The classroom fell silent, all eyes fixed on my whiteboard. Midnight tilted her head, studying the name with genuine curiosity.
"Sovereign," she read aloud, tapping a long fingernail against her chin. "Interesting choice, Midoriya. Care to elaborate?"
I nodded, turning to face my classmates. Camie gave me an encouraging smile from her seat, while Bakugo scowled, still irritated about his rejected hero names.
"I chose Sovereign because it represents the type of hero I want to be," I explained, my voice steady despite the attention. "Someone who maintains absolute control—not over others, but over myself. My abilities, my decisions, my actions."
Midnight's eyes lit with understanding. "Self-mastery."
"Exactly." I gestured to emphasize my point. "A sovereign rules themselves first, takes responsibility for their choices, and protects what's important without compromise. That's the hero I'm aiming to become."
Kirishima leaned forward, his sharp teeth flashing in a grin. "That's deep, man. Super manly."
"It also has dual meaning," Yaoyorozu added from her seat, her dark eyes meeting mine. "A sovereign is both a ruler and a gold coin of the highest value. It suggests both leadership and worth."
I hadn't actually considered that angle, but nodded appreciatively at her insight. "That's right."
"Plus," Kaminari chimed in with a smirk, "it sounds cool as hell when announcers say it. 'Here comes the Sovereign Hero!'"
Laughter rippled through the classroom. Even Aizawa, who I'd assumed was asleep in his corner, cracked open one eye to observe the discussion.
Midnight studied me for a moment longer, then broke into a wide smile. "I love it. Strong, dignified, with layers of meaning. Approved!"
As I returned to my seat, I caught Hitomi watching me, her mismatched eyes thoughtful. She gave me a small nod of approval before turning away.
The rest of the class presented their hero names without much drama, save for Bakugo, who eventually settled on "Ground Zero" after his third attempt at an explosion-murder variant was rejected. By the time the bell rang for lunch, we all had provisional hero names and a stack of internship paperwork to complete by the end of the week.
"Remember," Midnight called as we gathered our things, "choose your internships wisely! This is your first real step into the professional hero world!"
I packed my bag quickly, exchanging a glance with Yaoyorozu across the classroom. She nodded slightly, confirming our library meeting, then bent to organize her notes.
"Lunch date with the vice prez?" Camie appeared at my side, her voice low and teasing.
"We need to talk about some class rep stuff," I replied, not entirely dishonestly.
She smirked, seeing right through me. "Sure you do." She leaned closer, her lips brushing my ear. "Just remember who gets to take you home tonight, Sovereign."
Heat rushed to my face. "We are in class."
"Don't I know it." She pressed a quick kiss to my cheek before sauntering away, calling out to Jiro about lunch plans.
I made my way to the library, taking a less-traveled route to avoid being stopped by other students.
The library was mercifully quiet when I arrived. I nodded to the librarian, who gave me a knowing smile—I'd become something of a regular since starting at UA.
"The private study rooms are open, Midoriya," she said, gesturing toward the back. "Room three has the best lighting."
"Thanks," I replied, heading in that direction.
I'd barely settled into the indicated room when a soft knock sounded at the door. Yaoyorozu entered, closing the door behind her. She wore her uniform perfectly, as always, not a wrinkle in sight, her long ponytail gleaming under the library lights.
"Sorry I'm late," she said, though she wasn't late at all. "Ashido had questions about the internship paperwork."
"No problem." I gestured to the chair across from me. "Thanks for meeting me."
She sat down, placing her bento box on the table. Her fingers tapped a nervous rhythm against the table's surface before she stilled them deliberately.
"So," she began, her dark eyes meeting mine briefly before dropping to the table. "How are you feeling? After... awakening your quirk, I mean."
"I feel very alive right now," I answered honestly. "My energy has spiked since then. It's like... discovering a new room in a house you thought you knew completely."
She nodded, her expression thoughtful. "That must be quite the adjustment."
"Yeah, still getting used to it." I leaned back in my chair, studying her. "But that's not what you wanted to talk about, is it?"
Her cheeks flushed slightly. "Not entirely, no."
"So what's on your mind? You've been wanting to tell me something since the festival."
Yaoyorozu straightened her already perfect posture, hands folded neatly in her lap. "I wanted to congratulate you properly on your victory. Your performance was exceptional."
"Thanks, but you could have said that in the classroom." I smiled to soften the words. "What's really going on, Momo?"
