"You don't have to do this."

It was the third time over the course of the car ride that Majestic has reassured her of that, and she was certain it was because he didn't want her there. He'd already given her the rest of the previous week off after Aizawa's arrest, however, and now she had to make up the days she had missed for her work study.

Class 1-A had been rocked by the news about their teacher, and Momo had spent the past several days with Ashido, Uraraka, and the other girls from class as they tried to process what had happened. She'd been allowed back on campus at UA to attend counseling alongside them. Bakugo was angry, Todoroki was largely silent, and Deku cried. All Might and Present Mic had been there, too, both of them sullen and quieter than normal.

She had never felt like more of an outsider.

While the class sat in a circle and discussed Heroes and their imperfections, she was living the duplicity. She'd known. She had carried his secret for months now, loyally. It was bizarre to hear them speculating about things, most of which she knew were facts — murder charges, racketeering, illegal gambling, laundering, bribery, forgery, and that was just the tip. They looked at Aizawa with the same disbelief and confusion she had so long ago, unable to align Aizawa with Danchou. The people who thought they were friends with him, his own peers, had not known. But she, a Hero-in-training who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time, did. They could not fathom the duplicity. She lived it.

"She said she wants to," Dropshot murmured to Majestic, but she heard him anyway. "Let the kid do it. He tried to take her hostage. It'll give her a sense of closure."

Hostage. Momo turned her face to look out the window of the car so that she wouldn't laugh. Yes, he had surprised her when he grabbed her, but she hadn't feared for her life a single moment.

"Mr. Aizawa, I—I don't understand—"

But she had. In that moment she had understood him perfectly. Better than any of his colleagues at UA or any other Heroes. It was as close to asking for her help that he might ever come. With her hands behind her back, neither Majestic nor Dropshot saw her create and hand him the window hammer he'd used to break the hospital window. Neither of them, however, had been expecting the Hero reinforcements waiting outside.

It didn't take long to reach the prison. She had been surprised it was a regular prison when she'd looked over his updated file — not one of the super maxes like what held All For One. Dropshot had explained, however, that Aizawa's quirk didn't warrant a super max.

She was glad not to go into a prison wearing her Hero outfit, at least. She didn't want the leering attention of the prisoners and guards on her. Instead she had dressed in a plain navy pencil skirt with a gray blouse, and over it a matching suit jacket. It was exciting to wear something else to work. Majestic and Dropshot, however, stayed in their Pro Hero regalia. They each took an armful of files, while Dropshot and Majestic each had their leather binders too, and Momo let them lead the way in.

He was being kept with the general population, and a correction officer left to retrieve him while another escorted them to a room where they could interview him. Her pulse was racing as she sat down to the left of the Pro Heroes, and they took a few minutes to sort out the stacks of files they had, then waited.

She wasn't prepared for the sight when he came in, escorted by two officers. There were handcuffs around his wrists, and she heard the shackles around his ankles with every step he took. The prison uniform was green — she could see all of the tattoos up and down his arms, including the scarred, blank skin of his elbow that had been destroyed by Shigaraki. He was clean shaven and his fake hair had been cropped short. His remorseless dark eyes went over Majestic and Dropshot, then paused on her. She covered her mouth with a hand when she saw him. Majestic turned his gaze away from Aizawa, too.

"Let's get this over with," Aizawa said, sitting down in the chair on the other side of the table. Momo kept her eyes down, listening as Majestic began to explain the purpose of the interview, and Aizawa leaned back in his chair defiantly.

"I know the routine," he said. "Cut the bullshit."

"If you're already frustrated by this part of the process, just wait until trial," Dropshot replied.

"State your name for the record," Majestic said.

"Aizawa Shouta."

"You have been employed as a Pro Hero for how many years?"

"Eleven."

"How many years have you been employed as a teacher at UA?"

"Four."

"Do you remember where you were the night of May 4th?" Majestic asked, tilting his head to the side. Momo's head swiveled to look at her mentor, eyes widening. Aizawa paused, then laughed quietly.

"Yeah."

Majestic waited for him to elaborate, but Aizawa sat there, a corner of his lips turned upward.

"Where were you?"

"With my kobun, working."

"And some of your kobun brought in three teenage girls that they kidnapped with the intent of trafficking, correct?"

Momo dropped her eyes, and Dropshot glanced at her. She felt him watching her reaction. She made her face pinch, looking away from the men.

"That was you?" she asked. "It was you all along?"

"Yaoyorozu," Majestic prompted, sliding a paper across to her. She looked down — it was a copy of the police report she'd filed. "Is everything stated in this report true and accurate?"

"Y-Yes," she admitted, her eyes flickering back and forth between Majestic and Aizawa then.

"So you witnessed a man called Danchou commit murder, and also mutilate several of his subordinates?"

"You aren't here to interrogate her," Aizawa interjected. "She said her report is accurate. Don't waste my time asking her things you can talk to her about later, or I'm going to just go back to my cell."

"Do you admit to killing Jiro Hirushi the night of May 4th?" Majestic asked.

