There was a singular grunt, a wet sound, and then a ragged, gasping breath behind her. Over it, she heard Aizawa exhale in relief.

Her thoughts were already static. She wasn't looking, but she could imagine Goro's blood pooling around his body behind her, and thought of those frozen puddles of bodily fluid under the corpses hanging in the freezer. She didn't turn to look at her teacher; in her mind she could see Goro dead in the center of the quad in his pool of blood, eyes glassy, staring at nothing. And then he blinked.

She gagged, clamping a hand over her mouth and choking as she tried to keep it down. She could taste it in the back of her mouth. Hot. Viscous. Momo dropped her hand to balance herself, leaning forward against the slab for support. The cold granite should've felt good as she leaned her forehead against it, but it was like a cold iron had been rammed through her spine, overwhelmed by the cold. So cold. The heat of her breath against that frigid, unforgiving stone was almost crippling.

"Don't look yet," Aizawa said behind her.

Momo nodded, her head jerking sharply on her shoulders like a marionette.

"Stay where you are. Don't move."

She heard movement behind her, and a soft grunt. Adjusting. A single calm, steady exhale, then footsteps. His footsteps were fading away, and panic came bubbling up. Her feet began to turn to look around for him, not wanting to be alone, but his voice in her mind stopped her. No. He didn't want her to move. She sucked down a raspy breath and closed her eyes. She felt tears trickle, one by one, down her cheeks.

Behind her there was a pool of blood. He'd killed a man on UA grounds so as to keep her safe, and his only hesitation had been his concern for what she might see.

It was her last coherent thought as her mind spiraled out of her control. She felt cold all over. She felt small and trapped, not realizing she'd sunk down into a crouch, arms around herself. Her breaths were quick and shallow, and Momo let out a soft groan as she leaned forward against the granite. Dizzy. Everything spun. Her hand went down, fingers dusting a handful of grass. Momo's breath felt so hot coming back at her off the stone. She didn't even know if her eyes were open anymore.

"Momo."

A hand was on her shoulder, firm. Controlled.

It was like she was drowning and someone had finally grabbed her hand. Momo didn't know how long she'd been underwater. She didn't have the strength to kick her legs and propel herself upward from the depths; he would have to pull.

His arm went under her legs and the other across her back, lifting her easily into his arms, and shook as he carried her against his chest. When he set her down, letting her fold to sit on her knees seiza-style, he stayed front of her, a hand on each shoulder now. She could hear his voice and she felt like she understood his words. Her breaths weren't gasps anymore. He coached her through: inhale for four. Hold for seven. Exhale for eight. His voice in the darkness grounded her as he counted for her. A hand smoothed over her hair.

"How long does it take to light to reach Earth?"

Her tongue was thick in her mouth as she searched for the answer. His silhouette was dark with the light of the quad behind them. He'd brought her into the shadow of the dorm.

"Eight—Eight minutes and nineteen seconds."

"Name something made from carbon."

"Uh, diamonds. Graphite."

"At what temperature does air become a liquid?"

His hand was still calmly going over her hair, nails giving just the lightest pressure against her tender scalp. She leaned her head into his palm.

"Negative one hundred ninety degrees Celsius."

"What's the formula for bleach?"

"NaOCl."

"Do you think you're capable of making that?" he asked.

"Of making bleach?" she repeated, her first truly independent thought and it felt like her first breath. Like the seawater had just spewed from her lungs and she inhaled, unsteady but conscious, her body working on its own at last.

"Yes."

"I…" She closed her eyes and tried to focus. NaOCl. Sodium hypochlorite.

Bleach.

The shaking of her hands jarred her focus. She gave a small whimper, a pathetic, puny sound that left her heated and ashamed. Tears burned the corners of her eyes again.

"It's fine if you can't," he reassured her.

"I can, I swear I can—"

"You don't have to."

"Let me try again, please…"

"No. Save your energy. Stay here, keep your eyes closed."

His hand on her head vanished. She felt cold without the contact and wrapped her arms around herself. His footsteps retreated again. She didn't know how long he was gone for — only that she was holding her breath to listen for him, and she kept having to inhale again. At last Momo heard the familiar weight of his footsteps.

There was a quiet splashing sound. Then his footsteps approached her. The sharp, cutting scent of the bleach wafted off of him. It cleared her senses.

"Let me take you back to your room," he said gently, and he touched her shoulder to cue her rise.

She nodded and let him draw her up, opening her eyes to look at him, and her knees immediately buckled underneath her.

There was blood on his face, and he blinked in surprise at her reaction. But in that moment she saw him, vividly, face pale and streaked with blood, a frozen body dangling from hook. In her mind, he blinked again. His arm went around her waist, catching her and taking her weight easily.

