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vannahfanfics · 2 years

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Music is Love in Search of a Word

Word Count: 5080

Fluff, Romance, Soulmates, Café AU

Summary: Momo Yaoyorozu has finally accomplished her goal of opening her own café. And the location she's chosen isn't just good for business—it's also the ticket to finding her soulmate!

Hello, everyone! Here is my story for the MomoJiro Bang! Please check out the lovely art by my partner @bnha-ramblings, and also a big thanks to my beta @leland-chapman-the-bounty-hunter! Enjoy!

The scent of brewing chamomile danced on the air, filling Momo’s nose with a honey-sweet smell. It bubbled in the teapot on the rustic stove, which sat between two counters laden with espresso machines, coffee pots, jugs of fruit concentrate chilling in bowls of ice, and countless bags of tea leaves. A foot and a half in front of the cabinets and counters stood a display case, which housed scrumptious-looking muffins, danishes, brownies and blondies, donuts, and various other pastries. A small counter sat beside it with an old-fashioned cash register and a tiny potted money tree. Momo flitted around the various round, tableclothed tables to slightly rearrange the flowers sitting in the colorful glass vases or barely shift the teacups and saucers. After giving the room one last scrutinizing sweep, she walked up to the front glass door to flip the sign hanging in it to “OPEN.”

The simple act made Momo swell with pride. I’ve done it! I’ve successfully opened my own tea shop and café! She thought triumphantly. Four years of slaving over a business degree, half a year of financial bargaining, and another three months of construction, interior decorating, and asset obtaining had finally led to this moment. She couldn’t help peering out of the door at the sidewalk. Her fingers twiddled with anticipation as she watched the passersby. Would any of them notice her new tea shop? Would any of them be intrigued and stop in? Who would be her first customer?

After a few seconds of heart-pounding suspense, Momo realized that her potential customers may be put off by a sweaty, wide-eyed woman standing at the door breathing heavily onto the glass. She rubbed away the condensation with the hem of her apron before hurrying back to the counter. She needed to find something to occupy her time or she would go crazy from the expectation! However, she had been at the store for three hours preparing, so it was terribly hard to find anything to do now. She just stared hopelessly at the teapot on the stove, counting the seconds until it began to whistle with the collecting steam.

When she finally pulled the chamomile tea off the stove, she was at a complete loss of what to do.

Music. Music would help calm my nerves, she decided. She walked across the room to the old-fashioned radio sitting on a shelf on the wall. All of the outfittings in Momo’s tea shop had a rustic charm to contribute to the English Victorian vibe that she was going for—plus, she just loved the character of antiques! She fiddled with the dial, surfing through the static for a channel that would suit the atmosphere of her tea shop. She finally landed on a classical music channel, and sweet tones of piano keys began to mingle in the air with the fresh scent of the chamomile.

It seemed that Momo had caught the tail end of a piece; by the time she walked back to her counter to pour herself a cup of chamomile, the radio host's voice has replaced the calming piano music.

“Hello, listeners. I hope we are having a pleasant morning,” the host’s voice was soft and rich like the smoothest coffee; it immediately lulled Momo into a sleepy sense of contentment, prompting her to lean back against the counter and sip at her hot tea with a smile. “The next song comes to us from the most recent classical sensation, contemporary pianist Hitoshi Shinso. In a recent interview, he explained how his soulmate song inspired all the work on his debut album. He wanted to celebrate the love for his soulmate, and each song in the album chronicles their journey together…”

The radio host’s comments faded into the background as Momo drifted further into a placated state of daydreaming. She’d always adored the concept of the soulmate song. It was so inherently romantic! A song you were born knowing. A song that you only shared with one other person in the whole world. A unique tune that you could use to communicate with someone on such an intimate, personal level. Just thinking about it made butterflies take flight in Momo’s stomach and pleasurable tingles begin to shoot up and down her nerves.

Momo especially loved her soulmate song. She supposed everyone thought their soulmate song was extra-special, but Momo couldn’t help but just be enamored by hers. It was a harmonious blend of classical notes and jazzy tunes that came together to make a soothing yet stimulating melody. When Momo closed her eyes and let it flow forth to fill her mind, body, and soul with its mellifluence, she couldn’t help but imagine the kind of person her soulmate must be. Who did those hints of serious, deep tones amongst her sweet, high notes represent? How did it align with their personality? Wondering always filled Momo with a sense of excitement about the day that she would finally discover the truth.

Just as Momo was beginning to lose herself in her soulmate song, she was jolted back to reality by the loud chime of the bell attached to the top of her door.

“O-oh! Welcome,” she cried. As she jumped away from the counter, she nearly dropped the mug of chamomile she was still holding in her hands. She squeaked as the liquid sloshed over the rim, spilling over her hands and splashing down on the floor.

“Pl-please excuse me!” she flushed in embarrassment, scrambling around behind the counter in search of a dishrag. When she found one, she hastily wiped off the mug and set it down, and then rushed up to the cash register while still wiping the tea from her hands. “Sorry about that! How can I help yo—Oh! Ochako!”

“Hi, Momo!” her friend chirped pleasantly. “I rushed over here as soon as I saw that you were open! Am I your first customer?”

“Yes, actually, you are!” Momo laughed. Ochako squealed and did a little happy dance, which made Momo laugh more.

“It looks so cute!” Ochako gushed, stepping to the side to hungrily eye the many sweets sitting in the display counter. “And everything looks so delicious! It’s so amazing! You’ve been working on this for so long. It’s hard to believe that the day has finally come.”

“I know!” Momo said, smiling while resting her cheek into her hand. “I almost expect to wake up in my bed, it all having been one long dream…”

“Well, this is no dream, sister!” Ochako said and even lightly pinched Momo’s upper arm. She sprang away with a squeal, swatting at Ochako’s hand. She tried to look stern, but the laugh bubbling from her lips ruined it. Ochako just playfully wiggled her eyebrows before leaning down to hungrily inspect the sweet wares Momo had arranged in the display. “Honestly, it feels like I’m the one dreaming, now! All of these treats look so amazing… It’s like Heaven…”

“You can have whichever one you like. My treat,” Momo offered.

“No way!” Ochako objected, shooting straight up to poutily frown at her. “I’m your first customer, and that means I’m gonna pay! No ifs, ands, or buts about it… buuuuuuut I won’t refuse a little something extra.” Her firm tone faded into a dreamy drawl as her eyes drifted back to the case, particularly the ichigo daifuku tantalizing her from the top shelf. Momo couldn’t help but laugh; of course Ochako’s weakness to mochi was coming into play, and she had always been partial to the spring-exclusive treat.

“I’ll throw in some of the ichigo daifuku in for free,” she assured Ochako, who pumped her first with a quiet but triumphant “yes!”

While Ochako struggled to decide which of the treats she wanted to purchase, Momo opened the back of the case to pull out the platter of mochi treats. She picked one up and carefully wrapped it in cute pink wax paper, then set it into a white pastry box. The lid was emblazoned with her shop name, cursive writing in shiny, eye-catching gold. Ochako cooed delightedly at it when she caught sight of it.

“Man, Momo, you sure thought of everything,” she praised. “Your shop is going to take off in no time!”

“I sure hope so,” Momo sighed in response.

