Hello everyone! You might wonder why it took me so long to update the story with this chapter, and there are several reasons for it. One of them is that I really wanted to make an effort this time in all senses. I wanted to give you more material and better writing, so I figured I would use this past weekend to evoke myself to it. The second reason is that quarantine and my depression made my relationship with my special someone go through a rough weekend, so I didn't feel like writing if it wasn't going to be wholeheartedly (all is good now by the way). So! After this long explanation, nobody asked for, here it is at last! Enjoy!

CHAPTER 7: CINNAMON COFFEE

MIRIO: SRYY 4 THE DELAY. ERI WANTED TO HAVE A SLEEPOVER. I'LL TAKE HER TONIGHT.

An exasperated sigh was the only audible sound in the teacher's lounge that morning. Aizawa stood up and walked towards the open window. Musutafu's weather had changed overnight, and the morning air had turned chilly and humid; a very discrete layer of dew formed on his fingers, for the heavy fog seemed to be at the reach of a hand. With a hand inside the pocket of his black trench coat, he leaned on the window frame to appreciate the gloomy, unexpected weather.

He had desperately tried to fight his insomnia yesterday, but not knowing Eri's exact whereabouts had been the key ingredient to keep him up. That, of course, and the casual encounter with a certain student in the kitchen. At about 5 am, Aizawa had given up on the idea of resting. By 6 am, he was already at the teacher's lounge, coffee in hand, going over the files of four of his students. Half an hour had already passed by when Mirio's text appeared on the screen of his phone.

Couldn't he text me this last night? Even when part of him was furious at Mirio's lack of responsibility and consideration for his sleepless nights, he couldn't help but smile at the selfie of Mirio and Eri with their faces stuffed with popcorn. She was growing so fast, it seemed it was yesterday when she had taken the first bite at a caramel apple. Eri's happiness had become one of his priorities since the first time she had grabbed his hand.

At least they had fun. As for him, an evening power nap would have to do.

But as Eraserhead retook his seat in front of the four files, he waved his napping plans goodbye. He had come to know these student's quirks and personalities enough through the years, well, most of them. He knew Uraraka's gravity quirk had evolved through the years to the point that she rarely threw up after using it, and he also knew she still lacked some fighting skills. Sero's body was now significantly strong, as well as the use of his quirk, but strategizing wasn't a skill he had developed as much as he could yet. As of Aoyama, he had thought about different ways to upgrade his laserbeam attacks and was looking forward to work on them (that of course counting on him paying attention to anything else than his face). Yaoyorozu on the other hand…

His hand pinched the root of his nose and proceeded to gently massage his closed eyelids. To his eyes, Momo was the kind of girl who could stand out and pass unnoticed at the same time. Aizawa opened her academic file. Perfect grades, always ahead of the class, excellent vice president of class A, a spotless library record, participation in almost all the extracurricular activities, and 3rd place at U.A.'s last year's beauty contest.

He blushed at the memory of her fluttering eyes as she drank the tea he had made her.

Outstanding student indeed. And yet, who was she? Yaoyorozu seemed to always know what she was expected to answer, how she was expected to behave when to smile when to stay quiet. This irritated him almost on a personal level. As for her quirk, yeah she could create weapons but...what else? That encounter they had on her first year when she defeated him along with Todoroki...her strategy, the execution of her planning, the self-confidence she'd shown that day. Where was all that? Had it been pushed into a box and been replaced by her undying second-guessing usual persona?

Since the weather hadn't changed one bit since the morning, a burgundy knitted scarf, her gray tights, and an oxford gray umbrella were the only extras added to her everyday school uniform. Her knees seemed to be shaky, although it was hard for her to know if the cause was the cold humid weather or nerves.

She had approached Mr. Aizawa's desk after today's lesson to ask him for more information about today's training. He hadn't even raised his head from his notes. All the information he had provided was to meet him at the gate of the dorms at 7 pm sharp, no specific clothing needed. What a dimwit. What kind of proper training could be done with so little care? Was this how every session was going to be for her? What about the other students stuck with him?

"Earth to Barbie, anyone copy?"

Eraserhead's voice startled her as usual, rapturing her from her thoughts.

"It is so not polite to sneak up like that on people," she said flustered. His hair was damp from the weak drizzle, which made him look significantly more attractive. Momo had to confess that the fact that she had lately seen Mr. Aizawa as the good-looking thirty-something he was caused her to get jumpy when they were all alone. "Besides, why are we outside? wouldn't this session be richer if we were, I don't know, in an enclosed area? Because-"

"Wanna get some coffee?"

