Roseblade22 had started writing her take on Aizawa's POV, but isn't able to finish — real life always comes first ❤️ But so I've decided to take up the mantle on writing his POV. This will be a side project; my main focus will be All Might's story, so expect updates to be less frequent for this.
Aizawa leaned in to stare at the glass pipe in front of him, watching with a keen eye as the crystals melted away into liquid. When it was fluid, he wafted it toward him with one hand. On the other side of his desk was a line of chemical test strips. Product was laid out.
"Are we stepping it?" he asked, to no one in particular.
"Yeah." They named the percent and with what, and Aizawa tilted his head back and forth for a moment, debating, before nodding.
"Alright, but no more than that."
He leaned back in his chair as someone began to clear his desk, packing everything up, and he took a cigarette from the breast pocket of his suit jacket to tuck between his lips. His lighter lived in his right pants pocket; he rolled his thumb over it, then bent his face to catch the cigarette in its flame. He took a drag and felt the smoke fill his lungs as he kicked his heels up on his desk, and let himself sink into the energy of his syndicate. People talking, smoking, using, music playing.
It was another new school year at UA, with another team of new students, and he was already sick of it. Too many kids and their overinflated egos. He also had All Might, the biggest ego of all, to deal with this year, and the prospect of that caused him physical pain. The staff at UA had been briefed on All Might's condition and Aizawa had dared to hope that it might humble his extreme personality. He hadn't been so fortunate.
Not for the first time this month, the thought crossed Aizawa's mind that he could leave — retire from UA. That would put him back in the position, however, of having to be on the streets heroing in proximity of his own kobun — who didn't know about his little UA side gig — and that just sounded like a fucking mess. It was the reason he came to UA to begin with; lower conflict of interest.
Whatever. He didn't expect All Might to stay at UA long term. He could outlast the "Symbol of Peace".
"Where's Danchou?"
Aizawa tucked his head to his chest and closed his eyes, holding onto his lungful of smoke.
"What do you want, Jiro?" he drawled, already put-off, smoke escaping his mouth in wisps.
Jiro wanted to climb. He wanted to move up the ranks, which Aizawa could respect — but he was young and an annoying shit stain, who wasn't good for much beyond running some small game on the street. But one could write with a full crayon. Aizawa just wished he'd stay on the street and stop showing up with new schemes to blister his reputation.
Aizawa blew a smoke ring, waiting. Jiro and his crew took center of the floor, and he had a look on his face like he was particularly pleased with himself. Aizawa stared through the smoke. Blinked. Sat up a little straighter.
They'd only been in his class for a few weeks, but he recognized the girls in front of him. Uraraka, Ashido, Yaoyorozu. They all had the awareness to realize they shouldn't be here, huddling together for safety and staring into the shadows he lounged in. He drew back further into them.
How the fuck had this happened.
"What's the meaning of this?" he demanded.
"We were shaking down that man from Shizuoka Prefecture, and these girls interfered," Jiro answered, still sound too fucking smug and proud.
He blew another smoke ring. Then, "Why are they here?"
It was like a light went off for Jiro. As though it only now occurred to him that this course of action may have been rash and unwise. The room was focused on him and the girls now, and Aizawa wondered if he should tell everyone else to clear out — to handle this in private. But he didn't want his men to think he wanted privacy with the girls, and telling everyone to fuck off would probably draw more attention to the girls than was warranted.
His students. His own fucking students. He wasn't interested in having their faces on missing persons reports, and getting linked to his syndicate.
The girls had to go.
"They saw us, Danchou, and they're Heroes in training. We can't let them just walk around — they've seen us."
A valid point. But, even if they hadn't been his students, he felt sure they were young enough to intimidate into silence.
"What are you wanting done about it?"
"I'm sure we've got a place we can put them," Jiro said.
He laid his hand between Momo's shoulder blades and shoved her forward, and the girl tripped over her own feet. Her dark eyes went wide with fear and surprise as she caught her balance. Aizawa already knew where Jiro was going with it before he said a word.
He knew why he'd picked Momo, why she'd been singled out. The girl looked young, but she didn't look fifteen. More filled out than Ashido and Uraraka, to put it politely. Aizawa's jaw locked.
"Look at this one. She can earn her keep."
He made himself blow another ring, sitting back as he contemplated the best way to handle this bullshit. He bought himself some more time, asking a question he already knew the answer to. "Where?"
"One of the massage parlors would be a good spot. They're all pretty enough. Especially this one."
But now Jiro went too far. He reached up abruptly and pinched Momo's breast in his fingers. Even from here, Aizawa saw how much he'd squeezed, how he'd snuck in copping a feel as he'd reached up to do it. Aizawa sat up straighter in his chair, eyes narrowing, as Momo made a sound of pain and violation. She twisted away from Jiro, shielding her body from him as much as she could.
