New chapter for this week. Add this thing to your library and don't forget to drop a review and the powerstones at the end of this chapter.
Happy reading
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After the entrance exam, we didn't linger in UA any longer and just headed towards the Honey Hearth cafe.
"How was it?" Granny Harumi asked, setting a cake dish in front of us. Nozomi didn't hesitate and immediately dove in.
"It was awesome. But I wish I could have seen the faces of the heroes in the control room," I answered with a smirk before taking a bite of the cake.
"Right? I bet it was epic," Nozomi also commented, though her eyes never left the cake.
"Why not ask him?" Granny Harumi said while pointing at the door. I turned to find Snipe entering the bakery. Nozomi didn't look away from the cake, and she kept eating happily. I had also sensed him, but still turned anyway.
"Granny Harumi, can I get the normal, plus a don't send kids my way pass?" He asked, stepping closer to the counter.
Granny Harumi smiled. "One normal coming right up."
"You're Snipe, right?" Nozomi suddenly asked.
"Yes."
"So, how was our performance?"
"A headache."
"You're going to die single if this is how you talk to a girl," Nozomi said and continued munching on her cake like she didn't just emotionally damage a pro-hero.
Snipe froze for a second, jaw tightening behind his mask, then let out a slow, controlled exhale—the kind adults do when they're deciding whether to lecture or walk away. Finally, he crossed his arms and tilted his head at her.
"Kid," he said, voice dry as old wood, "I stare down villains with rocket launchers. I can handle one sugar-powered gremlin with a sharp tongue."
Then he pointed his gloved finger at Nozomi like he was issuing a warning shot.
"And for the record, I choose to be single. Much easier than dealing with this level of chaos every morning."
He sat down with a grumble just as Granny Harumi placed his order in front of him.
Nozomi smirked without looking up from her cake. "Keep telling yourself that."
Snipe clicked his tongue, grabbed the cup Granny Harumi handed him, and took a long, suffering sip like he needed caffeine to deal with us. "I already feel like y'all are gonna be the death of me," he muttered under his breath.
Then he finally looked our way. "For the record—" he pointed the cup at Nozomi, "—calling a pro hero single in public is wildly disrespectful."
Nozomi didn't stop eating. "I just speak the truth."
A vein twitched on his forehead. "Yeah. Not helping."
He took another slow sip, regaining a sliver of patience. "Anyway, if you two came fishing for details about the exam…" His eyes narrowed behind his visor. "Ain't happening. Confidential. Strictly."
I shrugged. "Worth a shot."
Nozomi hummed while chewing. "He's definitely got something to hide."
Snipe raised a hand. "I'm hiding nothing. Just being a responsible adult."
"You sound defensive," she said smoothly.
He groaned into his cup. "You kids have been UA applicants for twenty minutes, and I already regret knowing you."
Granny Harumi patted his shoulder. "Eat your dorayaki. They'll grow on you."
"No," Snipe said flatly. "They won't."
I smirked. "See you at the acceptance letters?"
"Only if fate is cruel."
And with that, he went back to sipping his drink like he was trying to dissolve his stress in it.
After finishing our cake, we bid farewell and left. The walk back to the estate was quiet, filled with the comfortable silence of a plan well-executed. The sun was warm on our backs, a stark contrast to the cold anxiety that had plagued us for years. We were no longer fugitives training in the shadows; we were applicants who had just aced the most prestigious hero exam in the country.
When we pushed open the grand doors to the mansion, Akihime was waiting in the foyer, trying and failing to look casually busy. She'd been pacing.
"Well?" she asked, her voice a little too high, her hands clasped tightly in front of her. "How did it go? Was it terribly difficult? You weren't hurt, were you?"
Nozomi gave a lazy, cat-like stretch, her tails fanning out behind her. "It was a walk in the park. A very loud, robot-filled park."
"We performed adequately," I added with an understated smirk, knowing the understatement would drive her crazy.
"Adequately?" Akihime's eyes darted between us, searching for more. "What does that mean? Don't you two 'adequately' me! I need details! Were you impressive? Did anyone notice you?"
