Chapter Text
Summer is almost over, and Momo still wants to kill herself.
Aware that she shouldn’t be so glib about ending her own life, she always keeps all ideation to herself. When her friends reach out, she would lie and say that she loves living with her parents and that things are getting better now, thanks. Now, she just ignores them. She makes herself eat at least half of the food she is served at breakfast and dinner but skips out on lunch because she is disgusted by her own hunger and wants to punish her body for existing.
Can you please call me back? I miss you! Kyoka, who Momo doesn’t want to contaminate happiness with her misery, was the first person to be ignored.
Are you coming out with us tomorrow? We all miss you so much! Mina, the most outgoing of the girls, clearly elected to be the one to reach out with invitations to girls’ nights that the old Momo would have gone to. Momo never responds to the invitations either, to demonstrate to Kyoka that it isn’t personal.
Have you seen the new issue of The Scientific American? I think there are a few articles you may like. Could you please tell me your current address, and I will mail one to you directly? Tenya, clearly trying to be slick and find out where exactly her parents live, probably because he’s worried by Mina’s inability to lure Momo out of hiding.
You know, none of us think of you differently. Fumikage is probably speaking the truth, but Momo can’t hear it right now, because she sees herself differently.
There’re other messages too, her former classmates reassuring her that it’s not a big deal, that none of it matters to anyone, that they don’t think any of less of her, which just makes it all suck so much worse. Eijirou started a group chat with her and Katsuki, threatening to beat up her enemies, which would have been sweet, except the idea of the two of them avenging her is incredibly embarrassing, since her problems can’t be fixed with someone receiving a severe ass-kicking. She’d feel much better if everyone said the quiet part out loud, which is that she did all of this to herself.
Not one to look at screens anymore, it’s her mother who tells her that everyone has moved on from the sex tape leaked by a bitter ex-boyfriend on a popular porn website. It went viral because a not insignificant part of Momo’s career was modelling, letting photographers take pictures of her that she wasn’t entirely comfortable with to make money that felt easy to make until people were telling her how to pose, stuffing her into clothes that didn’t quite fit, asking her for her bedroom eyes and making dehumanizing remarks about her body.
It had always been understood that while many of the advertisements she was featured in were for products aimed towards women, she always had to look a certain way for men.
People were absolutely terrible about the whole thing. Parts of the video were turned into gifs. Late night talk shows made jokes about it. Everyone on social media had an opinion. Other heroes in her agency didn’t say anything.
She had her defenders: several of her classmates waded into the online discourse, the girls all having her back, Kyoka and Mina by far the loudest and meanest with their clap backs. Most memorable was Katsuki going ballistic during a televised interview, annoyed to get the question, calling the reporter invasive and said that only losers, including Momo’s ex, the media, and people downloading and sharing the video, enjoy humiliating an adult woman for having consensual sex, in much crasser language of course, his outburst somehow making it all worse.
After his little stunt, her agency booked her an interview on a daytime television show to clarify the facts of the situation and to express remorse for her actions. She had been expecting easy questions and didn’t think that this had affected her too badly, until she was asked if she had considered whether the video would have been leaked, because she is such a beautiful woman with many passionate fans, making money from her looks, so perhaps this was all an elaborate PR stunt.
Stop, stop, please, I said stop! Momo had screamed so loud that she drove herself hoarse, on live air, holding her head in her hands because she couldn’t tolerate hearing those questions spoken out loud, her polite attempts to redirect the conversation away from what happened and towards things she was proud of constantly rebuffed. The interviewer had been baffled, like Momo was the insane one for wanting to talk about literally anything else. No one had the decency to stop recording, not until Momo said sorry, her face all red and blotchy, tears in her eyes, appropriately humiliated.
That afternoon Momo was dropped by her agency, lost her sponsorships and contracts, and completely abandoned by all her colleagues, save for Aizawa and her classmates.
Aizawa took her out for a drink the next night, told her that it wasn’t her fault. I shouldn’t have freaked out like that, she had replied, if I had handled it better, I’d still have a career. Her former teacher hadn’t said anything because she was completely right. She appreciated him for not bullshitting her.
Punished for looking a certain way, ridiculed for taking certain pictures, mocked for doing something as stupid as trusting a man who said he loved her, Momo decided to become a recluse. She broke the lease of her nice apartment and sold everything she didn’t want to take with her and moved in with her parents. She reads books to occupy her days, wanting to stay off the internet as much as possible.
