The man in the seat behind he leaned forward over her and slid a knife through the zip tie that bound her to the grab handle. She exhaled a sigh of relief to lower her arms — her fingers were mostly numb, but tingled vaguely from being suspended for so long. She had totally lost track of where they were in the city — she was almost certain that the driver, the one named Goro, had doubled back more than a few times to confuse them. Unfortunately it had worked. She didn't recognize any of the streets or buildings around her, and there had been no vantage point that she could use to tell by the skyline.

The situation had quickly spiraled out of control and dissolved into Worst Case Scenario territory. They had confiscated their phones, they had no means to call for help, and the further away they drove the more likely it became that there would be no ride back. For the first — although, perhaps fortunately or unfortunately, not the last — time in her young life, Momo felt the weight of impending death. Its breath was cold on the nape of her neck, and she shivered as she climbed out of the SUV. Mina and Ochaco followed behind her, and their leader climbed out close on their heels. The muzzle of the gun didn't lower for a moment, and his eyes stayed locked on her. Perhaps he hadn't seen what her quirk had been, but he knew she'd utilized it and he didn't trust her for it. If Mina felt more competent with her acid, it would've been a powerful weapon against them. Without that necessary extra training, however, it would've been as dangerous to Momo and Ochaco as Momo's attempt at pepper spray had been to herself.

That had been an entirely foolish endeavor. Now, in hindsight, she could think of a dozen other things that would've served her better. In the heat of the moment, however, it was the first thing that came to mind and she hadn't thought past it to the possible repercussions. It had been fatally short-sighted of her and she felt already that she would regret it until her dying day...which might be this same night, she reflected sullenly.

The building they had stopped outside seemed to be some type of abandoned office. It was dark inside, and some of the windows were covered with curtains on the inside. Goro unlocked the door with a key, and led the way through the dark to a flight of stairs. Momo kept a shoulder against the wall as she descended. A light glowed dimly from around the corner at the bottom of the stairs, and she could hear soft voices, and small tapping noises. Rap music played.

"Danchou!" the man behind her called out as they neared the bottom, and it was only then that she realized Danchou was not a place, but a person. No one answered, but he didn't seem put off as he nudged her shoulder with the muzzle of the gun, urging her to move faster.

She rounded the corner, and her footsteps stammered to a halt. The downstairs room was wide and open, and hazy with smoke. Men lingered around a pool table, smoking hand rolled cigarettes. They wore t-shirts and undershirts, and Momo could see the tattoos that covered their arms and chests — her heart sank as she understood, truly understood, what she was seeing. This was a Yakuza hideout. The men turned and lowered their pool sticks as Momo and the other girls entered the room. Her skin crawled under their silent observation — she spotted the ones among their ranks who looked at them with their lecherous thoughts.

"Where's Danchou?" the man behind her asked.

"What do you want, Jiro?"

Momo turned in the direction of the voice, and she sucked in a breath.

He sat in the shadows with his feet kicked up on the desk. She couldn't see his face through the darkness and the cloud of smoke floating around his head. The lit end of his cigarette glowed in the silver smoke, and it brightened as he took a long, slow drag from it. A pair of smoke rings blossomed in the air in front of him and the rings on his fingers glittered in the dark. Even in the dark, Momo recognized the fine texture of his designer suit and shoes. His body was long and broad, she could see the build of his legs through the material of his slacks. The cigarette glowed again, followed by another smoke ring.

"What's the meaning of this?" Danchou's voice growled.

"We were shaking down that man from Shizuoka Prefecture, and these girls interfered."

Another smoke ring. Then, "Why are they here?"

There was a moment of hesitation from Jiro, as though he only suddenly doubted his decision. Around the room, everyone stilled in what they were doing. The balls on the billiard table sat untouched. His bravado rebounded quick enough. "They saw us, Danchou, and they're heroes in training. We can't let them just walk around — they've seen us."

"What are you wanting done about it?"