Nozomi patted her shoulder as she glided past towards the kitchen. "Relax, Mom. Let's just say if they don't send an acceptance letter, their entire scoring system is broken. Now, I'm ravenous. That cake was just an appetizer."
Akihime turned her pleading gaze to me. I just smiled. "She's not wrong. We'll know soon enough."
Two days later, "soon enough" arrived.
We were in the restored lab, running diagnostics on E.V.E.'s new mobile integration, when a new butler—a younger, more earnest man named Kenji—cleared his throat at the doorway.
"Pardon the interruption, Young Master, Young Mistress. The afternoon post has arrived." He held a single, silver tray. On it rested not two letters, but one. It was a pristine, high-quality envelope, but it was strikingly simple. No U.A. logo. No flashy seal. Just our names, Kirigaya Hiro & Nozomi, written in neat, precise handwriting.
Akihime, who had been 'casually' reading in the lounge adjacent to the lab, was at our side in an instant. "One letter? For both of you? Is that normal?"
Nozomi plucked the letter from the tray. "For us? Probably not." She turned it over. There was no return address.
"It feels… deliberate," I noted, my senses picking up no trace of anything malicious, but a distinct air of importance.
We took it to the main study. With a shared glance, I carefully sliced it open with a letter opener. Inside was a single sheet of heavy stock paper. A small, black disk—a holographic projector—tumbled out onto the desk.
The moment it made contact with the wood, it activated.
A life-sized projection of Principal Nezu materialized in the center of the room, holding a cup of tea.
"Good afternoon, Kirigaya Hiro, Kirigaya Nozomi!" he began, his voice cheerful as ever. "And a good afternoon to you as well, Ms. Kirigaya. I'm sure you are listening in."
Akihime let out a small gasp and put a hand to her chest.
"Allow me to cut to the chase," Nezu continued, taking a sip. "Congratulations! You have both passed the U.A. entrance exam with flying colors! In fact, you didn't just pass—you tied for first place. A perfect, and I do mean perfect, 149 points each. A remarkable feat of power, control, and most interestingly, synergy."
His beady black eyes seemed to twinkle. "A single letter might seem unusual, but for a pair as uniquely linked as you two, it felt appropriate. Your performance was not two separate events, but a single, breathtaking symphony. We have placed you both in Class 1-A, taught by our very capable homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa."
He took another sip. "I feel I should also address the two Zero-Pointers you so… efficiently dismantled. While not against the rules, it has certainly caused quite a stir in the staff room! Rest assured, the cost has been covered by a… discretionary fund." He smiled, a sharp, knowing thing. "I look forward to seeing how you continue to shatter our expectations. The academic year begins in one week. Do not be late!"
The projection vanished, leaving the three of us in silence.
Akihime was the first to break it, her hands flying to her mouth as tears of pure joy welled in her eyes. "First place? Both of you?" She pulled us into a crushing hug. "I'm so proud! My genius, hero babies!"
Nozomi, despite her usual composure, was smiling widely. "A discretionary fund? I think we made a new friend."
"Or a new lab rat," I countered, though I shared her grin. Nezu's direct interest was a variable, but a thrilling one. We were in.
The morning of the first day of school dawned bright and clear. Akihime, true to her nature, had turned it into an event.
"I am not having my children take the train on their first day at U.A.!" she had declared, and that was that.
Which is how we found ourselves pulling up to the towering U.A. gates in a sleek, obsidian-black limousine. The window tint was dark, but not dark enough to hide the spectacle from the outside. As the vehicle came to a smooth stop, a handful of students turned to look.
The door opened, and I stepped out first, dressed in the crisp, new U.A. uniform. My long, untamed hair was tied back in a low ponytail, my fox ears twitching slightly at the ambient noise.
Nozomi emerged beside me, a picture of elegant nonchalance, her own uniform perfectly fitted. Her multiple tails swayed gently behind her as she smoothed her skirt.
We grabbed our bags from the chauffeur.
"Give them hell, my darlings!" Akihime called from inside the car before the door closed and the limo pulled away, leaving us at the center of a dozen curious stares.
A familiar spiky-haired figure froze mid-stride, his jaw unhinged. It was Kirishima.
