Pain radiated from Izuku's shoulder in waves that matched his heartbeat. His brain, recognizing the futility of sending the same distress signal every half-second, had begun the merciful process of numbing everything. The burning sensation had faded into a dull throb, which was both better and worse. Better because it hurt less. Worse because he could now think about other things.
Like how stupid he'd been.
Really stupid.
Dropping your weapons in the middle of a fight? What kind of absolute idiot does that? The kind who gets baited by a screaming blonde with anger management issues, apparently.
What would Hano say? Actually, Izuku knew exactly what Hano would say. He'd laugh until he cried, then hit Izuku with a wooden spoon and make him run laps until he puked. "Pride," he'd say between wheezes, "is what kills most fighters, boy. Not the other guy. You."
Izuku could imagine the entire lecture, start to finish, complete with creative insults and at least three references to how Izuku wasn't smart enough to pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel.
"You're being very quiet."
Momo's voice pulled him back to the present.
"Just thinking."
"About Bakugo-san?"
"About how dumb I was." He grimaced. "My sensei always says, 'If you're in a fair fight, you've already made a mistake.' And what did I do? Deliberately made it fair. Might as well have gift-wrapped my face and handed it to him."
Momo's lips twitched upward.
"That would be an interesting present."
"You know what I mean."
"I do." Her grip on his arm shifted slightly. "You wanted to prove something."
"Yeah, well, lesson learned. Next time I'll just use my weapons and win in thirty seconds like a sane person."
Izuku glanced sideways at her. "So what happened with you and Iida? How'd you get past him?"
"It was actually quite entertaining. When I arrived on the fifth floor, Iida-san was..." She paused, searching for the right word. "...roleplaying."
"Roleplaying."
"Yes. He had fully committed to the 'villain' aspect of the exercise." Her voice dropped into a surprisingly good impression of Iida's formal cadence. "'I am the villainous mastermind Tenya Iida, and you will never thwart my nefarious scheme, hero! Mwahahahaha!'"
Izuku stopped walking.
"No."
"Yes." Momo nodded solemnly, though her eyes danced with suppressed laughter. "Complete with exaggerated arm movements and what I can only describe as a mustache-twirling voice, despite the fact that he has no mustache to twirl."
"Please tell me he didn't actually say 'Mwahahahaha.'"
"I would never lie about something so important." She mimicked Iida's chopping arm motions. "He was really quite committed to it. I almost felt bad for creating a sleeping gas canister and neutralizing him mid-speech."
Izuku's laughter echoed down the empty hallway. It hurt his ribs, but he couldn't help it. The mental image of Iida's over-the-top villain performance was too perfect.
"I had no idea you were funny, Yaoyorozu."
She raised an eyebrow. "What did you think I was?"
"I don't know. Serious? Strategic? The kind of person who color-codes their study notes and has a five-year plan?"
"I do color-code my notes," she admitted. "But that doesn't mean I can't appreciate the humor in watching our classmate pretend to be a Saturday morning cartoon villain."
They resumed walking, a comfortable silence settling between them. The pain in Izuku's shoulder had receded to a dull ache, manageable enough that he could focus on other things.
Like the warmth of Momo's hand on his arm.
Or the way she smelled like something expensive he couldn't name.
Or the fact that just an hour ago, she had been wrapped around him like a—
"Something on your mind, Midoriya-san?"
Izuku nearly tripped over his own feet.
"What? No. Nothing. Why?"
"You were giving me a strange look."
"Was I? Sorry. Must be the concussion."
"You don't have a concussion."
"How do you know? Are you a doctor?"
"No, but—"
"Then I might have a concussion. You don't know."
Momo looked unconvinced. "What were you actually thinking about?"
Izuku weighed his options. On one hand, telling the truth might get him slapped. On the other hand, he wasn't a very good liar.
"I was just wondering why you decided to, uh..." He gestured vaguely with his good hand. "When we used the grappling hook. You know."
Momo's brow furrowed. "Why I decided to what?"
"To, um, position yourself that way." His brain screamed at him to stop talking, but his mouth had other ideas. "From the front. Instead of, you know, from behind. Like a piggyback. Which would have been more..."
"What exactly are you suggesting, Midoriya-san?"
Izuku had a sudden vivid image of black-suited security personnel appearing from the shadows, grabbing him by the arms, and dragging him away to some Yaoyorozu Corporation black site where they disposed of boys who made inappropriate comments to the CEO's daughter.
"Nothing! Absolutely nothing. Just, uh, curious about your tactical decision-making process. For future reference. In case we're paired up again. Which would be great, by the way. You're a fantastic partner."
The words tumbled out of him like a landslide. His face felt hot enough to melt steel.
Momo studied him for a long moment, her expression unreadable.
Then she smiled.
"I see." She resumed walking, pulling him along beside her. "Well, if you must know, I made a tactical decision based on the parameters of the situation. Front-facing offered better stability and a more secure grip. Simple physics."
"Right. Physics. Of course."
