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Momo frowns into her tea, she doesn’t know why she couldn’t let this go.
Earlier that day they had participated in a rescue simulation in Heroics class. Unfortunately for the girls in the class, Mineta had ended up as one of the victims in the first half. As per usual, he had managed to grope and harass any of the girls attempting to “rescue” him, Momo herself included. Fearing a bad grade for the simulation, they had to weather the treatment until the timer ran out and Mina gave him a punishing slap upside his head. It was no secret for the girls of 1A that Mineta was an incorrigible pervert that would use any situation to harass them. In fact, it was often a topic of their girl’s nights and there were plenty of occasions where the more vibrant members of the group would describe all of the things they would do to Mineta in punishment, if they were allowed. So, it was expected that he would pull moves like he did today if given the chance. Which only led to Momo’s current confusion. Why was she still focused on it if was so normal?
If Momo was to seriously consider it (something she often tried not to do because of the thick, sticky feelings that flew through her at the thought of such blatant sexual harassment), she knew she was uncomfortable with the way Mineta had touched her waist and thighs as she tried to assess his “injuries.” That she hated when he tried to slip his little hands under her uniform as she held him in a fireman’s carry back to the designated first aide zone. That her stomach churned when thinking about the fact that he muttered vile things as she turned to resume looking for “victims” within their training grounds (“She’s practically asking for it, wearing such a revealing uniform. She’s itching for me to touch her…”).
But it wasn’t unusual. She wasn’t special. All of the girls had been subject to such treatment since the start of the semester. In fact, a couple of them had to deal with the same things earlier today.
When she had first been confronted with Mineta’s particular brand of… attention. She had considered bringing it up to Aizawa-sensei, but quickly decided not to. Aizawa-sensei hadn’t done anything about it even though it was present in nearly every class and he had already proven his conviction to expel any student that lacked potential. If he didn’t see this as a problem, then surely, she was overreacting? Besides, none of the other girls came forward despite dealing with the same treatment. Momo knew she was more sensitive than a lot of her peers. She was quick to lean into her own insecurities and often felt wrongfooted when in social situations. She had grown up so differently than most of her classmates and she never wanted it to seem like she was looking down on them. Perhaps she had a stronger distaste for Mineta due to her upbringing.
Her mother once told her, right after her body had started changing to that of a young woman, that sometimes men were a bit more direct, more comfortable than she would normally expect and that it was better to just accept it with a smile. It was unbecoming for a young lady of her stature to make a scene over little comments or actions. After that, Momo had never really liked this part of the events her family attended, but she did see how appeasing powerful men allowed for easier business deals. Perhaps this was a lesson all girls had to learn, and she was just approaching this differently because Mineta was not on the same level as the men she was usually fielding. Maybe it was universal that women had to stay small sometimes, that it was better to placate than stir up trouble. Besides, Momo was a hero in training, she needed to be strong in the face of adversity.
Once she had realized that, Momo accepted that this was just how class was going to be. It wasn’t too bad, it helped the girls to bond over a common enemy and some of her male classmates had even started pulling Mineta back when he was particularly rowdy (Momo would never admit to laughing at someone’s misfortune, but every time Sero put Mineta into a tape cocoon she found herself giggling). Besides, Aizawa-sensei had emphasized on multiple occasions that focusing on their own improvement was more important than any interpersonal relationships within the class. So…
Why was she still focused on it?
Stomping footsteps from the common room snapped Momo out of her spiral like a splash of cold water. Without thinking, she glances at the clock above the stove and notices it is already 9:28. She had come down thirty minutes prior to grab some tea to calm her racing thoughts, but once the tea was in her hands, she had only made it far enough to lean on the counter across from the kettle.
At this point her tea was lukewarm and she is considering making a new cup as Bakugou appears in the kitchen. He merely glaces at her before heading towards the fridge to rifle through it. Momo knew that normally he would already be in bed by this point (his early bedtime was notorious among the entirety of class 1A if only because he would come yell at them if they were making too much noise after eight) but on Thursday the aptly named “Bakusquad” often got together to study. Personally, Momo thought it was cute that such a rough character had been tamed by the goofiest members of their class.
If only for her own sake, Momo smiles at Bakugou’s back in greeting then goes to take a sip of her tea. She is quickly reminded of her previous dilemma and it only takes a bit more fretting before Momo decides that she is still too keyed up to sleep and should just put in the extra effort to make another cup. It wasn’t like she didn’t have plenty of tins of tea brought in each week for any of her classmates that appreciated a well brewed cup to go along with their studies.
