The wooden doors of the dojo were shut when Momo and Ayaka arrived that Sunday morning. The narrow street was empty except for a pair of kids kicking a ball down the lane. Momo stopped in front of the closed sign, blinking.
"Are you sure we can go in? It looks closed."
Ayaka pulled a key from her bag, spinning it around her finger. "It is. Sundays are off. Which means… just the two of us."
Momo tilted her head, half-smiling despite herself. "So I'm getting a private lesson?"
Ayaka smirked. "Yup, my first one too." She slid the key into the lock, and the door creaked open to reveal the quiet, cedar-scented hall.
The air inside was still, mats gleaming under pale light filtering through the paper windows. The faint scent of wood polish and faint incense hung in the air, giving the room a tranquil atmosphere. Momo carefully placed her bag down as Ayaka stretched her arms behind her head, yawning with exaggerated ease.
"Warm-up first," Ayaka said. "Let's do some running."
They stepped outside into the courtyard, jogging laps around the stone path. The morning air was crisp, carrying the smell of dew-soaked grass. Ayaka ran smoothly, hardly winded, while Momo quickly found herself struggling to match pace. Her breaths came faster, cheeks flushed after the second lap.
Ayaka slowed to match her stride. "Are you not used to running?"
"I'm fine," Momo insisted between breaths, though her voice betrayed her fatigue.
Ayaka grinned. "You can still quit if you want."
That earned her a sharp glare. "I'm not quitting."
"Good to know," Ayaka said with a chuckle, jogging alongside her.
By the time they finished, Momo bent forward with her hands on her knees, gulping air. Her ponytail stuck slightly to her damp neck, strands of hair clinging messily. Ayaka offered her water with a faint smile. "Now let's move on to the actual training!"
Momo straightened, cheeks red from both exertion and pride. "…Okay!"
Back inside, Ayaka gestured toward the mats. "We'll start with stances. Basics before anything else."
She demonstrated fluidly: feet shoulder-width apart, knees bent, fists up. The movements were sharp and confident, almost intimidating in their precision. "Like this. Simplicity itself."
Momo mirrored her, awkward at first. Ayaka frowned and immediately corrected her posture, lightly tapping her shoulder or nudging her leg.
Momo adjusted, only to be corrected again. Ayaka rattled off terms and adjustments quickly, more like she was talking to an experienced fighter than a beginner.
"Your hips should shift—no, rotate this way. Think about the balance. It's all in the frame," Ayaka explained, stepping around her with her usual briskness.
Momo blinked, trying to keep up. "What's that even supposed to mean?" She tried to correct her stance again, only for Ayaka to sigh in mock exasperation.
"No, your base is too weak like that," Ayaka muttered, pushing her knee in.
Momo gave her a look. "You're a terrible teacher, you know that?"
Ayaka paused, caught off guard. "What? No, I'm—uh—I usually teach the advanced guys, not… uh—" She rubbed the back of her neck, searching for an excuse. "You're just not used to my style yet."
Momo laughed softly, teasing. "No, you're just bad at explaining things."
"…That's not impossible…" Ayaka admitted reluctantly, though her lips twitched into a half-smile. "Fine, I'll slow down."
The adjustment helped. Momo's stance grew steadier with each attempt, her focus sharpening. Ayaka watched with faint surprise, realizing her friend's keen eye for detail made up for her lack of experience.
Once Momo got the hang of it, Ayaka finally led her to the punching bag.
Momo's first jab landed with a dull thud. She winced, shaking her hand. "Ow. That stings."
"Your wrist wasn't aligned properly," Ayaka said, adjusting it. "Try again. Straighter. Don't pull back so much. Don't use all your strength until you get the form right. I don't want you to get hurt."
The second strike was better, making the bag sway gently. Momo gritted her teeth and threw another, then another. After a handful, she stepped back, shaking her hands out with a tiny pout. "I swear the gloves aren't helping."
"You're just not used to it yet," Ayaka said, checking her form. She gave a small, almost gentle pat on Momo's hand. "But you did great."
Momo blinked at her, then smiled faintly, a little flustered. "…Thanks."
They finished with grappling drills. Ayaka demonstrated a throw, then let Momo try. The attempt ended with Momo tripping and tumbling into Ayaka, leaving them both tangled awkwardly on the mat.
They both laid on the tatami, their faces almost touching. "I-I'm sorry! I messed up my balance," Momo squealed in an embarrassed voice.
Ayaka coughed, equally embarrassed. "It's okay. I'm not expecting you to do everything right the first day."
Momo laughed, covering her mouth. The awkwardness eased, their rhythm smoothing out as they repeated the drill.
By the time they sat down to rest, both were sweaty and flushed. Ayaka tapped her water bottle against her knee, glancing at Momo.