"And you get the lion's share, of course, Danchou."
Realistically, he knew how much money the girls could bring in in one of the parlors. Unfortunately, especially Momo. He glanced around the room and caught the way his men's eyes were lingering on her lustily. But he didn't like forcing women into the parlors — too hard to control them and keep them in check. Too apt to run. Too much risk of exposure, and it wasn't worth it, especially when there were plenty of women voluntarily interested in sex work.
Momo seemed to know exactly where Jiro's conversation was going. He could see her panic. Saw how quick and shallow her breaths were. The blood had drained from her face. He waved his hand, clearing some of the smoke away.
"I see. I assume you'd want to break them in?" he asked, buying himself more time.
But it came at a price. Momo turned away in terror, and Jiro responded by grabbing her long, dark ponytail and violently yanking her back. Aizawa's eyes narrowed as he saw the pain and panic so plain on her face.
"I wouldn't mind being the first for each of them," Jiro leered.
He didn't care how they'd gotten here, at this point he just wanted the girls out. This had been enough intimidation toward the girls. It was time to turn that onto his own men, so that this didn't happen again.
"Who else wants a turn breaking them in?"
he asked, raising his voice, and Momo and the other girls looked ready to die as hands began to raise around the room. "Come forward."
The men did as they were bid, lining up alongside Momo and the others. Their eyes were hungry on her, evaluating her body with uncurbed lust.
"Girl, how old are you," Aizawa asked, even though he already knew.
"F-Fifteen," Momo stammered.
"And you two?"
"Me too," Ashido answered.
"And me," Uraraka said.
"Jiro, come here."
The man let go of her ponytail and stepped forward into the shadows of his corner. Aizawa took a long drag on his cigarette to ready himself before he rose to his feet, hands curling around a screwdriver at the front of his desk drawer. Mentally, he calculated how much power he'd need against someone as thick-skilled as Jiro — then he moved.
One swift, clean motion. The screwdriver came out, clutched in his fist, and it arced through the air. Resistance, but only for a second, as the tip connected with Jiro's skull. Aizawa didn't let go right away, instead wrenching it around through the meat inside his head, before releasing the handle. Jiro took one step back, then another before his feet went out underneath him.
Jiro toppled backward into Momo, the dead weight of his body taking her down to the ground, and Momo shrieked. Aizawa watched the terror and disgust flit across her face as Jiro began to bleed on her. Her feet flailed in a broken attempt to get out from beneath his body — Uraraka went forward to help pull her out.
"The rest of you come forward and lay your hands on my desk."
The men who'd dared raise their hands now didn't seem so bold. They hesitated, stalling. He didn't have the fucking patience for this.
"Lay your hands or I'll take your heads instead."
The girls made small noises of fright, huddling away into each other for protection as the men finally came forth to receive their lashings. They lined up in front of his desk, and Aizawa surveyed them all with open disgust. He let them see the revulsion on his face as he looked down the line, meeting all their eyes one by one as they put their hands palm-down on his desk. At last Aizawa pulled the knife from his hip and brought it down.
He'd done this before, more than a few times during his reign as Oyabun. He didn't fuck around. Aizawa laid his palm atop the knife as it connected, forcing its blade through the weak part of the joint. Muscle gave. Bone resisted. But not for long. His kobun's scream was an admittance of weakness. Aizawa went down the line, detached and unfeeling, to finish his butcher work. Blood was in pools across his desk. His injured men held their pride and their amputated fingers tight to their chest, panting from the pain.
"This is the only time I will warn you all of this," Aizawa declared, his words raw and unkind. "I want no business with children. Consider yourselves lucky this is all I've taken from you — if I hear this again, I will take more."
He gave himself permission to look at his students, concerned for what he might see but knowing he'd had little other choice. He didn't want to deal with this bullshit again. This would be the nail in the coffin, to ensure they kept their mouths shut. Momo, though traumatized the worst, was back on her feet the fastest and helping the other two girls up. Her eyes searched the shadows of his corner, as though looking for clues. Aizawa would give her none. He took a half step further back into the darkness.
He watched her intently. Eagle-eyed. He recognized it in her now, though it was often less obvious in class — the seeds of a great Hero. She was scared, but she wasn't letting it rule her thoughts. She didn't like what she saw, but she looked anyway…and it was the looking that so often ate Heroes alive. But she could look.
He had men who couldn't look.
"Goro, get them the fuck out of here. Take them back where you found them. And you girls—"
He took a lung of smoke and blew it out in three executed puffs. Circles drifted into the air and away. Aizawa stared at them…and only Momo stared back, though her eyes found nothing but shadows. She looked.
"This is your only warning, too. Stay out of my business. Now get out of my sight."