She had devoted much time and energy into her preparations, exploring every avenue and having contingencies for her contingencies, but the threat of failure always loomed like an anvil over her head. What if her shop wasn’t a hit? She’d been open for fifteen minutes now, and her best friend was the only one who’d stopped in. Was her business doomed to fail? Oh, dear, what was she going to do—

“Snap out of it!” Ochako barked and snapped her fingers in front of Momo’s face. Momo’s eyelashes fluttered as she struggled to reign her dizzied mind back in. When she looked blearily at her best friend, she had her arms crossed and her mouth pulled into a frown.

“You’ve been open for fifteen minutes and you’re already doubting yourself, aren’t you?”

“No…” Momo mumbled. It definitely didn’t sound convincing, and she averted her gaze as heat rushed to her cheeks. Ochako heaved a sigh, then reached out to pluck half of the ichigo daifuku from the box.

“Listen, Momo, you’ll take off in no time,” she said, then took a bite of the sweet, chewy mochi. “I mean—oh my God, Momo, this is so good!”

Whatever she was going to say was interrupted by her blissful cry, but honestly, Momo would much rather hear that than whatever lecture she was about to get. Her eyes lit up in delight as Ochako began to chomp away at the mochi, stuffing the bits into her cheeks instead of swallowing so she could savor every little bit.

“Really? You think it’s good?”

“It’s amazing! It’s the best I’ve ever had! I really have died and gone to Heaven…”

Momo gave Ochako another bit of the mochi treat on the house, while Ochako bought some strawberry shortcake to try later. Seeing as no one else was in the shop, Momo escorted her to the door, opening it for her as they continued to chat about Momo’s aspirations. She was right in the middle of bidding Ochako farewell when the words jammed in her throat.

“What? What is it?” Ochako asked around the strawberry currently clamped between her teeth. Momo ignored her, looking around wildly.

Where is it? Where is it coming from? She thought, eyes wide as she looked around in a frenzy. Ochako continued to bleat “What, what?” until Momo frantically wheezed, “My soulmate song.”

It floated on the warm spring air, light and airy like bubbles. It was unmistakable. It resonated in Momo’s soul. That cappuccino blend of jazz and sweet notes that she had known since before she could recognize what music even was. She could recognize it even though it was being played on an acoustic guitar, the deep notes thrumming in the air. Yet the street was empty aside from a few curious onlookers—no street performers, no radios, not even someone listening to a video on their phone. The song seemed to bounce off the brick walls of the buildings, the sound waves colliding in a confusing but beautiful mass of symphony. Momo could only spin in circles on the sidewalk while she tried fruitlessly to pin down the direction that the song was coming from.

When it stopped, Momo’s heart shattered.

“Momo! Momo, hey!” Ochako cried as tears flooded Momo’s eyes. She really wasn’t sure why.

Her soul was weeping at the failed opportunity, wailing deep in her chest. It made everything go tight, so much so that she had to squat down and focus on catching her breath. Ochako soothingly rubbed her back, and though sympathetic words left her friend’s lips, she couldn’t hear them for the white noise rushing in her ears.

There was no mistake. That was definitely her soulmate song. But where could it had come from? She looked up and down the street, and though the landscape was blurred slightly by her tears, there was nothing, no clues to the identity of her soulmate or the source of the music.

“I heard it… I heard it, Ochako…” she said hoarsely. It felt like she’d spent the last ten minutes screaming, the tissue of her throat raw and scratchy and sore. She looked tearily up at her, then whispered, “What if I never hear it again? What if I missed my chance?”

Momo didn’t like to be overly emotional, and she never would have expected that she would have reacted so strongly to this situation. But it literally felt like her heart had been torn out of her chest, leaving a raw, bleeding wound. She groaned, pawing over her chest while half-expecting to really find a bleeding gash. The strums of the guitar strings still rang hollowly in her ears. Would the ghost of this moment be the only taste of her soulmate that she would ever get? The prospect agonized her, pulling a whine from her trembling lips.

“Hey, Momo, snap out of it! It’s just first encounter syndrome.”

Ochako’s voice finally tore Momo out of her emotional turmoil. As she blinked, sending the tears spilling down her ruddy cheeks, she felt like the anxiety swirling inside of her rushed out through her feet. Ochako patted her cheek tenderly as she stood over her, eyebrows knitted in concern.

“First… encounter syndrome?” Momo rasped. Drink, I need a drink…

“Yeah. Sometimes, when people first encounter or get hints of their soulmate, they have an overwhelming emotional reaction.”

Sensing her thoughts, Ochako helped her to her feet, keeping a gentle hand on her elbow as she guided her inside. Though Momo felt much better, her legs were no better than jelly, making her knees knock together as she fumbled to the nearest table. She practically collapsed in the chair, while Ochako rushed behind the counter to get her a glass of water. Momo’s mouth was like a desert now, and so she could only mouth “thank you” before greedily downing the water. She took it in big gulps, not caring about the water that surged out the corners of her lips and dripped down her chin onto her apron.

“Guh…” she breathed when she finally pulled the empty glass from her lips.

“Better?” Ochako smiled weakly as she sat down beside her. Momo nodded, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. She was dreadfully exhausted, however, and knowing she had to man the shop for the rest of the day made it even worse. “I’ve heard it’s pretty intense. Apparently, Sero had it the first time he met Mina… He broke down bawling right then and there. Couldn’t even say ‘hello’ to her for five whole minutes.”

“I can imagine,” Momo said wearily, sinking into the chair. She was glad she invested in nice cushioning because it sure felt good embracing her shaky body right now.

She spent a minute or so running her sweaty palms up and down the skirt of her dress until the last of the tremors ceased. Ochako sat close to her, comfortingly patting her on the shoulder and distracting her with small talk.

When she finally felt like a person again, Momo cleared her throat and uttered, “So… Do you think I’ll find them? My soulmate?”

“Of course!” Ochako said with an encouraging nod. She gestured to the window with a big smile. “They’re out there! Just waiting for you!” She leaned forward to pat her firmly on the shoulder. “Just wait. You’ll hear your song again, and next time, you’ll find them. You’ll see!”

“Yeah,” Momo hummed in agreement. She sank back into the chair with another soft sigh. “Yeah,” she echoed. I just have to wait. I’ll find them next time!

“Kill me. End me. Snuff out my miserable existence,” Momo groaned, punctuating each word with a bang of her forehead against the counter.

There wasn’t anyone in the café since it was just after closing hours, so her only consolation was the echo of her own head thwack-thwack-thwacking against the wood. Two weeks! It had been two whole weeks! Two weeks of hearing her soulmate song every single day without catching so much as a glimpse of the person playing it. It was driving her insane!

With another long, drawn-out groan, Momo lifted her head to look up at the clock on the wall. The hour hand was inching toward six. She’d better finish cleaning up so she could head on home before it got too dark. Only to lie awake in my bed agonizing over the fact that my soulmate is just out of reach, she thought, hanging her head with yet another groan. She’d rather lament in bed than stand behind the counter of her shop, though, so she forced herself to wipe the crumbs off the counter and sweep them up. She trudged out the door, and just as she was twisting the key into the lock…

she heard it.

“Oh! Oh! Where? Oh!” she sputtered while turning frantically in a circle. Where was it coming from? She had to find it! She couldn’t go another night agonizing over the not knowing anymore! But it seemed like the guitar notes were dancing all around her, mocking her with their perfect symphonic beauty.

“Oh, please, please!” she cried desperately. Tears sprang to her eyes at the crushing realization that she may once again let her soulmate slip through her fingers.