Momo froze for a second. What in the world has he just asked me? Did Mr. Aizawa just asked me on a...no. Wait. What? He just stood there, with an unreadable expression, drops of rain slowly slithering from his hair to his cheekbones.

"Excuse me, Mr. Aizawa?" this was all Momo could mumble out. "I-I think I don't understand."

"Or tea," Mr. Aizawa responded. "I'm thinking this weather calls for a hot beverage, don't you?" he was looking down to meet her eyes, which were still puzzled. "Besides, you seem cold. If your nose gets any redder it will fall." without saying more, he started to walk. Momo blinked in surprise, unable to move for a second.

Did he just ask me on a date? No. And yet it seems as if he did. This is wrong. Inappropriate. Out of place. Socially frowned upon. Illegal maybe? The right thing to do in this situation is to politely refuse and report the situation to the principal. At least that's what my mother would advise me to do…

"You coming?" he awaited at the corner of the street, his hands on his pockets framing his slender and muscular physique.

"Sure!" Momo's pace hurried to catch up with him. He told her there was a nice coffee shop a couple of streets away from there. She nodded, her umbrella discreetly dancing from the jitters of her left hand. This was so unlike her, and yet, it felt exciting. A car splashed water from a puddle near the sidewalk, damping part of her shoe. Just as she was thinking of how embarrassing that was, a hand grabbed her by the waist and slid her to the other side of the sidewalk. She glanced at him, but he still had the same calm, uninterested look on his face.

Momo could remember lots of things men had done in order to call her attention, like opening doors for her and bringing her flowers, buying her disgustingly expensive presents, all the chivalrous deeds on the book. All of those acts had been as perfect as they had been frivolous. It seemed so bizarre that action as effortless as letting her walk by the dry area of the sidewalk had made her feel so cared for. Last time someone had shown true care for her, it had been Mr. Kuyamasa and her warm whole-hearted muffins.

She only noticed she'd been staring when Mr. Aizawa glanced back at her, to which she tried to look away as casual as she could fake it. His hair was almost completely wet, so she grabbed her umbrella with her right hand to put it between them. She looked up to see a weak, polite smile. Mr. Aizawa gazed her still bandaged wrist and offer to carry the umbrella.

"I can hold it if you-"

"Oh don't worry it's not-"

A very familiar awkward silence surrounded them when their hands accidentally met, his hand around hers. An electric shock of adrenaline ran through Momo's whole body. Her eyes met Mr. Aizawa's not so uninterested, black glance. A reddish color as weak as the drizzle appeared on his face. They both looked away as Momo's hand slowly slithered under his hand, passing the umbrella to him.

Luckily they arrived at the petit coffee shop when the drizzle had turned into full rain. The place was cozy, with a capacity for only about 5 or 6 tables. The amount of tea and coffee options written on the board behind the counter seemed heavenly to Momo's eyes.

"So Momo," Mr. Aizawa started when they were both staring at the board. "Time to show who you truly are."

Blood rushed down to her feet. What did he mean? Who asks that kind of question out of the blue? What was supposed to be the right answer for that? Was he testing her in some way by catching her unguarded?

"I-well, I guess, I mean…wait, what?" flustered stuttering was all she could offer at the moment. She nervously tried to put her wild chunk of hair out of the way behind her ear, failing completely. She looked at Mr. Aizawa only to find an amused smirk crossing his face without him taking his eyes away from the menu.

"Relax Barbie, I'm just asking if you are a coffee or tea person."

Momo's eyes were now filled with frustration. He had played her good, and even though she didn't use to feel like revenge was ladylike, he shouldn't be able to play her like that without a consequence. But right now it wasn't the time to think about that.

"I've always been instructed that tea is the way to go," was her dry response. "Besides, tea is known to have more benefits than coffee such as antioxidants and-"

"Jeez kid," Mr. Aizawa interrupted her. "I didn't ask for a 100-word essay on the benefits of tea. I asked which one do you like best." His eyes landed on her again, Momo bit her lip as she looked at the board.

"I've only tried coffee once," truth was her parents disapproved coffee since it was a "low cost, vulgar and addictive beverage" for them. She had tried coffee once when she was 13, at a mall, unobserved by her parents of course; the guilt she had felt for drinking something her parents would disapprove didn't let her truly enjoy her experience. Even with Mr. Kuyamasa, they would laugh at her so-called "coffee mug", since she only drank tea. "I don't think I remember if I liked it or not." was all she said after some pensive minutes.