Always wearing big sunglasses outside, with a scarf or hat too, she doesn’t want to be perceived or touched. She flinches when people look at her for too long, thanks to a man who made a lewd gesture at her, pretending to suck dick. She couldn’t leave her parents’ house for a month after. Masturbating is unappealing, and she is grossed out by her own sexuality because she irrationally blames herself for this situation. When she went to her doctor for a pap smear, she had the panic attack that landed her with a referral to a therapist.
She remembers lying on the exam table, trying not to hyperventilate as her doctor examined her, the tension in her muscles, the cool metal sliding in, the sensation of being opened by the speculum making her cry out and cover her face, the emotions certain to rip her apart. After a lengthy conversation with her doctor, where she revealed that she can barely tolerate hugs from her own mother and admitted that she hasn’t used her quirk since she was dropped by her agency, Momo agreed that she needed help.
Lying on her back, she’s reading a classic novel about people making terrible decisions, something she can relate to. Since she doesn’t talk to any of her friends anymore, fictional characters are who she considers to be her confidants. Momo has been reading lots of western literature, learning about God through the older novels she reads. Almighty creator, cruel and indifferent, loving and benevolent, so many Biblical references to catch: Adam and Eve, Abel and Cain, Noah and the Ark, the Book of Job, good and evil tied up and enmeshed with each other.
When a boy prays to God that he not grow up to be mean, she bursts into tears, because she can sense a change inside of herself, and she doesn’t know how to become who she wants to be either.
**
Adulthood, for Shouto at least, has been very nice so far.
He wouldn’t say that his twenties have been easy, but it is so much better than being an angry kid and awkward teenager that he honestly can’t complain. The finer social cues are still sometimes lost on him, but he is more relaxed now, settling into the rhythms of adult life. A lease, credit score, taxes, chores, hobbies—all things that he’s happy to have. He’s not so presumptuous as to assume that he has attained happiness, but he is quite content with how things worked out for him.
Since his sister never grew out of wanting to check up on him, she has invited herself over to his apartment, pretending to be reading a magazine while watching him clean his kitchen, doing her best not to tell him what to do. Her own kids are with her mother-in-law, since her husband’s parents are the ones who can be trusted to supervise small children, for as much as she has forgiven their parents, she can’t bear to trust them with her own children, which Shouto thinks to be a sound judgement.
Working baking soda into a stainless-steel frying pan with a paper towel to get rid of scorch marks, Shouto listens to his sister as she prattles on about the magazine articles, how-tos, and advertisements. There’s a pause, before Fuyumi says, “Hey, didn’t you go to school with her?”
Shouto looks over, seeing Fuyumi holding up one of Momo’s old makeup ads. She’s looking right at the camera, a smile on her face, her lips bright red and eyes sparkling. His first thought is that the magazine must be old. Momo’s life imploded four months ago, and since then, she has disappeared from public life. He doesn’t hear about her save for the now occasional worried messages in group chats and the occasional op-ed about how it all went down, the kind that make Katsuki go Where were all these feminists when the tape was leaked?
The answer to Katsuki’s question, of course, is that the feminists were drowned out by everyone else, but it’s not what he wants to hear and it’s too soon to joke about him being the feminist that showed up, considering his televised hissy fit and the subsequent disastrous interview.
“Yes, I sat next to her in class.” Every day for three years, in fact.
“Have you spoken to her recently? You get together with your classmates pretty often, don’t you?”
“None of us have seen her since the tape.” He found out from social media, privately horrified when one of his colleagues leered at him and asked him what Momo was like in high school. Shouto was taken so off guard that he couldn’t be more scathing than You’re not her type.
Shouto’s former classmates were all upset, but he noticed that the guys were much more expressive with their anger: Katsuki threatening lives on air, Tenya sharing articles about different ways that revenge porn can be dealt with legally, Eijiro urging Mina to cyberstalk Momo’s ex, Fumikage saying the meanest things, Izuku volunteering to run interference, even Koda sending mobs of crows and plagues of cockroaches after Momo’s ex.
In the group chat with just the guys, Minoru asked if anyone thought it was AI, which caused Tenya and Katsuki to go ballistic.
You better not have seen it, or I’m kicking your ass you little troll!!! We’re not looking at it in solidarity, we established this in the main chat!!! Katsuki added a few other threats, but Shouto didn’t feel the urge to register any of them, because it doesn’t take much for Katsuki to run his mouth. They also never said they wouldn’t look at the tape, as it was one of those things that was supposed to go unsaid.
It doesn’t matter if it’s AI, it’s still a massive violation. Besides, AI is a composite of multiple women’s bodies, all of whom, at the very least, haven’t been properly compensated for their likenesses being used in that way, so it would be very messed up to consume that content. Tenya had left it at that, Minoru not uttering a single peep afterwards, which Izuku had to remind everyone was not an admission of guilt.