Her vision was fuzzy and it took everything she had in her to reach up and wipe the smear of blood off his cheek with her hand. She could do that much to help herself.

"Damn," he said under his breath. "Okay. Okay, you'll just have to come with me."

He returned her to her feet and put one of her arms across his shoulders for support, and she followed as he led the way. She felt the firm concrete underfoot, and then a step, and it transitioned to rougher blacktop. They were in the parking lot. She became more aware of her surroundings then and glanced around — this was staff parking. He led her to his nondescript sedan and opened the passenger door for her. Momo lowered herself into the seat, and he had to lean across her in the small space to buckle her in. Her head lolled back on her shoulder as she watched him, and when his eyes met hers, he didn't let his gaze linger. She caught another whiff of bleach as he did.

He shut her door and went around to the driver's side. As he climbed in, Aizawa tossed a jug of bleach into the backseat. There was a mostly-empty fluid slosh as it landed.

She was better prepared for the long look she gave him this time. His shirt was covered in blood. There was the blossom on his waist where Goro had been faster; the material was so wet it clung. Momo covered her mouth with one hand.

"How bad—"

"It's ugly," he said dismissively, "but superficial."

Momo closed her eyes and pulled herself together. She created a large bandage and handed it to him. He surveyed it, then his dark eyes rose up to meet hers.

"A chest seal bandage? Relax, it's not that bad. Nothing vital got nicked. And I already covered it."

He pointed to her feet, and her eyes dropped to see a first aid kit in the footwell.

"Take this then?" She closed her eyes and exhaled, then drew a plain, gray long sleeve shirt from under her sweater and offered it to him. He hesitated, then took it from her. She kept her eyes down as he tugged off his bloodstained shirt, smeared from carrying Goro's body, and pulled her replacement over his head. She saw the flashes of his tattoos in her peripheral as he moved, and the tan bandage he'd covered the wound on his waist with.

"Are you well enough to go to your dorm and wait there?" he asked, stuffing the dirty shirt under his seat.

"Please, no." It was a genuine plea, and she grabbed his forearm in protest. His eyes went down to her hands then came back to her face. There was a prolonged moment before he shook her off.

"Okay."

He was reluctant, but she couldn't imagine being alone right now. Momo turned slightly to lean her cheek against the seat, closing her eyes. She saw the faint change of color through her shut eyelids as Aizawa began to drive, passing under the light posts that dotted the lot. She felt warm air as he turned the heat on low for her.

"Where did you get the bleach?" she asked.

"Car bleach," he answered casually, and gestured over his shoulder. Momo craned her head to look.

The weak laughter that came trickling from her made him do a double take, and she shook her head.

"Yakuza oyabun, first lesson: keep a bag full of white laundry as cover for the presence of the unsuspecting bottle of bleach."

"You laugh," Aizawa chided, the lines around his mouth deepening as he frowned. "Until you need it and you don't have it."

"Are there security cameras watching the quad?" she asked abruptly.

"You don't miss much, do you." His eyes went over her then, considering. But considering what, she didn't know. "When the dorms were established, All Might and I chose where to place cameras. I left myself blind spots I could use to leave campus."

Of course he did. He was a villain with Hero access; why wouldn't he abuse it to his own advantage? She didn't resent him for that anymore, though.

"All Might didn't realize that?"

"I went over the cameras out of order from the route I intended to take. And he can think on his feet in a fight, but he's not analytical to that degree." A pause. Then he turned his face toward her, eyes glimmering and a cheeky smile on his lips. "I picked my assigned parking spot, too."

When he looked at her like that, warmth washed over her. She liked his humor, she realized. She liked his arrogance — his preparedness. His life was simply a game of chess, and he made every move with the entire game already choreographed in his head.

In the reprieve, Aizawa took a cigarette and lighter from the center console between their seats. Momo pushed the sleeves of her sweater up to her elbows and turned off the heat herself. He he slid a cigarette between his lips and let his thumb roll down the lighter. It was a casual, thoughtless gesture, but her lips parted slightly as she watched. He dropped the lighter back into the console, then cracked the window before he took a long drag. When he exhaled, he turned his face slightly to the window.

She was on the verge of asking what Aizawa had done with Goro, when the answer crept up and slapped her hard across the face.

Damn. Okay. Okay, you'll just have to come with me.

Her next two thoughts came to her as snapshots. Abrupt. Clipped.

Goro was in the trunk.

They were en route to dispose of the body.

Momo suddenly grabbed onto the seat, head snapping up to look at him. His eyes rolled in her direction, and he took an unbothered drag on his cigarette.

