In the week that followed, the Sports Festival came and went. After it was done came the offers for internships for Momo and the rest of her classmates. She had not been heavily concerned about how she would fare with regard to offers — she had made a strong showing with her ingenuity throughout most of the festival, and she knew that she had demonstrated why she had gotten into UA based on recommendation. Her abilities were "certified" as Present Mic had said, even if she had lost to Tokoyami. She walked away from the Sports Festival with a hundred and eight offers from Pros.
That night she had sat with the list of offers and went over it with her parents. Her mother had been more laid-back, amply pleased that her daughter had gotten into the top Hero school and was being welcomed by agencies with open arms. Her father's involvement had been more robust, his questions more in-depth. He asked what the different agencies specialized in, what kind of things she'd be learning with each, what information she'd have access to, what she thought she'd actually be doing. He, too, had left it to her discretion to choose her agency.
In the end she chose Uwabami, the Snake Hero. Her optimism had been high about what she would learn under the tutelage of such a renown Hero, but as the days of the internship pittered away, Momo had struggled not to lapse into disappointment. Promotional appearances had taken the majority of Uwabami's time — they hadn't done any real Hero work. Instead it was interviews and commercials, meet-and-greets to sign autographs.
She found, bizarrely, that the person she wanted to go to most about the situation was Mr. Aizawa. He was the polar opposite of Uwabami — he did not want notoriety or the spotlight, but he would have insight about it. More than a few times she had taken out her cellphone to call the school and ask for him. In the end she always put it away, but in her head she heard his answer. He would tell her to finish the internship and take what she could from the experience.
"Let's go, girls!" Uwabami called over her shoulder to them now. Itsuka's head fell back in frustration.
"Why are we going in there?" Momo balked, her footsteps stuttering to a halt.
"Another promotion!" Uwabami declared, giving them a smile that lit up the night, but Momo's stomach sank. Itsuka seemed to have reached her limit as well — she stopped, crossing her arms over her chest, and turning her nose up ever so slightly.
"Nuh-uh. I'm not doing that," Itsuka refused.
"Me either."
"Girls, come on."
But it was a bar and if she went in there, even under the pretext of being there for Hero work (and in honestly, this would be a stretch), and it got back to anyone (which it certainly would, considering how high-profile Uwabami was), it would tarnish her reputation and possibly damage her own future as a Hero.
"No, I think we're done for the night," Momo said, and Itsuka was already walking away. Momo gave Uwabami a bow, then left in the opposite direction.
If she'd decided to follow Itsuka then everything that came in the following weeks could have been avoided, but her pride wouldn't let her. Itsuka had been the one whose instincts had been right about this entire internship, but Momo's blind dedication to the idea of working with a Hero had been just that — blinding. She was embarrassed. So instead she had gone in another direction, unsure of where she was going. A train station? A bus stop? It didn't matter, she wouldn't spent another day in this hoax of an internship. Perhaps she would be able to spend the last two days of it with another Hero and another agency, if she was quick about it.
She was so lost in her thoughts that it was amazing she noticed at all. But she did notice. Walking through the crowd on the sidewalk, something drew her attention on the other side of the street, and she tripped in surprise. At first she didn't believe her eyes, but the longer her gaze remained fixated, the clearer the truth became.
She'd never seen him like this before. He walked with his hands in the pockets of his expensive suit, his hair pulled away from his face in a low ponytail. A cigarette was between his lips. Involuntarily, as though she was merely a puppet, she turned around, continuing to watch through the people between them as he carried on in his path, unaware of her presence. It was not Shouta Aizawa she was staring at — she was fully aware of that now.
He was Danchou.