The girls fired off angry tweets, but they circled the wagons around Momo. Mina told everyone to stop talking about it. Shouto asked Ochako why, and she replied that it’s just how girls expect to be treated. She looked mournful when she said it, which is how Shouto understood that she wasn’t lying about how it is for women.
Most notable to Shouto, is that not a single one of their classmates ever said that Momo deserved it.
“Really?” Fuyumi frowns, like it’s a surprise. “Why?”
“She’s not answering her phone, that’s why.” Shouto decides to add more baking soda, since he doesn’t want to be standing at his sink forever answering Fuyumi’s nosy questions.
“It must be horrible for everyone to see such intimate parts of you.”
“I agree.” Shouto would also never want to leave his house if something like that happened to him.
“You’d think her fans would defend her.”
“Very few fans understand that superheroes are people too.” Shouto leaves it at that, since while male superheroes also have the ugly merch and dehumanizing press attention, he knows that women have it worse. He’s pretty certain that no one misuses his action figures, while several of his female colleagues have received emails or private messages featuring their likenesses covered in semen. Some of his female fans post thirsty Instagram comments, but when lewd fanart of him is shared on social media, everyone treats it like it’s fucking weird. When the same thing happened to Ochako, she was told to ignore it, and that she should be happy to be considered pretty enough to sexually harass.
“I wouldn’t know,” Fuyumi replies. “She’s so beautiful, too.” What a waste! Pretty privilege is real, and the personal tragedies of beautiful young women always seem to be extra sad to people, from Shouto’s observations.
“She was one of our class reps.”
“Oh, so she’s smart too?” His sister holds the magazine to her face, inspecting it now, as if the picture is any deeper than a beautiful woman being hired to sell products to people who desperately want to look like her. “I wonder what she’s doing now.”
“Probably thinking of ways to disappear that don’t involve dying.” He can’t imagine what else a person would do in hiding.
“That’s a pretty insensitive thing to say.” Fuyumi doesn’t sound mad about it, but she clearly disapproves of his remark.
“Sorry,” he mumbles, thinking that there’s a good chance that Momo would have appreciated him for being honest about the situation. There’s no coming back, and it’s only a question of moving forward without incurring more damage.
“I can’t imagine being that lonely.” Fuyumi says without thinking. Shouto keeps his mouth closed, since he knows all about loneliness and doesn’t care to remind his sister about it.
Ten minutes pass, and she asks if they can get takeout for dinner, since she wants something nice for her visit. While she steps out to get the food, Shouto picks up his phone, staring at the screen. Even though he’s a big man now, his lonely childhood very much still informs his decisions. When he was a kid, he wished every day that someone would come save him.
It doesn’t feel right for someone he knows to be suffering in that way, and he wonders if this is the universe inviting him to prove that he is different from all the people who failed him. It’s surprisingly easy to text Momo a very lame hey.
The strangest feeling comes over Shouto. Her silence makes him want to hear from her even more.
**
Ever since she was a small girl, Momo has been told that she is beautiful by her parents, and the world has done nothing but affirm it. She worked hard to master her quirk, get into a good high school, land a decent internship, and become an excellent hero. That said, she let her appearance open doors for her, taught that heroes capitalize on every advantage they have. She never really enjoyed the attention, nor did she ever buy her own hype, but she had places she wanted to go, and it was the fastest way to get there.
After being objectified by the general public since she was sixteen, Momo has decided that it’s in her best interests to no longer be perceived. For twelve years she did her time and was paid for it in public humiliation and internet vitriol. She can’t control the circulation of the video, or the people who say mean things about her, but she does have power over her appearance. She always covers up completely when she’s outside the house, wearing a hat or scarf, big sunglasses, always with her hair down, body hidden under clothes. She has tried putting on weight, would should be easy since she isn’t using her quirk, but the stress won’t let her keep any of it on.
Legal options didn’t appeal to her—she doesn’t think about her ex and doubts prison would change him, and she doesn’t need the money. What she wants is her life back, and that’s what her doctor and therapist both promise whenever they nudge her towards acting like her old self. Momo can’t bring herself to do it, because the person she used to be failed to keep her safe.
In her therapist’s waiting room, she’s wearing a pink and red silk scarf on her head, tied under her chin. Big sunglasses too, pulled down her nose so that she can read her latest library book—The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights, because she’s trying to believe in heroes again and likes reading about how they too, struggle with who they are who and who they want to be—and wearing a black turtleneck and long skirt. No makeup either because, to quote fellow recluse and sister in the struggle Edith Beale, her days of pleasing men are over.
