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The next match played out, and we watched, taking notes when needed. Following battles were, well, battles. No need to dwell on them.
After classes, I bid goodbye to Izuku as Momo and I were visiting the museum. Others in the class wanted to turn it into a group thing, but I shut that down before it got out of hand. I was already calculating the subway tickets, entrance fees, and whatever snacks we might need when Momo pulled me toward the limo waiting in front of the school.
I stopped. "What."
She turned, looking confused. "The car?"
I stared at the limo. "You are telling me we are going to a museum in this."
"Yes?"
I looked at her, then back at the limo, then back at her. "You expect me to just step into this like I belong?"
She tilted her head slightly. "Why wouldn't you?"
I gestured at myself. "Because I look like I rob people coming out of limos, not get into them."
She sighed. "Ryuu, it is just a car."
"A car?" I gestured at the massive vehicle again. "This isn't a car. This is what the final boss arrives in before killing the protagonist's mentor."
She pulled the door open. "Just get in."
I stood there for another second before sighing and stepping inside.
The seats were stupidly comfortable. The inside was quiet, clean, and way too fancy. I leaned back, looking around. "Where's the champagne?"
She gave me a look.
"What? You're rich. I assume you have a minibar in here."
She ignored me, typing something into a built-in console. The car smoothly pulled away from the school.
I wanted to hate it. I really did. But damn, this thing was smooth. No rattling, no sudden stops, no weird suspension hiccups. I had nothing to complain about. And somehow, that was worse.
I glanced at the tinted windows. "So this is how it feels to be disconnected from the struggles of the common man."
She didn't look up. "You are making this weird."
"I am a man. I wanted to pay for subway and stuff, but you did this." I sulked.
She looked at me, then blinked. "Oh." Then again. "Oh. I see."
A pause. Then, slightly pink, she said, "We can take the subway back home."
I crossed my arms. "Good."
I leaned back, staring at the absurdly luxurious ceiling. "So, what do rich people do in these things? Hold secret meetings? Pet tiny dogs? Eat caviar while plotting world domination?"
She gave me a look. "We sit. Like normal people."
"Tragic."
The ride was smooth, which was honestly worse because it meant I couldn't even complain about bumps. The driver, some professional-looking guy in a suit, didn't react to anything I said. Either he was deaf, dead inside, or had driven enough rich idiots around to ignore them completely.
Momo checked something on her tablet, scrolling through a document like this was a work trip.
When we arrived, the driver rushed to open the door, so I patted his shoulder like I owned the car and walked off with Momo. The man was probably pissed, but I did not care.
She led the way into the museum like it was her personal backyard. The place was packed with school groups, tourists, and nerds too deep into their own research to notice they were mumbling out loud.
"Where first?" I asked, shoving my hands in my pockets.
"The special exhibits," Momo said. "They have a rare gemstone collection on display."
"Rocks," I muttered. "Exciting."
"You dragged your Mom to see a meteorite," she said. "Do not pretend you are above this."
"That was different," I said. "Space rock. That's cool."
She did not bother responding and led the way inside. The first room was a deep blue, spotlights aimed at glass cases filled with gemstones that looked expensive enough to buy a small country.
Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god! This is the Fukang meteorite.
I didn't let my face change. Just a casual glance. Maybe a little longer than necessary, but nothing suspicious.
Momo looked at me. I looked at the rock. She looked at me again.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and stepped closer. "Huh. That's a decent-sized olivine deposit."
She didn't buy it. "You're interested."
I shrugged. "It's alright."
"You were practically vibrating."
"Was not."
"You muttered something under your breath."
"Could've been anything."
She stared at me for another second before turning to the plaque. "The Fukang meteorite was discovered in China in 1995. It's a pallasite, one of the rarest types of meteorites, with a nickel-iron matrix embedded with olivine crystals."
"2000," I blurted out.
Momo's eyes lit up. "Aha! I gave the wrong date on purpose."
