"I understand you recently underwent a psychological evaluation, Ms. Yaoyorozu?" the man across the desk asked, glancing up from the papers he'd spread across his desk. He didn't look at her, though, but instead glanced at each of her parents sitting on either side of her before his gaze returned to her father.

"Yes." It was her father who answered him, and he didn't seem put off by it. "The results should also be in the folder."

He flipped through the papers again, going deeper this time, and he found it toward the bottom of the stack. Momo sat in silence as he read over it, glancing up at her intermittently with probing eyes. Beady eyes.

"You have great resilience," Mr. Kondo said then. "It's to be expected of someone who entered UA on recommendations. I don't see any disciplinary notes — was action not taken by the school following what happened in Kamino Ward?"

"No, sir. My teachers did not deem it appropriate," she answered, bowing her head.

"Here at Shiketsu, we don't run such a loose ship. We expect our students to abide by all rules at all times."

Momo inclined her head again.

"Admission is much more difficult as a transfer student," the counselor continued, resting his arms on the desk between them and lacing his fingers together. "We have higher expectations at this point — we are no longer looking for the basic skills, but for practical knowledge and application."

"Momo has consistently ranked first in her class," her mother pointed out with a charitable smile.

"Her scores are impressive. Demand for admission at Shiketsu has increased, however, as a result of all the misfortune that has befallen UA. Our classes are nearly full and admission standards have never been higher."

Mr. Kondo went back to flipping through her paperwork, as though he fully intended to use every minute of their hour appointment. Momo's eyes began to slink away from his desk, following the ground, and she felt the corners of her lips begin to pucker. Her mother reached out and touched her forearm, and when Momo looked at her she saw the smile on her mother's face but it was strained and tight. Momo's jaw locked and she returned her eyes to the ground in from of the desk instead of saying any of what had crossed her mind in those short breaths.

"I think we have enough to move forward to the next step of the application process though," Mr. Kondo said. "We have copies of the letters of recommendation from when you first applied here before going to UA, but we will need statements from at least two of your teachers. There's also the matter of the practical entrance exam…"

Momo said nothing as he slid her paperwork one side to leaf through the pages of the large desk calendar beneath them.

"Our next scheduled transfers practical exam isn't for three more months, almost four—"

"She was hoping not to wait that long," her mother said with a polite smile.

The admissions counselor gave an understanding nod in tandem with a shallow sigh.

"If we receive the statements from your teachers before it, we could feasibly substitute our practical exam with the Provisional Hero License Exam. You are intending to attend that?" Momo nodded. "We can use the scoring from that then in place of our practical. That is much closer than our next date for our exam.

"That is agreeable," her father said, and he rose to his feet. The counselor followed suit, and then her mother, and Momo last. Bows were exchanged and hands shaken.

"We look forward to your UA teacher statements," the counselor said.

Momo held her breath, looking around the corner of the building before withdrawing and standing with her back flush to the concrete wall. He was still there. He was still there and her nerves were failing her. Her heart was in her throat at what she had to ask him, and she couldn't bear what needed to come next.

She had the snapshot of him in her mind already; he was standing in the shadows of one of the trees on the campus lawn, far enough away from the dorms that the smell of his cigarette smoke wouldn't waft into the dorm rooms. The end of his cigarette was a pinprick in the distance. Except for it, she could barely make him out in the darkness. If she wanted to approach him, she'd have to cross the open quad to get to him. No, that was a bad idea. Too open.

UA had made their formal announcement regarding implementing dorms, although thanks to Aizawa she'd already known that change was coming. She'd had time to prepare her arguments for her parents — but she hadn't foreseen their insistence that she again revisit applying to Shiketsu. They'd gone so far as to schedule the first in-person interview, and had made it clear that in this she had no say. The admission counselor's stipulation to achieve her provisional license had bought her a little more time at UA, and her family had needed to allow her to move on campus pending the completion of her application. It had been a couple weeks now though, and with the provisional exam approaching she could no longer avoid the inevitable.