"I was waiting for you to come to that realization," he admitted. "You okay over there?"

"You can't seriously be—" His face told her he very much seriously was. She dropped her head, feeling her pulse quickening, waiting to see if the panic would set in. She couldn't see the body though, that helped, she knew. Her breaths hammered fast. Aizawa held out a hand, signaling with four fingers. Inhale for four. She held for seven. Exhaled for eight.

"You're taking a student with you to hide a body?" she finally managed to gasp.

"No," Aizawa said slowly. Smoke plumed from his mouth as he said the word. "I'm taking you with me. Not that you left me a lot of options, Yaoyorozu. I'd have rather left you in the dorm."

"I might have if I'd known—"

"Sit back in your seat, try to at least look relaxed so that you don't draw attention while I drive. I think you would've come regardless."

"Absolutely not! Why would I have done that?" she demanded.

"Because you're more curious than you are afraid of what I do now, and it's only because of what you went through in Kamino Ward that you're having difficulty coping. It's not the acts of violence that melt you down, just a moment. Time will help you get past that."

"I am an accessory to a crime!" she protested.

"And I am fully aware of all the ways we could be found out," he acknowledged. "I am doing everything I can to mitigate the risk to you, Momo. It's a little early in your career for you to have to turn to a life of crime."

She sputtered, and he laughed. A real laugh. God, the sound of him laughing, it sent a rush of heat through her and her mind went blank. He was so — the word came to mind, and she tried to push it away, but it didn't want to stay down. She wanted to reach for him. She wanted to take his hand and hold it while he drove.

She nearly jumped out of her skin, flinching hard, when he reached out at that moment and squeezed her forearm. Momo didn't breathe as she looked at his face. His eyes moved between her and the road mindfully, and his expression was soft. Comforting.

"Do you trust me?"

She could only nod. He nodded in return and drew his hand back. Her arm was warm where he touched her.

"I'll see what I can do about the transfer to Shiketsu," he added after a pause. "If you're sure that isn't what you want."

"I want to stay at UA."

"Okay."

He turned the sedan off the road and stopped at the gate of a storage facility. Aizawa took his phone and, after a minute of looking through it, he rolled down his window. Momo watched as he punched in a series of numbers and the gate slid open.

Aizawa guided the sedan around the back of the building. There was an SUV parked, idling, in front of a storage door that sat rolled up and open. He turned his car around and reversed so that the vehicles sat with their tailgates close. A man she hadn't noticed rose from sitting on something in the storage unit and stepped out to meet them. He bent to look in Aizawa's open window. He opened his mouth to say something, then saw her and shut his mouth.

Momo shrank in her seat as she locked eyes with him, each recognizing the other immediately.

"Kobayashi," Aizawa said curtly, demanding the man's attention return to him. "Is there a problem?"

Her father's guard didn't answer at first. She hadn't come face-to-face with him since the night she'd snuck past him at the gate in her mother's car so that she could warn Aizawa about the blackmail against her family. Kobayashi's eyes went to Aizawa, then back to her. Back to him.

"No," he said at last. "No problem."

"Good. Let's get this done then." He looked back at her. "Stay here."

There was complete authority in his voice and she didn't even question his instructions. She was silent as he popped the trunk, climbed out of the car, and shut the door behind him. Momo angled her head to try to look in the rear view, curiosity getting the best of her, but the trunk lid obscured her view. It was for the best — she may have crumbled again if she actually saw the body.

"Look away," he'd said, holding out from killing the man just to protect her from watching it happen.

She was irrevocably romanticized by this.

Momo watched in the side mirror, mesmerized, as Koyabashi and Aizawa each closes their trunk hatches. Aizawa angled his body in a confiding manner as the two men spoke, and when he looked back toward his car their eyes locked in the mirror. She felt breathless watching as he casually looked away and handed Koyabashi something — money, she assumed. Then they shook hands and it was done.

Aizawa climbed back in the driver's seat, and she saw his lips press together in a narrow grimace.

"Is it okay?" she asked. "I mean…Did that go okay?"

He buckled his seatbelt and started the car. "It's fine."

"What is it?"

"It's fine," he repeated.

But when he glanced over at her and found her watching him, big, dark eyes wide with concern, he gave an annoyed sigh.

"I just really feeling that cut now," he admitted. Her eyes inadvertently dropped to his waist, then got even bigger. There was a square outline in red on the material of his shirt.

"Don't give me that look. It's next on my to do list."

"Okay," she whispered.

Aizawa gave her a final, skeptical glance before he put the car in gear and began to drive.

shoutout to Elaine Rose Cosplay for giving a solid hand on this chapter xo