"No way…" he muttered, staring from us to the departing limo and back again. "You guys are the limo kids?!"
Nozomi gave him a serene smile. "Is there a problem?"
"N-no! It's just… manly!" he recovered, punching a fist into his palm. "Such a bold entrance!"
I shrugged. "Our mom's idea. We just went with it."
As we walked through the massive front doors, a boy with glasses and stiff, choppy movements marched up to us, his hand karate-chopping the air. "Such an extravagant display is unbefitting of a future hero! It reeks of pride and privilege!"
Nozomi didn't even break stride. "It reeks of a mother who missed her kids for seven years and has a lot of love to make up for," she said, her voice flat. "If you have an issue with that, take it up with her. I'll get you her card."
The boy—Iida Tenya, if I recalled correctly—sputtered, his rigid logic completely short-circuited by her response.
We continued down the hall, easily finding the massive door labeled 1-A. Pushing it open, we were met with a scene of controlled chaos. The loud blond from the exam—Bakugo—was already scowling in a seat, his feet on the desk. Kirishima was waving at us from another. Midoriya was nervously mumbling in a corner.
And then, my eyes found her. Sitting poised near the front of the class, her long, dark hair elegantly styled, was Momo Yaoyorozu. She was looking at the door, her expression one of polite curiosity that was quickly shifting to dawning recognition.
Nozomi nudged me with her elbow, a subtle smirk on her lips. 'Told you she'd be here.'
Before we could approach her, a voice cut through the classroom noise, dry and utterly exhausted.
"If you're here to socialize, get out."
Lying on the floor in a bright yellow sleeping bag, like a grumpy caterpillar, was our homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa. He unzipped himself and stood up, his dark eyes sweeping over the class, lingering on Nozomi and me for a fraction of a second longer than anyone else.
"It took you all eight seconds to quiet down. Time is a precious resource. You lot are illogical." He reached into his sleeping bag and pulled out a blue and white U.A. gym uniform. "Put these on and meet me on the P.E. grounds. Your first—and for some of you, last—lesson is about to begin."
The class erupted into confused murmurs. Orientation? A quirk assessment test?
As everyone shuffled out, I caught Momo's eye. She offered a small, tentative, but genuine smile. I returned it with a nod. The threads of our past were still there.
Nozomi fell into step beside me as we headed out of the class. "A test on the first day. How predictable."
"And he's planning to expel someone," I added, having easily read the unyielding logic in Aizawa's gaze. "He wants to weed out the uncommitted."
Her eyes gleamed with competitive fire. "Then let's make sure we're not the ones he's looking to cut."
The real test had begun.
In no time, the class assembled on the P.E. grounds, a mix of confusion and excitement in the air. Aizawa stood before us, looking even more tired in the daylight.
"You've been taking standardized tests most of your lives," he began, his voice a low drone that commanded attention. "But you never got to use your quirks. The country's still trying to pretend we're all created equal by not letting those with power excel. It's not rational. Today, we correct that."
He held up a smartphone. "You'll be competing in eight physical tests. I've recorded your data from the entrance exam. Your goal is to use your quirks to get the best score you can in each." A grim, almost predatory smile touched his lips. "Whoever comes in last place overall will be judged to have no potential… and will be expelled."
A wave of panic swept through the class. Uraraka gasped, Midoriya looked like he was going to be sick, and Iida began chopping the air in protest.
"Expulsion on the first day? That is entirely unreason—" Iida began.
"Natural disasters, highway pile-ups, rampaging villains… Calamity is always right around the corner," Aizawa interrupted, his voice cutting through the anxiety like a knife. "Japan's pro heroes are always risking their lives. U.A. is supposed to be a training ground to prepare you for that. So if you were expecting a cushy ride…" His eyes, shadowed and intense, scanned the terrified faces. "…you'd better get over that delusion. This is where you go, Plus Ultra."
He let the silence hang for a moment before calling out, "Kirigaya Hiro. You're up first for the ball throw."
All eyes turned to me. Bakugo, who had been visibly itching to go, scowled deeply. I just stepped forward, taking the softball from Aizawa's hand.
"You have any injuries from the exam?" he asked, a perfunctory question.
"No, sir."