“Please…” Her voice cracked as the notes began to fade, and she slowly sank down into a crouch. She hugged her knees with a miserable sniff. Again…?

No! she asserted, jumping back to her feet and firmly gripping the folds of her dress. I won’t miss my chance this time! She hiked up her skirt and stomped down the sidewalk. She didn’t think about what direction she was going in; she just set off in whatever direction seemed natural. A sixth sense, maybe, an invisible string tugging her along…

And it worked, too, because the music was getting louder.

Oh! Oh, I know this! This is where all the nice restaurants are! Momo realized as the cute little small business district transformed into a streetlamp-lit, hedge-lined swanky locale where men and women in business casual strutted about on nice evening dates or attended business meetings. Her soulmate must be some sort of performer! No wonder she heard them play every night! They must be hired to sing outside of some restaurant to try and entice all the fine people outside to come in and eat. Momo rushed past them all, the heels of her sandals frantically click-click-clicking against the concrete as she followed the sweet notes of the guitar.

Closer, she had to be getting closer! She could feel the notes strumming in her bones, matching the pound of her heartbeat against her ribcage. She could feel them with every pump of blood through her body, soaking into her cells and making her feel alive. It felt like the wind itself was spiriting her along; it swept along her feet and billowed her dress, making her feel like she was running on the music itself.

It was approaching the end of the song. Her heart rate jumped, pulsing in her arteries with each frantic pound of her heart. Faster, faster, she had to move faster! She couldn’t let this opportunity slip away. She couldn’t get this close only to fail! She cried out as she stumbled, slipping out of one of her sandals, and she paused to look back at it sitting upside-down on the sidewalk. But there was no time, no time—so she just left it, hobbling awkwardly on the higher sole in her desperate attempt to reach her soulmate before the last chord.

Momo came careening around the corner. Breathless, panting, hair a bit askew, she toddled into the streetlamp on the corner and gripped it tight. She couldn’t go on; her heart felt like it was going to explode in his chest, her lungs were strained to collapsing, and she had a scratch on the bottom of her foot from a raised chip in the concrete. But that was okay.

Because sitting on the stoop of a fancy sushi bar with her legs crossed and her guitar resting on her lap strumming the last chord of the song was her soulmate.

She was ethereal. The fading sunlight blended with the bright light of the streetlamp, and the mix fell into her deep purple strands of hair to make it shine like threads of woven obsidian. When her black eyes flickered up to meet Momo’s, they gleamed like onyx chips in the lowlight. Momo’s heart did a flip in her chest as their gazes locked. Ethereal was the only word she could think of, and it played like a scratched record in her head.

“H-hi,” Momo breathed. She was glad she was clutching the light pole because she would have fallen right over otherwise.

“Hi,” the young woman answered with a bashful smile. She gave Momo a cursory once-over, a quick up-and-down flick of her eyes that nonetheless had Momo’s heart back-flipping in her chest.

“You’re not from around here,” the guitarist remarked, shyness morphing into amused confidence.

“N-No,” Momo confirmed with a shake of her head. Still clutching the light pole like it was her only link to reality, she took a moment to make sure that her thoughts were in order before uttering, “I own a café not far from here.”

“I see.”

The young woman laid her guitar flat on her lap and rested her hands atop its sleek black surface. She made no move to rise or put it in her case, and once more, Momo found her heart fluttering. This girl was giving Momo her full attention! Oh, how nice it was to be noticed. The small act alone nearly made Momo blurt out why she was really there, but she managed to rein in her tongue before it could go flapping. Not everyone subscribed to soulmate culture, and so one had to be tactful when approaching their soulmates.

“So, you play for this restaurant?” Momo asked.

Small talk was good. It was a skill she had honed well in the short time of owning her business. Despite her nervousness, Momo didn’t think it would fail her now. However, she had the wherewithal to realize that her posture was still a little strange, gripping desperately to the streetlamp. Her legs still felt like jelly, but she decided to take the risk; slowly, she straightened up, praying her wiggly legs wouldn’t collapse under her. Somehow, she managed to stay standing.

“That’s right. I play for a few hours each night. The waiting times here get really long, so I’m here to keep them from getting too bored out here,” the girl chuckled with a wave at the sidewalk. As it was early evening, the lines were just beginning to form; no doubt, this sidewalk would soon be swarming with people waiting on their reservations. “I usually break about this time, between the lunch and dinner rush.”

Break… That means if I had waited around a little while, I probably would have found her the first day. Momo wanted to slap herself. Two weeks of agonizing over someone who was far closer than she had ever realized! It was enough to make her want to collapse against the lamppost again. She elected to just stretch her arm out and brace herself against it, make herself seem far more nonchalant than she felt.

“I’m Kyoka Jiro, by the way.”

Kyoka Jiro. Momo discreetly mouthed it, and it felt as sugary on her tongue as she dreamed it would. Perfect, like her name belonged in her mouth.

“Momo Yaoyorozu,” she responded politely.

A pair of businessmen crossed between them, and though Momo knew Kyoka probably wouldn’t disappear in the half a second she couldn’t see her, she still panicked a little. When Kyoka came back into view, still sitting on the sidewalk with a quaint smile, Momo fidgeted nervously. She couldn’t drag this out, else it would become awkward! But she couldn’t jump right in, either. Oh, she wished she had taken Mina up on those lessons in flirting when she’d had the chance…

“I-I can hear you play. From my shop,” Momo piped up before the silence could grow too long.

“Yeah?” Kyoka quirked a brow. Her smile widened, so Momo relaxed a little. It’s going well so far.

“Yeah!” she nodded. She hesitated for a bit, then decided to take another leap of faith.

Timidly, she peeled herself away from the streetlamp to walk over to Kyoka. The musician watched her with those sparkling onyx eyes, but for the life of her, Momo couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Momo sat down on the sidewalk next to her, a respectable distance away but still close enough to maintain a conversation. After making sure her dress wasn’t rumpled up and showing off far too much, she looked at Kyoka with a bashful smile.

“Yes, and I found it quite lovely. That’s why… I decided to venture over here after closing up shop tonight… to see if I could find the source.”

“Really?” Kyoka seemed excited about it. She quickly looked right and left, then leaned in close to Momo. She seemed oblivious to the blush crawling up Momo’s neck, her eyes gleaming as she whispered, “Want to hear a secret?”

“O-oh? Okay, sure…” Momo said, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips. She hadn’t expected the conversation to veer this way, but with no hint as to where it was headed, she couldn’t figure out whether or not she should be nervous or not.

“That song I was just playing was my soulmate song.”

“Y-you don’t say?” Momo was trying to seem as unperturbed as possible, but heavens, her voice was shaking and her body was quivering. Kyoka was too in her own world to notice, apparently; she closed her eyes and hugged her guitar close.

“Yep. I play it every day. Of all the music in the world, I think it’s the most beautiful song ever.” She cracked her eye open to peer at Momo out of her peripheral vision, her cheeks growing a little pink. “And… it’s a little embarrassing, but… Sometimes I feel like if I play it, one day, my soulmate will hear it, and they’ll come to find me.”

“Y-yeah?” Momo couldn’t help the excitement that bled into her tone. “So you want to find your soulmate?”

