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"Well, well… what have we here?" her voice rolled out like she was waiting all day to say it. "My favorite trouble."
"Elina," I said flatly. "This is Momo. Vice versa. Meat, please."
The woman leaned forward on the counter, with a way too wide smirk. "You could at least pretend to miss me, cariño. After all, it's been months since you darkened my door. I was starting to think you found a new mistress."
"Yeah. I found a new mistress. Her name is 'Beating the living shit out of psychos.' Real high-maintenance relationship,'" I muttered. "You got steak or not?"
Momo gave her a polite nod. "It is nice to meet you, Elina."
Elina's eyes flicked to her. Then she smiled wider. "Ahh, and you bring a beauty with you this time."
"She is my co-captor."
Momo tilted her head slightly. "I am his classmate."
Elina hummed and pushed off the counter. "I see. And now you are in my kitchen. Good choice. But I warn you... your friend here? He is trouble. Always orders double and tips like a miser."
"I tipped last time," I said.
She scoffed, walking toward the open grill. "A single coin and a wink doesn't count."
"I don't wink."
"You did in my dreams."
"Delete those."
Elina laughed, waving a hand at us. "Sit. Booth in the corner. I will feed you before you chew on my arm out of hunger."
I slid into the corner booth, dropping into the seat like the last hour hadn't drained what was left of my energy. Momo sat across from me, she sat so proper it was like she thought the Health Ministry was watching.
"So this is your go to date location?" she asked, glancing at the menu-less wall.
"Nope. You are special."
"Somehow I doubt that is a compliment."
"You doubt correctly."
Elina called over her shoulder. "Two platters. No arguments. You get what I give you."
"Fine," I yelled back. "Just don't burn it this time."
"That was one time! And you ate it anyway."
"Charcoal builds character. And lines your stomach for round two."
Momo raised a brow. "You two seem… familiar."
"She is dramatic."
"I heard that!"
"She was supposed to."
Momo rested her hands on the table. "I cannot decide if I admire how calmly you annoy people or if I should apologize on your behalf."
"Do both. Hedge your bets."
The smell of grilled meat hit us a moment later... thick, smoky, so heavy that even Momo stopped looking like she wanted to Lysol the table and started glancing toward the kitchen.
"This is not the kind of place I expected you to enjoy," she said.
"What, you thought I lived in five-star hotels?"
She bit her lip, glancing at the salt shaker that leaned like it had survived a hurricane. "I thought you were reckless about a lot of things, but not food hygiene. When you cook, you are always careful."
"So you are saying I am responsible… except when I am not."
"I am saying you are selective," she shot back, folding her hands on the table. "You lecture Bakugo about washing his hands before chopping onions, but here we are, trusting a counter that hasn't seen disinfectant in months."
"That counter's seasoning has more flavor than half the restaurants in Tokyo," I said, tapping my fingers on the wood. "You think I come here for polished glass and waiters who say 'sir' twice in every sentence?"
Her lips twitched like she wanted to laugh but didn't want to give me the satisfaction. "So it is nostalgia?"
"It is survival," I said. "You eat here once, you either die or get strong enough to bench press a car. Guess which one happened to me."
Elina's voice cut across from the kitchen. "Stop badmouthing my place unless you want your meat served raw!"
"You serve it raw anyway!" I yelled back. "Or burnt. No in between."
"Call it sashimi and pay double next time!"
Momo shook her head. "How do you know these people?"
"They find me," I said.
Before she could argue, Elina stomped out with two steaming platters balanced on her arms like they weighed nothing. "I swear, your voice hasn't changed since you were fifteen. Still loud. Still trouble. Still never say thank you."
"Thanks," I said.
"Too late," she muttered, sliding the plates in front of us.
We ate, and it was amazing. It wasn't the kind of fancy, sculpted plate Momo probably grew up on, but the type that smacked your soul around and told you to sit down and take it. The steak was heavy with smoke and char, dripping with juice.
The first bite shut Momo up completely. Whatever polite skepticism she had melted the second she chewed, and I swear I saw her shoulders drop like she was carrying a whole commission meeting in her neck.
"This is…" she started.