Momo slinked out of the shadows of the back door of the dorm, and walked along the building until she reached the front. He'd have noticed her now, she was certain. The sidewalk came to the intersection in front of the dorm, and there was a granite slab that announced it was the Heights Alliance 1-A building. Momo sat behind, hidden in its shadow where she could still see the pinprick of his cigarette, and waited.

A few minutes later the pinprick was snuffed out, and she shifted slightly as she waited for him. When he came toward her, emerging from the shadows, it was as though the tendrils of night clung to him, wrapping themselves in the folds of his clothes — sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt. It was as though he brought the darkness with him. His dark eyes were fixed on her. She didn't realize she was holding her breath until he leaned an arm against the cool granite, not looking down at her, when it all came out at once.

"This couldn't be a call?" Aizawa asked.

"I need a favor," she said instead of answering, keeping her eyes down.

He sighed, digging the toe of his boot into the ground, crushing a patch of grass underfoot.

"How are the dorms working out for you?" he asked, dodging what she'd said the same way she'd dodged him.

"They're cramped. The furniture my family sent from home barely fits, it makes me claustrophobic. How are they working out for you?"

She glanced up at him then, and thought she saw a glimmer of amusement and the smallest hint of a smile tease at the corner of his lips.

"It's been shit," he admitted. "It makes work more difficult." She raised a brow, and he saw. Aizawa rolled his eyes. "Don't be a smartass, Yaoyorozu."

"I didn't say anything," she said, and Momo leaned her face to rest against her hand to hide her smile.

She really felt this. She genuinely felt something, more than butterflies or whispers, in her chest as she bantered with him. She shouldn't. She should be turning him in, she knew that still, but her loyalties were changing. She wanted to protect him. She wanted to guard his secret and keep it safe, and she wanted him to know — to acknowledge, even — her willingness to do it. And, selfishly, she wanted something from him in return.

"My favor—" she began, but he cut her off, raising his hand.

"I already know what you're going to ask, and this definitely could've been a phone call."

"You know?" The tightness in her chest released and her head fell back as she exhaled a long sigh of sheer relief. She wouldn't have to explain then. "So—So you won't do it?"

He paused.

"Won't do it?"

"The recommendation — you'll decline to write one? Shiketsu is far less likely to accept me if they don't receive a recommendation from my primary instructor."

"Shit, Yaoyorozu."

Something was lodged in her throat, a stranglehold on her hopes that Aizawa was the one person who could possibly prevent her transfer from coming to fruition. Momo watched, mute, as his head dropped and he ran a hand through his hair in frustration. His head dropped back,Ike his neck was a hinge, and he exhaled. His hair streamed down across his shoulders and back. She hadn't realized how much longer it had gotten since the beginning of the year. God, he was so—

"I already wrote it," he said.

"You what?"

"Your parents asked if I would write a letter of recommendation for you to transfer to Shiketsu. I already wrote it and it's already been turned in to the school."

"Why would you do that!" Momo almost choked on her words, trying to be mindful of her volume and stay quiet. But her horror and anger were bubbling up her throat and out her mouth, not caring whether she chose to scream or whisper. She hit the ground with her fist. "Why the hell would you do that?!"

"Your mouth. I'm still your teacher," he said pointedly, eyes narrowing. "I did it because I thought those were your wishes."

Her hands flew up in the air.

"Why would I want that!"

"Why wouldn't you?" he countered, turning fully to face her. "You have made your discomfort in our situation clear, and I made a point of telling you that you had a way out of UA if you chose to take it. Then your parents approached me to submit a recommendation on your behalf. Why was I supposed to think you did not want to leave?" he demanded.

"I wouldn't leave," she snapped, exasperated, suddenly feeling as though he still knew nothing about her after all this. She rose up to her knees in front of him. "I wouldn't leave you."

He paused then, his lips parted as though he forgot what he'd been about to say. She didn't recognize his expression. She didn't know what she was seeing on his face now. Surprise? Realization? Was he beginning to see? Her fingers curled into small fists, nails digging into her palms as she tried to keep her breathing calm. She didn't feel calm. Momo watched, waiting, holding out for his reaction to come through. He had to know.

"Going to fuck her right here in the open, Danchou?"

A small cry of surprise had begun to work its way out of her when a hand covered her mouth. Aizawa was already in front of her, fingers on her lips to silence the sound she'd been about to make, putting his body between her and the interloper.