“Absolutely,” Kyoka nodded vigorously. She then looked lovingly down at her guitar; her hand smoothed across its sleek surface in a soft caress. “My soulmate song is why I fell in love with music in the first place. In a way… I have my soulmate to thank for how wonderful my life is.” She suddenly barked out a laugh, and she looked at Momo with an embarrassed grin. “Ugh, why am I telling you all this? I am totally never this gushy and romantic. Ugh, how mortifying…”

“No, it doesn’t bother me at all,” Momo interjected as Kyoka went to scoot away, probably concerned she was bothering Momo at this point. Kyoka’s head snapped up to look at her with wide eyes. Momo dropped her gaze, fiddling with the hem of her dress. She’d obsessed over this moment for days now, practicing exactly what she would say, and yet now none of those words seemed right. She decided to just go for it, say whatever seemed to come to mind—that sixth sense again.

“I don’t think anyone should be embarrassed about their soulmate. After all, it’s just so grand… The idea of someone out there being made for you, and the fact that you two share a unique bond. You can’t help but get excited.”

Kyoka seemed to relax at that. She hummed thoughtfully, looking down at her guitar again. While she was preoccupied, Momo took a moment to drink her in. She really was beautiful. Looking at her made Momo feel completely at peace—like the way she felt when she was at the shop in the early morning preparing all the pastries or when she was at home after a long day at work, unwinding with a book and a cup of tea. Looking at her made it feel like something in Momo’s world had finally clicked into place.

Undeniably, unequivocally, they were meant to be.

“By the way… I think it’s the most beautiful song in the world, too,” Momo whispered suddenly. Kyoka looked up at her then, her eyebrows cinched in confusion. Slowly, her perplexion morphed into shocked understanding. Momo reached out to place her hand over Kyoka’s. Her fingers twitched but didn’t recoil at Momo’s touch. “Our soulmate song.”

“Y-yeah?” Kyoka managed to choke out.

It was a wonder with how wide she was grinning right now. It made her obsidian eyes scrunch up into little crescent moons, and little tears beaded up like diamonds at their corners. When Kyoka tilted her head slightly, they slipped over the rims of her eyes to spill in thin rivers down her flushed cheeks. She smiled adoringly at Momo for a long time, just basking in the glow of the moment, before her eyes slowly dropped down to Momo’s lips.

Kyoka breathed in quietly, and then whispered, “Can I… Can I kiss you?”

Momo flushed, but nodded in consent. Kyoka shifted, adjusting the guitar on her lap so it wouldn’t get in the way. Slowly, she leaned close. Her gaze drifted back up to Momo’s eyes. They held the heady stare until Kyoka’s lips just barely brushed over Momo’s, and then Momo couldn’t help but let her eyelids fall shut. She wanted to shut everything out, to just focus on the heavenly feeling of Kyoka’s lips gently molding against hers. And oh, did it feel divine. Kyoka’s lips slotted perfectly against hers, soft and sweet and faintly tasting of elderberry. It felt so good that she found herself chasing Kyoka when she pulled back, and the girl just leaned her forehead against hers with a little giggle.

“Wanna stay with me a while?” Kyoka offered.

“There isn’t anywhere else in the world I would rather be,” Momo said back. Because finally, she’d found her place in the world—right there next to Kyoka.

#momojiro #momojirou #jiromomo #jiroumomo #momo yaoyorozu #yaoyorozu momo #jiro kyoka #jirou kyoka #jiro kyouka #jirou kyouka #kyoka jiro #kyouka jiro #kyoka jirou #kyouka jirou #my hero academia #mha #boku no hero academia #bnha

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kumeko · 1 year

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A/N: For @bnhawlwanthology , I wanted to write a classic mafia story. And then I shallow-dived into 1920s/1930s he/him dykes, "papa" butchs, and ahh, one day, one day I will write a proper historical AU.

…

There were certain perks to being in the Mafia during prohibition. The biggest? Easy access to the best blind tigers in New York, the speakeasy whose alcohol was more than just watered-down moonshine. Even if Kyoka hadn’t joined the Rabbit gang for protection—it was hard being a Japanese gal in America sometimes—she would have joined it for this alone. Drinks and enough dough to live on?

What more did a woman need?

“And now presenting our lead singer, Momo!” an announcer declared.

Kyoka sat back in her seat. Well. Perhaps there was one more thing she needed: love. There were many speakeasies she could go to on her time off, but there was only one she wanted to: O’Leary’s on 64th. It was a bit of a dive, nothing much to boast about. On a good day, it could fit about a hundred people, if no one cared about being packed like sardines. Most nights, though, it was a quieter place, with fifty-odd people and three singers.

The greatest singer? Momo.

Kyoka only came here for her. Seated at a booth in the center, leaning into the plush red cushions, she reclined leisurely as she watched the velvet curtains rise. The stage was dark except for a single spotlight in the center. Gracefully, Momo sashayed to her position, her hips swaying as the band started a slow song.

Her fingers wrapped around the mic. She scanned the audience before her eyes landed on Kyoka. Lips curving into a sensual smirk, she breathed, “This one is for all you lovers.”

Kyoka flushed lightly. It might have just been her stage persona, but Momo really knew how to play it up. Even after three years, she wasn’t sure if she could ever get used to it. Everything about her looked smoky, like a cigarette-infused dream. In the dim lights, she might not even be real.

Her red lips parted softly, her gentle voice echoing through the room, and Kyoka closed her eyes, letting the music take her away.

-x-

“You could have stayed for the after show,” Mina reprimanded, her eyebrows waggling as she elbowed Kyoka in the gut. Her hat jutted on her head fashionably, her black coat hanging off a finger as it draped over her back. “I’m sure she had something special for you.”

“Mina!” Kyoka’s skin burned; she probably looked like a lobster now. Unfortunately, she was sitting in the front seat of their car, Mina in the back, and there was absolutely no way to elbow her in the gut. Briefly, she considered shooting her, but that would just attract the attention of the cops.

“What? It’s true, isn’t it?” Mina raised a brow, turning to their driver. “Right, Tsuyu?”

As usual, Tsuyu was unflappable. Kyoka had seen her in shoot-outs. Even near death, she kept her calm. It was hard to imagine what it’d take to break her cool. Glancing at him and then at the rear-view mirror, Tsuyu sighed. “It’s not your business, right?”

“Boo, why’re you both so boring?” Mina pouted, crossing her arms as she sat back. Her strawberry-blonde hair looked almost red in the dim light. “It’s just a harmless question.”

“It’s bugging her,” Tsuyu pointed out, pulling up to the distillery. She killed the engine and for a moment, they all sat there, waiting to see if they were followed, if there was an ambush, or anything akin to that.

A long silence filled the air. No headlights appeared in the distance. The coast was clear, for now. Mina opened the door, stepping out casually. “Fine, fine. I’ll shut up about it.”

“That’s all I ask,” Tsuyu replied cheerfully, leaning back in her seat as she waited for them to return.

Kyoka bit her lip as she followed Mina. They’d been partners for a long time, and while she knew better than to fall for one of Mina’s fake sulks, she also knew how much she liked staying in the loop. Socializing was her bread and money, one of the ways she climbed up the ranks as quickly as she did. And she’d climb even further—it wouldn’t hurt to let her know a little.

But just a little. Kyoka had always been a private person and that hadn’t changed now. There was only so much teasing she could handle. “I’m meeting her after this.”

