Kaminari showed up seven minutes late, which, in his defense, was practically early by his usual standards. He spotted them right away, Momo and Jirou already seated at a table inside some semi-fancy brunch spot that definitely had cloth napkins and probably had no business letting in teenagers with unsteady trauma auras.

  Momo waved when she saw him. Jirou didn’t.

  He jogged the last few steps as he entered the establishment. “Yo! Sorry, sorry. I had to, uh... detangle my hair. Got a little frizz thing going on today.”

  Jirou gave him a noncommittal look. Momo smiled like he’d just arrived at a diplomatic summit.

  Momo had that prim, polished look even in a simple white cardigan and jeans. She’d probably researched the best ‘relaxed-but-proper’ outfit for the outing. Jirou... well, Jirou was wearing black and purple like usual, sleeves tugged halfway down her hands. Hoodie over a tank top. She looked like she didn’t want to be there.

  He flopped into the empty seat. “Man, you two look like you’re about to record an album cover or drop a tech startup. Should I have worn something without holes in it?”

  Momo let out a light laugh. “You look fine, Kaminari. I’m glad you came.”

  Jirou muttered, “Yeah, great. Roast my outfit while you’re at it.”

  “Oh... no, no, I meant it as a compliment! You look cool! Like... you know, sharp and Metal. In a good way.”

  She didn’t answer. Just sipped her drink and stared at the menu like it had personally offended her.

  Kaminari tried not to grimace. This was going great.

  Momo had picked the place, obviously. The kind of café that called itself a “kitchen” and served drinks with sprigs of herbs in them. It wasn’t really Kaminari’s scene, but the food looked good and the chairs didn’t wobble, so whatever.

  It was... weirdly quiet, though. Even with the low hum of traffic and the clink of silverware, there was a kind of muffled pressure over the table. Like they were all holding something in without meaning to.

  Momo tried to break it. “I’ve been thinking a lot about how we’re doing. Everyone, I mean. It’s been hard to tell since... you know. People aren’t really replying in the chat.”

  Jirou gave a half-shrug. “Yeah. Group texts are kinda useless when everyone’s pretending they’re fine.”

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  “Not everyone’s pretending,” Kaminari said. “Some of us are genuinely just, like, floating in emotional limbo.”

  He got a look from both of them.

  “Okay, okay, bad phrasing,” he muttered. “I just meant... yeah, I dunno. I’ve been thinking about that villain. The one that grabbed me? Dude had breath like battery acid. Honestly, he could’ve killed me with it before Snipe stopped him.”

  Silence. No laughs. Not even a pity smile.

  Momo looked down at her glass. Jirou’s eyes slid to the street.

  “Right,” Kaminari muttered. “Timing... My bad.”

  They lapsed into awkward chewing. Even their food looked like it didn’t want to be there.

  Eventually, Kaminari broke the quiet.

  “I got grabbed. Didn’t even fight. I was already fried and couldn’t really do anything. I was useless until Snipe showed up.”

  “No one was useless. You took down all those villains before he showed up,” Momo said quickly.

  Jirou didn’t chime in.

  He glanced over at her, but she was messing with her straw wrapper. Not looking at either of them.

  Then he heard a few taps on the glass behind them.

  He turned. A floating hoodie and jeans waved back at them through the café window.

  “Oh snap,” he said. “That’s Hagakure.”

  Sure enough, a few seconds later, the door jingled open and the invisible girl’s voice chirped, “Fancy seeing you guys here! Secret brunch squad, huh?”

  Kaminari blinked. “You wear clothes?”

  Jirou elbowed him.

  “What?” he whispered. “I thought she just... floated around in gloves and shoes.”

  “You’re a moron. You’ve seen her in the U.A. uniform,” Jirou muttered.

  Momo stood up, flustered. “Hagakure! Do you want to join us? I’m so sorry... we weren’t ignoring you, I just...”

  “It’s cool!” Hagakure said, sliding into the fourth chair like she’d been invited all along. “I was out shopping and saw you through the window. It’s all good, and it’s not like I replied to your message... sorry about that.”

  Her tone was cheerful. Same as always. But Kaminari noticed how she hadn’t said she was okay. Not really.

  And if he caught it, Jirou definitely caught it too, her mouth twitched for a second, like she wanted to say something and swallowed it.

  They ordered another drink. The table got louder, a little looser. Kaminari cracked a few jokes that actually landed. Momo smiled, though she kept fidgeting with her napkin.

  It wasn’t really normal. But it passed for something close.

  At some point, Hagakure said, “I basically didn’t do anything at U.S.J., you know? Todoroki dropped in and iced the whole zone in like five seconds. I just... hid. And regrouped when it was over.”

  Her voice stayed bubbly. Not bragging or embarrassed. Just facts.

  Jirou shifted in her seat. “Yeah. I kind of feel that. Like... in our group? It felt like only you two actually did anything.”

  Kaminari blinked. “What? No way. I only did anything because you threw me at the villains. Literally launched me like a human taser.”

  Jirou snorted, an actual sound of amusement, and looked away, embarrassed she’d let it slip. “Still. I didn’t really fight. I panicked and defaulted to crowd control. You and Momo were the ones holding it together.”

  “That’s not how I remember it,” Momo said gently. “Everyone had a part. You kept us safe.”

  Jirou shrugged like it didn’t matter. But under the table, her fingers were tapping again, steady little beats against her knee, like a metronome just slightly out of rhythm.

  They kept chatting. Ate slowly. Let time stretch a little.

  It wasn’t normal. But it was something close.