Five pieces of data Momoi never collected in the aomomo universe I AM PRETTY SURE THAT IS A UNIVERSE.
1. She knows he can cook. She just doesn't think it's good for her own pride if she writes down all the things he can do better than she can.
2. Momoi never lists down all the girls that like Aomine from the first flush of fifth grade wonder to the more forward, more shameless ogling of high school. Not the ones that left chocolates on his desk or love letters left unanswered, unnoticed in his shoe locker, no.
She doesn't think Aomine needed yet another thing to boost his ego, and she doesn't have the heart to do more than feel sorry for those girls.
3. She knows the number of shoes in Aomine's closet, the sneakers littered across the steps, things his parents bought for him on an off-day, like they tried to give him something comforting in its newness, its scent, things they couldn't give him for some reason at that time.
She doesn't like to ask why, because she's afraid to ask.
4. Once she'd fished around his drawers for something to watch. Then she learned to never open that brown paper bag stuffed with CDs ever again.
At least, not in front of her parents.
5. She knows all the idols he stalks online, all the gravure models he likes to talk about with Kise.
It's just. She doesn't like it when he talks like a boy, that's all.
addendum: "I don't see why size is relevant to me," says Momoi.
"It's relevant to me," says Aomine, desperately. "Satsuki, I have to know."
"I'm not that kind of girl," Momoi squawks, clutching her bag to her chest. "And anyway, why don't you just peek when you're in the bathroom together?"
"I'm not a pervert," says Aomine.
"It's for my self-esteem," Aomine plows on. "Think of my pride. What if I can never play basketball again."
"I hope your ass hits the door on your way out," says Momoi. Stupid, stupid Dai-chan.