"Yeah," I said, mouth full.
"I wasn't expecting..."
"You weren't expecting your life to peak in a place with duct tape on the salt shaker. I know."
She gave me a sharp look but didn't argue. Another piece disappeared off her plate. The meat was greasy in the way that felt right. Smoke clung to my tongue, and every chew reminded me why Elina's place survived years without advertising. Whatever she seasoned this with was probably illegal in three prefectures.
The plates were nearly clean. Not a grain of rice or a smear of sauce was safe. By the time I finished my last piece, even the bones looked like they ran through an industrial cleaner.
I leaned back with a satisfied groan. "God-tier. I feel like I could punch a tank."
"Please don't," Momo said.
Elina came over with a wet rag, wiping down the table.
"Done already?" she asked.
"Not a crumb left," I said, gesturing at the bones.
Momo stood, brushing her skirt smooth. "We should go before you and he start round two."
I pulled my wallet before she could say anything and dropped a couple of bills on the table. Momo started to open her mouth, but I raised a finger.
"Don't. Just shut up and walk out like you paid."
She frowned, probably rehearsing an argument in her head, but then sighed. "Fine. But next time, it is my treat."
"Sure. I will order triple."
Elina waved from behind the counter. "Bring her back next time. She is nicer than you."
"Everyone is nicer than me," I said, already pushing the door open.
I shoved my hands into my pockets and glanced at Momo. She was scrolling on her phone, probably trying to arrange the car again.
"You wanna head back now or do something else?"
She glanced at me, then tilted her head. "Like what?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Walk around, see what we bump into. Maybe hit an arcade, maybe throw you in the river for fun. Options are endless."
Her lips twitched. "Throw me in the river? Is that your idea of a relaxing detour?"
"Relaxing for me."
She sighed, looking at the dim sky overhead. "You really don't want to go straight back, do you?"
"Not unless you are dying to sit in a cab for forty minutes and then spend the rest of the day filing reports with Nezu breathing down your neck."
"That does sound awful."
"Exactly. So let's waste a little time."
She hesitated for a second. "If we are wasting time, you better not drag me to one of your shady secret clubs."
I looked offended. "Hey, those places are not clubs."
She laughed, and before she could say anything else, I grabbed her wrist and started walking. "Come on. You will thank me later."
"Why do I feel like I am going to regret this?"
"You won't. Probably."
We cut across a few narrow streets, passing noodle stalls and convenience stores. She didn't ask where we were going, but I could feel her eyes on me like she was trying to figure it out.
"Are we even staying in this district?" she asked after a while.
"Nope."
She muttered something under her breath and kept following.
The place didn't look like much from outside. A dull metal door with a keypad and a dent near the frame, like someone once tried to kick it in. A faded sign above read "Mo Kami Research" in block letters.
"This better not be some weird black market deal," she said.
"Relax. You are about to see some top-tier nerd shit."
I punched in the code and the lock clicked. The place smelled faintly like burnt circuits and coffee. Inside, wires hung from the ceiling and tables were stacked with parts, half-built gadgets, glass containers, notebooks with formulas scribbled all over them.
"Welcome to Mo Kami's den," I said. "Don't touch anything unless you want your fingers stuck to a wall."
"Where is the owner?"
"Out. Probably experimenting with acid again."
A voice called from deeper inside. "That you, Ryuu? Or is it the delivery guy?"
"It is me, Hana. No deliveries."
Hana appeared from around a corner, wiping her hands on a rag. "Figures. You never bring food. And who is this?"
"Yaoyao. She got the brain for your kind of chaos."
Hana's eyes lit up. "Finally. Someone who won't break my glassware."
"I only broke that flask once," I said.
"You broke it twice."
"I paid for one, so once."
Momo stepped past me and glanced at the setup. "What exactly is this place?"
"Mo Kami's playground. Hana runs it when he is gone. They test formulas, prototype gear, blow stuff up for fun."
"I don't blow things up for fun," Hana said. "It is for science."
"Same thing."
Hana waved Momo over. "You know, if you are here, you might as well learn something. Come on. I was testing a new polymer blend earlier."
