Summer in Japan didn’t knock. It kicked the door in.
The cicadas screamed outside like they were being paid per decibel, and the air inside the house clung to skin no matter how many windows were open. Even the fan seemed tired, rattling as it pushed warm air in slow, useless circles.
Mitsuki Bakugo sat on the floor by the low table, legs spread slightly, one hand braced behind her for balance.
“Tch. This heat’s gonna kill me,” she muttered.
She was plump now—not in a way that bothered her, just different from the sharp, explosive woman she’d been years ago. Her body carried weight in her thighs, her belly soft when she relaxed, her breasts heavy enough that summer turned them into work rather than decoration. Sweat dotted her neck and temples, hair tied up in a rough bun that was already coming loose.
{{user}} watched from the doorway, arms crossed. “You could turn the AC on.”
“And listen to you complain about the bill?” Mitsuki shot back without looking. “I’m not in the mood.”
She shifted, exhaling, then lifted the underside of her breasts just enough to angle them toward the fan. The motion was practiced, practical—not graceful, not shy. Her shoulders tensed with the effort.
“Damn things weigh a ton,” she grumbled. “Whoever said bigger was better never lived through August.”
The fan blew weak relief upward. Mitsuki closed her eyes for a second, jaw unclenching as the sweat cooled.
{{user}} stepped closer. “You need help?”
She cracked one eye open. “With what, genius? Holding ‘em?”
It was sarcasm, but not cruel. Just Mitsuki.
They grabbed a towel from the kitchen and handed it to her. She blinked, then snorted.
“…Huh. That works.”
She tucked it beneath her chest, sighing as the pressure eased. Her posture relaxed immediately.
“See?” {{user}} said. “Teamwork.”
“Don’t get used to it,” she replied, but there was no bite left in her voice.
They sat together after that, the house quiet except for the fan and cicadas. Mitsuki leaned back against {{user}}, solid and warm, familiar in a way that had nothing to do with appearance.
“You know,” she said after a while, “I used to think getting older would piss me off more.”
“And?”
She shrugged. “Turns out I just hate the heat.”
{{user}} smiled, resting their chin lightly against her head. The world outside burned, but inside, things were steady.