I turned to her. "Damn, you are good."
She smirked. "You are too easy to read."
I clicked my tongue, stepping closer to the case. The meteorite was huge, its polished cross-section showing the olivine crystals embedded in metal.
It looked like a shattered amber window frozen in time. A glimpse into something impossibly old, something that had existed long before us and would outlast us all.
Kind of humbling. Not that I would say that out loud.
Momo caught me staring. I moved back like I had just been stretching.
"You are clearly interested," she said.
"I am vaguely aware of its existence."
"You want to stare at it longer."
"I want to leave immediately."
"Liar."
I shoved my hands in my pockets. "You are quite talkative for a museum visit."
She didn't respond, just watched me.
I sighed. "Fine. It is interesting."
She smiled. "I knew it."
I leaned against the glass. "This thing traveled through space for millions of years, survived Earth's atmosphere, and now it's sitting in a box for nerds to gawk at. Bit anticlimactic, don't you think?"
"Would you rather it be left in the desert to rust?"
"Would be cooler."
She crossed her arms. "And if someone picked it up and melted it down?"
"Then it would be a really cool sword."
She sighed. "That is not the point."
I tapped the glass. "Why did we even come here?"
"You agreed."
"No, you dragged me."
She raised an eyebrow. "I recall you saying, 'Let's go to a museum.'"
I waved her off. "I was being sarcastic."
"You were not."
I ignored her, moving to the next exhibit. A case full of smaller meteor fragments. Some just chunks of rock, others smooth and polished. The labels listed names, dates, and locations.
She followed. "Do you prefer iron meteorites or stony-iron?"
"Depends."
"On?"
"If I get to keep one."
She shook her head. "You cannot just take museum pieces."
"Everything is up for debate."
She looked unimpressed. "Are you this much trouble in every museum?"
"Only the interesting ones."
She rolled her eyes and read the plaque. "This one is the Cape York meteorite. Discovered in Greenland. One of the largest metal meteorites ever found."
I scanned the details. "They had to use dynamite to move it."
She nodded. "It was used by the Inuit to make tools."
I tapped the glass. "See? That is cooler than sitting in a case."
I looked at her exasperated face and leaned in. "Yaoyao, since you discovered my deepest secret—"
"That you are a nerd?" she cut in.
I groaned. "I will stop acting. But this stays between us, okay?"
She crossed her arms. "If you admit it fully."
I sighed, giving the meteorite another glance. "Fine. I like space rocks. Congratulations, you cracked the case."
She smirked, clearly enjoying this way too much. "You didn't have to be so dramatic about it."
I turned away, walking to the next exhibit. "Just taking precautions. My reputation is at stake."
She followed. "Reputation for what? Being difficult?"
"Yes."
She rolled her eyes. We stopped at another case. This one had an iron meteorite, a massive chunk of metal with a polished section showing its internal structure.
She glanced at me. "Do you know this one?"
I didn't answer immediately, but she was already watching too closely.
I clicked my tongue. "It's from Argentina. Campo del Cielo. One of the biggest iron meteorites found."
She tilted her head. "How do you even remember these things?"
"Because they're cool."
She just nodded. "Go on, then."
I looked at the plaque. "Crashed about 4,000 to 5,000 years ago. The impact scattered fragments over a huge area. Local people, the Guaycuru, used the metal long before Europeans 'discovered' it and decided to take credit."
She tapped her chin. "See? You know way too much about this to pretend you don't care."
I gave her a look. "You memorized molecular structures for fun. Don't act like I'm the weird one here."
She grinned. "You know, it is my Quirk. I was forced to become a nerd. You, on the other hand, chose to become one."
I rolled my eyes. "Come on, let's see old weapons. And if I hear anything about this from anyone, I will tell them we went to a porn museum."
She sighed. "Of course you will."
