8

An extravagant New Year’s party was unfolding in the banquet hall of the castle-like Yaoyorozu mansion. It was a yearly to-do that drew over three hundred guests from the Yaoyorozu family’s elite social circles, and Momo Yaoyorozu—the daughter of the family—was dressed up to the nines as she went around greeting the party guests.

“I hear you’re enrolled at none other than U.A. High, Momo,” said one partygoer.

“You’ve heard correctly,” said Momo. “U.A. is the best institution around for instilling self-discipline, though I still have a long way to go.”

The casual small talk came effortlessly to Momo, who’d been attending these shindigs since before she could remember. These experiences mingling with high society might even come in handy someday, if she ever had to infiltrate a fancy function for a hero mission.

Any moment now, I suspect …

The Yaoyorozu New Year’s party always featured a presentation or performance by an artist or entertainer of some sort, and it was one element of the night that Momo always looked forward to. As she wondered what the evening’s entertainment might be, the lights suddenly dimmed, and a spotlight shone on Mr. Yaoyorozu, who stood atop the banquet hall’s stage. Momo’s father was looking as suave and put together as ever.

“Friends and family,” he began, “I know this is a moment you’ve all been waiting for, but instead of the usual catered entertainment, we’ve hastily thrown together a special film for you this evening.”

A film? Of what, I wonder?

Momo had been out of the loop concerning this year’s party planning since U.A.’s decision to send the students home at all had been rather last-minute. Now, the massive screen that lowered over the stage only piqued her excitement further.

“Put together by an Academy Award–winning director, this short film chronicles the path thus far of our beloved daughter, from birth to present. I give you The History of Momo Yaoyorozu!”

“Huh?” gasped Momo, taken aback.

The film’s title appeared on the screen with a bam, accompanied by a dramatic, sweeping soundtrack. The first scene seemed to be about Momo’s parents falling in love, but she was too busy marching away to see much. Off to the side of the stage, she found her parents standing with their head butler, who’d been with the family since before Momo was born.

“Father! Care to explain the meaning of this?” she asked.

“Surprised, are you?” said Mr. Yaoyorozu. “That school of yours didn’t leave us very much time to put this together.”

“Though I must say, the director was delighted at the opportunity,” added Mrs. Yaoyorozu with a broad smile.

“I’m not concerned about the details,” said a flustered Momo. “I’m asking why you’ve commissioned such a thing in the first place!”

“Because we want these good people to know just how wonderful you are, naturally,” said her father.

The movie had moved on to a scene featuring a newborn Momo, which elicited cheers and murmers of “Aww!” from the audience. Momo felt as if her parents had sat the entire guest list down for a look at her baby photo albums. In a way, this was worse, but her father was blithely unaware of her embarrassment.

“That dormitory room they’ve stuck you in,” he said, frowning. “It must be awfully cramped. I could hardly believe it when they forced you to mail all those boxes and furniture back home.”

“Indeed,” said Momo’s mother. “They only allowed us to send a single cardboard box as a care package. Why, we could barely fit a collection of your favorite teas in there, let alone everything else you ought to have with you …”

“And I take it you have to endure, erm, communal bathing? I suppose you’re in desperate need of a private soak after so long, no?” said Mr. Yaoyorozu. Suddenly his face lit up with a flash of inspiration.

“I know! We could have a spa built on the U.A. campus! Patrons could reserve bathing times, giving you some privacy and helping the students of U.A. to battle their fatigue.”

“Oh, that sounds lovely, doesn’t it?” said Mrs. Yaoyorozu. “And how about a shopping mall to match? Then you could purchase whatever you might need, at any time.”

“Brilliant, my dear! Why not amusement facilities as well? Work hard, play hard, as the people say! I’ll draw up the plans at once and bring the proposal to that diminutive principal!”

“Father!”

Momo’s piercing shout stunned her garrulous parents into silence.

“Whatever is the matter?” asked her father, at which Momo narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips.

“I … appreciate the sentiment, I do. But my U.A. experience is not lacking anything,” she explained.

“But …”

“They say that home is where one hangs one’s hat, even if that happens to be a, erm, cozy dorm room. And quite frankly, bathing with the other girls presents an opportunity for meaningful communication. As for shopping, yes—I may feel inconvenienced now and then—but the school store offers the essentials. And living in a dorm provides endless entertainment in the form of conversation with classmates. Every day, I find myself learning new things from them. As it happens, I’ve been listening to a genre of music called ‘metal,’ lately. It was my friend Jiro who opened my eyes to it—or ears, I suppose—while I’ve enjoyed the honor and privilege of introducing her to classical music, meager though my knowledge may be. These seemingly trivial things add up to a valuable experience … and one that truly makes me happy. All of which is to say, I’m quite satisfied with my life at U.A. High, thank you very much.”

Momo’s parents seemed at once shocked and dejected by their daughter’s sincere, impassioned defense of U.A.

“Very well … We only have the best intentions, but I suppose we shouldn’t meddle,” said her father.

“Momo … I’m afraid we were so excited to finally have you back home that we got ahead of ourselves. Apologies …” said her mother.

“Mother, Father … Oh dear …” said Momo, suddenly fearing that she’d been too harsh.

“Miss Momo,” interjected the butler, “your parents are simply concerned about your first communal living experience, to the extent that they lose sleep over it. Do try to understand that.”

“Is that true?” asked Momo, turning back to her parents.

“What sort of parents would we be if we weren’t worried about you?” said her father.

“In fact,” said her mother, “your father has been musing about moving into a property next door to U.A.”

“You’re one to talk! You’ve been in the habit of covering the bed with Momo’s earliest matryoshka dolls and burying yourself in the pile.”

“You want to talk matryoshka? I know for a fact that you sometimes speak to them, as if they were your own daughter!”

“When did y … You saw that?”

Momo couldn’t help but chuckle at her parents’ back-and-forth. Meanwhile, up on the movie screen, a young Momo was playing in the gardens while her parents watched, their eyes unmistakably full of love. As she watched them bicker in real time about which of them missed her more, she sensed that same love, preserved and strengthened over the years.

To make them worry so much, though … Clearly I must learn be more considerate about these things.

It was a moment of reflection that led to newfound determination.

I shall have to grow competent enough for others to feel comfortable relying on me! So that they have no need to worry or fret!

That was when Momo suddenly remembered the kakizome assignment.

Why not 実力, (jitsuryoku) as “competence”?

“Momo?” asked her mother, who’d noticed Momo looking pensive.

“Oh, it’s nothing, really. But I’m afraid I’ve missed a good portion of the film you made in my honor. May I watch it from the start, later?”

“Of course!” said her father.

“We can sit down with the staff for another screening,” said her mother.

Momo smiled weakly at the thought of another public viewing as she turned to the screen. There, for all to see, young Momo was creating a matryoshka doll for the first time, beaming with satisfaction and pride.