The polished linoleum of the staff room reflected the harsh fluorescent lights overhead, casting a clinical glow over the absurd negotiation currently taking place. Ochako Uraraka stood straight, her hands clasped respectfully behind her back, radiating the earnest energy of a model student. Next to her, Momo Yaoyorozu maintained her usual flawless posture, her expression a mask of serene, aristocratic composure.
Across the desk sat Shota Aizawa, looking as though he had already spent his entire week’s allowance of patience. He rested his chin on his interlaced fingers, his bloodshot eyes darting between the two girls.
"Let me get this straight," Aizawa droned, his voice carrying its signature gravelly exhaustion. "You want official clearance to utilize Gym Gamma after hours for a regulated boxing match. And you are explicitly requesting a total ban on Quirks."
"Yes, Sensei!" Ochako chirped, stepping forward with an enthusiastic nod. "We’ve thought this through completely. Without our Quirks, we can strictly focus on fundamental physical conditioning, spatial awareness, and footwork. It’s an excellent way to build core strength and endurance without relying on our powers as a crutch. Plus, it’s a fantastic team-building exercise that fosters mutual respect and camaraderie!"
Aizawa shifted his gaze to the class representative. "And you, Yaoyorozu? You’re on board with this?"
Momo blinked, her face entirely devoid of guile. "Actually, sir, I am merely participating because I really want her to punch me in the boobs."
The silence that followed was absolute. It was the kind of silence that had a physical weight to it, instantly dropping the temperature of the room by ten degrees.
Ochako froze. Her smile remained plastered on her face, but her eyes widened into dinner-plate-sized circles of pure panic. Aizawa didn't blink. He just stared at Momo, his expression completely blank, as if his brain was actively trying to delete the last ten seconds of his life.
"Ah!" Ochako blurted out, her voice cracking as she desperately grabbed Momo by the shoulder. "What Yaoyorozu means to say is that she wants to test the impact resistance of her upper torso! You know, for defensive training! To build up tolerance against heavy strikes to the sternum! Right, Momo? That’s what you meant! A tactical, defensive exercise!"
Momo turned her head slowly, looking at Ochako with absolute, unblinking clarity. "No, Uraraka. I meant exactly what I said. I am looking forward to the intense erotic rush of you striking my breasts."
Ochako’s soul visibly began to exit her body. "She's concussed!" the brunette yelled, waving her hands frantically in front of Aizawa’s face. "She must have bumped her head during basic training earlier! She’s delirious, Sensei! She needs medical attention, not a boxing match! We’ll just go to Recovery Girl right now—"
"I assure you, my mental faculties are completely intact," Momo interrupted smoothly, her voice as calm and refined as if she were hosting a high society tea party. "I simply believe honesty is the best policy when requesting faculty supervision for such... specialized endeavors."
Aizawa finally closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as a massive vein began to throb on his forehead. "Yaoyorozu," he growled, his voice dropping into a dangerously low register. "This is an academic institution. The behavior you are describing is profoundly inappropriate, highly undisciplined, and completely violates the code of conduct for—"
"Wait," Ochako cut in.
The sheer audacity of interrupting a teacher stopped Aizawa mid-rant. He opened his eyes to see Ochako glaring at Momo. The panic was gone from Ochako's face, replaced by a sharp, calculating squint. She crossed her arms, leaning in close to inspect her wealthy classmate.
"Hold on a second," Ochako whispered, her voice dangerously quiet. "You’re doing this on purpose. You’re just trying to get out of the match."
Momo held the gaze for a fraction of a second before her serene facade cracked. A relieved, triumphant grin broke across her face, and she let out a sigh of pure vindication. "Yes! Absolutely, yes! I have zero desire to put on oversized gloves and get punched in the face by a martial arts prodigy for an hour! I want to spend my evening reading and drinking imported Earl Grey!"
Ochako crossed her arms tighter, an annoyed pout forming on her lips. "I knew it! You knew Aizawa-sensei would never approve it if you said something completely unhinged!"
"And it almost worked flawlessly, if you had kept your mouth shut," Momo said, looking quite pleased with her tactical genius.
"Oh, come on, don't be a coward!" Ochako huffed, stepping into Momo's personal space. "We already booked the ring! What if I say we’re doing it anyway? What if I force you to go through with this match right now?"
Momo’s eyes narrowed, her competitive spirit flaring up in the most bizarre way possible. She took a step forward, matching Ochako’s intensity, her voice dropping into a dramatic, theatrical stage whisper.
"If you force me onto that canvas, Uraraka, I promise you things will get unprecedentedly weird. If you really want this match, we are doing it completely topless. And the very moment your glove makes contact with my chest, I am going to let out the most shameful, guttural, agonizingly loud moan of your name. It will echo off the steel beams of Gym Gamma. It will reverberate through the ventilation shafts. Everyone in Class 1-A, 1-B, and the support course will hear me wailing your name in apparent ecstasy, and you will have to live with the psychological trauma of that sound for the rest of your hero career. Bakugo will blush. Midoriya will cry. I will loudly proclaim you as my Mistress as I savor the erotic feeling of your leather mitts brushing against my bare breasts, grazing the nipple just right. And I will let the world know exactly who made me feel that sensation, because the MOAN I will release will be YOUR. FULL. NAME."
Ochako took a slow step back, her face turning a vibrant shade of crimson. She stared at Momo as if looking at a completely different person—someone entirely unburdened by shame or societal norms.
Aizawa looked between the two of them, utterly exhausted. He quietly pulled a red "DENIED" stamp from his drawer, slammed it onto their paperwork with a dull thud, and pointed a single, shaking finger toward the exit.
"Get out of my office," he muttered. "Both of you. Before I expel the entire class out of sheer principle."
Needless to say, Momo successfully weaseled her way out of the match. And Ochako never, ever brought up the idea of boxing again.