The rooftop of their middle school was quiet except for the occasional gust of wind.
Momo leaned against the railing, her eyes fixed on the school gates below as students arrived early in the morning.
It was their second week of middle school, and nothing particularly exciting had happened so far.
Still, she liked being up here, especially when it was just her and Yami; after asking for some favours with the teachers, and since she and Yami were the most prominent academic prospects of their generation, they allowed the pair to hang out on the roof as long as neither of them mentioned anything to their classmates.
Behind her, Yami lay flat on the ground like a squashed bug in what he called "Burrito Mode." His body was mostly covered in the stone-like rock created by his quirk, what he called "petrification."
Yami discovered that the stone that covered his body wasn't actually rock or stone; it was a mix of minerals similar to bone but extremely dense in iron, making it more similar to obsidian in appearance but as resilient as tungsten.
Yami used his burrito mode to avoid applying Angela's special cream everywhere on his body.
Only his face was exposed, and the rest of him looked like some kind of weird, oversized cocoon. He didn't seem to mind the awkward position; in fact, Yami thought he was more comfy like this than when sleeping on his bed.
"Yami," Momo said, glancing back at him. "Why do you always look like you've been hit by a truck when you get to school? Your eyebags are bigger than my mom's Louis Vuitton collection."
Yami cracked one eye open lazily. "Dunno. Guess I'm just built different," he answered as he closed his eyes to catch some more sleep; last night, he and Angela spent the whole night masturbating and giving fellation to each other, so he was tired and dehydrated.
Momo rolled her eyes. "Come on. I mean it. You've been like this for years now. You barely sleep, and it's not because you're lazy. You work out more than anyone I know, and you're always studying; sometimes, I think more than I do. What's going on?"
Yami sighed. The petrification of his legs receded, leaving a layer of black dust on his school pants, sitting up and stretching.
"You're really nosy, you know that?" Yami said as he sat on the wall next to the stairs.
Momo turned to face him fully, her dark eyes narrowing slightly. "And you're really good at dodging questions. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop asking."
Yaim stood up, brushing himself off as the rest of his petrified skin returned to normal. "Alright, alright. Don't have a meltdown about it."
He stepped closer, tilting his head like he was studying her face. "Wait… are you wearing new lipstick?"
Momo blinked, caught off guard. "What? No! Why would you even—"
Before she could finish, Yami leaned in closer, his fingers tilting her chin up as if to inspect her.
His golden eyes seemed to sparkle, and Momo could see her reflection in them. "Huh. It must just be your natural glow or something. You're looking extra… pink today."
Her face flushed instantly. "Y-Yami!" she stammered, pushing him back. Don't get so close! You smell like dirt after it rains!"
Yami grinned, leaning casually against the railing beside her. "Oh, so you have been sniffing me. Kinda weird, don't you think?"
Momo groaned, burying her face in her hands. "I was not sniffing you! And stop changing the subject!"
"What subject?" Yami asked, his smirk growing. "All I hear is you getting defensive."
"You're impossible," Momo said, crossing her arms and glaring at him. "But seriously, Yami. Are you okay? You're always so tired, and you never talk about your family. You can tell me, you know."
He shrugged, turning his attention to the schoolyard below. "There's nothing to tell. My home life's fine. You're the only problem I've got."
"Me?" she asked, her voice softening despite the insult.
"Yeah," he said, poking her in the chest. "You and your giant boobs. How's a guy supposed to focus with those things bouncing around?"
Momo's face turned bright red, and for a moment, she froze. Then she launched a jab that flew toward Yami's face; for Momo, it was just a playful boxing jab, but it could probably break a nose if it hit any of their regular classmates.
Yami barely ducked in time, laughing as she swung again.
"Don't say stuff like that!" she snapped, chasing him around the rooftop. "You're such a jerk!"
Yami dodged her next punch and blocked a high kick aimed at his head. "Relax! I'm just saying what everyone else is thinking. You're practically famous in the manga club. They call you 'Fat Tits.' Got any comments on that?"
Momo let out a frustrated growl, her face burning. Using her quirk, she created a metal baton from her boobs and took it out through the cleavage of her uniform; it was too tight for her liking, so she had to always have a button or too unbuckled.
Swinging like it was one of her fencing swords, Yami barely had time to petrify his chest before the baton struck, sending him flying to the ground.
"Damn," he groaned, holding his chest. "That actually hurt. You've started to pack a punch; what is it? Tungsten? Damascus?"
"Tungsten", Momo huffed, her hands on her hips as she glared down at him. "Maybe if you kept your mouth shut for once, I wouldn't have to hit you."
Yami sat up, brushing off the dust from his petrified chest. "Alright, fine. But seriously, how big are they now? D-cup? Bigger?"
Her face twisted in fury, and she raised the baton again. "Yami, I swear—"
"Whoa, whoa! Chill!" he said, holding up his hands. "I'm kidding!... Mostly."
Momo lowered the baton, but her glare didn't soften. "You're lucky I didn't knock you off this roof.".
