even blink at her acting.
"Lower your expectations," he said evenly. "I'm just being strategic."
Kendo pouted, half-annoyed and half-amused. "So you haven't reflected."
"I reflected," Monoma replied. "I just didn't repent."
Shoda, meanwhile, was still stuck on the important part. He tilted his head, caught off guard. "M-My Quirk…?"
"Yes," Monoma said smoothly. "Twin Impact is exactly what I need to exploit my Quirk's biggest advantage."
Nirengeki Shoda was the kind of classmate who didn't go looking for trouble. Chubby, blue-haired, and annoyingly pleasant in a way that made it hard to stay mad at him. From what Monoma had seen in the show, he was amicable and level-headed—steady enough that he rarely got dragged into the class's louder nonsense.
His Quirk, though, was something else entirely.
Twin Impact lets the user plant a "first hit" on anything they struck, then trigger a second impact at the exact same point later, many times stronger. Like a delayed critical hit straight out of a JRPG. The scary part wasn't just the power. It was the control: Shoda could choose exactly when it detonated, and he didn't even need to be anywhere nearby when it happened.
That kind of versatility made the Quirk terrifying. It worked on objects, setups, and even coordinated attacks with teammates—turning simple plays into traps.
And, unhelpfully, Monoma's imagination immediately supplied the most cursed example possible: someone finally getting home after a long day, collapsing onto the toilet in peace, and then—bam—getting launched into the wall mid-shit because Shoda decided he was still holding a grudge from earlier.
It was like a delayed, long-range "Black Flash".
Shoda hesitated for exactly a second, then stepped forward and held out his hand with that steady, dependable smile. "No problem then, Monoma-kun."
Monoma accepted it. Firm, quick. Copy settled into place like a lock clicking shut.
Then his eyes slid sideways.
Toward Kendo.
He didn't speak. He didn't have to.
Instead, his expression shifted—subtle, practiced, almost shameless. The kind of look that screamed 'please' without using words. If someone wanted to be cruel, they could call it manipulative.
If someone wanted to be honest, they'd call it the face of a puppy left out in the rain.
Kendo blinked.
"…Don't look at me like that," she said, already sounding like she'd lost.
Monoma kept looking.
Kendo clicked her tongue. "Tch… fine. If you have to."
She extended her hand.
Monoma took it too—Shoda's hand in one, Kendo's in the other—and shook both at the same time, copying her Quirk in the same breath.
'Finally. All set for the practical.'
His arsenal clicked neatly into place: Tetsutetsu's Steel, Shoda's Twin Impact, and Kendo's Big Fist.
He'd considered swapping Steel for something with more range—Yanagi would've been perfect, and Rin's had potential too—but neither of them were in class yet. Without knowing his eventual partner, it was safer to keep what he already had.
And then, randomly, his brain decided to sabotage him.
Kendo's hand was… soft.
Not in a dramatic, poetic way—just noticeably soft, warm where their palms met. Close enough that he caught the faint scent of her shampoo—clean and sweet, the kind that lingered at the edge of his awareness.
With her standing that close, orange hair catching the morning light, the realization hit him a fraction too late:
'Kendo's… actually really cute.'
His grip faltered for half a second.
He corrected it instantly, but his thoughts had already slipped—uninvited—into dangerous territory.
And as if his brain needed help making things worse, Tetsutetsu's words from earlier that morning drifted back into his head at the worst possible time.
'Do you have someone you like?'
'Don't tell me you already have a girlfriend…'
Monoma's expression didn't change, but inside, he groaned.
It was a handshake. A normal handshake. A practical handshake for a practical plan.
So why did it feel like the universe was quietly stacking "possibilities" in front of him like some absurd romance harem setup—where one innocent moment turned into an entire misunderstanding.
His mind tried to keep going anyway, eager to narrate every detail like it was collecting evidence.
The softness. The closeness. The scent.
Monoma yanked his thoughts back so hard it almost felt like whiplash. What was he doing—slipping into the same dumb internal commentary as one of those dense, borderline-perverted harem protagonists?
A certain brown-haired MC named Kaz*ya flashed through his mind like a warning label.
He released Kendo's hand a beat faster than necessary, forcing his focus back into place like snapping a rubber band.
It had to be hormones. Or stress. Or was the original Monoma's personality stirring things up for its own amusement.
Because he did not remember having a hand fetish.
And he was not about to unlock one.