We walked to the weapons exhibit. It was packed with medieval armor, swords, and a few old firearms displayed behind glass. A bunch of tourists hovered around, snapping pictures like they were gonna use them for anything other than forgetting about them in their camera roll.
I stopped in front of a katana display. "Imagine breaking into a museum just to steal this and then realizing you have no idea how to use it."
She checked the plaque. "It says this belonged to a samurai lord. Over 500 years old."
"That's nice. Still wouldn't stop a gun."
She sighed. "Yes, I am sure that was the main concern of a 16th-century warrior."
A couple of kids ran past, nearly smacking into a security guard. The guy looked dead inside. Probably not the first time today.
We moved on.
The next section had European armor. Momo read another plaque. "This belonged to a 14th-century knight. Full plate armor, highly resistant to arrows and most melee weapons."
"Yeah, until guns happened."
She didn't even argue. Just walked ahead.
The firearm section was next. The older stuff looked ridiculous—long-ass muskets, pistols that looked like they would explode in your hand if you sneezed wrong.
Momo glanced at a revolver. "You know how to use these?"
"Point and shoot."
"That is not an answer."
I shrugged. "Basic mechanics aren't hard. The hard part is hitting anything."
She tilted her head slightly. "You've tried?"
"Nope."
She gave me a look.
I ignored it and moved to the next display.
We spent another half-hour looking at weapons before heading to the aviation exhibit. They had a few old fighter planes, bombers, and a section on World War II tech.
She checked another plaque. "This model was used for high-altitude reconnaissance. It could reach speeds up to—"
I blurted, "Mach 3.2."
Seeing Momo stare, I groaned. "Planes are cool, lady. You fly in them, of course, I am interested!"
She laughed, continuing. "The U-2 was its predecessor. Lower altitude, but good range."
I nodded. "Got shot down in '60."
We moved on. The World War II section had a few bombers, old prop planes, and a fighter cockpit visitors could sit in. I tapped the glass on a Messerschmitt. "Flew for the Luftwaffe. Good speed, shit durability."
Momo checked the plaque. "The engine overheated often."
We walked past a P-51 Mustang. "That one's better."
She pointed at a Spitfire. "You think so?"
"Yeah, but the Spitfire's turning radius was nuts. Won dogfights easy."
We moved to the space exhibit. Moon landing models, Apollo mission displays, astronaut suits. Momo stopped at a lunar rover replica. "This was used on Apollo 15."
I ran a hand over the railing. "Top speed of, what, 11 kilometers per hour?"
She smiled. "Yes."
The Mars section had rovers and satellite images. I looked at a Curiosity model. "Still going."
"For now."
A glass case held a piece of Mars rock. I stared. "That cost billions to retrieve. And now it's here, in a box."
"Better than being space dust."
We walked through the rest, past asteroid samples, deep-space probes, telescope images. Momo checked the time. "We should go soon."
I nodded, taking one last look at a Voyager plaque.
We left the museum and walked toward the subway. The evening crowd was thick, people moving in all directions. Office workers, students, tourists—everyone pushing through like they had somewhere better to be.
I pointed at a row of street food vendors lined up along the sidewalk. "Let's get you some lipid."
Momo hesitated, eyeing the stalls. "I am not lacking in energy."
"You will be, after all that molecular breakdown or whatever. C'mon, pick something."
She glanced at the options. Skewers, takoyaki, taiyaki, some guy selling roasted sweet potatoes. The smell of grilled meat, fried batter, and soy sauce filled the air. People stood around in small groups, eating straight from paper trays, conversations mixing with the sizzle of hot oil.
I walked up to a yakitori stand and pointed at the skewers. "Two of these. Extra sauce." I turned to Momo. "What do you want?"
She studied the options. "What do you recommend?"
"Anything but the fish balls. Too much filler, not enough fish."
She nodded and pointed. "One of those, then."
The vendor nodded, working fast. The skewers hit the grill, flames flaring up as he brushed on sauce. A few seconds later, he handed them over in wax paper.
