Hi everyone! I'm still here!

So sorry this chapter's been pretty late, I got stuck with it and then I got very busy between October-December trying to find a new place to move to and then my job kept my very busy. Still is, but at least I finally got this chapter done. The next one should hopefully not take nearly so long to do.

Hope you enjoy it!

Youmu loved the way her heels clicked on the pavement as she walked, the feeling of being entirely in charge of where she was going and what she might do next. Oh sure, she had time to herself when she wasn't either sitting in that idiot Miyawaki's office, sorting through nasty old clothes or getting the stink-eye from Aizawa, but it wasn't the same as a night full of possibilities. Youmu didn't know this area of town particularly well, but it didn't matter - she had plenty of money to get a taxi home if she wanted one, and of course, when she went out to bars, she never paid for a thing.

As she approached a bar called Bubblegum Bitch, a man was arguing on the phone, probably to his girlfriend, judging by the way he was combing his hand through his chocolate-brown hair and looking aggrieved. Youmu's smile widened as she passed him and she didn't need to be looking back to know he was watching her, watching the dip of her waist in the figure-hugging black material and the way her calves looked in her high heels. It was cute, the way men thought women couldn't feel the eyes on them.

The bar was dark, with neon and fairy lights strung up everywhere to give in a pleasantly secretive atmosphere. Youmu parked herself on a bar stool, flicked back her hair and crossed her legs. It felt good to be out like this, doing what she wanted, feeling the music vibrating through her. It wasn't overly loud, she'd picked a nice bar, but it was loud enough to drown out the ominous silence that existed in her apartment. She congratulated herself on having such excellent intuition.

"Hey," a voice said, beside her. The guy from outside, smiling at her beguilingly. He really was rather cute. "Mind if I sit here?"

Youmu tilted her head, smiled. His eyes wandered to her lips.

"Please, some company would be nice."

His name was Tori.

"And she's always complaining I don't spend enough time with her, y'know? But then she always wants to go to places we can't afford, so guess who has to work harder to buy the things she wants?"

Aizawa knew that because ever since the brunette had sat down opposite Tanaka, he'd done nothing but talk about himself. Oh, he'd paid the tab and was keeping the wine flowing, but so far, he'd just been monologuing about his girlfriend. It was a good thing he was just a random civilian, because Aizawa could have easily tracked him down by the information he'd blurted out carelessly thus far.

Tanaka told him her name was Nabiki, and he'd hazard a guess that she'd used that name before, it tripped off her tongue so naturally. She smiled and batted her eyelashes and flicked her hair in all the right places. Watching her like this was oddly fascinating, like Aizawa was watching a nature documentary on lionesses. She may have looked like prey, in that little dress showing off her legs, the perfectly styled blonde waves and carefully done make-up, but there was a stillness to her, a calculating gleam in her eye that was pure predator. She might have been allowing Tori to vent his spleen, but it was all part of the game.

As if noticing for the first time that he was the only active participant in the conversation, Tori suddenly broke off, looking away with a soft laugh.

"...Man, I shouldn't be doing this."

"Doing what?" Tanaka asked, eyeing him over the rim of her wine.

"Talking to a pretty girl in a bar...my girlfriend wouldn't like it." he said, sounding apologetic, but he made no move to leave.

"You think I'm pretty?" Tanaka smirked, leaning forwards a bit. "Now you're complimenting me, too. It seems like you're enjoying doing things your girlfriend wouldn't like...being bad."

Tori stared at her, eyes roving over her face, the faint dusting of pink on her cheeks and her lips, stained slightly reddish from the wine. He nervously licked his own lips and unconsciously shifted closer, their knees almost touching.

He's using you as free emotional labour. Aizawa thought with an eye-roll. He's venting all of his problems to you and expecting you to soothe his mind and his need for sex. Not that any of that matters to you when you're getting what you want, mm?

He was thirsty after dashing out like that and he'd briefly considered ordering a drink, but he didn't want to go near the bar where she might notice him. He was fine in the gloomy edges of the room, but under the fairy lights and neon, she'd definitely recognise him. Besides, it wasn't a good idea to get drunk on the clock, even if this was supposed to be his night off.