Momo dared a glance back over her shoulder. Jiro was smiling now. Ochaco had all but shrank into herself. Mina was looking far more subdued than she had an hour earlier when she had charged headlong into these men. Momo wasn't angry about what had happened — it was simply in Mina's nature. But she wished desperately that she had taken those few seconds to call the police before following Mina.

"I'm sure we've got a place we can put them," Jiro said confidently. He shoved Momo forward, and her feet tangled underneath her before she caught her balance. Her heart rate skyrocketed and her mouth went dry as she stared into the smoke and shadows. She couldn't see Danchou's eyes, but she could feel him evaluating her. "Look at this one. She can earn her keep."

Momo choked on her next breath, taking a step backward as what he meant sank in. Another smoke ring bloomed.

"Where?"

"One of the massage parlors would be a good spot. They're all pretty enough. Especially this one." Momo yelped despite herself as he pinched her breast, and she turned away, slouching to keep her body away from him. "And you get the lion's share, of course, Danchou."

The glowing butt of the cigarette waved in the air, and the smoke dispersed, though not enough for Momo to see his face. It was as though he were only clearing the air so he could see them better. Her breaths dissolved into something sporadic and panicked. She struggled to keep calm. She would rather die. She would rather that they kill her here and now, and, if they didn't then she would rather kill herself before they had the chance to touch her.

"I see. I assume you'd want to break them in?"

She was losing it. Momo turned away, choking down a sob. Jiro grabbed her ponytail and yanked her head back violently. She wheezed as she watched his eyes probe her. Just his gaze felt like a violation.

"I wouldn't mind being the first," he said. "For each of them."

"Who else wants a turn breaking them in?" Danchou asked, raising his voice. There was a brief pause, and Momo's eyes traveled around the room, widening with horror as a few hands went up. "Come forward."

The men did as they were bid, lining up alongside her. She could feel all their eyes on her, evaluating her, taking in the curves of her body. Momo felt too aware of her figure now — she knew she was young, but with a woman's figure already. Hyperventilation was on the horizon.

"Girl, how old are you," Danchou demanded.

"F-Fifteen," Momo stammered.

"And you two?"

"Me too," Mina answered.

"And me," Ochaco said.

"Jiro, come here." The man let go of her ponytail and stepped forward into the shadows of Danchou's corner. Momo tracked the Oyabun's movements by following the brilliant orange end of his cigarette — he stood, towering over them all. He bent slightly, and from there it happened too quick to track. The cigarette flashed through the dark and there was a wet, hollow thud. Jiro took one step back, then another. His feet started to go underneath him and he tumbled backward into Momo, knocking her off her feet entirely. He fell on top of her, and she let out a shriek as the weight of his body pinned her down. Blood was trickling across her. Momo kicked her feet, scrambling to get out from under him, and Ochaco was at her side, hands under her arms as she pulled her backward to freedom. The handle of a screwdriver protruded from between Jiro's eyes, the wound was weeping streams of blood.

"The rest of you come forward and lay your hands on my desk," Danchou commanded. The men who had raised their hands hesitated. Danchou spoke again, his voice growing louder. "Lay your hands or I'll take your heads instead."

Momo turned away, wrapping an arm around Ochaco's shoulders to turn her away, too, as the men obediently did as they were told. She closed her eyes, but could hear their footsteps as they lined up at Danchou's desk. The sound of a blade falling whistled through the air, followed by an agonized scream. Mina joined her and Ochaco, huddling away from the massacre behind them. Her breaths were rapid and shallow. Momo squeezed each of their hands tight, flinching as another scream rang out behind them, then another after it. She let out a sob as the sounds of torment filled the air.

"This is the only time I will warn you all of this," Danchou snarled, and the gravel in his words made her skin crawl. "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."

Momo wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands and rose to her feet, drawing Mina and Ochaco up with her. She saw a line of pinkie fingers and a pool of blood on the desk. She covered her mouth with a hand and turned away.

"Goro, get them the fuck out of here. Take them back where you found them. And you girls—" His voice deepened, and there was a pause as he took a long drag on his cigarette. Three smoke rings emerged from the darkness surrounding him. "This is your only warning, too. Stay out of my business. Now get out of my sight."