Momo followed, already scanning the shelves. I leaned back against a workbench and watched as Hana started pulling samples and explaining how the compound reacted to heat stress. Momo didn't just listen... she jumped in, asking questions and suggesting changes, like shewas working there for months.
At some point, Hana passed her a pair of gloves. "Here. Try mixing it yourself."
"You sure?"
"Better you than Ryuu. He is banned from touching beakers."
I shrugged. "One explosion and suddenly I am the problem."
"You melted a hole in the ceiling," Hana said.
"Details."
Momo didn't even look up, already absorbed in her work. She combined two liquids, waited for the reaction, then grabbed a small igniter from the table. The mixture flared for a second before settling into a solid mass.
Hana whistled. "Not bad. You got good hands."
Momo smiled. "Your setup is fascinating. I can see why Ryuu comes here."
"Yeah, to mooch off free gear and annoy me," Hana said.
"Don't lie. You miss me when I am gone."
"I miss the quiet."
"Liar."
She then looked up from the sample, flipping the flask in her hand lazily. "Oh, by the way, how did the formula hold up against the villain?"
Momo's neck snapped toward me so fast I swore I heard something crack. "What villain?" Her eyes narrowed. "Ryuu. Did you use experimental compounds on villains?"
I glared at Hana, who was already rubbing the back of her neck like a guilty kid caught stealing candy.
"Happy now?" I said flatly.
"Sorry, sorry. Boss told me to ask. Said it was for data collection," Hana mumbled, stepping away and pretending to organize a shelf that didn't need organizing.
I sighed. "It worked great. No side effects."
Momo stared like she was trying to drill through my forehead. I stared back. Neither of us blinked.
"It was Overhaul, wasn't it?" she said finally. "Reports mentioned his skin breaking out in blisters, some exploding and releasing an awful stench."
I didn't answer.
Momo sighed through her nose again, putting the flask down harder than she needed to. "You made Overhaul rot from the outside in."
I shrugged. "Something like that. Poor bastard though. Villains intercepted the transport truck and cut off his hands. He will never be able to use his Quirk again. Can't even wipe his own face now."
Hana whistled low. "Damn. That is rough. Couldn't have happened to a nicer guy." She then held up both hands when Momo turned. "Hey, don't look at me. I just mixed the stuff. He is the one who decided to use it."
Momo shot her a look. "And you gave it to him knowing he would throw it at a villain?"
"Better to test on someone trying to kill him than on a lab rat," Hana said. "If it failed, we wouldn't be here having this conversation anyway."
I nodded. "Exactly. And let's be honest, Overhaul deserved worse."
Momo sighed and set the gloves on the table. "That is not the point."
We spent a few hours there, Momo and Hana bouncing between the benches, testing compounds and occasionally setting off small bangs that made the lights flicker. The whole place smelled like burnt plastic and singed paper before long. Hana didn't even flinch when one of Momo's test samples hissed and popped, sending a streak of black smoke curling toward the ceiling.
"Don't worry, that just means it is working," Hana said, waving a hand like it was normal for lab tables to look like they survived a flashbang.
"You say that every time something sparks," I muttered.
"Because it is true."
Momo was crouched over another setup. "The reaction time is shorter than I expected," she said. "Is that intentional?"
"It wasn't, but now it is," Hana said, grinning as she scribbled something in her notebook.
Eventually, Hana pulled out a metal tray filled with fragments of polymer blends and told Momo to "stress test" them. Momo didn't hesitate, snapping and twisting the pieces with her bare hands like she was trying to break breadsticks.
"Not bad," she said.
"Try it on Ryuu's bat next time," Hana muttered. "See if it survives that abuse."
"I would rather not," Momo said. "He will cry if it snaps."
"You are god damn right I will," I said.
By the time we called it, half the table was littered with burnt filters and cracked beakers. Hana waved us out without looking up from her notes.
"Don't blow anything up while I am gone," I said.
"Don't tell me how to live," she replied.
Momo pulled the door closed behind us, clutching the gloves Hana had given her as a "souvenir."
"That was surprisingly fun," she said.
"Told you. Nerd shit hits different."
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