The flirting was dire. He knew that Tanaka wasn't feeling the least bit of heat towards this Tori guy. She was just putting it on, or so he presumed. Maybe he was wrong, and she was desperate for Tori to whisk her off to his grubby little apartment. Well, she had been in prison for a year, so it wasn't that illogical that she'd want a bit of male attention.

The thought of Tanaka and this guy getting it on was distasteful - Aizawa recoiled from it like he had tasted something bitter. Tanaka, as if on cue, giggled as he made some joke while he topped up her wine glass (apparently, she had a thing for red), tilting her head. She looked so soft and sweet, a strand of hair falling coyly over her face before she pushed it back.

Seeing her like this, he had to begrudgingly concede how good she was. Sure, Tori may have been an easy target, but the fact she'd managed to snare him merely with a smile and a confident walk and was now bleeding him dry was something of a talent, no matter how you looked at it. With Aizawa, Tanaka was sarcastic and sullen, her composure like a sheet of ice over her and her smiles edged sharp. With this Tori person, she was, in a word, cute. He wondered exactly how long she'd been polishing up her "dumb blonde" act, because he knew enough about Tanaka to know that that's all it was. Perhaps she found men easier to manipulate this way.

Or perhaps it's just what most people expect from her.

Before Aizawa could think more about the thought that had just crossed his mind – though he filed it away for later – the night suddenly got a little more interesting when a girl suddenly stumbled into the bar, panting. Her chestnut-brown hair was done up in two braided pigtails and she had a smattering of freckles across her nose. She looked around and then spotted Tori and her face was the picture of indignation. Tori visibly blanched.

"Oh, is that your girlfriend?" Tanaka asked, reaching and pouring the last of the wine into her glass, her movements completely unhurried. "Someone doesn't look too happy."

Tori slid lower in his seat.

"…Fuck."

Looks like your free wine tab has just won dry, Tanaka. Aizawa thought from his corner.

To her credit, Tanaka didn't seem too put out about it. The way she sipped at her wine and made an airy comment…it almost seemed like she was enjoying herself. Well, it was Tori's fault for talking to another woman when he was already involved with someone. Tanaka hadn't used her Quirk on him – Aizawa had been watching her like a hawk and her pink irises hadn't lit up with the tell-tale glow. Though, he wasn't sure if she could use her Quirk properly if she'd been drinking, it was fairly common with Quirks like hers not to perform well with alcohol messing with the neural transmissions.

"What are you doing here?" the girlfriend asked, her voice pitched unfortunately high, like a teakettle gradually boiling. "You were meant to come home to me!"

"I…uh…" Tori stammered.

'And who is she?!' the girlfriend asked, looking at Tanaka.

Tanaka's eyebrow rose. Despite himself, Aizawa huffed a laugh.

"Kana-chan…" Tori protested feebly.

"What, I argued with you this morning so you go picking up sluts in a bar?!" Kana demanded, then she glowered at Tanaka. "You think you can just screw people's boyfriends and get away with it, you bitch?!"

Tanaka set down her wineglass, with deliberate calmness.

"You know, this really isn't my business, but I think you should know - your boyfriend over here has been complaining about you since he sat down. He's been telling me all sorts of things about you. So it's not really a matter of whether I planned on sleeping with him or not - he was obviously looking for a woman to be your antidote since he hung up the phone. I just happened to be the one he chose for that purpose. And just looking at you, I can see why."

Kana gaped at her, as if Tanaka had hit her over the head with a blunt object. Tori made a choking noise and quickly turned to his girlfriend

"Sweetheart, I didn't- she's lying -"

"Am I lying?" Tanaka asked, and she really seemed to be enjoying herself now, her voice smooth as velvet. "It's kind of sad, that people like you two enter relationships like this all the time. All over the world, people say that they love each other, but what it boils down to really is lies and manipulating each other…If you ask me, that is what's a lie."

Here, she picked up her wineglass and drained it, setting it down with a click.

