Maeda (despite his ever-present appearance of pure unrelenting stoicism) was somewhat overwhelmed with how readily Momo had taken to his suggestio of training. For him, it just made sense; his quirk’s nature made it ideal for him to practice and study in as many different ways as possible.
(He would have named himself the Flexibility Hero, if that had not already been taken by a woman overseas and giving the entirely wrong idea.)
He approached Momo, lips meeting in an even keel as the ultimate contrast to the bounciness and energy of his (now uniquely distinctive) pink curls. It was the shine of his eyes, however, that gave away his feelings; happiness, and excitement. Grass crumpled beneath his feet, his steps loose and carefree, despite the melodrama with which he carried himself.
He glanced at the sturdy staff Momo was leaning on; plain and unadorned, and almost certainly a product of her quirk. (If you asked him, Creation was such a game-breakingly powerful quirk that even if Momo chose to put aside heroics, she was literally set for life, forever. No matter what.)
At her offer of his own staff, he chuckled slightly; the sound odd, coming from the boy, but not unwelcome to the world.
“I am unsurprised - it builds transferable skills and technique, but is also one of the more capable non-lethal weapons.” A nod. “However, I shall pass on my own, Yaoyorozu-san. I primarily use unarmed combat; it is more flexible with the eclectic range of quirks I oft find myself suddenly wielding. The last attempt I made at combining my quirk’s capabilities, and a weapon, I set the weapon aflame.”
He had seen Momo’s combat, more than once - nothing outwardly unusual, mostly in the myriad of festivals and contests the school held - but he had not found the chance to face her. Nor that it was surprising - he spent as much time dodging the incessant crowds whom delved into the realms of teenage drama; many of them failing to realise that a quirk was a tool, but not one he would use like a trained monkey.
He sat for a moment, as if catching his breath; readying himself.
“Before we begin, however, Yaoyorozu-san, I must ask this for my safety - if I should make contact with you, should I resist Love Tap’s incessant pull?”
A simple question; if he was to tap Momo for a quirk, would he get something incredibly dangerous or liable to spiral out of control? After an incident in which he had somehow channeled Denki and blown out four transformers, he made a point of asking.
There was an easy lull to her smile, to the way she rolled her shoulders to relax the tension in her muscles. This was a familiar dance-- camaraderie through combat. It was an easy way for Momo to spend time with those her age, without feeling like it was time wasted.
Her grin widened at the image of him setting a weapon on fire-- she thought it might not be all that bad an ‘upgrade’, so long as the flames could be controlled. But, she also knew the unease ( the fear ) that came with unfamiliar power. Her gaze wandered to his hands-- they looked unburnt. Momo couldn’t help but wonder how long ago that incident was.
“ You have good taste, Hasimoto-san, ” Momo called from where she stood, tapping the end of her staff against the inside of her sneaker. She meant, of course, that he had similar taste to hers-- which, in her books, directly correlated to ‘good’. The fidgeting with the staff was the only thing that belied her anxiousness to begin. “ To be familiar with the uses of an obo-- but, um, ” her nose scrunched, shoulders lifting to her ears, “ I’m-- not sure, actually ? I couldn’t even begin to tell you who you might ‘pull’ from me. ”
Which, naturally, meant she had to overthink it.
“ Perhaps my mother or father-- in which case, you may be better off actually taking a weapon. Or, um-- a classmate ? I get along quite well with the girls in my class, and with Iida-san, Kaminari-san... ” the list prattled on. There were few Momo didn’t at least feel positively about, even if she couldn’t say she was particularly close to most of her classmates. The idea of not knowing exactly who he might connect with from her subconscious made Momo flush at the impropriety of it all-- why could she not easily pinpoint her closest relationships ? Was that uncommon ? Did it make her seem aloof ?
“ Can there be consequences to you drawing from a quirk ? Is your ability to use it weakened if the connection, or--er, the feelings aren’t particularly strong ? ” as she spoke, to keep up her prepared and confident airs, Momo slid her foot back and braced herself in a running stance. “ Come, though-- would you rather we fight with just our fists ? If you choose not to pull a quirk, I won’t use mine, either. ”
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