The training had ended hours ago, but Jason was still in the locker room, stretching his arms behind his head while humming some off-tune song. His combat shirt was slung over his shoulder, revealing faint bruises that were already fading.
Outside, the sky dimmed with twilight. Most students had gone home.
Except Momo.
She stood by the door, arms crossed, hesitant. "You always push your limits."
Jason looked at her over his shoulder and smirked. "How else am I supposed to look cool when I save the day?"
"You're not invincible, Jason," she said, quieter. "You could get hurt."
Jason rolled his eyes, pulling his shirt on. "I'll be fine. I've taken hits worse than anything they threw today."
She stepped closer. "That's not the point."
For a moment, the air felt… still.
Jason tilted his head. "You're worried about me?"
She flushed, trying not to look flustered. "Of course I'm worried. We're teammates."
"…And family," he added, stepping beside her. "You always tack that on when you want me to behave."
"You are my brother," she said, fidgeting slightly. "Even if… not by blood."
Jason paused. His voice softened. "Hey. I'm not going anywhere, alright?"
Then—because he couldn't help himself—he leaned in, just a little too close, and whispered with a grin: "Unless you kick me out because I'm too handsome."
Momo shoved him with a scoff. "You're insufferable!"
Jason laughed as he walked out. "But you like me anyway."
Behind him, Momo stood in silence, touching her chest as if to calm her racing heart.
Later that night, Jason sat alone on the dorm rooftop, eyes watching the city lights. His usual grin faded. His expression was unreadable.
In his hand, he held a small, battered photo—a much younger version of himself with people whose faces were scorched out by time or fire.
"…Why now?" he muttered. "Why am I remembering this again?"
There was a flicker in the sky—like a faint crackle of static.
Jason turned toward it, eyes narrowing. "Something's coming."
The next morning, Aizawa informed the class they'd be visiting a facility for disaster training.
Jason didn't react much—but Momo noticed the way he briefly clenched his fists.