Man, Aizawa believed, had their lots in life — their weight to carry. Their struggles that they were meant to endure in silence, and most often God enjoyed burdening them like ants. Pressing them into soft earth with loads they were too weak to shoulder, until the yoke broke.

Aizawa's burden was Yaoyorozu Momo.

There had been no traction in finding Goro. Wherever the bastard had gone, he'd dug in his heels and made himself comfortable. Laying low. Nobody knew a fucking thing. Aizawa knew there were only two directions this could go — Goro would take himself out of the equation, content with the money he'd escapes with, and stay out of the way until his dying breath. Or, he'd be back.

Secretly, Aizawa hoped he'd be back. It would be satisfying to scoop the man's eyes out with a hot, dull spoon.

And he wanted his fucking money reimbursed. He had fronted the money to be returned to Yaoyorozu Asao, with the optimistic hope of recovering the funds from Goro over the following hours. He was not accustomed to this ratio of failure. Couple with it his new suspicions regarding Momo's interest in him, and it was totaling up to be a shitty fucking week.

Logic told him not to be surprised. They had been in close proximity over the last few months — much closer than was normal for a student and teacher. He had, in no uncertain terms, taken on a protective role defending her. She was a young, naive, vulnerable girl, and he had become a bulkhead between her and the world that would savor in her screams. A world that wanted to see her violated and broken. He didn't remember now, his own considerations of killing her not so long ago, and he would have justified it anyway — he could stomach to kill her. He would not tolerate the rape of her innocence.

It left him uneasy, though, to think that while he'd placed himself between her and those who would hurt her, she might have fallen into a girlhood trap of becoming enamored by him. With the blackmail business resolved, he hoped that he could maintain his distance until it just…went away.

Aizawa was spent from his workout. It'd been good to return to his old routines, knowing Momo wasn't stalking him anymore. He was uncomfortable and sticky with sweat, but the exhaustion felt damn good after being pent up mitigating her curiosity. As he left the gym, bag hanging from one hand, he gave a double take at the woman sitting on the bench outside the gym door.

Someone's girlfriend, waiting for them to finish inside, was his first assumption. Svelte and fashionable; edgy and beautiful. Leggings and a baggy button down that had a suggestive Ahegao style t-shirt over it. Heeled boots, long legs. Sharp jaw as she looked to him. The woman's eyes glanced up and met his as he passed, and despite his double take, he kept going.

Then his steps slowed.

Aizawa put his hands on his hips, head hinging at his neck to hang loose. He was grinning, ear to ear, his disbelief incapable of manifesting any other way. He stepped backward until he stood in front of the woman, with her cute light brown hair and bangs. She looked back up at him demurely.

He laid his hand on top of her head, and felt the thick, synthetic fibers of the wig between his fingertips. It was the touch, the tactile, that sank it home that it was her. Yaoyorozu fucking Momo.

"You're getting good at that," he acknowledged, disappointed especially with himself for not seeing through her guise faster. Dreading why she was here. Wanting to chide her and tell her it still wasn't safe for her to be outside her house alone this late at night, that Goro was still at large—

"Stand up."

She got to her feet, steady and self-assured in her high heel boots, and Aizawa closed his eyes to shutter away the thought of Goro having found her on this bench instead of him. The idea of what he would've done to her, what would have happened to her once Goro had dragged her away from the safety of the streetlight…It twisted Aizawa's insides.

She took a moment to check her wig, and Aizawa reluctantly allowed that if she'd had to come see him at all, at least she had come disguised. He began walking, and she fell into step. Aizawa realized, absurdly, that she was the same height as him now in those shoes as they walked side by side.

"I thought you'd given up stalking me," he said once they were out of earshot of the building. His tone went cold, a warning, as he added, "You almost got into trouble the last time you tried to follow me here."

"Maybe I did, maybe I didn't," she cheeked at him. "This is just the only time I waited for you at the door, but at least I came in disguise."

"Yes, I almost didn't recognize you at all. So what's this about?"

Her face went blank. Shit.

"I thought your confidence would have improved," he prompted. A car rolled by them, then turned right at the light. He watched as it pulled over to park on the side of the road. "What's wrong?"

"Did you let me capture you? Or did I really earn that victory?"

Aizawa had a moment to himself as she kept her eyes down, and it gave him a moment to blink — almost endeared. She, of all his students, would want to know if her victory had truly been earned. And he remembered what had been at stake, the empty promise he'd made to push her through. It meant something to her, he realized, to know the truth.

"Why would I have let you capture me?" he said instead, and he regretted the way it came out as a challenge. Another car came from the other direction, and only as it passes the intersection did the first car pull back onto the road and begin to drive again.

His curiosity was piqued.

Her feet came to an abrupt stop though, oblivious, the sound of her boots scuffing the sidewalk gone from the air. And Aizawa looked back at her, confused. Her small frame was tense and trembling. She didn't attempt to meet his eyes.

"Because you want my help."

Ah, fuck.

There was the sound of traction on gravel, and Aizawa glanced behind them — to see the second car had done a three point turn on the entryway of a parking lot, and was slowly driving back up behind them.