"And if there were any other... considerations," she continued, "they would be entirely outside the scope of our current discussion."
Izuku's brain frantically tried to decode what that meant.
Was she saying...?
Did she actually...?
Or was this some kind of trap?
"Understood," he said, figuring that was the safest possible response.
Momo nodded once, as if they'd concluded an important business negotiation.
The rest of their walk continued in silence, but not the comfortable kind from before. This silence had weight. Tension. The kind that made Izuku hyper-aware of every point of contact between them.
Recovery Girl's office appeared at the end of the hallway like a beacon of salvation. Izuku had never been so happy to see a medical facility in his life.
Until the door opened.
And there was Bakugo.
Standing in the doorway.
His face looked like someone had used it as a punching bag, which was fair because that's exactly what Izuku had done. His nose was slightly crooked, dried blood crusted around his nostrils. One eye had swollen nearly shut. His lip was split in almost the same place as Izuku's.
For a single, terrible second, they just stared at each other.
Bakugo's good eye widened.
His shoulders tensed.
His hands—bandaged now—curled into fists at his sides.
Izuku braced himself.
Round two, then.
Fine.
He still had one good arm.
But instead of attacking, Bakugo just... stepped aside.
Wordlessly.
His face twisted into an expression Izuku couldn't read—somewhere between disgust and something else. Something almost like respect, but twisted through the funhouse mirror of Bakugo's ego.
Bakugo jerked his head toward the door, a clear "go ahead" gesture.
Izuku moved forward.
As he passed Bakugo in the doorway, close enough that their shoulders almost brushed, Bakugo spoke. Just two words, pitched so low that only Izuku could hear them.
"Next time."
The words weren't a question. Not even really a threat.
They were a promise.
Izuku met Bakugo's gaze. Held it.
Nodded once.
Then entered Recovery Girl's office.
Behind him, he heard Bakugo's footsteps receding down the hallway. Heavy. Purposeful. The sound of someone who had just made a decision.
That was the thing about Bakugo. He never stayed down. Never accepted defeat. Just got back up, angrier and more determined than before. It was almost admirable, in a terrifying sort of way.
Recovery Girl looked up from her desk, took one glance at Izuku, and sighed deeply.
"Another one?" She shook her head. "Sit down, young man. This is going to take a few kisses."
Momo started to step away. "I should give you privacy—"
"Stay. Please. If you want to. It'll just take a minute."
She hesitated, then nodded.
"Alright."
Recovery Girl moved with surprising speed for someone her age, examining Izuku's injuries with practiced hands.
"This burn is second degree," she tutted. "And these bruises! What were you boys thinking? No, don't answer that. You weren't thinking at all."
She pressed her lips to Izuku's forehead, and a warm, green glow spread through him. The pain in his shoulder vanished. His split lip knitted itself back together. The bruises faded from angry purple to yellowish-green, then disappeared entirely.
And then the fatigue hit him like a truck.
Izuku swayed on the examination table, suddenly dizzy. His vision darkened at the edges.
"Whoa."
Recovery Girl nodded knowingly. "My Quirk uses your own energy to heal you. With injuries this extensive, you're going to feel the drain. I recommend a hearty meal and at least eight hours of sleep."
"Right." Izuku tried to stand, wobbled, and sat back down hard. "Maybe in a minute."
Momo stepped forward.
"I can help him back to class, Recovery Girl."
The old woman looked between them, a knowing smile crinkling her eyes.
"I'm sure you can, dear." She patted Momo's hand. "Make sure he eats something. Boys his age never take care of themselves properly."
Momo nodded with such seriousness that Izuku had to suppress a laugh. As if she'd just been entrusted with a vital mission instead of babysitting duty.
Recovery Girl disappeared into her office, leaving them alone.
Izuku looked up at Momo.
"Sorry about this. I didn't realize her Quirk would hit me so hard."
She shook her head. "No apologies necessary. You were injured helping our team win."
"Yeah, but if I'd been smarter about it, I wouldn't have gotten hurt in the first place."
"Perhaps." She sat beside him on the examination table. "But then I wouldn't have gotten to see Bakugo-san with a black eye which was..." She paused, considering her words carefully. "...surprisingly satisfying to watch."
Izuku turned to stare at her.
"Yaoyorozu, did you just admit to enjoying violence?"
"I admitted to appreciating justice. I saw how he spoke to you. How he looked at you. Whatever history you two have, he seems to have earned every punch."
"Well," he said, "if we're ever paired up again, I promise to be more strategic."
"And I promise to be faster." Her hand found his on the examination table. Just the lightest touch. "So you don't have to face the explosions alone."
Izuku looked down at their hands. Then back up at her face.
"You know," he said, "I think we make a pretty good team, Yaoyorozu."
She nodded.
"I think so too, Midoriya-san."
"You could call me Izuku, you know."
She considered this for a moment.
"Perhaps." She stood, offering him her arm for support. "But only if you earn it."
Izuku took her arm, rising carefully to his feet.
"Challenge accepted."