"Welcome to Kondo Café," a flimsy boy with several tentacles instead of arms greeted them. "What will you be having today, sir?"

"A large black coffee." Mr. Aizawa replied.

"Excellent choice! And for the lady?" Momo came back from her thoughts to participate in the situation. She was about to correct the teenager and ask for separate accounts when Mr. Aizawa looked at her, waiting for an answer.

"Well? what will it be? Will you give coffee a second chance?" he raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by her puzzled face. Momo wasn't sure of what to do, this was one of the most bizarre situations she had ever been in, so playing it safe would seem the logical way to go. On the other hand, the daring tone on his voice was not going to let her go for her safe by-the-book choice.

"I'm curious about that cinnamon infused coffee," turquoise tentacles skillfully swirled around as the teenager prepared both coffees. Mr. Aizawa asked her to pick a table.

Momo sat on a table for two beside the window, her mind as fogged as the weather outside. Was this a test? If it was, what was the evaluation method used to grade it? Or was this just a way of Mr. Aizawa to get to know her better, like an interview? Or could this possibly, even in the slightest, be a date? She shook her head, trying to erase that last possibility. Mr. Aizawa came back with both mugs.

"Thank you for the drink," she said as her hands clenched around the cup. He looked at her with expectation. Momo took one sip from her beverage and instantly closed her eyes with pleasure. The sweet aroma of the cinnamon made a delightful contrast with the bitterness of the coffee, which combined with the high temperature of the drink made all of her senses awaken.

"I'm guessing by your face that you liked it," a raised eyebrow and a discreet smile was the combo Mr. Aizawa wore on his face this time.

"It sure isn't your everyday chamomile tea," she answered, hiding her laughter behind the mug. She rested her back on her seat, feeling more in confidence than before.

"So, how is drinking coffee with my professor helping me become a better hero?" her eyebrow sharply raised without taking her eyes from him.

"It's not helping at all," his answer caught her off guard. "But then again, there is not much training that can be done with a wrist in the process of healing." Mr. Aizawa added, leaning forward and resting his crossed arms on the table. "So I decided that the best thing to do was getting to know you better."

An almost invisible twitch on her lips was not hidden soon enough behind her mug. She suddenly became quite tense.

"Mr. Aizawa please," she recovered quickly. "If by now you don't know me well, then you're not as observing as I thought."

"If all I know about you by know is all there is, I'd say you're quite boring then, kid." his response made her clench her cup even harder.

"Very well," Momo shifted in her chair, resigned. "What do you want to know?"

"You can start by explaining what you were doing in my room, drunk in the middle of the night." once again Mr. Aizawa noticed how uncomfortable the lady in front of him felt. "By what I heard, it had something to do with Bakugo and a bet."

Momo never looked away from him, trying to hold on to her dignity for dear life. His father told her once that it was better to see hard conversations as a chess game, and never to answer impulsively.

"You seem to have one or two hypotheses there, Mr. Aizawa," she asked. "Mind if you elaborate on them?"

The look in his eyes turned more mysterious than usual.

"Alright.", the mischievous charcoal gaze came out. "There are different motives you would have accepted that bet. From what I heard it was a standard money-based kind of wagering, and I understand your family is known for having money. So," he was savoring the moment because even if she had a poker face on, he could tell she felt cornered. "Either you are having money problems, or you did it for fun and curiosity, which would imply you have a crush on your professor."

The air felt thick and heavy, just as the rain pouring outside. Was there anyone else listening to these accusations? Was there anyone else ven around them? Momo sat there, arms and legs crossed casually, with the unaffected face her mother had taught her to put when things got iffy in public: serene eyes, gentle and relaxed expression.

"Well?" it seemed expectation and curiosity were getting under Mr. Aizawa's skin.

"Well what Mr. Aizawa?" she replied, polite and classy as ever. He hated that.

"Don't you have a verdict?"

A musical, relaxed laugh was emitted by the red scarfed lady in front of him.

"I never agreed to give one in the first place." she took a sip of coffee. "But I find it cute that you think those are the only two possibilities."

"Clever," he had to give it to her that knowing how to draw information out without getting compromised was a useful hero-trade. "Let's negotiate then." he took out something from his pocket and slid it to the middle of the table."This is a photograph of my room."

