Pony's eyes went glossy with relief. She nodded hard, then turned back to Class A with renewed determination, like she'd been handed a second chance.
'If it's just a cultural difference, then I'll try again.' Pony thought to herself.
"Okay!" she announced, voice bright and confident. "Now I'll be giving a proper, polite Japanese-style apology to you all!"
Monoma's expression twitched.
He hadn't taught her any apology phrases.
Which meant she was about to freestyle.
Pony clasped her hands together, bowed deeply with perfect form, earnest to the point of pain, and said loudly, clearly, and with full conviction,
"Please forgive me for calling you losers. In America, we only say that to the people we love."
The cafeteria didn't just go silent.
It held its breath.
Midoriya froze mid-reach like his brain had blue-screened.
Mina's mouth dropped open, then curled into a grin so wide it bordered on criminal. "Wait, wait, wait—did she just confess?!"
Uraraka's hands flew to her cheeks, eyes sparkling as if she'd just been handed a front-row seat to a romance drama. "Aww! That's… kind of cute?"
"K-Kind of…?!" Pony repeated, hopeful and alarmed at the same time. "So I did good?"
Monoma kept his face neutral with the practiced calm of someone negotiating a hostage situation and pretending it was a normal lunch conversation. "You did great," he said smoothly. "No one's angry anymore."
Kaminari leaned toward Kirishima, whispering like they were watching a movie. "Bro, I think we just witnessed history."
Kirishima whispered back, dead serious. "It was manly… but terrifying at the same time."
Bakugo's whole body twitched.
And then he detonated anyway.
"THE FUCK YOU MEAN NO ONE'S ANGRY?!"
Midoriya threw both hands up with the reflex of a longtime Bakugo-handler, trying to smother the explosion before it became literal. "W-Wait, Kacchan! Maybe she didn't mean it like that!"
Monoma slid in like he'd been waiting for this exact opening.
"Yes, Midoriya-kun is right," he said, voice calm enough to sound sincere. "That's actually why I came over. It's about Pony-chan."
Pony blinked at him, confused for half a second—then caught his glance.
Ah.
She snapped into the performance instantly, pulling her now-practiced sad face out like it had a dedicated on-switch.
Iida straightened so sharply that his chair looked offended, glasses flashing with class-rep urgency. "Katsuki-kun, calm down! This may be an important matter!"
Bakugo whipped his head toward him. "HAAAH?! WHAT THE HELL DID YOU SAY, FOUR-EYES?!"
Kirishima clamped both hands on Bakugo's shoulders before his words turned into violence. "Bro—bro—breathe!"
Kaminari nodded along, trying to sound supportive while very clearly enjoying this. "Yeah, man. Breathing's good. Breathing prevents accidents."
Monoma ignored the entire catastrophe like it was ambient noise and turned directly to his target, putting on the politest face he owned.
"Yaoyorozu-san," he said, "may we talk privately in the hall?"
Momo blinked, startled, and pointed to herself. "Me?"
Mineta popped up like a tiny, useless bodyguard. "W-What do you need her help for?!"
Monoma looked at him with the patient pity of someone watching a barking chihuahua convincing itself that it's a wolf.
"Only Yaoyorozu-san can help her solve this problem," he said simply. "Please."
Momo's posture stiffened. She was clearly wary—Monoma's reputation didn't evaporate overnight—but the moment her eyes flicked to Pony's sad face, her expression softened. Just a little. Enough to be dangerous.
"…Alright," she said, and stood. She adjusted her ponytail like she was bracing herself for a negotiation.
Behind them, Bakugo was still foaming.
"WHEN I GET MY HANDS ON THAT TWO-HORNED BITC—!"
Pony made a tiny distressed sound and immediately scurried after Monoma and Momo like a startled deer escaping a predator.
The hallway felt quieter by comparison, like the world had finally resumed breathing.
Momo clasped her hands in front of her, composure returning piece by piece. "So… what do you need help with, Monoma-kun?"
Monoma glanced at Pony.
Pony's sad face activated again, instantly, as if her facial muscles had learned the shortcut.
"Well," Monoma said, careful and gentle, "based on what you saw from Pony-chan's last interaction… she's not transitioning smoothly. She could use some help."
Momo's brows knit with concern. "I see…"
Monoma continued, voice steady. "And I think what would really help her is if she met someone whom she could relate to. Her lifelong hero."