"Good. Step into the circle. Do whatever you want, just don't leave it."
I nodded, walking into the designated circle. I rolled the ball in my palm, feeling its weight. Aizawa wanted a demonstration of power and creativity. He was about to get one.
I didn't wind up for a throw. Instead, I closed my hand around the ball. I focused, not on raw power, but on precision. A faint, silver aura—Soul-Flux—coalesced around my fist. I wasn't going to throw it; I was going to launch it.
I pointed my index finger at the sky, and the ball balanced on the tip. With a pulse of will, I channeled a controlled, concussive blast of pure force from my fingertip.
FWOOM—CRACK!
The sound wasn't an explosion, but a single, sharp crack of displaced air that stung everyone's eardrums. The ball vanished, not in an arc, but in a straight, silver streak that pierced the clouds and disappeared.
A moment later, Aizawa's device beeped.
He turned the screen to the class. It read:
∞
A collective, stunned silence fell over the field. No one breathed.
"Infinity…" Aizawa said, his voice a low murmur. He looked from the device to me, his expression unreadable but his eyes sharp with analysis. "You didn't throw it. You turned it into a high-velocity projectile on a theoretically endless trajectory in an atmosphere-free path. Rational. And a complete pain for the support course to retrieve." A ghost of a smirk. "Don't do that again in a populated area."
I stepped back into the group. "Understood."
The bar had been set. And it was in another dimension.
The tests continued, but the atmosphere had changed. The twins had redefined what was possible.
50-Meter Dash: Nozomi didn't run. She simply took a step and blinked, reappearing at the finish line in 0.12 seconds. I followed with a burst of raw speed that left a trail of cracked asphalt, clocking in at 0.15 seconds.
Grip Strength: I channeled energy through my arm, not to enhance my grip, but to create a crushing pressure field around the dynamometer. It shattered with a screech of metal, registering an error. Nozomi, with a delicate touch, used her Celestial Weave to apply microscopic, immense pressure at a single point, warping the device and scoring just below my 'error' reading.
Seated Toe-Touch / Sit-Ups: We both aced these with effortless, conditioned grace, our enhanced flexibility and core strength putting us at the top.
Side-Stepping: We were blurs, our movements so fast they seemed to be in multiple places at once.
Throughout it all, the rest of the class performed admirably, but they were competing for third place. Yaoyorozu created a high-tech scooter for the dash. Bakugo blasted his way through every event with furious power. Iida's engines roared. But every time, one of our names was at the top of the list.
Finally, Aizawa displayed the final rankings on his holographic screen.
1. Kirigaya Nozomi
2. Kirigaya Hiro
3. Bakugo Katsuki
4. Yaoyorozu Momo
5. Iida Tenya
6. Todoroki Shoto
7. Tokoyami Fumikage
8. Shouji Mezou
9. Ashido Mina
10. Kirishima Eijiro
11. Kaminari Denki
12. Uraraka Ochako
13. Asui Tsuyu
14. Ojiro Mashirao
15. Kyouka Jiro
16. Sero Hanta
17. Sato Rikido
18. Aoyama Yuga
19. Hagakure Toru
20. Midoriya Izuku
Midoriya was dead last. He looked pale, his fists clenched at his sides.
"And that," Aizawa said, his voice cutting through the tension, "is where the rankings stand. I was going to expel the last-place finisher…" He let the words hang, his eyes on a trembling Midoriya. "…but that was a logical ruse to pull your best performances."
The class collectively sagged with relief.
"Still," Aizawa continued, his gaze sweeping over all of us, and finally resting on Nozomi and me. "Let this be a lesson. The landscape of this class has been definitively established. You now know the benchmark you have to surpass. It's not rational to think you can catch up to the top two in a day, or even a year. Your goal is to surpass yourselves."
He tucked the device away. "The syllabus is on your desk back in the classroom. Read it. We're done here."
As Aizawa shuffled off, the class erupted into chatter, the relief palpable. Bakugo was fuming, his pride deeply wounded at being so definitively placed in third. His eyes burned into the back of my head.
Kirishima clapped me on the back. "Man, you two are insane! That was so manly!"