“You’re…” Mina’s eyes widened before she broke into an easy grin. Slinging an arm around Kyoka’s shoulders as they made their way into the distillery, she chuckled. “You two are a regular pair of lovebirds. Then again, your dame sings like one.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Not for the last time, Kyoka wished that Mina was the driver and it was Tsuyu who’d make these pickups with her. Her ears turned red as she changed the subject. “What about you? Heard you’ve got a gal up at 38th.”

Mina grinned. “A real dancing queen. I think she’s an actual princess, a real high-class act. Might be a little too rich for me.”

Kyoka raised a brow. Mina had the same devil-may-care attitude with love as she did with fighting. One day, it’d get her killed. “Really?”

Knocking on the warehouse door, she laughed. “Yeah. Though I think Tsuyu’s got her eye on her too. We’ll see. I’m not really one for staying tied, so I might just flirt and go.”

Before she could reply, the slit on the door opened. Behind the door, Toru Hagakure studied them both before sliding shut the slit and opening the door. Hands on her hip, she grumbled, “You’re late!”

As usual, the entrance was so dark it was hard to see her. Kyoka was certain she’d never actually met her co-worker properly, only in dimly lit rooms and alleys. Mina rubbed her hair. “Sorry, sorry, lover over here had to listen to her lady’s song.”

Kyoka flushed again and whacked her back. “Mina!”

Toru was almost as big of a joker as Mina and she grinned, her pearly white teeth reflecting in the dim light. “Ohhh,” she crooned. “I should have known better, sorry! Hope I wasn’t interrupting anything.”

“You weren’t!” Kyoka grumbled, pushing her way in. Already, she was more than done with the whole thing. “Where’s the goods?”

“So impatient!” Toru laughed, leading the way in. They passed by several men who were hard at work creating the alcohol they’d take all night to run back into the city. “Hope you’re not like that with Momo!”

She glowered at them. “I’m never talking to either of you again.”

“Don’t be like that.” Toru giggled, finally stopping at a stack of crates. “That’s like saying Toga’s never going to be back. Anyways, here’s all twenty of your crates. Need some help, ladies?”

Kyoka blinked. Toga?

“Ugh, please?” Mina pleaded, despairing as she grabbed one. “These are so goddamn heavy!”

“Toga’s back?” Kyoka asked, turning to Toru.

Mina groaned. “Shit.”

“Huh?” Toru stared at her blankly before nodding. “Maybe? There’s plenty of rumours going around that she’s made it back in the good graces of LoV and she’s back in town.”

Grabbing Kyoka’s arm, Mina hissed, “Breathe. She might not be here. It’s a rumour. Breathe.”

Kyoka couldn’t hear her. She couldn’t hear anything, actually. All she could remember was her old patrol partner, his bright blonde hair and trademark smirk. All she could remember was Kaminari’s blood pooling in her hands, several knives sticking out of his skin as he whimpered.

All she could see was Toga standing over them, smirking as she licked a blade.

-x-

“You look distracted.” Momo cupped her cheek as they stood backstage, her eyes searching her face for an answer. “Is everything alright?”

No, she almost said. She wasn’t even sure how she came here. Everything after hearing about that rumour had been a blur. Kyoka had never been one for anger, for rage, but hearing Toga’s name only brought out pure, unfettered hatred.

However, she’d promised herself to never bring her world to Momo. That despite how many shadows clung to her, Momo would stand in the spotlight, away from it all. Forcing a smile, Kyoka shook her head. “Just…no matter how many times I see it, the way you act on stage is so different.”

Immediately, Momo rubbed her silver hoop earrings, a nervous tic of hers. “It’s too much, isn’t it? I told Nemuri that everyone could see right through it, but she didn’t believe me.”

“Not at all.” Kyoka smiled. While she preferred her shy, awkward girlfriend just as she was, she couldn’t deny the allure of the power-femme on the stage. “You’re amazing up there.”

Momo flushed a bright red and covered her face. “You’re just saying that.”

“Not at all.” Kyoka bit her cheek before reluctantly admitting, “Mina whistled at you.”

Peeking through her fingers, Momo asked in a hushed whisper, “Really?”

“Yes.” She nodded, not exactly happy about it. “You’re amazing up there.”

“That’s a relief.” Breaking into a smile, Momo lowered her arms and started heading to the backdoor. “I swear, I’m not sure why Nemuri even came up with that whole bit.”

Kyoka opened the door, waiting for Momo to exit. She walked her home at least once a week, two if she could get away from work. It was a quiet, private time. Reaching down, she grabbed Momo’s hand as they strolled to Momo’s small flat. “I can see why.”

Momo smiled softly. Street lamps lit their way back, lighting up the city that didn’t know when to sleep. A trolley rushed past them, carrying passengers to destinations unknown. Across the street, a man stood on a ladder, carefully maintaining a darkened light. Kyoka knew exactly which buildings around them had speakeasies, brothels, and gambling dens. The government thought they could ban all forms of pleasure, not realizing that they thrived in the darkness, unregulated and unfettered.

“How are things?” Momo asked, bumping shoulders with her. She was taller, had always been taller, but Kyoka found she minded it less and less with time.

“Good.” Kyoka lowered her eyes, remembering the rumour. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. They’d run Toga out of town, turned her boss against her—there was no way she’d be back now. Forcing fake cheer, she added, “I’m trying to convince Tsuyu to swap with Mina.”

Momo giggled, like crystal tinkling. “She’s bugging with you?”

“She roped Toru into it too.” Kyoka puffed her cheeks, grumpy. “And you know how Mina is when she’s on something.”

“Need help?” Momo asked, amused.

“It’s fine, I’ll figure something out.” Squeezing Momo’s hand, she glanced up at her. “Any trouble in the club?”

Momo shook her head and smiled gratefully. “Not since you handled that last guy.”

“Good.” It wasn’t uncommon for an idiot drunk to harass the singers, and adding in Momo’s ‘exotic’ features, she was a favourite target by those who didn’t know better.

Luckily, Kyoka knew how to deal with that.

They stopped in front of her flat and Momo pressed a kiss on the corner of her lips. “Coming in tonight?”

“Ye—” Kyoka shivered. It felt like someone was watching her, and she’d run around the town long enough to know to trust her gut. Anxious, she scanned their surroundings, but there were plenty of people making their way down the street. The night was still young, after all.

“Kyoka?” Momo glanced around curiously. “Is something wrong?”

No one stared at them. No one even paid attention to them. Shaking her head, Kyoka shook off the feeling. It was just her nerves. Hearing about Toga had her on edge. “No, it’s nothing.”

-x-

Nemuri leaned against the bar, a knowing smirk on her lips. As usual, her outfit left little to the imagination, though by now Kyoka was used to it. When she’d been a green twenty-year-old, fresh on the take, she’d never known where to look. “Back again so soon?”

Mina guffawed, elbowing Kyoka. “You know this one, she practically lives here.”

“I should charge for rent.” Nemuri laughed, resting her cheek on hand. “I’d ask business or pleasure, but we both know it’s pleasure.”

Kyoka hated that she automatically looked at Momo, who was walking through the speakeasy’s floor, greeting the patrons. Dressed in an olive-green dress, with a green feather to complete the outfit, she looked stunning. When Momo noticed and smiled, Kyoko flushed and turned back.

“Business!” she corrected, clearing her throat. “We’re here for business today.”

Nemuri reached forward, her long fingers wrapping around Kyoka’s tie. “You know, if it doesn’t work out for you, I’m always open.”

Her jaw dropped open, and flustered, she couldn’t do more than stare.