Aizawa didn't want to have this conversation at all, but his cautious side answered for him, leaning down to whisper in Momo's ear, "We can't have this conversation out here."

What came next, he wouldn't forgive himself for. Not for many…many years. But, in the moment, he saw no other path. He put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her petite frame into his side. He laughed, shifting his bag in his other hand, as he subtly pushed her forward and made her walk. He watched from the corner of his eyes as the second car passed them and continued on…as the first car came up from behind them again.

He wondered if he was being paranoid, or imagining it. But no, it was the same make. Same model. Same color. No stickers or decals and plain plates. The tint on the windows was too dark. Government car.

Goro might have found another way out: ratting out everything he knew to the police.

And Yaoyorozu, she was a smart fucking girl. She could smell blood in the water. She tuned like a fork to his anxiety, and she saw the charade instantly. She let him tuck her into his side, hiding the view of her from the street as best he could, and she laughed when he laughed.

She touched his chest.

Alarms went off in Aizawa's head, and he found himself between a rock and a hard place — push her away for his comfort, or suck it up for her safety. Fucking A. He decided to ignore the contact, even as her hip bumped into him as they walked in such proximity.

Momo's fingertips slid down.

His spine went ramrod straight, and he hoped like hell that she could read the warning in his eyes as she glanced up. He had held onto a lingering hope that he had misinterpreted her during the exam; she killed that now, and he knew he was right. She felt for him.

If he was a monster, a predator, he would've taken advantage. She was easy on the eyes, and it would keep her under his thumb. Keep her compliant and obedient, and enamored with him.

If he was half that monstrous, he could have still used it for his benefit, even if he didn't lay a hand on her. He could have found ways to keep her on the line while he took and took and took like a parasite.

But Aizawa Shouta could be neither of those things. He couldn't weaponize her fascination. She…trusted him. And, for all the black sins he'd committed, her trust was something he did not wish to break. Especially not when she'd done so much to earn it in return.

They reached his apartment together, and he kept his eyes sharp along the way for more red flags — like the second vehicle, parked in the lot, facing his unit. Aizawa ushered her inside, then locked the door behind them.

This was a shitty situation. If, for some reason, the police came for him while she was here — fuck. The whole house of cards would come down and it'd all be out. Those claims, which he'd only just buried, of him and Momo have an inappropriate sexual relationship would be solidified into truth no matter what either of them said. He had her in his apartment now…Knew that she was sweet for him…He needed to keep his distance.

He dropped him gym bag down then sat on a chair, pointing for her to take a seat on the couch.

"I can wait while you shower," she offered, and he shook his head.

He moved to retie his hair; "I'm not leaving you unsupervised in my apartment." And he was not going to be in any state of undress while she was in it either. "Take off your shoes. You'll probably be here for a bit — there was someone sitting in a car diagonal from my apartment."

"Are the police monitoring you?"

She sounded genuinely alarmed, and he hoped the knowledge curbed any thoughts she might have had as she obediently removed her shoes.

He owed her some honesty, and a pinch of paranoia might do her some good as long as Goro was at large.

"Not unless you've decided to rat me out at last. No, but dealing with the mess you girls left behind has been making my life more difficult. I left men a pinky short for the sake of getting you out of there, and none of them are happy."

She seemed surprised by that revelation, too. But, while he had her attention, he knew he needed to nip her suspicions — her optimism — in the bud. When he spoke, his tone was level and even. He left no room for uncertainty: "I didn't just let you capture me at the exam."

"I just…I made a mistake launching the capture tape at you, and I thought for sure you could've evaded it if you'd wanted to—"

"I saw your mistake, but I didn't have time to correct my course. Your win was all your own doing. You thought I let you win because I actually wanted your help?"

"You said—"

"You needed an incentive for the exam." He began to recline back into his chair. Sore from the gym, it felt good to let himself sink — but then he caught Momo watching him. He crossed his arms over his chest, frowning.

"You lied to me?"

"I had zero intention of ever following through on giving you a reason good enough for me to leave my life behind."

He supposed he could've just said yes, but it would've been too few words. She heard the yes anyway though, and Aizawa watched, genuinely surprised, as the girl shoved herself off the couch and slid her feet back into her boots.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"You can't leave," he objected, moving to sit at the edge of his seat, his conscience suddenly at war.

"Why not?"

"I just told you, there was someone in a vehicle outside. It may not be safe for you to leave."

He could stop her. He could force her to stay. Aizawa knew he could overpower her and keep her here…But he didn't want to break her trust like that. Whoever was outside in the car was his problem in the end, not hers, and he didn't need to twist her into collateral damage more than she already was.

Her eyes were going between him and the door, and again came the impulse to stop her. But he resisted. He'd let her go, if that's what she wanted to do. The debate in her eyes slowed until he saw she would stay, of her own accord.

"I believed you…"

"I'm sorry," he whispered back. His gaze lowered to stare at his hands. His scarred knuckles, that he'd split open and washed the blood from more times than he could remember. Hands that had seen hard times, and were ready for more. "But this is a life I cannot just leave, even if I wanted to. If there ever came a day where I had to choose, I would have to follow the darker path."