Iida approached, his movements still rigid. "While your methods were… unorthodox, your results are undeniably exemplary! I have much to learn!"
Nozomi simply smiled, looking utterly unbothered. She caught my eye and gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. Phase one was complete. We had established our position at the top, not with arrogance, but with undeniable fact.
As we walked back towards the main building, I saw Momo standing slightly apart, a thoughtful, slightly overwhelmed expression on her face. She had been fourth, an incredible achievement by any standard, yet she was looking at the two of us as if we were a complex equation she couldn't quite solve.
The U.A. cafeteria was a bustling ecosystem of its own, a cacophony of clattering trays and excited chatter from hundreds of students. After the intensity of Aizawa's test, the normalcy was almost jarring. Nozomi and I had secured a table, our trays laden with food—a respectable amount, but nothing compared to the mountain a certain spiky-haired boy was devouring a few tables over.
I was halfway through a piece of teriyaki salmon when I felt a presence approach our table. Hesitant. Familiar.
I looked up.
Momo Yaoyorozu stood there, holding her own tray, her posture perfectly poised, but her expression a delicate blend of curiosity and uncertainty. Eight years had changed her. The round-cheeked little girl was gone, replaced by a tall, elegant young woman. But the intelligent, earnest light in her eyes was the same.
Nozomi followed my gaze, and a slow, genuine smile spread across her face, far warmer than the competitive smirks she'd been wearing all morning.
"Momo Yaoyorozu," Nozomi said, her voice soft. "It's been a long time."
Momo's composure broke for a second, replaced by a look of profound relief. "You… you remember me."
"How could we forget?" I said, gesturing to the empty seat at our table. "The girl with the amazing quirk who wanted to see our lab."
A faint blush colored Momo's cheeks as she carefully set her tray down and sat. "I must admit, I wasn't entirely sure it was you. When I saw your names on the class roster, I thought it must be a coincidence. But then, your performance… and your features…" Her eyes flickered to my ears and Nozomi's tails. "It's really you. The Kirigaya twins."
"The one and only," Nozomi said with a playful flick of one of her tails. "Though I suppose we've grown a bit."
"That is an understatement," Momo replied, a small, wry smile touching her lips. "Your display during the apprehension test was… breathtaking. To be honest, it was also somewhat intimidating."
"Don't be intimidated," I said, shaking my head. "We've just had a very… focused training regimen."
"Seven years in the mountains," Nozomi added casually, taking a bite of her rice. "No distractions."
Momo's eyes widened. "Seven years? Is that where you…?" She trailed off, clearly remembering the sensitive nature of their disappearance.
"That's where we went," I confirmed, my tone neutral but not closed off. "It was necessary."
The unspoken words hung in the air between us. Momo, ever the diplomat, didn't press. Instead, she looked from me to Nozomi, her expression softening. "I'm glad you're both alright. Your mother… she must be overjoyed."
Nozomi's smile turned tender. "She is. She cried for a solid hour when we got back. Then she dragged us shopping."
A genuine laugh escaped Momo, a light, pleasant sound. "That sounds like the Akihime-san I remember." She hesitated for a moment, playing with her food. "I did ask my parents to visit, after we met in the garden. But then we heard you had… left. I was disappointed."
"We're sorry we missed your visit," I said, and I meant it. "The timing was… unfortunate."
"It's in the past," Momo said, waving a graceful hand. She looked at us both, her gaze firming with newfound determination. "Seeing you both today, your incredible power… It lit a fire under me, to be perfectly candid. To be ranked fourth is an honor, but it also shows me how far I have to go. I cannot afford to be complacent."
Nozomi leaned forward, her golden eyes glinting with approval. "That's the spirit. Though, for the record, creating a full-sized motorcycle engine from your arm in under ten seconds isn't what I'd call 'complacent.' Your quirk is phenomenal, Momo. Its limits are your creativity, not your body. That's a powerful advantage."
The praise, coming from the girl who had just broken every record, seemed to startle Momo. A deeper blush spread across her face. "Th-thank you. I still have much to learn about its application."
"Don't we all," I mused, looking out at the crowded cafeteria. "This is just the beginning."
