Journey through all the multi-verse

**Momo Yaoyorozu's POV: **

The air buzzed with excitement as I stood beside my parents outside the estate. The western-style mansion loomed behind us, its grand architecture casting long shadows across the red carpet that stretched out before us. On either side of the carpet, the mansion staff stood at attention—a perfectly symmetrical line of butlers and maids in pristine uniforms. The atmosphere was formal, yet I couldn't shake the fluttering anticipation in my chest.

I adjusted the light blue dress I wore, smoothing down imaginary wrinkles as I glanced up at my parents. Father was dressed in his usual impeccable black business suit, the tie perfectly knotted, his expression calm but authoritative. Mother, in contrast, radiated warmth and elegance in a red cocktail one-shoulder dress that hugged her frame beautifully. They both carried themselves with the poise befitting the Yaoyorozu family, and I did my best to mirror their composure. we waited for our esteemed guests.

But inside, I was anything but composed.

Tonight was important. Not just for my parents, who frequently mingled with high-ranking families, but for me. I had heard them mention our guests—a lovely woman and her son, who, as fate would have it, was my age. The prospect of meeting someone my age who could perhaps understand me was thrilling yet nerve-wracking. I had always struggled to connect with my peers. My bluntness, combined with a love for analysis and learning, often alienated me from others my age. Adults tolerated it, even appreciated it, but it wasn't the same as having a friend. Tonight, I dared to hope that might change. The possibility of making a friend filled me with cautious hope.

The faint hum of an approaching engine pulled me from my thoughts. A sleek black limousine rolled up the driveway, its polished exterior reflecting the soft glow of the estate's lights. It came to a smooth stop at the head of the red carpet, and the staff stood even straighter, if that was possible. My heart quickened as I fixed my gaze on the vehicle.

The doors opened, and four individuals stepped out first. Their presence was striking. They were dressed in indigo-colored armor with white details, complemented by capes and Lotus-patterned mantles around their shoulders. Their attire seemed almost ceremonial, yet undeniably practical, exuding a sense of authority and tradition. Each wore an indigo-colored robe beneath their armor, the design subtly echoing the white lotus flower. Their cowls bore small insignias at the front, further emphasizing their identity. The way the armor blended with the flowing robes and intricate lotus patterns gave them an air of disciplined elegance. Their movements were precise, almost military, as they formed two lines flanking the rear passenger door. To me, they seemed more like guards than mere escorts. The way they carried themselves exuded discipline and vigilance.

One of them—a man with sharp features and an air of calm authority—stepped forward and opened the rear door with a respectful bow. From the vehicle emerged a man whose presence was both commanding and inviting. He was well-built, his amber eyes flecked with gold, radiating intelligence, wisdom, and warmth. His neatly groomed beard and unique attire, adorned with symbols that matched those on the four guards, added to his enigmatic aura.

He turned back toward the open door, extending a hand with an easy grace. A delicate, pale hand reached out to grasp his, and he helped a woman step out of the limousine. My breath caught in my throat as I took in her appearance and awe.

She was stunning—breathtaking in a way that seemed otherworldly. Her dark hair was parted in the middle, styled into an elegant bun secured by a floral hairpin. Her pale pink eyes, fading to lavender, they lacked pupils but held an almost hypnotic serenity. Her pale skin contrasted beautifully with her crimson lipstick, and her movements were as fluid as a gentle breeze. She wore a kimono of exquisite craftsmanship, its intricate patterns flowing like a story told through the fabric, its elaborate design shimmering subtly under the estate's lights. I couldn't help but notice a few of the staff—even my parents—momentarily widen their eyes in admiration.

And then he appeared.

The man and woman both turned back to the limousine's interior, assisting a young boy as he stepped out. My pulse quickened. He was…handsome, more than I expected. His medium-spiked black hair framed his face, and the length fell just short of his neck. His eyes—there was something captivating about them. They held a depth I couldn't quite describe, something both captivating and intimidating, and I couldn't tear my gaze away.

His attire was equally striking. He wore a kimono similar to the woman's but even more elaborate. The dark navy fabric, nearly black, was adorned with intricate patterns of white tree branches and symbols I didn't recognize. Silver highlights traced the edges, and the way it complemented his confident yet composed demeanor was astonishing.

I noticed the family's clothing theme—traditional Japanese attire—something I hadn't seen much of since the end of the Quirk Wars and the rise of hero society. It was…refreshing, a nod to tradition that seemed to set them apart from everyone else.

They moved toward us with steady, elegant steps, the four guards trailing behind them like silent sentinels. Their coordination was seamless, their presence almost theatrical yet undeniably genuine. As they approached, the distance between us closed, and I felt a mixture of awe and nervousness bubble up inside me.

Finally, they stopped at a polite distance. My parents stepped forward first, their smiles warm and welcoming. "Welcome," Father said, extending his hand. "It's a pleasure to have you here."

The man with the amber eyes responded with a bow, his voice rich and calm. "Thank you for hosting us. The pleasure is ours." The woman beside him inclined her head gracefully, her gentle smile adding to her ethereal presence. The boy mimicked their gesture, bowing respectfully, and I found myself watching him closely, curious about the person behind those captivating eyes.

I stood slightly behind my parents, trying to steady my breathing. The boy's gaze flickered toward me briefly, and I felt my cheeks heat up. I quickly looked down, clutching the fabric of my dress to ground myself.

This was it. My chance to finally connect with someone… but how? Could someone like him—someone so composed and extraordinary—ever truly understand someone like me?

I took a deep breath, steeling myself. One step at a time, I thought. This evening was just beginning.

