Hearing Wu Xuan's bizarre analogy, Momo blushed deeply. She couldn't help but feel a sting of embarrassment. Does this guy not see me as a woman at all?
"Get to work, or I'll kill you all first," Wu Xuan said, his voice dropping an octave into a cold, predatory threat. "Otherwise, I'll make sure the three of you never stand up again."
The killing intent radiating from him was suffocating. The three thugs realized instantly that the gap between them and this teenager was a mountain they couldn't climb. Despite the madness of the request, they had no choice. They turned toward Momo and began to ignite their Quirks.
The leader of the group tilted his head, and his shoulder-length hair suddenly surged, doubling in length and lashing against the pavement like whips.
"Ha!" With a low growl, his hair extended over five meters in a single breath, surging toward Momo like the writhing tentacles of an octopus.
"A hair-manipulation Quirk!?" Momo gasped, instinctively diving to the side. To her shock, the hair didn't just fly past; it banked sharply mid-air, continuing its pursuit with autonomous precision.
The stout man beside the leader called out, "The boss's hair is like an extension of his own nerves! He controls it like his own hands! Turning is child's play for him!"
The countless strands, acting like living ropes, snared Momo's right ankle in the blink of an eye. She was anchored to the spot. The gang leader froze, shooting a panicked look at Wu Xuan to see if he'd crossed a line.
"Go for real. Don't hold back, or you know the consequences," Wu Xuan warned.
The leader gritted his teeth and whipped his head to the side. His hair acted like a vine-whip, launching Momo into the air toward an abandoned concrete building. At the critical second, Momo used [Creation] to manifest a Japanese katana. With a desperate slash, she severed the hair binding her foot. She hit the ground hard, rolling twice, her expensive custom-made clothes now shredded and covered in filth.
"Keep going. Both of you, get in there," Wu Xuan commanded the other two.
"Y-yes, sir!" The short, stout thugs bit the bullet and rushed in. Without Wu Xuan's terrifying presence, they likely would have tried to take liberties with the girl. But now? They didn't dare touch her skin. What if the monster got angry?
One of the thugs possessed a Quirk that increased the gravitational weight of small objects; he began hurlings stones at Momo that hit with the force of cannonballs. The other could harden objects—turning simple feathers or scraps of paper into razor-sharp projectiles. While these Quirks were worlds apart from the "natural disaster" tiers of Todoroki or Inasa, they were the perfect trial for a novice.
Nearly forty minutes passed as the sun climbed toward its zenith. Momo was a mess. Even though Wu Xuan had ordered them to be merciless, the thugs were still pulling their punches, terrified of accidentally killing her. Even so, the sheer pressure of three experienced street fighters was more than Momo could handle.
She swayed on her feet, her vision blurring. Wu Xuan noticed something curious—her chest seemed to have visibly shrunk. Whether it was the exhaustion or the sheer consumption of her [Creation] Quirk, her "E-cup" frame had diminished significantly.
Momo's eyelids grew heavy. Her footing failed, and she began to collapse. Just before she hit the dirt, a hand clamped around her waist. Wu Xuan hoisted her over his shoulder like a sack of grain.
"That's enough for today," he said—it was unclear if he was talking to the unconscious Momo or the trembling thugs. As he turned to leave the slums, he dropped one final sentence that sounded like a death knell: "I'll be back."
When Momo eventually blinked her eyes open, she found herself lying on a bench inside a quiet family restaurant. Wu Xuan sat opposite her, sipping a drink and watching the afternoon foot traffic through the window.
"Did I... did I pass out?" Momo sat up quickly, checking her bruised body in shock.
"You slept for about half an hour," Wu Xuan said, setting his cup down. He'd endured plenty of suspicious glares from passersby while carrying an unconscious, battered girl through the city, many clearly pegging him as a kidnapper.
Suppressing the ache in her muscles, Momo looked at him with a mix of awe and confusion. "Wu-kun... how many times have you been to places like that? To train like this?"
Wu Xuan looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Do you remember how many slices of bread you've eaten in your life?"
Momo: "..."