The use of her first name made her blush deepen. She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
"I—" She stopped, took a breath, and started again. "I realize this is potentially inappropriate, given your relationship with Utsushimi, and I heard you had that date with Todoroki as well, which sounded quite pleasant from what Todoroki told me, not that I was specifically asking about it, but—"
I reached across the table and gently placed my hand over hers, stopping the uncharacteristic ramble.
"Momo," I said quietly. "Just tell me what's on your mind."
She looked down at our hands, then back to my face, something resolute settling in her expression.
"I have feelings for you," she said, the words coming out in a rush. "Romantic feelings. I have for some time now."
I didn't remove my hand from hers. Instead, I squeezed it gently.
"I know."
Her eyes widened. "You—you knew?"
"I pay attention." I smiled slightly. "And you're not as subtle as you think."
Her free hand flew to her mouth, embarrassment written across her features. "Oh god."
"It's okay," I assured her. "I'm flattered. And... interested."
That caught her attention. "Interested? But—"
"Are you free this Saturday?" I asked, changing tack.
"I—yes?"
"Good. There's a hero history exhibit at the National Museum running until July. I'd like to take you."
She blinked rapidly, processing my words. "You're... asking me on a date?"
"Yes." I kept my eyes on hers, wanting her to see my sincerity. "A proper date. Just the two of us."
"But..." Her brow furrowed. "Is this out of pity? Because you feel bad that I—"
"Momo." I cut her off gently. "I don't do pity dates."
She still looked uncertain, her brilliant mind likely cataloguing all the reasons this couldn't be real. I made a decision then, acting on impulse.
I stood, still holding her hand, and pulled her gently to her feet. Before she could question me further, I leaned down and pressed my lips to hers.
For a moment, she froze. Then her free hand came up to rest against my chest, and she kissed me back with surprising intensity. I deepened the kiss, my hand moving to the small of her back to draw her closer. Her lips were ultra soft, her scent something subtle and expensive that I couldn't name. It was so damn addicting.
When we finally broke apart, her dark eyes were wide, lips slightly parted in shock. A tremor ran through her body, and her hand gripped mine tightly, as if she might fall without the support.
"That," I said softly, "was not pity."
"Oh." The sound was barely a breath. She swayed slightly, and I steadied her with a hand on her waist. "I see."
"Saturday at ten?"
She nodded wordlessly, then seemed to remember how to speak. "Yes. Ten. Saturday. Museum."
I squeezed her hand gently. "Now, are we going to eat this bento or will you make me beg?"
"Right. Lunch." She still looked slightly dazed, her usual composure thoroughly disrupted. "Bento."
I gestured to the chair opposite mine, but Momo didn't move. She stood rooted in place, her dark eyes still wide, pupils dilated. The confident class vice-president had vanished, replaced by someone who looked like she'd forgotten how to operate her own body.
"Are you okay?" I asked, gently guiding her to the seat beside mine instead. Her legs seemed to give out as she sat, and she immediately leaned against my shoulder, her breathing still uneven.
"I'm fine," she whispered, though the slight tremor in her voice suggested otherwise. "Just... processing."
Up close, the subtle scent of her perfume was more distinct—jasmine with hints of something citrusy and bright. Her ponytail had loosened slightly from our kiss, a few strands escaping to frame her face. I reached up and tucked one behind her ear, my fingers lingering against her skin.
"Take your time."
She nodded, her cheek still pressed against my shoulder. "That was my first kiss," she admitted quietly.
That surprised me. "Really?"
"Is that so hard to believe?" A touch of her usual confidence returned as she straightened slightly, though she remained close enough that our shoulders touched.
"Honestly? Yes." I opened the bento she'd brought, revealing an immaculately arranged lunch. Each component sat in its own compartment, the presentation worthy of a high-end restaurant. "You're brilliant, accomplished, beautiful. I figured there'd be a line of guys from your private school days."
Her laugh held a note of genuine amusement. "My private school wasn't exactly conducive to romance. Besides, I was too focused on my studies." She paused, watching as I admired the cooking. "I made the tamagoyaki with dashi this time."
"It looks incredible." I handed her one of the two sets of chopsticks she'd packed. "Maybe food will help you recalibrate."
She nodded, taking the chopsticks with hands that still trembled slightly. We ate in comfortable silence for a moment, the quiet of the library study room wrapping around us like a cocoon. The tamagoyaki was perfect—sweet and savory in equal measure.
"So," I said after a few bites, deciding to help her refocus. "Have you thought about your internship?"
The question seemed to ground her. Momo sat up straighter, though she didn't move away from my side. "Yes, actually. I've been methodically evaluating each one based on specialization, location, hero ranking, and potential for skill development." She flipped open the folder, revealing color-coded spreadsheets with detailed notes in her elegant handwriting.