A man stepped into the dim light of the quad, and Momo held her breath. She knew him. Where did she know him from?

"I'm going to give you an hour head start to get out of the city," Aizawa said, "so that she doesn't have to watch you die."

Except he wasn't Aizawa now, she realized. He was Danchou. Something in his posture changed. His body language. It was as though he became more fluid, more relaxed, and it was like he dropped his facade.

This, she realized, was who he really was. This was the person he was most comfortable as, and he merely played at being a Hero. But, as this man dug in his heels to square off against her teacher, she realized there still wasn't anyone else she'd trust more to be in between her and danger.

Then, as the man came a step closer she recognized the danger.

Goro. That had been his name, she remembered that now. He'd been one of the men who'd abducted her. After the realization came the sickness, and it hit her fast and deep. Her stomach dropped. They weren't just out to sabotage her reputation anymore, he was here in front of her. A switchblade gleamed in his hand.

"You think you're such tough shit," Goro growled. "After I cut you down, boss, I'm going to cut my own hole in her to fuck."

She flinched under his words, and she sensed Aizawa bristle in front of her. His hands were at the ready. Momo knew the best thing she could do was stay where she was, safe and out of the way, so that he could do what he needed to without concern for her.

The man stepped in, raking the blade almost faster than her eyes could track. He tried to take it across Aizawa's stomach three times, but each time Aizawa bent his lean, sinewy figure further. He was a few inches taller than his attacker — he had the advantage in this.

Giro went high with the blade as he made a slash for Aizawa's face, but Aizawa threw his forearm up, blocking him, but then the knife went low. She didn't see if it connected — and Goro was already making another move for Aizawa's stomach — but she heard Aizawa let out a short grunt. Aizawa managed to angle himself away again, not missing a beat even as Goro lunged forward with a high kick intended to jar him.

The man came through with another high kick that Aizawa blocked, before transitioning into a series of punches and another jab with the knife.

Aizawa was guarding his right side slightly, and Momo sucked in a long breath as she saw the fresh blood blossoming near his waist. He wasn't letting the wound slow him down though. Goro went in with a wide slashing motion and Aizawa caught him by the wrist and slammed his knee into Goro's chest before spinning the man away from him. Goro tried to come back around on the other side with the knife, lashing out blindly, and getting close enough to Aizawa's face with it that Aizawa was forced to let go in order to gain some distance back.

"Fight me like a man!" Goro demanded. "Stop erasing my quirk and see how good you really are!"

Momo's hands rose to her mouth in surprise — how could she have not noticed? Aizawa's eyes were fixated on his opponent, bloodshot and straining. Of course he was using his eraser quirk though; that hadn't stopped Goro from coming after him though. The man felt confident enough in his hand-to-hand to take on Aizawa — Danchou — in person with only a blade.

How long did he have left to use his quirk? He has to be straining; she knew his longevity with it had shortened since the USJ attack, she's proven that during the previous semester's final exam. What was Goro's quirk? What kind of danger was she in if she tried to stay in the area and Aizawa's control slipped?

Aizawa seemed to sense her concern; his eyes flashed over to her, only once, and he turned back to face Goro, shoulders squared and feet planted. Goro charged him, blade at the ready, and Aizawa stepped forward to meet him. He grabbed Goro's hand as he came at him, and disarmed him in a single swift gesture, taking the knife for himself. He sidestepped out of Goro's path and put a hand between the other man's shoulder blades and shoving him to the ground. Goro immediately rolled over onto his back as Aizawa came down on him, the full weight of his body behind the blade.

"Look away," Aizawa panted, and it took her a moment to realize he was talking to her. "Don't look."

Momo hesitated for a second, the moment already a snapshot in her mind even though she hadn't intended it. Veins were protruding, pounding, in Goro's forehead as he tried to push back at Aizawa's arms. But Aizawa's lean body was on top of him, eyes watching her instead of Goro, waiting to be sure she did as she was told. The knife was between them, blade poised over Goro's heart, trembling in the empty space as each fought for control. She realized what was about to happen.

Momo turned away.