As soon as she puts the kettle back on the stove, she finds her mind returning to thoughts of the earlier exercise. If she wasn’t so distracted, she would notice that she seems to lose a couple inches in height as she curls into herself for comfort, her left thumb coming up for her to chew on the nail, a nasty little habit that she had be trying to kick for years. Normally she was much better at stopping herself from doing it, years of her mother slapping her hand away from her mouth helping with that.
“I don’t know why you fucking let him do that shit.”
Momo snaps to attention as the only other occupant of the Kitchen suddenly speaks. She turns around to see Bakugou had placed the sports drink he must have grabbed from the fridge on the Island that was between them and is now leaning forward on both of his hands. Distantly, Momo thinks he looks like a displeased CEO trying to intimidate his board members. While she isn’t surprised by Bakugou using such crass language, he rarely addresses her directly, so when it does happen it always makes her brain short circuit.
“P-pardon?”
Bakugou rolls his eyes like she was the one bothering him. “The grape fuck. I don’t know why you don’t slap the shit out of him.”
Momo straightens a bit more, “It’s hardly appropriate to assault our classmates outside of sparring sessions.” She resolutely ignores the voice in her head saying that Mina often slapped Mineta (and didn’t get in trouble for it).
“Don’t be stupid.” Bakugou practically growls out.
Momo sniffs, immediately offended despite knowing that calling someone stupid is one of the tamer insults Bakugou offers each day. It’s just, she had spent so many years studying and preparing so that she could effectively use her quirk. Chemistry, mechanics, engineering, these were a few of the topics she had to master just to build a fraction of the things she had in her arsenal. Yet, she was consistently talked down to by people that just saw a pretty face. She knew that this was just another one of her many insecurities but that didn’t mean it was right for Bakugou to just throw that out because she wasn’t as aggressive as he was (wasn’t allowed to be as aggressive as he was). In fact, Momo is considering how to say that to Bakugou when a fist slamming onto the counter distracts her.
Bakugou is now gripping the counter with both hands, his face screwed up in frustration as he resolutely looks toward the entrance of the kitchen instead of at Momo. There are a solid thirty seconds where Momo just watches him. Something about this made her think it is important to wait. Finally, he spoke.
“You’re going to be a hero, right?” Bakugou turns to look her in the eye and Momo found her breath catching at the determination in his eyes. There was something almost special in the way that Bakugou approaches every aspect of his life at 100%. “Well heroes don’t take shit from anyone.”
It’s only years of her mother drilling etiquette into her that stops Momo from rolling her eyes. Of course, Bakugou doesn’t understand this. Not only does he never feel the need to hold his tongue (even in situations where his brash attitude does nothing more than hurt him), he’s also a man.
Men don’t think about if there are streetlights on the walk back from the train station. Men don’t hold their hands over their drinks even if they are glancing off to the side for just a moment. Men aren’t taught that sometimes it’s better to wear a sweater in math class because the teacher likes to pay special attention to the girls if they are not covered up. Most importantly, men don’t deal with Mineta.
And as much as Momo wishes she could respond to Bakugou with any one of these (sometimes wishes she could scream them off a rooftop to try and express what was always simmering under her skin when eyes lingered on her hero costume too long, when she feels so helpless), she doesn’t.
“While it is important for heroes to have strength in adversity, I don’t believe a rowdy classmate is quite the same.” Bakugou clicks his tongue at her. Momo thinks this conversation might make her burst a blood vessel.
“That’s dogshit and we both know it.” Bakugou is tapping his fingers against the counter, he looks incredibly annoyed. However, instead of stomping off like he is apt to do at any minor inconvenience from their classmates, he stays, his eyes boring into her.
It takes another long moment before he speaks again. “Would you let the grape fuck do the same shit to some snot nosed brat?”
Momo audibly gasps at the question, she feels like she has whiplash. Why would he ever insinuate something like that? The idea of Mineta doing any of the things he did to her today to a child makes her want to cry.
Her thoughts must have been pretty obvious on her face because Bakugou doesn’t wait for her to respond. “What about if you saw some random brat doing it to another one? Would you stop that?”
