The hotel's kitchen bustled with activity as the Class 1-A alumni worked together to prepare a much-needed meal. After the chaotic battle with the cursed army and masked kids, the team needed a reprieve—a moment of normalcy amidst the supernatural chaos surrounding them.

Momo Yaoyorozu stood at the counter, meticulously slicing vegetables with practiced precision. Her elegant movements contrasted with the chaos of the day, her focus providing a sense of calm to the room. Nearby, Shoto Todoroki leaned against the countertop, carefully stirring a pot of soup over a low flame.

The silence between them was comfortable, punctuated only by the occasional clatter of utensils and the faint hum of the stove.

"How's the broth?" Momo asked, glancing over her shoulder.

Shoto dipped a spoon into the pot and tasted it. His dual-colored eyes flicked to her, his expression thoughtful. "It's fine," he said simply, his tone neutral. But then, after a pause, he added, "Could use a bit more salt."

Momo smiled softly, wiping her hands on her apron. She reached for the salt shaker, handing it to him. "Here. You've been getting better at cooking, you know."

Shoto gave her a netrual look, the corners of his lips quirking upward a bit but then back to a straight line again. "Thanks. I've been practicing. Fuyumi says I'm still miles behind her, though."

Momo chuckled, shaking her head. "It's not a competition."

Shoto stirred the pot again, the silence between them stretching once more. But this time, it wasn't as easy.

After a moment, he spoke, his voice quieter. "Momo... do you think we'll make it out of this?"

Her hand paused mid-motion, the knife she'd been holding hovering above the cutting board. Slowly, she turned to face him, her expression softening. "What makes you ask that?"

Shoto met her gaze, his eyes reflecting the faint flicker of the stove's flame. "The curses, the masked kids... it feels like we're being tested at every turn. And I keep thinking about how much we've already lost. What if this time—"

"Don't," Momo interrupted gently but firmly. She stepped closer, her hands resting on the edge of the counter. "Don't let yourself spiral, Shoto. We've come through so much already. Together. That's how we'll get through this, too." It was weird usually Momo was the one whos thoughts could easily consumer her if she wasn't careful now Todoroki was the one who needed a leveled head.

Shoto looked at her for a long moment, as if searching her face for the reassurance he needed. Finally, he nodded. "You're right," he said quietly.

Momo smiled again, her confidence steady. "Besides," she added, "we've faced worse odds before. Remember Kamino Ward? The Provisional License Exam? We've always found a way."

Shoto's lips twitched. "You're always so composed. It's one of the things I admire about you."

"Even when your not, you at least think all things out"

The words hung in the air, their weight palpable. Momo's cheeks flushed faintly, but she didn't look away. "And you," she said softly, "always manage to stay calm under pressure. You inspire people to keep going, even when things seem impossible."

Shoto set down the ladle, his gaze unwavering. "I don't think I would've made it this far without you."

Momo opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the kitchen door swung open, and Mina poked her head in. "Hey, lovebirds," she teased, a wide grin on her face. "How's dinner coming? Everyone's starving out there!"

Momo quickly stepped back, busying herself with the vegetables again. "Almost done," she said, her voice steady despite the faint pink dusting her cheeks.

Shoto, ever the stoic, simply nodded and returned to the soup. "It'll be ready soon," he said.

Mina wiggled her eyebrows mischievously but didn't press further. "Alright, I'll let them know. Don't burn anything!" With that, she disappeared as quickly as she'd arrived.

The two were left alone again, the moment between them lingering like a fragile thread.

Shoto broke the silence first. "Once this is all over... I'd like to spend more time like this. Together."

Momo's knife stilled again, her heart skipping a beat. She looked up at him, her expression unreadable at first, but then it softened into a warm smile. "I'd like that too," she said simply.

Shoto returned her smile, and for the first time in what felt like days, a sense of peace settled between them. Whatever lay ahead, they would face it together.

And for now, that was enough.

The Question

The dimly lit hallway outside the hotel lobby was quiet, save for the muffled sound of distant whispers and the occasional creak of the old building. Denki Kaminari strode cautiously toward the door, where Kyoka Jirou, Mezo Shoji, and Katsuki Bakugo stood on watch. Each of them carried the weight of exhaustion and the stress of the unknown, yet their eyes remained sharp, scanning the shadows for any hint of movement.

"Hey, any luck?" Denki asked, his voice low as he approached.

Jirou glanced at him, shaking her head. Her usual sharp demeanor seemed dulled, though her earjacks twitched slightly, always alert. "Nothing. Just more of the same... no exits, no clues. Feels like we're sitting ducks in here."