“Aren’t you already seeing that Joker chick?” Mina asked, cocking her head.

Nemuri waved it off as she straightened up. “Mmm, yeah, but you know how easily you guys die. Doesn’t hurt to keep my options open. And protection from your outfit is hardly unwelcome.”

“Care to try me on for size?” Mina waggled her brows.

“That could be fun.” With a teasing smile, Nemuri opened her register and pulled out a wad of cash. Licking a finger, she quickly flipped through the cash. “There you go.”

Kyoka took the cash, grateful they were done. “Thanks.”

“Give Mirko my love.” Nemuri glanced at the front door as It opened. “Your boss is so busy these days, she really needs—”

She paled, cutting herself off. Confused, Mina and Kyoka turned.

“Hey fellas! Miss me?” Toga waved as she stepped in. Her other hand twirled a knife, her trademark signature.

Immediately, Kyoka reached for her gun. “Toga—”

“Kyoka! Don’t!” Mina hissed, grabbing her arm. Before she could shake her off, she hissed, “Momo’s here! You know she’ll get hurt.”

Kyoka clenched her jaw. There wasn’t enough time to evacuate. Digging her fingers in her thigh, she growled, “What’re you doing here?”

“Having fun.” Toga grinned, sounding utterly innocent as she looked around. “Nice establishment. Not enough candy though.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Nemuri replied coolly. “I thought you’d been run out of town?”

“Things change.” Toga smiled, all teeth. Noticing Kyoka’s glare, she laughed. “Well, some things do at least. Miss me?”

“You should have stayed away,” Kyoka growled, seeing red: her anger, Kaminari’s blood, Mina’s hair as she carefully stood in front of her. “Why’d you come here?”

“Just to see your face.” Toga twirled her knife once more, turning around. Just as easily as she’d entered, she exited. Before the door closed, she added, “Oh, and LoV sends its regards.”

Kyoka didn’t have time to think about what that meant before she heard the familiar click of a trigger. “Duck!” she yelled just as gunfire shot holes through the entrance. Nemuri gasped as she crouched, a veteran more than used to the fights between gangs.

Mina knelt beside her, already pulling out her gun. “Shit, Tsuyu’s gotta have noticed that. She might get help.”

“That’ll be too late for us.” Kyoka scanned their surroundings. Patrons screamed as they fell to the ground or ran looking for cover. “We’ll take the back exit.”

“Good idea.” Mina shot back as their attackers, feeling brave, started to make their way through the entrance. “You lead the way. You know it better than me.”

Ignoring the obvious jab, Kyoka nodded and quickly darted into the main area of the bar. “Nemuri, stay where you are!”

“Wasn’t planning to move!” she shouted back, terrified.

The floor was full of overturned tables, fallen bodies, and quivering patrons. Making her way around them, Kyoka quickly ducked behind a table as a bullet whizzed over her head. Beside her, Mina leaned around and shot blindly. “They know this means war, right?”

Kyoka drew her gun and cocked it. “You think they care? They’re all as reckless as Toga.” She peeked around the table. There were three men at the entrance, but they seemed to be alone. If they capped them, they ought to be safe enough for now.

She fired at the closest guy, but Lady Luck smiled on him as he dodged.

“Reckless?” Mina snorted, reloading her gun. “I’m reckless. They’re just insane.”

“Either way, we’ll have to deal with them.” Kyoka shot again. The three men had taken cover at the tables and columns at the entrance, settling in for the long hull. It was a good thing that they couldn’t access the bar from this side; it would have been a pain to fight them there.

Mina raised her gun. “Go around, I’ll distract them.”

“Got it.” Kyoka glanced left and right. Both ways could lead to a better vantage point; there was no way she’d make it to the back door now. Last she saw Momo, she’d been on the right. Her heart leapt to her throat, but she forced herself to be calm. Momo was alright. She had to be.

After firing a shot, she rolled behind another table. Momo wasn’t behind this one. The vantage from here wasn’t any better. A green feather stuck out of a table just in front of her and Kyoka’s eyes widened. Momo had worn that.

Despite knowing better, she dashed to the table. “Momo?”

Teary-eyed, Momo glanced up as Kyoka knelt beside her. “Kyoka!”

Momo wrapped her arms around her, hugging her tight. Her slight body trembled, her heart beating like a rabbit’s. By now, her stage persona was entirely gone, leaving behind the girl Kyoka knew so well.

“Momo!” Kyoka hugged her with an arm, pressing her close. “You okay?”

“Y-yeah.” Shaken, Momo nodded. “I’m fine.”

“Kyoka? A little help!” Mina shouted. There wasn’t time to console her properly, that’d have to wait till later.

“Good, good.” Kyoka tightened her grip, before letting go. “Stick with me, okay?”

Momo nodded, holding her hand tight. Leaning forward, Kyoka aimed her gun at the closest of their attackers. In her absence, they’d slowly made their way forward, only scant meters from Mina. She breathed in. Breathed out. Pulled the trigger and pop, the closest gunner went down. The other two hid again, searching for her.

Mina took that moment to fire at the second guy. The bullet grazed his leg. He was down but definitely not out.

The last one, realizing there was little chance for him to escape, just started walking, guns blazing. Kyoka tugged Momo’s hand and dashed to the next table, careful to stay bent over and low to the ground. By now they were close to the wall and out of his direct gunfire, the safest place for Momo to hide. “Stay here,” Kyoka murmured, letting go.

“Be careful!” Momo pleaded, squeezing her hand before releasing her.

“Of course.” Kyoka smiled before turning around. Serious now, she made her way forward through the maze of tables. One attacker was still focused on Momo. As usual, she made a great show of her attacks, shouting swears as she fired at them.

Unfortunately, the other attacker was ready for Kyoka, and when she moved, he fired. The bullet grazed her arm, enough that she dropped her gun as she fell to the ground. “Shit.”

Momo gasped. “Kyoka!”

“You alive?” Mina shouted.

“Still breathing,” she yelled, rolling behind a table. She winced as her body pressed against her arm; the bullet might not have gone through, but it still hurt like crazy.

Behind her, she heard a choked gasp as Mina finally hit someone. Good, that left just one.

Kyoka picked her gun up, ignoring the pain as she sprung to her feet. She took aim over a table, her brow furrowed as she steadied herself. A quick pull and he was down for the count. The room was silent for a few minutes after as Momo and Kyoka waited for them to get up or for their backup to appear.

The door opened a crack and Kyoka immediately trained her gun on it. A familiar black-haired woman poked her head in. “Kyoka? Mina?”

“Tsuyu!” Mina sighed, slumping against the table. “Almost popped you.”

“Good thing you didn’t.” Tsuyu warily walked in, taking in the damage. “This is…”

“Toga.” Kyoka spit the name as she gingerly stood up. “LoV wants a fight.”

Momo rushed over now that the coast was clear. Worried, she cupped Kyoka’s face, pressing a frantic kiss to it before studying her arm. “Oh no. Oh no.”

“It’s fine!” Kyoka gritted her teeth as she lifted her arm, ignoring her frayed nerves. “See? All good.”

“Patch it up.” Mina rolled her shoulders as she stood. “If LoV wants a fight, they’re gonna get one.”

-x-

There were few places where Kyoka felt safe, and none more so than one of the Rabbit gang’s hideouts. They’d hidden from the fuzz here plenty of times and whatever else LoV might know about them, they wouldn’t know about this.

