Momo adjusted the edge of her towel, her fingers smoothing over the fabric with a precision that had nothing to do with wrinkles. The towel didn't need fixing. She did. The umbrella above them cast a dense, unmoving shadow, the metal pole warm against her calf where it pressed into the sand.

  She liked sitting here, in this pocket of shade, because it felt separate. Quieter. A small world carved out from the shouting, the whistles, the slap of the volleyball hitting hands and sand over and over again. Each impact sent a dull vibration through the air. Each cheer felt distant and unimportant.

  Beside her, Jirou sat with her shoulders slightly hunched, knees drawn in, her earphone jacks resting loosely against her chest. She wasn't doing anything in particular. Just existing. Somehow, that made her grounding.

  Momo found herself drawn to her more and more lately, mostly because the other girl was so different from the world Momo had been raised in. There was an effortless, alternative cool to her, the oversized shirt, the way she chose to cover herself up instead of catering to the expectations of how a girl should look at the beach, the way she claimed her own space without needing to justify it. While Jirou was clearly self-conscious about her body in a way that made her retreat into layers of fabric, she didn't seem to care about the social performance or the constant, high-society evaluations that Momo felt crushed by. To Momo, Jirou's shyness felt like an honest part of who she was, whereas Momo felt like her own life was a series of rehearsed movements, even now, even here.

  But more than that, being with Jirou was a distraction.

  The Sports Festival still lingered at the back of Momo's mind, heavy and unyielding. It crept in during quiet moments like this, uninvited. Every time she closed her eyes, she could still feel it. The speed. The miscalculation. The awful clarity of realizing how quickly she'd been overwhelmed. Tokoyami hadn't hesitated. And she hadn't adapted fast enough.

  Helping Jirou feel comfortable gave her something solid to hold onto. Offering water. Picking the best slice of watermelon, the one without seeds, the one that looked the coldest. Small acts, but purposeful ones. It was easier to focus on someone else's discomfort than to sit with her own sense of inadequacy.

  "The sun isn't nearly as bright now," Momo said, glancing out from beneath the umbrella. The glare on the sand had softened, shifting into something warmer and less punishing. "I think the worst of the heat has passed."

  Jirou hummed in response, her earphone jacks twitching faintly as she shifted. She stared down at her feet, nudging the sand with her big toe until it collapsed into a shallow groove. "Yeah, I guess."

  Momo followed her gaze to the shoreline. The water had crept closer since they'd sat down, the tide steadily going the beach. Foam curled in thin white lines before dissolving. She made her decision before she overthought it.

  "We should at least go down to the water," Momo suggested, keeping her tone light, careful not to push too hard. She knew Jirou had been using the sun as an excuse to stay tucked away in the shade, and she didn't want her to leave without ever touching the ocean. "Just to dip our toes in. The tide is coming in, it should be quite refreshing."

  Jirou's eyes flicked toward the waves, then away just as quickly. Her fingers tugged the hem of her shirt a little farther down over her knees, a subtle, defensive motion. "I don't know... I'm fine right here."

  Momo smiled, small and sincere, and stood before Jirou could retreat further into herself. Sand clung to her legs as she brushed it away. She straightened her posture automatically, falling into the confidence she'd learned to wear so well. "I'll be right there with you," she said. "Please? Just for a minute."

  Jirou exhaled through her nose. It wasn't irritation. More like resignation. She stood slowly, arms folding across her chest, and followed Momo out from under the umbrella.

  The sand beyond the shade was scorching, heat seeping through the soles of their feet with every step. By the time they reached the darker, dampened ground near the shore, Jirou was already shifting her weight, clearly relieved when the temperature dropped.

  The first wave rolled in without warning. Cold water surged around their ankles, swirling and tugging at the sand until it gave way beneath them. Jirou sucked in a sharp breath, instinctively tightening her grip on her shirt as a second, larger wave splashed higher, soaking the lower hem and sending droplets up her legs.

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  "It's freezing," Jirou muttered, though she stayed put.

  "It's invigorating," Momo replied, laughing softly as she stepped a little deeper, the water lapping just below her calves. She watched the current move around them. Then she looked back at Jirou.

  The tension in Jirou's shoulders had eased. Just a little. Her hair clung damply to her neck from the water, but her expression wasn't as tight as it had been moments ago. Momo felt something warm settle in her chest, quieter than pride but deeper than relief. This, at least, she could do right.

  "You're right, it... it isn't bad," Jirou admitted, her voice barely above the rush of the waves.