Momo was about to grab it, but his long fingers slid the picture back to his side.

"Hold on there, Barbie. This time I'm getting something in return," he informed her. Momo's features didn't seem to display as much confidence as before. "We can forget about my hypotheses for now. I want you to tell me something about you, something authentic, in exchange for this picture."

Momo felt stupid, she had fallen right in her trap. By accepting the negotiation, she made valid either one of his theories. By refusing to negotiate, she would have to deal with the settling of the wager herself. The best move she could do now was not to move at all.

"Why is it so important to get to know me?" the famous insecurity in Momo's eyes that he knew so much broke the previews poker face she had on. He put away the picture and got closer.

"I can't help you improve as a hero if I don't know who you are as a person." the tender tone he used made Momo feel less on the spot. Maybe this wasn't a chess game anymore.

"I can't show you who I am as a person if I only know you as a hero." there he had it, the authentic answer he was requesting. Momo's eyes gleamed with something that made Aizawa understand that she had been hurt enough times to be the way she was.

"Very well, how about we only ask something we are willing to answer as well?" he proposed. Since it made her feel less on the spot than before, Momo agreed. He granted her the first question. Momo bit her lip and looked away as she thought about what to ask.

"Do you like your quirk?" she asked, looking through the window. "Did you ever wished for a better quirk?"

Mr. Aizawa leaned back on his chair and crossed his arms with a reflective look on his face.

"I guess I never wished for another quirk since that is something I can't change." was his answer. "I can only work with what I have."

"I don't know. I guess I-" this was a hard subject for her, he could tell. "I sometimes wish my quirk was more…" she looked up as if she was searching for the right word in the corner of the ceiling. She finally looked back at him. "Just, more."

"Look at that boy behind the counter." Mr. Aizawa pointed with his head. Momo saw the teenager, who was about 17, greeting a customer while one tentacle served coffee and two others swiftly sliced a piece of cake. "His name is Shoku, he was offered a scholarship at U.A. two years ago."

"Sounds reasonable. His quirk is amazing." Momo even felt a little intimidated by the huge potential of a quirk like that. "He could become a remarkable hero."

"Shoku didn't enroll at U.A." They both stopped looking at the teenager to look at each other. "He kindly rejected the offer. Said he wanted a peaceful, happy life were he could do what he loves: cooking."

She glanced back at Shoku, his face gleamed with joy every time he greeted a customer.

"Your quirk will be whatever you make it, Momo." Mr. Aizawa added as he took a sip of his coffee. "Whether it's cooking or being a hero."

She looked at her empty coffee mug pensively.

After some silent minutes of uselessly waiting for the rain to stop, they decided the best thing to do was to leave. They walked together, Mr. Aizawa holding the umbrella close to them.

"So, any fears or phobias?" he looked down to see her. The loose lock of black hair danced with the wind and framed her face. Aizawa remembered the night he had seen her with her hair down and relaxed that made her look more like a woman than a young lady.

Momo looked up to Mr. Aizawa. His nose had a mild pink tone that looked adorable in contrast with his manly aspect.

"I guess I'm always afraid of not being enough," she confessed as she hugged herself in an attempt to ease the cold.

"Enough for who?"

"I'm not sure, for myself, maybe?" a sigh of frustration escaped her lips, making a small misty cloud in front of her face. "It terrifies me not to be at the top of the situation."

She waited for Mr. Aizawa to confess his fear or phobia as they had agreed earlier at the café, but an almost freezing hand violently grabbed her by the neck and pushed her against the wall with a terrifying strength. The rain was still heavily pouring almost to the point of being impossible to see through it. Something immobilized her forearms. The ambusher lifted her by the neck so she couldn't feel the sidewalk. Her throat was almost completely closed and her frantic breathing had made a dense cloud of mist in front of the attacker's face.

What is going on? Who is this? Please...don't tell me he found me…

I can't thank you enough for your patience and time. When most days go wrong, updating a chapter makes me feel like there is something better ahead. Also, if you're having trouble with quarantine like me, don't feel bad for it. We never expected this to happen, but knowing people out there are giving themselves a chance to write, to cook, to read, and to do all these things they didn't have time to makes it a little better. So if you, like me, enjoy doing a hobby but don't think you're great or perfect at it, remember that if it makes you feel happy for even just a few moments, then it's worth doing. Stay safe, take care, and see you in the next chapter!