"I am Enji Yaoyorozu, and this is my wife, Himari," my father introduced. His voice carried pride, yet there was a warmth in the way he spoke. "And this is our daughter, Momo." I felt their eyes briefly on me as they smiled, and I offered my best polite bow.

The man responded with a small bow. "I am Iroh, and this is Tamayo, my sister-in-law, and her son, Kirito." His voice was steady, filled with respect. I watched as Tamayo smiled, her expression gentle yet confident. Kirito followed with a polite bow, his eyes briefly meeting mine before flicking away.

"It's a pleasure to meet you all," Tamayo said, her voice soft and melodic.

"The pleasure is ours," Mama replied warmly.

As they exchanged pleasantries, I couldn't help but sneak glances at Kirito. This boy, so different from anyone I'd met before, already intrigued me. Perhaps tonight wouldn't be so lonely after all.

Kirito's POV

Standing in front of the Yaoyorozu family, I could feel the weight of my mother's and Uncle Iroh's advice: to remain calm, confident, and just be myself. Their words played in my mind like a mantra, steadying the slight nervousness bubbling within me. Despite their reassurances, this was my first time attending an event like this, and the prospect of meeting new people carried its own unique tension.

I glanced at the Yaoyorozu family briefly, careful not to linger too long on Momo. Staring felt rude, and I didn't want to risk making a poor first impression. She was…kind of cute, though. Her light blue dress complemented her polite and composed demeanor. There was something about the way she carried herself that felt mature, even for someone our age.

From what I could tell, we were the first to arrive at the party. Her father, Mr. Yaoyorozu, wore a crisp black business suit, exuding an air of authority. Her mother, in a striking red cocktail dress, stood with a grace that mirrored my own mother's. Together, they made an impressive pair.

Mr. Yaoyorozu's gaze shifted to the four guards standing a respectful distance behind us. "If I may ask, who are the individuals accompanying you this evening?" he inquired, his tone polite but curious.

Uncle Iroh stepped forward, his usual warm smile in place. "They are our family guards for tonight's event," he explained. "This is no slight to your own security team, of course, but we thought a little extra protection wouldn't hurt."

Mr. Yaoyorozu nodded thoughtfully, his curiosity unabated. "I see. Their attire is quite distinctive. Are they affiliated with any hero team? I couldn't help but notice their emblem."

Uncle chuckled softly. "No, they are not part of a hero team. They serve as private security, trained to protect our family. Their uniforms are a reflection of the traditions they uphold."

Mr. Yaoyorozu seemed satisfied with the answer, and the conversation shifted as we began walking toward the mansion. As we moved, he turned his attention to Uncle once more. "May I ask about your profession, Mr. Iroh?"

"Certainly," Uncle replied. "I run a tea shop, and I'm also a licensed quirk counselor, quirk trainer, and martial arts teacher. These licenses primarily allow me to train my nephew."

Mr. Yaoyorozu raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. "That's quite an array of skills. And your quirk, if I may ask?"

"I possess an energy source that allows me to bend the elements," Uncle answered, his tone modest. "Fire is the element I am most connected to."

"Interesting," Mr. Yaoyorozu mused. "I've been considering hiring a quirk counselor and a martial arts teacher for my daughter. Perhaps we could discuss this further later?"

At this, Momo looked up at her father in surprise. "Really, Father? You're planning on this?"

Her father glanced down at her, a small smile playing on his lips. "Yes, and perhaps you'll get to spend more time with Kirito during your lessons."

Momo's cheeks flushed a light pink as she stole a quick glance at me. I smiled at her, hoping to put her at ease. She quickly looked away, her blush deepening. "Y-yes, of course. If Mr. Iroh is willing to counsel me and teach me," she stammered.

Uncle's warm smile returned. "Of course, little one. And I think my nephew would appreciate having a friend during his training."

Momo's face lit up with happiness, her earlier nervousness replaced by genuine excitement. Her father chuckled softly at her reaction, and I couldn't help but feel a spark of anticipation myself. The idea of training alongside someone my age was appealing, especially if that someone was as interesting as Momo seemed to be.

As the adults continued their conversation, Momo and I found ourselves walking side by side. The silence between us was heavy, almost tangible. I could sense her nervousness, mirroring my own as we both searched for a way to break the ice.

I avoided asking about her quirk, finding it impolite to focus on abilities rather than the person themselves. Meanwhile, she seemed hesitant, as if worried about choosing a topic that might be too complex for me. It was an awkward standoff, neither of us wanting to make the wrong move.

Finally, we both spoke at the same time. "So, do you…" Our voices overlapped, cutting each other off. Embarrassed, we both fell silent, exchanging awkward glances. I motioned for her to go ahead. "Ladies first," I said, trying to sound casual.

Her blush returned as she took a moment to compose herself. "Do you like reading books?" she asked tentatively. It was a simple question, but it felt like the perfect way to start.

I nodded. "I do, though I tend to read old manuals, texts, and scrolls stored in my family's compound vaults. They're fascinating, even if some of them are…complicated."

Her eyes widened slightly. "What kind of texts?" she asked, clearly intrigued.

I hesitated. Some of the texts were clan secrets, but not all of them. "Mostly martial techniques and old diaries. They're a mix of history and practical knowledge."

Her curiosity seemed to grow. "Have you ever tried calligraphy?" I asked, changing the subject slightly. "It's something I've been learning. It's tricky at first, but it really improves your handwriting."

She giggled softly. "I haven't, but it sounds interesting. Maybe you could show me sometime?"

"Sure," I replied with a smile. The tension between us began to ease as our conversation flowed more naturally. By the time we reached the venue, the awkward silence had been replaced by a budding camaraderie. For the first time that evening, I felt genuinely optimistic about the night ahead.