Which was good, because now she was certain that Toga had watched her before. Toga knew where Momo lived, knew who Momo was to her, and Kyoka knew firsthand what she’d do with that info.

Kyoka also knew she couldn’t survive it happening again. Momo’s hand was clammy in hers as they descended into the basement of a restaurant, her breathing shallow. The shock hadn’t left her entirely. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” Momo nodded, terrified. As soon as they stepped on the basement floor, the dim light revealing a decently furnished parlour, she pressed against Kyoka and buried her face in the crook of her neck. “Yeah.”

Slowly, she rubbed Momo’s back. “It’s okay. You’re okay now.” It was hard to remember sometimes, after all that she’d seen, after all that she’d done, just how shocking it could be to others.

“Mm-hmm,” Momo mumbled, before finally pulling back. Biting her lip, she gingerly tugged at Kyoka’s black jacket. “Your arm…”

“Right.” It still smarted. Kyoka winced as Momo gently pulled off the coat, revealing a white shirt underneath. “Guess I’ll have to replace the whole damn outfit now.”

“Maybe.” Momo replied half-heartedly, already fixating on the bright red blooming on her sleeve. “Does it hurt?”

“A little,” Kyoka admitted, rolling up the sleeve. “Could have been worse.” She led the way further in, to where several couches and a liquor cabinet stood. Opening the cupboard, she pulled out some whisky, and then some bandages out of the drawer.

“I’ll take care of that.” Finally calming down, Momo pulled her over to the couch and took the whiskey. She poured a little on the wound and Kyoka hissed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Kyoka grinned, taking the bottle out of her hand and taking a swig. Momo carefully patted the injury dry. It was deeper than Kyoko had expected, a gash almost a finger deep. Her girlfriend breathed in sharply before wrapping the gauze carefully around the injury. “You’re better at this than me.”

“Plenty of practice,” Momo replied nervously.

Kyoko didn’t have Mina’s gift of gab or even Tsuya’s calm, relaxing voice. Brushing the tears from Momo’s eyes, she tried to ease her the only way she knew how. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Momo leaned into her touch, her hands halting momentarily. “Me too. I…I thought I’d lose you.”

“It’d take more than that to kill me.” She leaned forward, kissing Momo’s jaw. “I’m fine. You’re fine. It’ll be okay now.”

“Will it?” Momo bit her lip, glancing at the staircase. “Toga…she’s still out there.”

“She won’t be for long.” Kyoka lowered her eyes, a deep, dark hatred bleeding into her voice. “Not after what she did. It won’t take more than a few days, even.”

“You…you won’t have to go, will you?” Momo resumed wrapping, her focus on the bandages even as she pleaded. “You’re hurt.”

Kyoka winced. “I have to. That’s what my line of work means.”

Momo fell silent. It felt heavy, heavier than the car ride here, heavier than standing in the bar, checking the bodies of their attackers. Heavier even than Mina’s expression as she promised revenge before disappearing to gather intel.

Kyoka should reassure her. Murky feelings swirled within her, dark, ugly things that didn’t belong near Momo. There’d be blood on her hands soon. She couldn’t find it in herself to care.

Forcing a smile, Kyoko suggested, “You can help me pick up a new suit after.”

Momo didn’t smile. She did reply, though, and that was a victory. “The tailor?”

“The boy’s tailor,” Kyoka confirmed with a long-suffering sigh. She didn’t have Mina’s or Tsuyu’s height, where they could at least buy adult suits. No, she had to buy from the boy’s section, and she’d never live it down.

“Only if…” Momo paused before steeling herself. “You teach me how to shoot.”

Kyoka instinctively pulled away, not believing her ears. “No.”

“Yes.” She grabbed Kyoka’s hands, forcing her to look at her. There was a fire in Momo’s eyes that Kyoka only ever saw on the stage or when they were at her apartment, falling into bed. “I need to know.”

“Why?” Kyoka pleaded, shaking her head. “It’s dangerous.”

“Everything’s dangerous. I…I want to defend myself.” Momo smiled sadly. “If the bar’s under attack again. If I get attacked again. I don’t have to be good. I just need to know to get away.”

She hated the idea with every fiber of her body. Yet, despite her words earlier, Kyoka didn’t know for certain when Toga would get caught. Momo couldn’t stay here forever, and despite how much she wanted to, Kyoka couldn’t protect her the entire time.

She’d be too busy running around, hunting down Toga.

“Fine,” she murmured reluctantly. “But just enough so you can use it.”

“That’s all I want.” Relieved, Momo gently took her arm again, clipping the bandage in place.

It was tight and secure. Kyoka moved her arm a few times before feeling satisfied. “Thanks.”

It had been only twenty minutes since the attack. While the radio in her jacket pocket remained silent, it could go off at any minute. Kyoka bit her lip. “You…You’re fine staying here for the day?”

“Yeah.” Momo nodded quickly. “I…I don’t feel safe out there.”

“Good, I didn’t want you to leave either.” Kyoko smiled crookedly. Getting up, she pulled out her pistol from her jacket. It was about the size of a woman’s handgun and more than suitable for what she had in mind. Unloading the bullets, she gestured for Momo to come over. “No time like the present then.” Satisfied the weapon was safe, she handed it over to Momo. “Hold it.”

Momo stared at it, licking her lips nervously. Swallowing, she took the pistol. “It’s warm.”

“Because I just used it,” Kyoka explained wryly.

“And lighter than I thought.” Momo blinked, raising the gun.

“It always is.” It felt like she was looking at a younger version of herself, when she’d been just a teen running wild on the streets. A confusing time, before she cut her hair and donned her first suit, imitating the Papas that ran the Rabbit gang.

Standing next to Momo, she gently guided her hands on the gun, correcting her grip. “It’ll feel awkward at first. Don’t hold it too tightly.”

“R-right.” Momo raised the gun, squinting as she pointed it.

There was almost too much to fix. Kyoka lowered the gun a notch. “It’ll recoil after you pull. You don’t want a gun in the face.”

“This isn’t anything like the talkies,” Momo laughed nervously.

“That’s cause those bozos don’t know how to shoot,” Kyoka snorted. The fancy folks down in Hollywood didn’t need guns, they needed common sense. Then again, that’s what made it so easy to fleece them. She stepped behind Momo, standing on her toes as she reached around her and adjusted her arms. “You feel it now?”

Momo nodded, her ears red.

“Good girl.” Kyoka pulled back, their arms brushing as she did. “I’ll get you a nice small one, one you can carry in your purse later.”

“And more practice?” Momo asked, low and husky as she handed Kyoka the gun.

“More practice,” Kyoka agreed, setting the gun on the table before pulling Momo into her arms.

-x-

The radio crackled to life as Kyoka sat on the couch, polishing her gun. Hurriedly, she picked it up and pressed the button to talk. “Kyoka here.”

“We got her,” Mina barked. “Near the distillery. Those goons want to shut us down.”

“Toru?” Kyoka asked, already standing up. Pressing her cheek to the receiver, she pulled on her jacket, wincing as she did. Despite the hours that passed, her injury still hurt.

“Safe, I think. The goons haven’t made it in yet. We’ve been keeping them busy.” The sound of gunfire sounded loud and clear over the radio, despite the white noise. “Hurry.”

It’d take twenty minutes to get there. Kyoka would make it in ten. She glanced at the door to the other room, where Momo was sleeping. She softened slightly before turning away.