Pony nodded rapidly, still sad, still committed.
"So," Monoma said with respectful sincerity, "I was wondering if it's possible for Pony-chan to meet the number one American hero, Stars and Stripes… using your connections."
Momo's eyes widened.
"Monoma-kun, that's…" She hesitated, weighing reality against sincerity. "That's a very tall task. I don't know if I can—"
Monoma bowed immediately. Deep. Shameless. The kind of bow that tried to guilt-trip the universe.
"Please, Yaoyorozu-san," he said, voice earnest. "You're the only one I know that could solve this. Everyone knows you're dependable."
Pony added softly, her sadness wobbling into sincerity, "I'll be very polite… and I will not call her a loser."
Momo's expression melted into reluctant pity. She looked away for a second, then back, like she was negotiating with herself.
"…I could ask my father," she said carefully. "But no promises."
Pony's face lit up so fast it was like someone flipped a switch. "Really?! Thank you!"
Monoma straightened, relief sliding into his smile. "Thank you, Yaoyorozu-san. Truly. You're kind, smart, and beautiful… just like the rumors say."
Momo turned pink, trying to keep her dignified composure intact. "P-Please don't exaggerate…"
Monoma, not wasting momentum, pulled out his phone. "Could I get your number? Just so I can get updates, if anything happens."
Momo hesitated—then nodded, pulling out her phone as well. "Alright."
With their numbers exchanged, the deal—or at least the request—was done.
Monoma started back toward the cafeteria, already feeling like he'd scored a clean victory, when Pony suddenly looked up at Momo with the innocent curiosity of someone about to cause another disaster.
"Umm… Yaoyorozu-san?" Pony asked.
"Yes?" Momo replied, still faintly flustered.
Pony leaned in and whispered like this was sensitive cultural information. "Do you happen to also wear a maid outfit?"
Momo froze so hard she nearly dropped her phone.
"H-Huh?! W-What are you saying, Pony-chan?! Why would I wear that?!"
Pony's eyes widened earnestly. "Because the thing is… I've heard Kendo-san has one that she wears. And I was wondering if the vice president is also required to wear one…"
Momo's entire face went red.
"R-Really?! Kendo-san wears such a… a…!" she choked, flustered, then—because she was still Yaoyorozu—rallied with awkward seriousness. "I-I mean… if that's part of the job… perhaps I should get one as well…"
Pony nodded solemnly. "Ah. I completely understand now. So even the vice president has to wear a maid uniform." She looked up, dead serious. "Japanese culture is really intense."
Monoma, walking two steps ahead, heard every word.
His imagination ran vividly: Yaoyorozu in a maid outfit, posture perfect, voice soft, and enough frills to make it look innocent right up until you noticed the uniform had no business fitting that well. The little apron ribbon cinching her waist like it was personally offended by breathing room, and the neckline would make a quiet but undeniable point about her boobs that the entire cafeteria would pretend not to notice while failing spectacularly. Every step would make the skirt sway just enough to be distracting. Then she'd smile—gentle, proper, lethal—and say Welcome home, Master in a refined tone.
Mineta's soul would've left his body if he'd known.
Before the misunderstanding had time to be cleared up, Monoma called back over his shoulder, in the same tone you used to guide someone away from strangers.
"Pony-chan," Monoma said, "Let's go."
Pony smiled. "Okay!"
Momo, still red, yelled out, "I-I'll contact you if I hear anything."
Monoma bowed once. "Thank you once again, Yaoyorozu-san."
Walking through the quieter hallway, they made their return to the lunchroom.
The moment they stepped back in, the noise hit them—along with the lingering tension.
Bakugo was still being restrained by Kirishima, looking like a natural disaster being politely asked to stop. While Midoriya and Iida looked like they'd aged three years.
And then Monoma felt it behind him.
'This presence… It's unreal..!', Monoma thought.
He turned slowly and lo and behold,
Kendo was there.
She was calm.
Too calm.
"Monoma-kun," she said, sweet enough to be terrifying.
Monoma smiled like a man who wanted to live.
"Good afternoon, Kendo-san," he said politely, as if manners could undo his mistakes.
Kendo's eye twitched.
"Oh, I've read this scene in the manga," Pony whispered, bright with sudden understanding. "Is this the part where the class president shows her affection?"
Monoma didn't answer. He couldn't afford to.
He simply prepared to run.