"So… t-the fireworks festival's coming up. Do you maybe… want to go with me?" She used every ounce of composure and peace of mind in her body to ask that without panicking. "Just the two of us…"
Momo's eyes widened, lips parting slightly. Her face heated, but she smiled. "Y-yeah. I'd love that."
Ayaka's grin softened. "Good. It's a date, then."
'YEEEAAAHH!!!' Her thoughts betrayed the calm exterior she presented.
A few days later, the dojo buzzed with energy. New students filled the mats, some fumbling with belts, others stretching nervously. Ayaka had volunteered to take the beginners while her teacher focused on the advanced group.
She was tying her black belt when she noticed him.
Katsuki Bakugo stood among the newcomers, arms crossed, scowl fixed. For once, though, his eyes widened in surprise when they landed on her.
"…What the—"
Ayaka froze mid-knot, blinking. "You've gotta be kidding me."
Their gazes locked, both equally stunned.
Bakugo recovered first, his scowl deepening. "…The hell are you doing here?"
"I've always gone here," Ayaka replied flatly, though her own surprise lingered. "And sometimes I help teach too."
Before he could push further, Ayaka clapped her hands for attention.
Ayaka turned to the line of students, still faintly reeling. 'This guy? Joining a dojo? He didn't seem the type to sit still through traditional training. Did getting his ass kicked really inspire him to come here? Maybe I should do that more often…'
She shook the thought away and started. Her teaching, however, quickly revealed its flaws. She flowed into advanced stances, explaining things with clipped, technical terms.
The beginners blinked, struggling to keep up. A few copied her motions stiffly, others hesitated altogether.
Ayaka huffed, stepping in to demonstrate again, growing impatient when they didn't immediately match her. She wasn't trying to be harsh—she just didn't realize how fast she was moving compared to their pace. She tried slowing down, like she did with Momo, and it seemed to work better.
"Okay, let's do some sparring now."
Ayaka scanned the row. Her eyes landed on Bakugo. She smirked faintly. "Let's start with you."
He bristled but complied, rolling his shoulders as they faced off.
The match kicked off quickly, Bakugo lunged with raw aggression, powerful but unrefined. Ayaka blocked, redirected, and countered with clean precision.
"Your base is small and unstable, making your punches and balance worse," she pointed out, knocking his hand away with ease.
Bakugo ignored her advice, charging again.
She sidestepped, tapped his shoulder, then swept his leg slightly to show how vulnerable his stance was. "See? No balance."
His teeth ground, frustration growing—but she noticed something. Every time she corrected him, he didn't repeat the same mistake. He adjusted, fast.
Ayaka's strikes and parries pushed him, but by the end, he was moving sharper than when they started. Still rough, but promising.
They broke apart, both sweating, one more than the other. Bakugo glared at her, sweat dripping down his temple.
"You're not as bad as I thought," Ayaka admitted finally, offering a faint nod and a hand.
He scoffed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "Tch. That was obvious." He ignored her help and got up by himself.
Ayaka smirked, turning to the class. Sparring with a few more students and wrapping up the class.
After the lesson, Ayaka stepped outside. The sky had darkened, clouds rolling heavy and gray. She rode her bike home through the light rain.
When she got home, she took her phone from her bag, and saw something that made her freeze on the spot:
"All festivals this month are canceled due to torrential rains and typhoon risk."
"What! For the entire month?! What kind of typhoon is this!?"
Her chest sank. She tapped Jirō's number, pressing the phone to her ear.
"Hey," Jirō's voice answered, already sounding flat. "Did you see the warning?"
"Yeah," Ayaka said, sighing. "No festival."
"Damn it. I had an outfit ready and everything," Jirō groaned.
Ayaka chuckled softly. "What, were you gonna impress someone?"
"Shut up," Jirō shot back, embarrassed. "Point is, it sucks. I was looking forward to it."
"Same," Ayaka admitted. She leaned against the wooden doorframe, watching the first drops of rain patter onto the street. "I even asked Momo to go."
"Oh?" Jirō's tone shifted instantly, sly. "That serious, huh?"
Ayaka rubbed her forehead. "Yeah, I even had a whole thing planned. It's as they say, if you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans."
"Uh-huh," Jirō said, scoffing at her antics and empathizing with her friend's pain. "Well, don't worry. If you two want, you can still do something. You don't need the perfect stage to confess, just do it when it feels right. Maybe invite her to your house, or to another place where you two can be alone, and try setting the mood. I'll try doing the same with Kaminari."
Ayaka smiled faintly, warmth easing the disappointment in her chest. "Yeah. You're right."
The two of them lingered on the call, sharing small complaints and jokes as the rain thickened, the storms steadily rolling in.