Her therapist will ask if this is really about men, or if it’s for her. Momo declines to answer because she sees the hypocrisy, because in a way she is still dressing with men in mind and doesn’t care to acknowledge it.
She glances up at the clock, fifteen minutes unable to go by quickly enough. Waiting in public spaces makes her feel anxious, even if she has a book to occupy her time.
Having made the mistake of not facing the entrance, she doesn’t notice when Shouto walks in, only realizing he’s there when he sits across from her. When she looks up from her book to see him staring at her, she at first tries to play it off like she doesn’t know him, remaining silent and looking back down at her book. Un-fucking-fortunately, he doesn’t respect her peace. She feels intense shame for not answering his text, because she figured that people must be very worried for someone to send him after her.
“You’re here.” He blinks at her like it’s a surprise for her to be waiting to see a mental health professional. She shrugs, noncommittal to the conversation.
“So are you.”
“I’m waiting for my mom.” Oh. Maybe if Shouto were working through his own things, Momo would feel less embarrassed.
“It’s sweet of you to come here to pick her up.”
“I’m taking her to lunch after.” He smiles, a surprise to Momo because he barely talked about his mother, preferring to hate his father openly. However, his real feelings were obvious from his reliance on his mother’s quirk at the expense of his father’s.
Their silence is awkward, Momo feeling self-conscious, Shouto clearly waiting for her to act like the polite person he knows her to be and respond. “That sounds really nice.”
“You can join us.”
“Oh, no. My appointment is about an hour.”
“My mom won’t mind. I’m pretty boring.” Shouto smiles again, and it amazes her how he grew up into being such a laidback, happy adult. Most people smile less as they grow older, not more.
Besides, he is most definitely not a boring son. He has been number two for a while, extraordinarily successful and very handsome now that his face has lost its puppy fat and he has a better haircut. Adulthood has been so kind to him, and it’s really not fair, a thought that Momo hates herself for having.
“I prefer to eat at home,” she mumbles, trying to be the polite lady she was raised to be, taking off her sunglasses and looking him in the eye rather than at the clock behind him. “How have you been?”
“Good,” he replies, “work is fine.”
“And you?”
“I have nothing to complain about.” He slightly tilts his head while he looks at her, like he’s thinking through what to say next. Momo closes her book, using the bookmark she made for herself at thirteen with her quirk—a thin piece of metal, the size of a playing card, with her name engraved on it. She remembers being so proud of herself for making it, and the memory almost allows her to forget that Shouto is here. “We all miss you.”
“I know.” One thing Momo cannot say is that she is unloved. She just needs some time away to figure herself out, away from people who, though well-meaning, would tell her how to feel about it.
“You should at least text one of the girls back.”
“It’s nice for you to say that, instead of asking me why I ignored your text. Who put you up to it anyway?”
Shouto stares at her like he doesn’t understand what she’s saying. “Nobody asked me too. I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Have you seen the video?” Momo asks, feeling anxious. Enough people treated her differently after seeing it, that she feels like she ought to double check. She trusts Shouto, but she also trusted the man who betrayed her too.
“Why would I have looked at it?” Shouto frowns. “I would never do that to you.” Momo stares back at him though, as calm as she can manage, since before this all happened, she didn’t think anyone she knew would do that to her.
“It feels like everyone has seen it.”
“None of us have.” If there is anything that Momo has learned, it’s that there are plenty of people who will betray her if it’s what works out best for them, but she supposes that she owes her classmates more credit. None of them, except maybe Minoru, are the types to delight in the misfortunes and humiliations of others.
Trying to save the conversation, Shouto decides to change the subject. “You look different without the ponytail.”
“The ponytail was immature.” The honest answer is that it was another casualty of her desire to become unrecognizable, but she won’t tell him that.
“You look nice,” he says, “I like your scarf.”
“Looking good is part of the secret to not being institutionalized.” Momo speaks in a deadpan voice but can’t keep it up when Shouto snorts and looks at the ground, like he doesn’t want to admit that he finds her so funny. Momo lets herself smile, feeling a little more comfortable now. “How’d you even recognize me?”
“I sat next to you for three years.” He leans back in his seat, elbows on the armrests, relaxing now. “It’s good to see you.” Another genuine smile, and Momo wonders how she ever doubted him, specifically.
“I’m sorry for not responding to your text.”
“It’s okay, you were busy, right?” Shouto is nice enough to give her an out, even though she has given him no reason to be so generous with her.
“Yes,” she says, feeling mournful, because she wishes she weren’t this way. Now that they’re talking, she thinks that it might have been nice to have believed in him earlier.