For a few minutes, we ate in comfortable silence, the initial awkwardness completely melted away. It was as if the eight-year gap had shrunk to a mere moment. The connection forged in a sun-dappled garden all those years ago was still there, waiting to be rediscovered.
"Will you be heading to the lab after school?" Momo asked, a hint of her childhood curiosity returning to her voice.
Nozomi and I shared a glance. "We were planning on it," I said. "We have to run diagnostics after… well, after the ball throw incident."
Momo giggled. "Infinity. I still can't believe it."
"Would you like to come?" Nozomi asked, her tone offhand but her eyes sincere. "We can finally give you that tour. We've made some… upgrades."
Momo's face lit up with a brilliant, unguarded smile. "I would like that very much."
The rest of the lunch period was filled with easier talk—about the other students, the terrifying prospect of Aizawa as a homeroom teacher, and the sheer scale of U.A. As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, we all stood, collecting our trays.
"It's good to have you back," Momo said, her voice soft but full of conviction.
Nozomi linked her arm with Momo's, much to the taller girl's surprise. "It's good to be back. Now, let's go see what other logical ruses our teacher has in store for us."
Walking out of the cafeteria together, the trio from the garden was whole again. The past was acknowledged, the future was a thrilling challenge, and for the first time since entering U.A., I felt a sense of belonging that had nothing to do with power levels or test scores. We had a friend in Class 1-A.
The day soon ended with nothing noteworthy.
The limo ride to the Kirigaya estate was a quiet affair, but the silence was comfortable, filled with the hum of the engine and the fading sounds of the city. Momo sat with her hands folded in her lap, her posture as perfect as ever, but her eyes betrayed a flicker of excited anticipation. The sprawling mansion came into view, and the gates swung open silently.
"Welcome back, Young Master, Young Mistress," the new butler greeted us as we stepped out. His eyes flickered to Momo with polite curiosity.
"Thank you, Kenji. We'll be in the lab. No interruptions," I said.
"Very good, sir."
As we walked through the grand halls, Momo looked around.
"Mom updated a few things, but the heart of the place is still here," Nozomi said, leading the way down a familiar, yet now more discreet, corridor. She paused before a section of wall that looked no different from any other. She placed her palm against a seemingly ordinary panel of wood. A soft, golden light traced the lines of her handprint, and with a nearly silent hiss, a seamless door slid open, revealing a descending staircase bathed in cool, blue light.
"After you," Nozomi said, gesturing inside.
Momo hesitated for only a second before stepping through. I followed, the door sealing shut behind us.
The staircase opened up into a vast, cavernous space that was a stark contrast to the traditional opulence of the house above. It was a cathedral of technology and arcane research. The air hummed with latent energy and the faint, clean smell of ozone. The main chamber was easily the size of a professional basketball court, with a vaulted ceiling from which gentle, adjustable lighting panels glowed.
Momo stopped dead in her tracks, her jaw slightly agape as she tried to take it all in.
To the left was the technological sector: holographic workstations floated in the air, displaying complex schematics and data streams. Several advanced 3D printers, far beyond commercial models, were quietly fabricating components with laser precision. In a shielded glass chamber, the remains of the rail guns they had built as children were mounted on a wall like a trophy, next to newer, more terrifyingly elegant energy weapon prototypes.
To the right was the arcane sector. This area was less cluttered but pulsed with a different kind of power. A large, intricate sigil was inscribed into the floor, glowing with a soft, silver light that matched my Soul-Flux. Shelves lined the walls, holding not books, but crystalline data-storage units and artifacts that seemed to drink the light from the room. In the center of this section was a clear cylinder, inside of which motes of golden and silver light—raw, refined Soul-Flux—drifted and swirled like a captured nebula.
And in the center of it all, connecting the two halves, was a large, central holotable. Above it, the form of E.V.E. materialized, no longer just an interface on a phone.
The little girl with shoulder-length purple hair and a white streak gave a small, polite bow. "Welcome to the primary laboratory, Miss Yaoyorozu. It is a pleasure to formally make your acquaintance." Her voice was calm and clear, emanating from hidden speakers around the room.
Momo, who had been rendered speechless, finally found her voice. "This is... this is incredible. You built all of this?"