Aizawa didn't look at her as he answered, "Yes."

She couldn't bite her tongue. Momo loudly interjected, "It was to protect us! That man wanted us trafficked, and he—"

"Don't talk, Yaoyorozu," Aizawa said, still not looking at her.

"Did you kill him in defense of the lives of your students, or did you kill him to send a message," Majestic said.

Aizawa leaned back in his chair, evaluating them. For a moment it seemed as though he was sizing up the Pro Heroes, maybe wondering what his chances were at taking them. After a prolonged silence he finally answered, "To send a fucking message."

"Who else have you killed?" Dropshot asked.

"If you don't know, I'm not telling you."

Majestic frowned openly, then reached in his folder. He drew out a stack of photographs and laid them out in a grid in front of him.

"I want you to identify these people," he instructed.

Momo craned her neck, and bit the inside of her cheek to mute her panic.

They were surveillance stills. She saw Goro and several other men she vaguely remembered from that first encounter, each of them snapped in the midst of their every day lives. Grocery shopping, talking on their cellphones, walking down the sidewalk. There was a picture of Chiyo, the woman from his apartment, and several other attractive women, and each photograph had the women alongside Aizawa.

It took a moment to realize the other women were her.

Those were her outfits, her wigs — the disguises she'd begun to wear to protect her identity when she'd needed to see him. They were all her. Aizawa leaned slightly to survey the pictures. He didn't look at her.

"If you don't know," he repeated, "I'm not telling you."

"You've been spotted with each of these women, and none of them have been seen again. You into illegal gambling and butchering girls, Eraser Head?"

Momo held her breath. Aizawa's eyes darkened, but he didn't break.

"If you don't know, I'm not telling you," he said once more, spacing his words carefully.

He would go down to protect her, she realized, and her solemn admiration of him grew. This secret they shared, they would each uphold it — they had protected one another for months in their own ways, and it didn't matter that he'd been found out and arrested. They would continue to. His resolve gave her strength. No. She would not crack.

"You've done a lot of good for society. That can be taken into consideration at trial," Dropshot was saying now. "You are — were — a Pro Hero. You've saved lives. But if you want any leniency in court, you have to give us something." He tapped a finger on a photo of Momo, from the night they'd walked back from the gym together and he'd tucked her under his arm. "Where is she, Shouta? You bury her or just hide her away in a brothel?"

Aizawa only stared.

"Okay," Dropshot said, raising his hands in defeat. "If I don't know, you won't tell me. But give me something. Something to help you out."

"My record as a Hero will just have to be enough."

"You were recorded going into the counselor's office at UA. You took documentation with you when you left. What did you take?" Majestic asked.

"I don't remember. Probably just some stuff for my class. 1-A is emotionally high-maintenance."

"Now, I don't believe that. You knew what you were taking and you took something specific — you left the office with an envelope of paperwork. We have footage of you in the Kiyashi Ward shopping mall parking lot, getting out of your car with that envelope. You didn't return to your vehicle with it."

Aizawa still did not look at Momo.

"Who did you give it to?"

"If you wanted to know so badly, you should've had round-the-clock surveillance," Aizawa shrugged.

"Listen—"

"No." Aizawa cut him off sharply, and menace rolled off him. Majestic sat up straighter. "I'm not helping you. You seem to think you can appeal to me with promises of mercy; I'm not interested."

"You can't hold out forever, Eraser Head."

Aizawa leaned in toward Majestic, and a lock of his short hair fell over his forehead as he did. One of the correction officers grabbed him by the shoulder, but Aizawa didn't let them pull him back. All he said was, "Watch."

Dropshot got up from the table and turned away, pissed. Majestic just shook his head.

"Yaoyorozu," he instructed, "give him the file." Then, to Aizawa, "This is a written interrogatory. You're ordered by the court to complete and return it within thirty days. Failure to do so will be considered contempt, and trust me…you don't want to make your situation worse."

Majestic stood then, and Momo rummaged through the files until she found the thick folder with the court document in it. She began to lay out a pen with it for him, but the officer shook his head.

"Felt tip pens only."

"Oh—Of course, I'm sorry."

Majestic passed her his leather binder, and she took a pen from inside it. She pulled the cap off to show the officer, then, with him satisfied, she laid it down on top of the folder for Aizawa. He finally looked at her then. Their gazes locked.

"Thank you," she whispered, "for saving me that night. You have…done terrible things, but we only want to help you. I only want to help you." Momo nudged the folder closer to him, not looking away. "Please do this — for me."

Her request hung in the air between them.

"I'm sorry, Yaoyorozu," he answered at last. "I'm sorry I wasted my energy saving such a spineless, unintelligent girl."

Majestic stepped forward, hands balled into fists, as she visibly wilted at his scathing remark. The correction officer yanked Aizawa up then, taking the folder and pen and tucking them under his arm.

"I'll make sure this gets done," the officer promised.

"I'm sorry you had to see this," Majestic commented to her, and Dropshot put a hand in Momo's shoulder as they escorted Aizawa away. The door close behind him with finality.