Now that’s something Momo doesn’t actually want to think about because of course she would stop it. She would never stand by if she saw someone doing the things Mineta does to her, to the other girls in their class. Why wouldn’t she? She knows how disgusting hands can feel even if they only brush against you. However, if that’s the case, then why doesn’t Aizawa-sensei do something? She knows that despite his gruff demeanor he cares about them. It’s clear in the way he risked his life for them at the USJ (she still can’t stare at the scar on his face without feeling useless), in the way he gives Kaminari extensions on assignments when his learning disabilities make it too difficult for him, in the way that he makes sure to verbally check in with Hagakure after heroics class because his ever watchful eyes can’t assess her injuries like they can for the rest of the class. Yet, Mineta remains a part of their class despite his (harassment) particular proclivities. And maybe Aizawa-sensei doesn’t have the same experiences Momo does (no matter how heroic he is, he is a man), he has to know how much Mineta effects them (how sick he makes them feel)?
Once again, Bakugou doesn’t wait for a response. “When you’re a hero, everyone fucking looks at you and if they see you letting this shit happen to you, then they are going to think its okay. That they can fucking do that shit.”
Momo stops breathing.
When she had gotten back from her internship with Uwabami, she felt lower then she had felt in a long, long time. Watching the sports festival had gotten her passion burning. She wanted to be on the same level as her amazing classmates. She wanted to be someone little girls could look up to, someone that was both strong and smart. A true hero. Then, instead of learning how to patrol, how to balance the difficulties of being a superhero with the difficulties with being a woman, she was reduced to a pretty face. Something that had been happening to her since she ended summer break more endowed than her classmates. The only time she had felt as small as she did when made to pose in that commercial was when she first put on her hero costume and realized they had taking some creative liberties (Why hadn’t they included the zippers? Or the shorts? Who allowed for a teen girl to dress like this?).
But then, Uraraka had burst into the classroom all smiles and stories about how strong she was becoming. Later, Tsu had come in more quietly but no less excited to tell the girls about her adventures. When she was listening to them, to all of her classmates, for the first time Momo had realized that she didn’t have to follow the path set out for her. The path that had been paved in her mother telling her to stand up straighter, in her father forcing her to learn the mechanics of vehicles out of books rather than at shops. Momo realized that she could be the hero she wanted to be. This feeling was only further cemented when she led Todoroki to victory in their final, when she attached that tracker to the nomu, when she helped rescue Bakugou, when she got her provisional license.
Why was this no different? Maybe Mineta was her classmate. Maybe Aizawa-sensei didn’t see the need to stop him. Maybe she was expected to stay quiet while this happened. However, that wasn’t what a hero should do. It wasn’t what was right.
Bakugou stays silent as she has her epiphany and Momo thinks that will be it. Now that he’s been more helpful to her than he’s been to someone outside of the “Bakusquad” since the beginning of the schoolyear, he’ll stomp out of the room to do whatever Bakugou does when he’s with his friends. Bakugou even turns like he is planning to leave, but before he takes a step, he adds, “sometimes when you let shit happen, when you let dumbasses do fucked up shit without stopping them, it means more than outright saying it’s okay.”
Bakugou’s shoulders almost seem to hunch forward and Momo can’t see his face but she imagines that his brow is probably furrowed as he scowls at the ground. For no reason other than her own instincts, Momo thinks that he said that more for his own sake than for hers. Then, with a sparkle of explosions across his hand, Bakugou stalks out of the kitchen without another word.
Momo doesn’t stop him. She doesn’t know what she would even say to him if she did, not used to dealing with a Bakugou that has gone out of his way to help her. She doesn’t know why he did it, she truly wouldn’t have believed it had happened if she wasn’t there while it did. No matter his reasoning, Momo can’t keep the small smile off her face as she bustles about making a new cup of tea, feeling a new sense of determination flowing through her.
Then, the following day, when Mineta makes a comment about what he thinks Mina should use her acid for. Momo doesn’t hesitate when she calmly walks up to him and picks him up by the back of his uniform jacket. She doesn’t stutter when she tells him that what he said was entirely inappropriate and if he doesn’t apologize she will carry him to Principal Nezu’s office to see what he thinks of this comment. Everyone is shocked and there’s a solid ten seconds when the classroom is so silent you could hear a pin drop. However, Momo can’t find it in herself to feel bad for her actions no matter how much a small part of her (the part that was carefully crafted through hundreds of etiquette lessons led by her mother) tells her she should. Especially not when she looks across the room to see an almost feral grin on Bakugou’s face.
(She feels even better when Bakugou slams a smoking hand on her desk after class, proudly declaring that they are going to train together after school ends)