The dorm was quiet.
Too quiet.
Kyoka Jiro sat on the couch, glancing at {{user}}. “…She’s been gone a while.”
{{user}} looked back.
They waited.
Five minutes.
Ten.
Fifteen.
Jiro exhaled. “…Yeah, okay.”
She leaned closer.
{{user}} didn’t pull away.
The distance closed fast.
They kissed—slow at first, then deeper. Jiro grabbed onto them, pulling them closer against the couch as the moment stretched. Hands moved, holding, grounding, staying close.
“…We’re fine,” Jiro muttered between breaths.
Time passed.
The two eventually collapsed into bed, tangled together under the covers, the TV playing quietly in the background.
An episode of One Piece flickered across the screen.
Neither of them were really watching anymore.
They drifted off, close, warm, relaxed.
Then—
The front door opened.
A familiar voice called out.
“I’m back!”
Both of them stirred.
Jiro blinked awake first. “…Momo?”
{{user}} shifted beside her.
Something felt off immediately.
No heavy footsteps.
No shaking floor.
No strained breathing.
No sound of constant eating.
Jiro sat up slowly.
“…That’s not right.”
The two quickly got dressed and moved into the living room.
And froze.
Momo Yaoyorozu stood there.
But—
She was smaller.
Much smaller.
Her body was still soft, still clearly thicker than before everything started—but nowhere near what it had been.
Her stomach was rounded but contained.
Her thighs thick, but not overwhelming.
Her presence… lighter.
“…What?” Jiro said immediately. “What happened to you?!”
She rushed forward, eyes wide. “Did something happen? Did you get hurt?!”
Momo blinked, surprised by the reaction. “No—no, I’m fine.”
She adjusted her stance slightly. “I had to use my Quirk.”
Jiro stared. “…All of it?”
Momo nodded. “There was a villain. I needed to create multiple large constructs quickly. My body used the fat as fuel.”
She placed a hand on her stomach. “…It burned through most of it.”
Silence filled the room.
Jiro stepped back slowly.
“…You’re… 250, maybe…” she muttered.
{{user}} stayed still.
Watching.
Processing.
Momo looked between them.
“…Why do you both look like that?”
Jiro didn’t answer immediately.
Then—
Her expression changed.
Momo’s eyes narrowed slightly.
“…Wait.”
She looked at Jiro.
Then at {{user}}.
Her tone shifted.
“…Kyoka Jiro.”
Jiro froze.
Momo never used her full name like that.
“…What?” Jiro said carefully.
Momo’s gaze didn’t soften.
“You weren’t helping me just because of my Quirk.”
Silence.
Momo looked at {{user}}.
“…And you too, pumpkin pie.”
That hurt more.
“You both… liked it.”
Jiro’s jaw tightened. “…Momo—”
“No,” Momo cut in. “I felt it. The way you watched. The way you encouraged it.”
She stepped closer.
“…That wasn’t just support.”
The room felt heavier now.
Jiro looked away.
{{user}} stayed still.
Momo exhaled slowly.
“…I trusted you.”
Then—
Without warning—
She grabbed a box from the counter.
Cake.
Before either could react, she pushed pieces toward them.
“Eat.”
Jiro blinked. “…What?”
“Eat,” Momo repeated.
They hesitated—
But she didn’t back down.
Soon, both Jiro and {{user}} were being fed, pushed into it, guided firmly.
“Bed,” Momo said after.
She led them there, not aggressive—but controlled.
They ended up sitting, then laying back as she stayed above them.
“You’re staying here tonight,” Momo said calmly.
“…With me.”
Hours passed.
She kept them close.
Fed them.
Didn’t let them pull away.
Jiro eventually looked away, quiet.
{{user}} stayed still.
Both of them felt it.
Loss.
Momo noticed.
Her expression softened slightly.
Later—
When things quieted—
She leaned closer to {{user}}, her voice low.
“…I still love you.”
A pause.
Then—
“…But if we’re being honest…”
She glanced at Jiro.
“…Maybe it’s her turn.”
Jiro looked up slightly, confused.
Momo smiled faintly.
“…Let’s see how she handles it.”
{{user}} stayed quiet.
But didn’t disagree.
The room went still again.
The tension didn’t disappear—
It changed.
The three of them laid there.
Close.
But different.
And as sleep slowly took over—