The truth, it felt raw to say aloud to her. She was still his student, still a child, still a threat if she so chose to be. But…he trusted her. She — a student, a child, a threat — had earned his trust and confidence. He'd damaged hers with the untruth he'd told her, and he owed honesty to her now.

"But why? Yakuza isn't a life sentence, you can leave," Momo pleaded, her dark eyes wide and pleading. He didn't have the fibre to hold her gaze, instead taking out a cigarette and lighter. "You are a Hero! You have an entire other life to fall back on if you walk away. A good life."

"Choosing to leave this behind to be a Hero would cause more conflict than walking the line. If I decided to be fully committed to being a Hero then any Yakuza who knows would consider me persona non grata. I would have become their enemy in truth."

"How many people realize you are also a Hero?" she asked.

"Not many that I'm aware of." Goro, that was for certain, and it was a threat he still had to face. "I'm not a Hero who's interested in the limelight, I don't like eyes on me. I'm not All Might — a popular Hero everyone recognizes. Only the serious Hero fanatics like Deku really can put a face to the name Eraser Head."

"If it's so few people, why would it matter?"

He sighed then took another pull from his cigarette. Smoke drifted around him to hide his remorse and guilt.

"I shouldn't even need to give you a reason. It's not what I want."

"I can't do this much longer," Momo said, lacing her fingers together in her lap and lowering her eyes.

"You can."

"What if I don't want to?"

"You already do. You have for a long time now, and you'll continue to regardless of what you do next about me. I told you already, you're capable of living with the guilt of duplicity. Accept that. It'll make you strong once you do."

Momo lapsed into silence and Aizawa turned on the TV. He said nothing more to her, but watched in his peripheral as she drew her feet up and made herself comfortable on his couch until he caught her looking in his direction. Unease followed as he made himself acknowledge his deduction. That she…felt…something for him. Even as he rationalized it, again, the unease stayed.

"Where do your parents think you are?" he asked.

"Ashido's house."

"They afford you too much freedom."

"What happened to the person responsible for blackmailing my family?" Momo asked.

He didn't mean to laugh, he really didn't mean to fucking laugh, but it happened anyway. She didn't look offended by the sound though, and Aizawa wished he could share with her the truth of it — that he'd fucked up big time. That her blackmailer was still at large and he didn't know whether they'd be back to try again. That he hadn't recovered any of the money, and instead had fulfilled his promise to her father out of his own wallet. That he'd killed the wrong damn person, and hadn't even kept them alive long enough to interrogate them. Maybe, one day, he could tell her, but not tonight. Aizawa bent to ash his cigarette in the glass dish on his end table.

"What?" she asked.

"Five minutes ago you told me you couldn't do this, and now you want me to tell you what I did to them. You can't have it both ways." He tilted his head as he looked at her. "What did you really come out for tonight?

"To bribe me into leaving the Yakuza, or to find out what other bad things I've done?" he asked, leaning in. "Is knowing I killed one man for you already suddenly not enough?"

"Mr. Aizawa!"

She didn't sound scared, though. Shocked that he'd said it aloud, that he'd manifested it into the universe, but not scared. He admired that.

Aizawa left his chair to kneel in front of Momo. She didn't pull back or show fear — no, she wasn't afraid of him, because she trusted him the way he was learning to trust her. He spoke to her, kind but firm.

"You can't have both ways. You cannot excuse the acts that protect you and lecture me about the ones that don't. You must accept it all, even the truths that are inconvenient, internalize it, and move the fuck on."

"I—"

"If you want to know then I don't ever want to hear you say you can't do this. You decide right now whether you can live duplicitously. What's your answer?"

He admired her in that moment. She didn't give a half-chewed, partially digested answer. Instead, Momo closed her eyes and breathed in. He could see the soul searching. Whatever she said next, she would mean it. Aizawa touched her shoulder.

"Momo."

"Yes?"

"Can you do it?"

"Yes."

His hand on her shoulder gave a squeeze, hoping she would read his approval. As he began to rise though, Momo's hand snatched out and she grabbed him by the front of his shirt. His knee went underneath him, keeping him down, and he blinked in surprise.

"Tell me what you did," she breathed.

He didn't want to lie to her again. Aizawa closed his hand over hers and he began to remove her fingers from his damp gym shirt, but she held on through persistent defiance. He didn't want to lie…but he felt that stippling of shame that he had failed, and he could not bear for her to know that. Not while he still tried to fix it.

One last lie.

"I ripped out his fingernails and toenails one by one," he said, their eyes locked. "Then I cut them all off. I tortured him for hours, cutting him. I smoked like a train through it, and I put out my cigarette butts on him. I gouged out one of his eyes. When I was done, I hanged him — but I tied the rope so it wouldn't break his neck. I watched him strangle. I looked him in his one eye while his feet began to twitch." It felt dirty to lie. To lie to her. He pushed Momo's hand off him. "Now let me watch my movie."