What should she do? What should she do?
She had only a split second to make the decision, and she let her gut make the choice to follow him.
She'd sworn she was done trailing him after the encounter at the gym. It had been too close of a call — she had gotten in too risky of a situation because of it, and come damn near to exposing herself. If she hadn't anyway — Mr. Aizawa was anything but stupid. But she had caught him now when his mask had slipped, and all she could do was follow him as though he were a phantom spectre leading her to the truth.
Doubts had still been needling at the back of her mind, even as she watched him approach the doorway of a nightclub. She was making excuses for him. Maybe he was on a secret undercover mission. Or, maybe, he was just intending to enjoy a night out with friends. She wanted to believe in either possibility, but as Momo watched him bypass the line and head to the the front where a security guard let him in ahead of dozens of others, she felt a sinking feeling in her stomach.
Momo didn't know what had possessed her as she ducked into the closest alleyway and focused on creating a different outfit. She couldn't go in wearing her hero costume, that much was for certain. A pair of black skinny jeans and a simple olive cami would do; she cuffed the bottoms of her jeans to dress them up a notch. Nude heels finished her makeshift outfit off. She created a purse that matched her shoes then stuffed her hero costume into it after she finished changing in the shadow of a dumpster. She took her hair down from its ponytail, shaking it out, and decided this would need to be good enough. She didn't want to draw attention — the less remarkable she looked, the better.
In the time it had taken her to change, the line had gotten even longer and Momo stared at it with dismay. She bit her lip, silently counting how many people were between her and the door, before she decided to make a calculated risk. The price of failure wouldn't be too high, she hoped — only a matter of being sent back to the end of the line, and she'd be no worse off then than she was now. Momo raised her chin and squared her shoulders, and walked past the line the same way Aizawa had.
The security guard eyed her, unimpressed, as she approached him.
"How can I help you?" he asked. His unamused tone convey that he had no interest in being of any actual help.
"I'm here with Danchou," Momo breathed as she forced herself to meet his gaze and not back down.
His reaction made her heart sink. The security guard looked her up and down twice more in surprise, then glanced at the door behind him.
"Go ahead," he acquiesced at last, standing aside.
Momo forced herself to give him a smile as she walked past him, willing her legs not to shake under her as she headed inside. The music vibrated through the air, humming and buzzing across her skin. The fine hairs on the nape of her neck prickled. People crowded around her, drinks in hand, chatting and swaying to the music as she wove through them, delving deeper into the club. She began to head upstairs to the upper level. Part of her hadn't expected to actually get inside, and her success caught her off-guard. She didn't know what needed to happen next.
She didn't need to worry about that, though.
It happened all at once. She stepped onto the landing and saw everything all at once. Sitting in the semi-circle was one of the men who'd taken them captive that first night — Goro. He was smoking a cigarette, too, and she could see he was short a pinky as he raised the cigarette to his mouth. Mr. Aizawa was sitting back in a chair, a pretty woman perched on his lap. He had his cigarette held out between his fingers and she had bent forward to wrap her lips around the end to take a drag. His tie and the top buttons of his shirt were undone, exposing the design of a tattoo on his chest. His hair was pulled back, accenting the hard line of his jaw and displaying the scar under his eye — and he was staring right at her.
The music hit its crescendo and she watched, too stunned to even think, as he patted the woman's thigh twice so she moved off his lap and he rose to his feet, gaze still locked with hers. Then panic intervened. Move. I have to move! Momo turned her back, all but launching herself down the stairs, shoving her way through the crowd. Angry voices followed her as she pushed through them, eyes locked on the doors before retreating up against the wall. Where should she go? If she went into the street she would be out in the open. Could she lose him in the club? Could she find a place to hide? Who could she call? She could call one of the local agencies directly, that would be the fastest. A palm slammed into the wall in front of her face, cutting off her path, and Momo gave a small cry of surprise and fright that drowned in the din surrounding her. She moved to take a step back, only to find he had her pinned, arms outstretched on either side of her shoulders, Before she could duck under them, Aizawa — Danchou — wedged his knee between her legs, cutting off her last route to escape.
Momo met his gaze, her lower lip trembling as she looked up at him. He was looking down at her, a lock of hair fallen loose from its ponytail to frame his face. This close, she could see the colors of the tattoos on his chest — blacks and reds. His dark eyes seemed to dance with great amusement as he surveyed her. The weight of his gaze made her feel like prey, and he the indomitable predator. She felt exposed and vulnerable.
"Miss Yaoyorozu," he mused. "I have a feeling this isn't coincidence."
Her tongue felt thick in her mouth as she tried to think of what she could possibly say to minimize the damage of the situation she was in, wrestling with a list of lies, each feeling even less believable than the last and none of them good enough to voice.
"I don't know what tipped you off," Aizawa continued, leaning in closer, the volume of his voice just loud enough to carry over the music, "but I knew if one of the three of you was going to figure it out, it would be you."
"It was at U.S.J.," she admitted as she found her voice. "You said they had no business with children."
He bowed his head. "So I did. I had started to get the feeling you were putting it together, though, and it has been quite the experience to watch you wrestle with your suspicions, Momo. I've enjoyed it greatly. More than I thought I would have."
Her heart was in her throat and her mouth was impossibly dry as she said, foolishly, "I have to turn you in. You know I have to."
Aizawa didn't seem surprised. Nothing on his face gave away that the idea of her going to the authorities caught him off-guard, or even worried him.
"That would be any good hero's first response," he agreed. "But I think this has proven you aren't rash — so don't do anything thoughtless."
"Thoughtless?" she balked.
He nodded, leaning in closer. The scent of cigarettes lingered on him. He was interloping on her space, claiming it for himself and leaving her with less and less. She had nowhere to run and nothing to hide behind as he smiled at her broadly.
"A good hero thinks of their duty to society — the obligation they've taken on to uphold the values of right. But a great hero knows where the line between right and wrong lives, and wouldn't cause unnecessary collateral damage if it could be helped." Momo was already tracking what he meant before he touched her forehead with his pointer finger. "Heroes have more than just themselves to worry about, you know."
"You wouldn't dare," she hissed, but he'd struck a chord and he must have known his. His lips curved up with a smug, self-assured smile. A smile she'd never seen him wear in the classroom. She knew he was Danchou, she was living that he was Danchou, but at the same time it was as though they were completely separate people. As Danchou he had completely unique mannerisms and tone. The similarities were merely superficial.
Mr. Aizawa would never threaten her family. Danchou, however, had no such reservations.
"The police would never believe you anyway," Aizawa scoffed. He reached out, brushing a lock of hair away from her face, and she flinched back. His smile seemed to soften. "You know how absurd it is that the Pro Hero Eraser Head might be the leader of a Yakuza clan. That's why you're here, after all — because you didn't even really believe it yourself."
The music seemed to grow louder again as he pushed himself away from her. She sucked in a deep breath, the tightness in her chest not loosening even a notch as he began to turn away. Momo bit down on the inside of her cheek, hard enough to draw blood.
"Go home, Miss Yaoyorozu. You're a smart girl. I know you'll make the right decision."