They stared at each other for a moment too long; Momo sometimes asked herself why of all people, she had obsessed over Yami; it wasn't like one day he would just shove her against a wall and fuck her up until her legs gave out and then continue to fuck her until it was night and once they were embracing each other he would kiss her and tell her she would be his for the rest of his life and then he would marry her, and while married he would fuck as many girls as he liked while she waited for him at home with dinner ready and once he arrived he would fuck her up and eat dinner and tell each other about their day and go out to patrol like a hero couple...
Slowly, Momo sighed and put the baton back into her body.
"You're so exhausting," she muttered, leaning against the railing again.
"And yet, here you are," Yami said, leaning beside her. "Guess I must be doing something right."
Momo didn't respond right away. Instead, she stared at the schoolyard, her fingers gripping the railing tightly.
She didn't want to admit how much she enjoyed moments like this, even when he was being a total dick.
"Maybe," she said softly, more to herself than to him. "Or maybe I'm just crazy."
Yami glanced at her, his smirk fading. "What was that?"
"Nothing," she said quickly, straightening up. "Let's just get to class before we're late. The sun's rising, and I won't want to carry you inside while on burrito mode."
Yami shrugged, letting it go. As they headed back inside, Momo couldn't help but steal a glance at him out of the corner of her eye.
Somehow, Yami always got under her skin—and she knew she'd let him do it again tomorrow; she'd let him do anything to her any day of the week.
As they walked down the stairs from the rooftop, Momo's mind wandered, and—Snail help her—she started doing the math.
She hadn't meant to, but Yami's endless teasing about her chest had left her curious. If he was so obnoxious about her size, what about his?
Momo had always been good at math and measurements, so her brain couldn't help but try to piece things together.
He joked about being "big for his age," and sure, she'd caught accidental glimpses during PE when his shorts didn't sit quite right or when he came and slept over at her house and had a morning wood, as the internet called it.
Those moments were burned into her memory more than some of her core memories. She tried not to let her curiosity win, but the numbers wouldn't stop crunching in her head.
With his height, build, and the brief, "accidental" visuals, she guessed he had to be packing something ridiculous.
Like… ten inches.
The thought made her face heat up. 'Why am I even thinking about this?' she scolded herself, but the numbers stuck.
Her thoughts shifted to his quirk. Yami didn't talk much about it, just as he didn't talk much about his home life, but she'd picked up on the hints.
"Pillar man" was no joke—it made his skin harder than anything she'd seen before; she could hit him with all the strength of a Tunsgten baton and at much, he would complain like he had been stung by a bee.
Then there was the insane stamina his quirk gave him. It seemed that the exchange for not being able to step into the sun without covering his whole body in cream was an abnormal regeneration.
Petrification burned through his energy like crazy, but his body seemed to regenerate faster than usual, as if designed for endurance.
While they were kids, Momo remembered two incidents. While training at her house, after a particularly tough day, Yami asked Momo to roll him over into the sun.
After he said this, he wrapped himself into a ball and petrified his body. Momo was confused, but after an hour and rolling him back into her house, Yami explained that he could absorb UV rays and solar energy, but his cells would absorb too much and just combust.
But, while being petrified, he could absorb as much light as he wanted.
The second incident was when Momo accidentally cut Yami's arm during one of her fencing training.
Momo obviously panicked, but Yami simply petrified his arm. When he depetrified it seconds later, the cut disappeared as if it was never there.
She'd watched him spar with older students during training drills, and he could outlast anyone. Even when they teamed up against him, any wound or sign of exhaustion would disappear after petrifying that area.
It was no wonder he always seemed so tired—his body was practically running on overdrive all the time, and he didn't "need" to sleep since he could just recharge by petrifying for a while.
However, it still didn't do him any favours, and even though his skin was always smooth, it didn't take away his eyebags.
Yet, what really amazed Momo was how much control he had. He made it look easy, but she knew it had to take insane precision to activate only specific parts of his body, because she too had a quirk like that.
Most quirks weren't like that; they were all-or-nothing. His ability to control the petrification on his arms or legs while leaving the rest of his body untouched wasn't just talent—it was hard work she never could see.
Meanwhile, her own quirk, Creation, had improved dramatically over the years.
Momo thought it was her natural progress—constant practice, her studying chemistry and physics late into the night—but Yami had been subtly helping her.
She didn't know how, but he'd somehow tweaked her quirk. Now, she could reabsorb objects she created, reclaiming the fat she used to make them.
She was convinced she'd just figured it out one day, but Yami knew better.
The truth was, as Yami and Angela got more "deranged" in their masturbation sessions to the point sex was just a question away, the system had been buffing them both.
He also guided her on using localized fat storage. It was subtle, but now she carried herself differently.
Her boobs, ass, and thighs were fuller. Momo didn't precisely like carrying around 2 watermelons, but the first time she caught Yami staring, she chose to keep growing them.
To Momo, she was just improving her natural abilities. To Yami, he'd built her into exactly what he wanted.