  The wet fabric of the oversized shirt was clinging to Jirou's legs now, turning a darker, heavier shade of black. Jirou looked down at it, her expression flickering with that familiar, sharp discomfort, but she didn't run back to the umbrella.

  "You're okay, Kyoka," Momo said quietly, her voice barely audible over the surf. It was the first time she'd used her first name, and she saw Jirou's shoulders drop just a fraction of an inch as her cheeks changing shades.

  "Yeah..." Jirou said, her voice steadying. "I'm... okay."

  They didn't stay alone for long.

  The noise crept in first. Laughter. Shouting. The unmistakable chaos of their classmates finally abandoning the sand for the water. Uraraka and Hagakure charged in ahead of the others, squealing as they sent sheets of water flying in every direction. Iida followed close behind, already knee-deep, his posture rigid despite the surf battering against him.

  "The water is the perfect temperature for optimal muscle recovery!" Iida shouted, loud enough to be heard over the crashing waves.

  "It's just fun, Iida! Stop being so serious!" Uraraka called back, diving headfirst into an incoming wave.

  Shoji and Koda entered more carefully, Shoji bracing himself against the pull of the tide with multiple arms while Koda hovered close, watching the water with quiet caution.

  Farther out, a steady, rhythmic splash cut through the noise.

  Robinn was finally making her way back toward shore. Her movements had slowed from sharp precision to something more controlled and deliberate, shifting seamlessly from training to cooldown. Water streamed off her as she emerged, posture perfect, expression pleasant and unreadable.

  Momo watched the scene unfold, the movement, the laughter, the messy, unguarded joy of it all. The salt air filled her lungs. The tide continued its steady advance. For a moment, the weight she carried loosened its grip.

  She stood there with Jirou, ankle-deep in cold water, and let the sun sink lower in the sky.

  The walk back to the bus stop was tiring, happening only after everyone finally agreed to get out of the water and pack up their things. It had been a chaotic process at best, and Iida had only barely made it possible through sheer, persistent force of will. The whole class walked together in a loose, exhausted line, shoulders slumped and faces marked by the day's exertion. Some had taken the time to rinse off in the public showers, looking slightly more refreshed, while others still had patches of sand clinging stubbornly to their skin and damp hair.

  Soon enough, the group began to splinter as people headed off in their respective directions. Bakugo, Midoriya, Robinn, Uraraka, and Kirishima all ended up on the same bus, the boys looking just as tense and guarded as they had when they first arrived that morning.

  Before long, the crowd had thinned until it was just Hagakure, Momo, Jirou, and Kaminari standing on the sidewalk. These were the ones who had been dropped off by Momo's chauffeur earlier, along with Kaminari... who for some reason had still not left.

  "They should be here any minute," Momo said, her eyes scanning the length of the street. She offered a small, reassuring smile to Jirou and Hagakure, her posture still holding that innate, practiced grace despite the salt and heat.

  Jirou leaned her weight against a weather-beaten signpost, her casual clothes feeling a bit stiff against her skin after the shower. She was one of the few who had actually managed to rinse off, and she looked much more like her usual self, though a tired, bored expression sat on her face. She peeked down at her phone just as the screen flickered and went dark, the battery finally giving up. She let out a soft, frustrated sigh.

  Then her face lit up slightly as she looked over at Kaminari. He looked like he was on the verge of falling asleep while standing up, dressed in simple shorts and a casual button-up shirt that looked a little wrinkled from the day.

  "Hey Kaminari, would you charge my phone? Please..." she said in her usual tone. Even as the words left her mouth, a small prick of guilt nagged at her. It had happened so many times before, and she realized she hadn't really done any favors for him in return lately.

  He looked up at her and grinned lopsidedly, the expression a bit lazy but genuine as he extended his open hand toward her. "Yeah, sure."

  She handed the device over and watched with a quiet fascination as he began his electric machinations, his fingers grazing the casing.

  "By the way, why are you still here? I thought you used the bus to get back home," she asked. The silence of the street felt a bit heavy, and she found herself wanting to fill it with something. Besides, she was genuinely curious.

  A small, bright spark flew across from the tip of his hair to the other side of his face as he spoke, a stray bit of energy escaping his control. "Yeah, I usually do... but my mom said she was going to pick me up today, so I'm waiting for her."

  Jirou nodded, turning her attention back toward the street just as a sleek, black car pulled up to the curb, the same one that had brought her there that morning. One of the Yaoyorozu family cars had arrived.

  Jirou glanced at the car, then back at Kaminari, who hadn't moved from his spot on the sidewalk. The thought of just leaving didn't quite sit right with her weirdly enough.