"Of course you have."
She'd organized the offers by region, hero type, and what appeared to be her own priority ranking. Each agency had been researched extensively, with notes on the lead hero's fighting style, public approval rating, and relevance to her own quirk.
"I've narrowed it down to fifteen possibilities," she continued, flipping to a tabbed section marked "Final Considerations" in crisp red letters. "But I'm struggling with the final decision."
I leaned closer, scanning the list. Most were unfamiliar to me—boutique agencies specializing in rescue operations, support heroes, and tactical response teams. But one name jumped out immediately.
"Ryukyu," I said, pointing to the entry. "The Dragon Hero."
Momo's eyes brightened. "Yes, she's currently ranked number ten. Her quirk is obviously quite different from mine, but her agency specializes in complex rescue operations and tactical support." She turned to a dedicated page on Ryukyu. "She's known for her analytical approach and team-based strategies."
"She'd be perfect for you," I said. "You're both strategists who prioritize civilian safety. And her transformation quirk might seem different at first glance, but both of you focus on adapting your abilities to the situation."
Momo's dark eyes studied me, a small smile playing on her lips. "That's... exactly what I was thinking." She tapped the page with one perfectly manicured nail. "Her agency also has an excellent record for developing well-rounded heroes rather than specialists."
"Plus," I added, "she's one of the few female heroes who know how to balance the media spotlight. She focuses on the work rather than the fame."
"Like you," Momo said softly.
"I wouldn't go that far."
"Wouldn't you?" She turned more fully toward me, her knee brushing against mine under the table. "You won the Sports Festival and could have let it get to your head. Instead, you've been the same person."
"That's just common sense."
She shook her head, ponytail swaying with the movement. "It's who you are, Izuku. You care more about substance than appearance." Her hand moved to cover mine on the table. "It's one of the things I admire about you."
The sincerity in her voice made something in my chest tighten. I turned my hand over to lace our fingers together.
"So, Ryukyu, then?"
Momo nodded, though her eyes lingered on our joined hands. "I think so. What about you? Are you really going with Mirko?"
"I think so," I confirmed. "I need someone who can help me refine my fighting style rather than just boost my public profile."
"That makes sense."
We ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, the quiet of the library creating an intimate bubble around us. The food was excellent—each component perfectly seasoned and balanced.
Momo looked up at me, something vulnerable in her expression. "Can I ask you something?"
"Anything."
"Why me?" The question came out barely above a whisper. "You have Utsushimi, and apparently something with Todoroki as well. Why would you be interested in me too?"
I considered the question carefully, wanting to give her an honest answer.
"Camie and I have a connection that's hard to explain," I began. "She sees me completely—all my flaws and rough edges—and accepts me anyway. With Hitomi, it's different. We understand each other's darkness, the parts of ourselves we usually keep hidden."
Momo nodded, listening intently.
"And with you..." I paused, organizing my thoughts. "You challenge me intellectually. You see the world with such clarity and precision. When I'm around you, I want to be better—smarter, more strategic, more thoughtful."
"So I'm the intellectual connection," she said, a hint of disappointment in her voice.
"No," I corrected gently. "You're not just one thing. None of you are. People don't fit into neat categories like that."
She studied me, her analytical mind clearly processing my words. "That's a very mature perspective."
I shrugged. "Or maybe I'm just greedy."
That startled a laugh out of her—a genuine sound of surprise and amusement that transformed her face. When Momo truly laughed, she became radiant.
"I don't think that's it," she said.
"No?" I leaned closer. "What's your theory, then?"
She considered the question, her head tilting slightly. "I think you see people clearly—who they really are beneath the surface. And you connect with that authenticity, regardless of how it's packaged."
It was my turn to be surprised. "That's... remarkably insightful."
"I have my moments," she said with a small smile. She glanced at her watch and sighed. "Lunch period is almost over."
I nodded, reluctantly releasing her hand to help pack up the remains of our meal. "Saturday at ten, then? I'll meet you at the museum entrance."
"I'll be there." She carefully returned her bento box to her bag. When everything was packed away, she hesitated, then looked up at me. "Izuku?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you. For seeing me."
The simple sincerity in those words touched something deep within me. I leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips again.
"Always," I promised.
Her eyes fluttered closed at the contact, and when she opened them again, they held a new certainty. She rose gracefully from her chair, smoothing her uniform skirt.
"We should go. Aizawa-sensei hates when students are late."
I stood as well, slinging my bag over my shoulder. "After you."