I passed Momo her skewer. "Here."
She took it and examined it before taking a bite. "It is good."
"Obviously." I handed the vendor the money before Momo could even reach for her pocket.
She frowned. "I could have paid."
I waved her off. "And ruin my carefully planned financial strategy? No chance."
"Oh? And what strategy is that?"
"You, covering the subway fee, obviously."
She sighed but didn't argue. We walked toward the entrance, eating as we moved.
At the turnstiles, she hesitated for half a second, just enough for me to notice. I tapped my card and stepped through. She followed, scanning her own. The station was packed, the sounds of footsteps, train announcements, and distant conversations blending into a dull hum.
I nudged her toward the platform. "Ever taken the subway?"
"Of course."
I gave her a look.
"…Just not often."
"Figured."
The train screeched to a stop, doors sliding open. The crowd surged forward. I stepped in first, blocking the rush so Momo could follow without getting shoved. She barely had time to grab the overhead handle before the train lurched forward.
She adjusted her grip. "It is more… crowded than I expected."
I leaned against the pole. "Welcome to public transport."
I could've just let her take the limo. It would've been easier, faster, quieter. But something about the subway felt better. Maybe it was just not having tinted windows between me and the rest of the world. Maybe I just didn't want the day to end like that—rolling away in a private car, disconnected from everything. Or maybe I was just being stubborn. Probably that. Yeah, let's go with that.
People were packed in tight—students, salarymen, and a few tourists who looked mildly lost. A kid in a school uniform swayed slightly with the movement of the train, eyes glued to his phone. An older woman sat near the door, a shopping bag resting against her legs.
I shifted slightly as someone tried to squeeze past. Momo stiffened when the crowd pressed in a little more. Without a word, I moved, blocking the worst of it so she wasn't boxed in. She exhaled softly but didn't say anything.
The train jerked forward, rattling slightly. An old salaryman muttered something about the younger generation before turning back to his newspaper. A high school couple stood near the door, whispering to each other. Someone's music played faintly through their headphones, the beat just barely audible over the hum of the train.
Momo adjusted her grip on the overhead handle. "How long until our stop?"
"Not long." I checked the map above the door. "Two more."
She nodded, watching the city blur past through the window. A seat opened up when passengers shuffled out at the next stop. She glanced at it, then at me. I stayed standing.
She glanced at the empty seat, then back at me, hesitating just a second too long.
"Sit," I said, nudging my chin toward the seat. "I am too manly to steal a seat from a girl."
She raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"
"Damn yeah," I shrugged, shifting my grip on the pole. "Go ahead."
She sat, adjusting her bag. "You could, you know."
"And ruin my street cred? Can't have that."
The train rolled on, the next station approaching fast. Momo shifted, about to stand.
"Wait," I said, nodding toward the doors. "No rush. Let everyone stampede out first."
She stayed seated as the train came to a stop. The doors slid open, and the crowd moved like a wave, surging toward the exit. After a few seconds, the rush thinned. Then we stepped off.
The platform wasn't as crowded as the train. We made our way toward the exit. She walked slightly ahead, weaving through the people with the kind of practiced ease that said she wasn't as unfamiliar with this as she had let on.
Outside, the air was cooler, the city still alive with movement. She adjusted her bag strap, glancing at me for a moment before saying, "Thank you for today."
I shrugged, shoving my hands deeper into my pockets. "Didn't do much."
"You did." She didn't elaborate, just gave me a small nod, like she was closing an argument I hadn't realized we were having.
I exhaled through my nose, glancing away. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever."
She smirked, just slightly, before turning to step into the car.
We walked a little further, stopping near the entrance of a residential area. Her driver was already there, waiting near the car. She turned back to me. "See you tomorrow."
I nodded. "Yeah."
She didn't hesitate before getting into the car. The door shut, and a moment later, it pulled away.
I shoved my hands into my pockets, glancing up at the sky for a second before turning back toward the station.
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