"Most of it," I said, walking over to the holotable. "The foundation was here, but we've expanded significantly. This is E.V.E.—our Eternal Virtual Entity."
"A true artificial intelligence..." Momo whispered, looking at the hologram with a sense of awe usually reserved for natural wonders.
"Her core programming was our first major project after... returning," Nozomi explained, a note of pride in her voice. She gestured to the technological side. "This half is for understanding and advancing the physics of this world. Quirk theory, support gear, energy dynamics."
She then turned to the arcane sector. "And this half is for understanding ourselves. Our Soul-Flux, our biology, the nature of the gifts we were born with."
"It's the synthesis that's most interesting," I added, calling up a schematic. It showed a human form overlaid with both neurological pathways and ethereal energy channels. "We're trying to map the intersection of the metaphysical and the physical. To understand where a 'quirk' ends and something like 'magic' begins."
Momo walked slowly through the lab, her fingers gently brushing against a workbench. "The level of sophistication... it surpasses most corporate R&D departments I've visited. And you did this while also training to the level of physical prowess you displayed today?"
"We had seven years of very little sleep," Nozomi said with a dry chuckle.
I led Momo over to the central holotable. "E.V.E., run demonstration Gamma-Three."
"Running," E.V.E. confirmed.
A complex molecular structure appeared in the air, rotating slowly. "This is a preliminary analysis of the polymer you created for your tracker during the battle trial," I explained. "E.V.E. has been running simulations on its tensile strength and conductivity. We believe, with a minor adjustment to the carbon lattice here," I pointed, and the structure highlighted, "you could increase its durability by 300% without increasing the lipid cost."
Momo stared, utterly captivated. "I... I never considered that angle. I was only focusing on its adhesive and conductive properties." She leaned closer, her brilliant mind already whirring. "A hexagonal lattice instead of a cross-linked one? The structural integrity would be phenomenal!"
"For someone who can create anything, your greatest tool isn't your quirk, Momo," Nozomi said, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. "It's your mind. This lab, E.V.E., our research... It's all an extension of that same principle. We want to understand the 'why' and 'how' of everything. It seems you do, too."
Momo turned to look at us, her expression one of profound revelation. The last vestiges of formality melted away, replaced by pure, unadulterated intellectual excitement.
"This is what you meant all those years ago," she said softly. "When you said you 'built things.' You weren't just tinkering. You were... pioneering."
"We're just getting started," I said with a smile. "And it seems we have a lot to catch up on. E.V.E., pull up the files on high-density energy storage. I think Momo's quirk could be the key to solving the heat-dissipation problem."
For the next hour, the lab was no longer just the twins' sanctuary. It became a collaborative space. Momo, with her encyclopedic knowledge of chemistry and materials science, offered insights that even E.V.E. hadn't calculated. Nozomi and I provided the raw data and the unconventional, often otherworldly, perspectives from our research into Soul-Flux.
They were no longer just former childhood acquaintances or classmates. In that lab, surrounded by the ghosts of their past and the blueprints of the future, they became colleagues. Partners in a silent, secret revolution of understanding.
As the sun began to set, signaling the end of the tour, Momo looked back at the hidden door, her expression thoughtful.
"Thank you," she said, her voice full of sincerity. "For showing me this. For trusting me with it."
Nozomi smiled. "You're one of the few people in the world who could even begin to understand it. Besides," she added with a return of her usual smirk, "we might need a brilliant creation quirk to help us build the next thing."
"And what is the next thing?" Momo asked, intrigued.
I shared a look with Nozomi. "We're not entirely sure yet," I admitted. "But it probably involves finding a way to safely contain a miniature star. Or maybe a teleportation array."
Momo's eyes widened, and then she laughed, a real, unreserved laugh. "Somehow, I believe you."
As the limo took Momo home, Nozomi and I stood at the entrance of the mansion.
"You know," Nozomi said, her tails swaying gently in the evening breeze. "I think we just recruited the most powerful support partner in the world."
"I think you're right," I replied, watching the taillights disappear. "And I have a feeling this is just the beginning of something extraordinary."
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And the UA plot begins, but how will the appearence of the twins going