Momo didn't sleep well that night.

She returned home successfully, and the guard at the gate let her through with only a mildly questioning glance. Momo knew the resemblance to her mother was strong enough that, with her glasses and accessories in the dark, she could pass as her — and the evening guard wasn't wont to debate whether it was the lady of the house or her daughter coming home at that late hour of night. She wondered whether her return would be logged, and she waited through the morning and afternoon with a tightness in her chest, waiting for her parents to confront her about it.

If they did, she would have to lie. She wasn't certain, however, how fruitful of a venture lying would be. Her father could easily use his hero connections to check street cameras or, possibly worse, there was a high chance of there being a tracker on the car. Her entire route would have been logged and it would ping back to Mr. Aizawa's apartment, and she couldn't imagine the eruption that would occur. When her parents finally came to her, it was her mother, and it was to ask on the status of her application to Shiketsu.

Momo's answer was honest; she had begun it, but it had multiple essays that needed to be researched and written. As a transfer student, the bar was even higher for her than it would have been if she had gone in fresh. She was expected to have a certain level of knowledge and experience now. It would take her more time to do the essays. She did not add that she was in no hurry to do them. She trusted that Aizawa — Danchou — would be good to his word.

What that entailed, however, lended itself to her sleep the next night. She laid awake for long hours, wondering what he would do to fix this. The first thought that came to her head was the obvious: Aizawa would find the rat, and kill them. That, however, struck her as brash and risky, and she reassured herself that her teacher was neither of those. Whoever had done this to her — to them — would pay, but not with their life.

With that matter settled in her head, her mind began to wander to the next obvious issue: who had done this. The easy answer was that it was someone who was Yakuza themselves, someone who knew about Mr. Aizawa's duplicitous lifestyle and saw the opportunity to make some money. The more she dwelled on it, however, the more Momo realized that was not necessarily the case. It could be anyone who knew that he was a teacher and she was his student. While he was not as "marketable" as heroes like All Might and Hawks, he was not completely unknown, and she had been in the news lately following the attack at USJ and the Sports Festival. It only took someone, anyone, putting together that they should not be together in the context they had been.

And whoever did this had also looked into her background. Her name was readily available, and it would bring up her hero connections — along with her family's wealth. In this instance, it made her an easy target. The person responsible for this extortion attempt had seen the choice that needed to be made: go to the authorities, or profit, and they had chosen the latter.

That brought her back to suspecting someone Yakuza — someone who wouldn't split hairs over a little thing like extorting a hero family for money. Then she circled herself away from that idea again; even the average person might have seen the opportunity for leverage and taken it. A person didn't have to be a professional villain to deliberately make the wrong decision. Besides, she'd seen firsthand what Aizawa — Danchou — did to those who crossed him. She shuddered, remembering how he'd taken the small finger off each of their hands, then killed the other with a screwdriver. It was that memory that she finally fell asleep with, and it awoke her from her panicked and chilled nightmare a few hours later.

She didn't think of that first night much anymore; so much else had transpired since then, it had settled itself in the back of her memory where it didn't disturb her the way it had before. The sharpness of meeting Danchou had been dulled by the events that followed. Her hunt for the truth, and her discovery of exactly that. Now it held its edge once more, and with it came back her initial suspicions of how he would resolve this:

Murder.

Her room felt hot and stuffy, and it was hard to breathe. Momo slid out of bed, wrapping herself in a robe, and opened the doors to the balcony. The curtains swept inward with the burst of air that came with the motion, and the coolness of the night came with it. Light gooseflesh scattered up her arms and she sucked in a lungful of fresh air.

Then she saw the person perched on the rail of her balcony.

It was Midnight, sitting with her legs crossed and flogger in hand, waving it from side to side casually as she watched Momo step out. The Hero didn't smile at her, instead giving the slightest inclination of her head.

"What are you doing here?"

"I'm watching your house," Midnight answered, as if that should've been obvious. Confusion blanketed Momo's rational thoughts — why was Midnight here? Had Aizawa had the gall to tell someone else about what was going on and recruited someone to babysit her? And, was Midnight here to protect the house or to make sure that Momo didn't sneak out again?

"But why?" Momo decided she needed to ask.

"I know the reason you haven't been in school. I know all about the malicious threats against your family," Midnight was saying, and Momo nearly kept her poker face on until the Pro Hero continued with, "All Might told me everything."

All Might?

Momo's expression slipped and she felt herself openly gape a Midnight for a prolonged moment. The change wasn't unnoticed, and the swaying of Midnight's flogger stilled. "What's wrong?"

Momo was already piecing together what she could, though. Aizawa couldn't have told them the truth — that this was about a situation where it was suspecting that she was fornicating with her teacher. That would've never stood. He'd lied about the context of the threats, but she had no way to know exactly what they'd been told. Had he learned something that cued her and her family to be in real danger? She had to tread with care.

"I just hadn't realized the staff at UA knew," she said, toeing as close to the truth as she dared. "Or that they'd have someone watching the house."

"You don't need to worry," Midnight told her. "Go back inside. I'll be here the entire night."

That was not the reassurance Midnight had likely intended it to be.

Momo did as she was bid, shutting and locking the balcony door behind her, and making sure the curtains blocked out the Hero's view of her room. Then she fetched the burner phone from where she'd hidden it, and retreated to her closet. It was a walk-in, and Momo shut the door behind her but left the light off as a precaution. She felt her way to the ottoman at the center of the dressing room and sat on it seiza-style. Then she called Aizawa.

"Hello?" he answered after it rang twice. It didn't sound like she had woken him.

"I have a Hero guarding my house," Momo hissed. "Why didn't you tell me they'd be here?"

"Which one? It's not Present Mic, is it?"

"It's Midnight. Why are they here? Am I in danger?"

She heard Aizawa laugh, and it threw her off. She'd never heard him laugh before. It was a low, gravely sound.

"You're not in danger. It's to make sure you don't come back to my home, Ms. Yaoyorozu. I don't want you here."

Fire crept up her neck and cheeks as she flushed. But of course the reason was for his own benefit, not out of concern. She should've been relieved that there was no immediate threat to her and her family's safety, but instead she felt humiliated and angry.

"She said All Might sent her."

"Good."

"How does All Might know? And how much?"

Now he sighed, and the sound incensed her further. Momo chewed on the inside of her cheek to keep from saying something. She could not, would not, forget that he not only her teacher — he was a Yakuza Oyabun, and his interest in this would primarily always be for himself. It was in her best interest to bite her tongue.

"A ll Might was concerned when you weren't in class after several days, so I told All Might that your family was being threatened. I didn't go into detail, and I didn't need to. He's a gaudy buffoon, he doesn't ask the right questions, and I knew he'd want to do something about it — and after your impromptu visit, I decided to use it to my advantage. Even a dull tool has its uses. I told him if he cared so much then he should have someone watch your house — discreetly, from a distance — to make sure your family was safe. I said I'd tell your family about his intentions. He couldn't do it himself, so I knew he would send someone else to do it. It was just a matter of who."

He explained it to her in a tone one would explain something simple to a young child, and Momo might've considered hanging up on him if it had been anyone else — and if she hadn't been so stricken by disbelief. It had been effortless to him. Manipulating people — the Number One Hero, no less — had been child's play. With hardly any effort, he had them doing his bidding while he pursued whatever wicked ends he had in mind. She didn't speak. He didn't care.

"Go to bed," he told her. "And next time you call, it had better be a real emergency."