Author's Note: My Patreon members will notice there were some significant changes made to the conversation between Yaoyorozu and Kendo. You'll understand once you read it why this particular scene took me so long to write and why I felt I needed to get it perfect. I ended up actually completely deleting what is on my Patreon and doing a total rework on it simply because of the emotional impact it has. This ultimately ended up as a much shorter but more impactful conversation, resulting in a shorter than usual chapter. I do apologize for that, but Chapter XIV is pretty long an should make up for it. Please leave a comment and tell me what you thought! Happy reading!

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Class 1A's Homeroom broke into idle chatter and the sounds of chairs scraping against the floor and the rustling of papers and textbooks as Mr. Aizawa dismissed the class for the day. Carefully placing her binder in her well organized backpack, Yaoyorozu turned to her left to talk to (L/N), but was surprised to find him already making his way for the door. Grabbing her bag, she quickly stood with a small hop and weaved her way through her classmates as she hurried to catch up to him.

"(F/N)!" She called. She expected him to slow down for her, but if anything, it looked like he started walking faster. "(F/N), wait up!" She jogged out the door and down the hallway, falling into step beside him.  "Is everything okay? Are you feeling sick?"

He shook his head. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, we always walk together." She said, reaching for his hand.  Wrapping her fingers around his, she frowned slightly when he didn't move to hold her hand back.

"Sorry, I just have a lot to do today."

"Present Mic did give us more homework than usual." She agreed. "But we can do it together, if you like."

"Why? It's not like you need me."

"Well, no," she frowned, "but I thought it would be nice to spend some alone time together. And then maybe afterwards we could go to my room and listen to a documentary." She looked up at him expectantly, but he looked like he hadn't even heard her. "(F/N)?"

"Don't..." His whole body flinched away from her, and he pulled his hand from her grip. Making a fist, he held it aggravatedly to his forehead and took a deep breath. "I-I'm just busy today. I'm sorry."

Yaoyorozu slowed to a shuffle, then to a stop as she watched him stuff his hands in his pockets and leave her behind. She bit her lips together and dropped her head, staring dispiritedly at her shoes. Hands awkwardly plucking at the straps of her backpack, she turned around. She suddenly felt like taking the long way through the school. Her plans of spending an evening with (F/N) were gone, and the thought of the watch she had tucked away in her backpack forgotten.

She shambled through the halls, dragging her feet in a way her parents certainly wouldn't approve of. The school was mostly empty of students by the time she reached the ground floor, and the sun, already sitting low in the sky, cast golden rays through the tall windows. Taking small steps, the front door was in sight when Yaoyorozu heard someone call her name. Looking up, she saw Kendo standing just ahead of her.

"Hey, is something wrong?" Kendo asked as she noticed the look on Yaoyorozu's face.

"No." Yaoyorozu replied halfheartedly. "It's just... (F/N), he's acting distant again. I... I thought that we were past this, is all. But I guess we're still further apart than I thought."

"I actually wanted to talk to you about that." Kendo said.

Yaoyorozu waited as Kendo held the door for her, and the two set off together down the path towards the dormitories. They avoided looking at each other, instead staring at the ground or the changing color of the leaves. It always took a minute for the two of them to warm up to conversation, especially when it came to him.

"Er, happy birthday." Kendo said awkwardly as a way to break the ice. "I heard it was tomorrow."

"Hmm?" Momo looked up from staring at her shoes. "Oh, thank you."

"Are you doing anything to celebrate?"

"Um, the girls and I are going to get manicures after school tomorrow." Yaoyorozu answered, her mood brightening a bit at the prospect. "And my parents are taking me to the opera over the weekend. My father bought me a new dress for the occasion, and I found a lovely bracelet the other day that matches the color perfectly. I just..." Her voice trailed off and the smile on her face faded as she fell into a contemplative silence. "I was really hoping to do something with (F/N). We've grown a lot closer these past two months, but recently it feels like he's started pulling away again."

Kendo gave Yaoyorozu an empathetic look as the raven-haired girl stared sadly at the ground passing underfoot. "I know it may not seem like it at times," she said slowly, "but you mean everything to him." 

"How can you tell?" Yaoyorozu looked at Kendo hopefully, wondering if maybe (L/N) had told her something. But instead of giving an answer, Kendo instead trailed off on a tangent.

"I told (L/N) he could call me by my first name four months after we met." She began. "But he didn't call me 'Itsuka' for another two years. And it wasn't until three months after that when he finally told me his first name."

Yaoyorozu's forehead wrinkled in confusion. The same way it did when she was having trouble with a particularly difficult equation. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because," Kendo said, "I don't think you realize just how special you are."

"Special?" Yaoyorozu asked, taken aback. "No, I'm not special."

"To him you are."

"How do you-?"

"Because he lets you call him '(F/N)'." Kendo came to a sudden halt, trying her best not to shout.

Yaoyorozu had taken another few steps before noticing Kendo had stopped. "So?" She said, turning back around. "He let's you call him '(F/N)', too."

"No." The redhead whispered sadly. "He doesn't. Not anymore. I gave up that right a long time ago." She paused to swallow the lump in her throat before continuing. "I know you care about him." Kendo said, forcing herself to keep her voice steady. "But you've been so busy waiting for him to give you a sign that he feels the same way, that you can't even see he already gave it to you.

"You're so worried about him acting distant that you've taken for granted just how close the two of you are. He has nothing but you. No one but you. And when you have nothing and no one, what's the one thing you have that you can give. You are the only person in the world who gets to know him as '(F/N)'. So think about what it means when he calls you 'Momo'."

[My Hero Academia]

(L/N) hissed painfully and shook his hand as another sliver of wood slipped up under his fingernail. Grimacing, he focused on his nailbed as he delicately forced the splinter free with his quirk. Licking the trail of blood, he shook his hand one last time before returning it to the thin strip of bark sitting on his desk. Carefully picking at the edges of the wood, he pinched it between his thumb and forefinger and gently pulled it through the pattern of bark, weaving the pieces together. 

His fingers ached and his hands stung, covered in a dozen pinprick sized wounds from where the frayed edges of the bark had painfully pierced the flesh. The skin was red, both from irritation and stained by his blood. Poking the strip of wood underneath one row, he went to pinch at it again only to have another edge break off and embed itself deep in his finger.

Growling as he quickly pulled his hand away, he let loose a frustrated scream and swept his arm across the desk, sending pieces of wood flying across his room. Dropping his face in his hands, he forced himself to take several deep, calming breaths. He'd been working on this damn bracelet for over five hours and still had almost nothing to show for it. Not for the first time, he felt like crying.  But he wouldn't let something as small as a splinter break him.

Getting up from his chair, he got on his hands and knees and gathered up the pieces of bark. Thankfully his outburst hadn't undone what little progress he'd made, and dropping into his chair, he got back to work. Of course, he could have been done long ago, had he been willing to settle for mediocrity. But this gift, he knew, had to be perfect. It just had to be. The only gift he'd ever been able to give her, he found out, had been no gift at all. So he couldn't come up short. Not again.

Another splinter broke off in his finger, and he found himself tempted to use his quirk, but he shook the thought away. The anger and frustration he felt were tamed by the knowledge that it was all for her. Every splinter, every blister. The ache in his hands and the way the bark chaffed and wore away the skin of his fingers until they were red and raw, these were his gifts to her. Without them, it was just another empty gesture, as worthless to her as his name. And so he continued, late into the night and early the next morning, delicately entwining the pieces of wood and weaving into it the things he didn't know how to say.