“Coming.”

-x-

Despite the urgency, physics and traffic were against her. It took fifteen minutes to get to the warehouse in the woods. Gunfire echoed as she slowly approached. Just outside the warehouse, two sets of fractions fought each other. Behind one set of cars, she could make out the scarred figure of Dabi, LoV’s second in command.

On the other side, Mirko’s white suit was impossible to miss. Parking further away, Kyoka dashed into the woods and carefully picked her way to her boss’s side. Mirko immediately whirled, finger on the trigger, before recognizing her. “Took you long enough.”

“Sorry,” Kyoka apologized, gun in hand as she found a place beside the others in her gang. Noticing her partners in crime weren’t nearby, she asked, “Where’s Mina and Tsuyu?”

“Inside.” Mirko refilled her semi-automatic and rested it on her car’s hood. “Toga got in, just like a freakin’ mouse.”

“Shit.” If Toga was inside, who knew how many were dead. It’d be useless to save the plant if the workers were all gone.

“Go after ‘em.” Mirko grinned, looking more like she was having fun than in the middle of a fight for her life. “We’ve got this.”

Without waiting for a response, Mirko pulled the trigger, raining bullets on their enemies. Kyoka could hear their enemies curse and scream, Dabi barking something, and she didn’t think twice before fleeing to the back entrance.

Shouldering the door, she burst her way into the darkened warehouse. It was oddly quiet, aside from the occasional gunfire further in. She studied her surroundings carefully as she made her way forward, eyes peeled for a familiar figure.

A shadowy figure poked out of a nearby crate. Kyoka pivoted, gun trained, finger on the trigger.

“It’s me! Toru!” Toru hissed, hands up. It was too dark to see her face.

“Don’t scare me like that,” Kyoka grumbled, lowering her gun. She darted to Toru’s side and crouched. “Where are they?”

“Further in.” Toru pointed down the narrow corridor ahead. “Near the bottles, I think.”

“There go our goods. Stay here, it’s not safe outside either.” Without waiting for a response, Kyoka jogged forward. Her footsteps were muffled by the sound of gunfire. She’d been here long enough to know the path to the packaging area, her feet going there automatically.

The doors were wide open when she arrived. Stacks of crates and barrels obscured her sight, leaving a maze for her to go around. A few lights flickered on and off above, giving just enough light to see. The gunfire stopped and warily, Kyoka moved from crate to crate. A figure leaned against a nearby crate and Kyoka kept her gun trained on them as she slowly made her way forward.

“Shit.”

Kyoka knew that voice anywhere. Mina. Cautiously, she scurried over to her friend. The light flickered, revealing that her partner was clutching a bleeding leg, a nasty gash on the side.

“Shit. Shit,” Mina swore, gritting her teeth.

Kyoka dropped to her side. The injury was bad, but not life-threatening. Patching up would have to wait. “Where is she?”

“About freakin’ time.” Mina spit to the side. “I don’t know, somewhere? Tsuyu’s fighting her, but you know how she is with a gun.”

“Terrible.” Kyoka squeezed Mina’s shoulder reassuringly. “Just hold on till we’re back.”

“Like I’ll die before you.” Mina coughed. “You know what, I’m taking the dancing queen out after this.”

“Knew you liked her.” Kyoka squeezed her shoulder before getting up. Hunching over, she made her way around another set of barrels and wine cases. It was too quiet. All she could hear was her rapidly beating heart.

As she turned a corner, a knife flew past her cheek, grazing it before digging into the barrel behind her. Kyoka jumped back, whirling around to look for Toga.

“Darn, I missed,” Toga sighed, sounding more whimsical than disappointed. Kyoka couldn’t see her.

She also couldn’t see Tsuyu. The gunfire had stopped a while ago. Fear gripped her heat. “What did you do to Tsuyu?”

“Tsuyu?” Toga’s voice came from everywhere. “Oh, your other friend? I wonder if she’s still alive.”

It was bait. Obvious bait. Kyoka gripped her leg, stopping herself from running out and exposing herself. The lights flickered again and she spotted a flash of blonde on her right. Spinning on her heel, Kyoka followed cautiously.

Another knife whizzed past her. Automatically, she fired back. Three bullets. They hit the crates harmlessly, glass twinkling as they broke.

“Ouchies, that was close!” Toga laughed maniacally.

Not close enough. Kyoka yanked the knife from the crate. This could be useful later. She peeked around the crate. The lights flickered, revealing nothing. It was a risk, but she dashed forward to another crate.

A shadow moved and Kyoka shot blindly.

That earned her another laugh. Toga taunted, “I see your girlfriend isn’t with you.”

It was more bait. Kyoka knew that. She knew that, but she couldn’t stop herself from snarling, “Stay away from her.”

“Why? She’s pretty.” Toga giggled. Another knife hurtled through the air, its blade catching the faint light. Kyoka barely dodged in time. “She’s like a songbird, though I wonder if she’ll still sing after I’m done with her.”

This time, her voice was easier to catch. Angry and scared, Kyoka fired to her left. “You won’t do anything after I’m done with you.”

Toga groaned. At least one bullet must have hit. She laughed breathlessly, “You’ve gotten better! Maybe if you’d been a little braver last time, you could have saved Kaminari.”

“Don’t say his name,” Kyoka growled. “Don’t you dare even think about him.”

“Why not?” Toga tossed another knife.

This time, Kyoka was prepared. Her eyes had finally adjusted to this funhouse nightmare of a room, to the dark lighting and the endless maze. She ducked, firing in the direction she had thrown.

It was hard to tell if anything hit. Kyoka gritted her teeth. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” Toga sounded utterly carefree. “This is fun. We need to do this again.”

“Again?” Kyoka shook with rage, her fingers trembling as she refilled her gun. There were six bullets left, six shots left.

She had to make them count.

There wasn’t going to be an again. One way or another, it ended tonight.

Purposely, she ran from crate to crate, exposing herself. Spotting a Toga, she shot.

One. Two.

Toga giggled as she dodged. Pulling out two more daggers, she flicked them back in response. “I’m tired of hide-and-seek.”

“Funny, me too.” Kyoka dodged as she retaliated.

Three. Four.

One knife grazed her arm. The other embedded in her thigh and Kyoka almost fell from the pain. Clenching her teeth, she forced herself to stand.

Fortunately, Toga didn’t fare better. A bullet tore through her left arm. It hung limply at her side.

The light flickered. Toga’s expression grew grim, her knife raised. “Enough.”

It was funnily enough something Kyoka could agree with. Enough. As the knife flew through the air, she didn’t dodge. Merely took aim and pulled the trigger. One to the chest. The other to the head. “See you in hell.”

Toga laughed as the bullets tore through her, the sound echoing through the vast chamber. And then, suddenly, her voice cut off.

The dagger pierced Kyoka’s chest and she fell backward, unable to support herself. “Shit.”

Her head cracked on the hard ground. Her hand brushed her chest, felt her warm and sticky blood.

“Shit.”

Sorry, Momo.

And then everything went black.

#jiromomo #bnha #jirou kyouka #momo yaoyorozu #mina ashido #toga himiko #asui tsuyu #fanfic #hagakure tooru #it's peppered with some very old lingo #it's really fun learning queer history #when lesbian wasn't really a common term and we all had to find other ways to id #i wanted to make kyoka a he/him dyke #after all that reserach #rather regret i didn't now but next time

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