He looks like he wants to say something to her, but her therapist steps out of her office, a nice lady who looks like a librarian, Momo’s favorite kind of person to interact with recently. “I better go,” she says, tucking her book into her bag as she stands up. “It was nice running into you,” she says over her shoulder, knowing that he can’t chase her down in public. Momo waves at him, telling herself not to feel badly for the look on his face.
**
When Shouto finally went to see his mom at the hospital, the woman who let him onto the floor asked him if he had sharp objects, glass or metal on his person, and told him to leave any at the front desk, please. The question had surprised him, having never considered the ingenuity and desperation of the people who find themselves indefinitely confined to a psychiatric hospital. Never afraid for himself, despite the incident that led to his mother’s hospitalization, he wondered if she really was that bad, even after all the time that had passed.
“Shouto, where are you?” Rei asks, hanging up the laundry. After lunch, she talked him into coming back home to spend more time with her. He doesn’t live here anymore, but despite all the bad memories he likes to come by and spend time with his mother, trying to make up for the years he doubted her.
While she is hanging the laundry, he is watching her, something he did as a small child, his earliest memory watching her fold clothes. Before the desire for physical affection was beaten out of him, he had once been a very sweet boy, with pictures to prove it when he doubts his own capacity for attachment.
“I ran into an old classmate.” Shouto isn’t sure what to make of his encounter with Momo, which is why he doesn’t tell his mother where they met. Momo was evasive and uncomfortable, but solitude can’t be good for her. After he sent her that text, which was unanswered, seeing her in the waiting room felt like fate, even though she was clearly unhappy to see him. “I’d been thinking about her, so it was nice to see her.” Even though she definitely didn’t want to see me. At least he can tell his friends that Momo hasn’t killed herself.
“Oh, which one?”
“Creati.”
“Why is the name familiar? I don’t think you’ve brought them home.” His mother picks up a wet t-shirt, shaking it out before hanging it up on the clothesline with wood clothespins, clipped to the bottom of her shirt.
“She was the one who had that video leak out…” Shouto
“Ah,” Rei sighs, “right, that happened. I didn’t know that you knew her personally.”
Well, I used to. Momo was the easiest of the girls for him to talk to, and she didn’t seem to mind how awkward he was at sixteen. Since graduating, he’d only ever see her at increasingly infrequent class reunions and the advertisements she was featured in. “I know her well enough to have her phone number.” Rei smiles to herself, accustomed to his blunt way of speaking and lack of tact when he isn’t paying attention.
“Poor girl,” she says, “they raked her over the coals.” An enormous understatement of how it all went down.
“She’s not a girl, technically.” Shouto quickly adds, “she’s an adult, like me.”
Rei turns to look at Shouto, giving him a look. “She’s one of your friends, she’ll always be a kid to me. Why does it matter anyway? Everyone is someone’s little baby.”
Everyone means something to somebody. From experience, he knows how nice it feels for someone to make it clear that they actually care if he lives or dies. It’s one of the things he has always admired about Izuku, that he so openly admits to caring about other people.
Shouto believes that his mother could have been spared a lot of heartache if the people around her who knew what she was feeling actually did something. She had confided in her friends, and her doctor must have had questions about so many pregnancies so close together or why Shouto had so many bruises all the time. He’s finding it easier to live with what his father did but finds it very difficult to forgive all the people who knew and did nothing about it.
“I’m not a baby anymore.” It comes out lame, and he knows that his mother loves him because she smiles at him squashing the sentiment.
“I bought those apples you like,” she says, picking up a pillowcase. “They were on sale, please take them with you when you go home.” Looking away from him now, he can’t see her face, but he can tell that this is one of those maternal gestures that comes from her trying to make it up to him, even though she doesn’t have to.
“Okay.” He pulls his phone out of his pocket, opens up his thread with Momo. Still left on read, it doesn’t deter him from reaching out again. Can we hang out later this week? He wonders if he should try and sell it a little bit more, but things don’t often work out when he tries to be charming.
“Are you staying for dinner?” Rei asks, turning to look back at him. “I’d really like to spend more time with you, but you’re always working.” Unsaid: Endeavor isn’t an easy man to live with, Touya is dead, Fuyumi has her own family, Natsuo refuses to come home, and she still feels guilty for pouring boiling water on Kid Shouto’s face. Funnily enough, Shouto feels like he has some things to make up to her too.
“I’m free tonight,” he lies, deciding to text Izuku to ask if he can cover for him, since he also knows a thing or two about making time for the things that matter.
Momo sends him a thumbs up emoji just as he hits sent to Izuku, and it makes Shouto smile to himself, since he really does want to see her.