Shoji nodded solemnly, his multiple arms folded. "We've checked every corner we can without triggering anything. For now, we hold this position."

"Great," Denki muttered, running a hand through his messy blond hair. He glanced at Bakugo, who leaned against the wall with his arms crossed, glaring at nothing in particular. "And I guess you're just here for moral support?"

"Shut it, dunce-face," Bakugo snapped. "I'm here to make sure nothing blows up in our faces—or in yours, knowing you."

Denki rolled his eyes, but his attention drifted to Jirou, who had taken a step away from the group to adjust her earpiece. Something about the dim light catching her face and the tired but determined look in her eyes stirred a restless feeling in his chest.

"Jirou," he said suddenly, and she turned to him with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah?"

He hesitated, his words catching in his throat. His mind flashed back to earlier that day, to the kitchen where Kirishima had pulled him aside.

Flashback

The kitchen buzzed with energy as the Class 1-A alumni worked to prepare a meal. Denki leaned against the counter, munching on a stray carrot stick as he watched Kirishima toss a salad with surprising care.

"You're really into this, huh?" Denki teased.

Kirishima laughed, his usual bright demeanor shining through despite the grim circumstances. "Gotta make the most of it, man. Keeps the mood up."

Denki grinned but caught the thoughtful look in his friend's eyes. "Something on your mind?"

Kirishima paused, glancing toward the stove where Mina stirred a pot of stew. He lowered his voice. "Yeah... I'm gonna propose to her. Tonight."

Denki's eyes widened, and he nearly choked on his carrot. "Wait, seriously? Like propose propose?!"

Kirishima nodded, his expression softening. "Yeah. I've been thinking about it for a while now. I don't know what's gonna happen to us in this cursed place. I don't even know if we'll make it out alive. But if we don't... I don't want to regret not telling her how much she means to me. If we can't have a normal wedding outside, at least I'll know I tried."

Denki stared at him, the weight of those words settling heavily in his chest. He'd never seen Kirishima so serious before, and it hit him hard.

"You really think we're not getting out of here?" Denki asked quietly.

Kirishima's red eyes met his. "I don't know. But I do know we can't keep putting things off, waiting for the 'perfect' time. Sometimes, you just gotta go for it."

End Flashback

Back in the present, Denki shook himself out of his thoughts, the memory lingering in his mind. Kirishima's words had stayed with him, gnawing at the back of his mind ever since. He didn't want to leave things unsaid, especially not now.

He looked at Jirou again, her earjacks twitching as she listened for anything suspicious.

"Hey, Jirou," he said again, his voice softer this time.

She turned to him fully, frowning slightly. "What's up? You're acting weird."

Shoji and Bakugo exchanged a glance but stayed quiet, sensing the shift in tone.

Denki rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling exposed. But he pushed through the awkwardness, his voice steadying. 

"I need to ask you something."

Jirou blinked, clearly confused but curious. 

"Okay... what is it?"

He hesitated for only a moment longer before the words spilled out. 

"Do you... I mean, do you have feelings for me?"

Like, real feelings?"

Jirou froze, her eyes widening. For a second, she seemed to forget how to breathe. 

"W-what? Where is this coming from?"

Denki shrugged, his cheeks turning pink. "I just... I've been thinking a lot about everything that's going on. And after seeing Kirishima and Mina earlier, I realized I don't want to wait to figure stuff out. If we don't make it out of here, I don't want to leave things unsaid."

Jirou stared at him, her face a mix of shock and something unreadable. "Denki, I..."

Bakugo groaned loudly, breaking the moment. "Oh, for crying out loud. If you two are gonna confess, do it already so we can get back to watching for threats!"

Jirou glared at him, her face now bright red. "Shut up, Bakugo!"

Denki laughed nervously, scratching the back of his head. "Uh, yeah, sorry for the timing. But seriously, Jirou... if you feel anything, I wanna know. I don't want to keep wondering."

She looked at him, her expression softening as the blush on her cheeks deepened. Slowly, she nodded. "You're such a dork," she muttered, barely audible.

Denki's heart skipped a beat. "Wait... is that a yes?"

Jirou sighed, crossing her arms as she looked away. "Yeah, it's a yes. But don't make me regret it, Kaminari."

Denki grinned, his face lighting up despite the tension around them. "You won't, I promise!"

Shoji chuckled quietly, his voice calm. "Looks like you two just found a reason to keep fighting."

As the group returned their focus to the door, Denki felt a renewed sense of determination. No matter what lay ahead, he knew one thing for sure—he wasn't going to let anything stand in the way of protecting the people he cared about.