"Mm, tastes good," she hummed, licking her bottom lip with relish, before standing up and shouldering her purse. "Have a good evening, you two. You certainly make a lovely couple."

With that, she turned and walked away and didn't even try to hide the smirk on her face as Kana turned to Tori and started yelling at him, her eyes burning with tears and Tori's protests giving way to a full-scale argument. Tanaka didn't even look back – she didn't need a Quirk to become a homewrecker.

Aizawa followed.

Knew it.

Her butter-wouldn't-melt persona was total bullshit. Her first weapon to get her way. No doubt she'd seen that it would be pointless to put up such a transparent act with him and so she went straight to her next one. In an odd way, he almost felt gratified to know that she was slightly more honest with him than everyone else. He couldn't say he felt much sympathy for either Tori or Kana, with their histrionics and dragging other people into their dysfunctional relationship.

Tch. And the "slut" comment was uncalled for.

He followed her like the alley-cat he felt like, hands in his pockets and the lower half of his face concealed inside his scarf.

It was around the fourth or fifth bar (he was losing count – she never stayed long, just hung around long enough to bleed someone dry for a bit before leaving while the going was good. Presumably she hadn't found a guy she deemed worthy of spending more than a few hours with yet. She was opportunistic and picky at the same time.)

But even though his mission had been to keep an eye on her, Aizawa couldn't ignore crime when it was going on right in front of him. He was a Pro first, after all, no matter how irritatingly intriguing this particular lead happened to be.

He'd entered The Cat's Eye, only to get nearly thrown back again as two men shoved and shouted at each other, causing a crowd to form around them. He had no idea what they were yelling about – but he could hazard a guess.

He didn't see Tanaka anywhere, she'd probably moved out of the way the moment the air turned violent, but they were right by the entrance so she couldn't simply sneak past to avoid him. But this was more than just a drunken shoving match – the sound of fists on flesh was audible even over the music, and one woman let out a scream as a punch sent one of the men toppling backwards into a table. The other grabbed an empty bottle from a nearby tabletop and lunged, swinging it high.

…But he wasn't quite fast enough to avoid the lasso of Aizawa's scarf, wrapping around his wrist and yanking, hard.

"Someone doesn't know when he's had enough," Aizawa drawled, as Drunken Moron One turned with a nasty snarl on his face, his eyes bloodshot.

"Back off, asshole!"

"Tch."

Well, can't say he didn't warn him. When the idiot tried to throw a punch, Aizawa effortlessly dodged it, wrapping the scarf around him and tugging, toppling him like a felled tree. The second guy who had been thrown into a table got up, clutching his head. When he saw Aizawa, eyes burning and hair flaring about his head, he tried to make a break for the doors.

Really? Aizawa thought, using the other end of scarf to snag him around the ankle, and he hit the floor with a groan.

"Somebody grab a bouncer," Aizawa demanded of the gawking crowd of onlookers. "Now."

He was good at getting people to jump at his orders, and soon enough the two brawlers were being led outside to a police van. They were both a little banged up, but nothing serious. Fortunately, neither of them had ended up being glassed. Aizawa stood outside the bar, watching as they were carted off. Hmph. That could have turned nasty. Usually this wasn't the sort of violence Aizawa found himself in the thick of, but he couldn't say he didn't feel satisfied he'd managed to prevent any serious injury.

However, he wasn't alone for long. A few people had come to watch as the two men had been dragged outside by even bigger men in suits, but now the fight was over, they had drifted back inside like nothing had happened. But a familiar voice met his ear, sounding distinctly displeased to see him.

"Aizawa?!"

Aizawa half-turned to see Tanaka standing there, looking a little flustered, her hair a little messier than it had been when she first left her apartment, presumably thanks to how hot it had been inside the bar, especially on the dancefloor (not that Aizawa would know – he avoided these types of clubs like the plague when he had the choice).

"What are you doing out here?" she demanded to know. She'd been around him long enough to know he wasn't the partying type.

Aizawa glanced at her, his eyebrows arching. She was looking decidedly unimpressed with him, hands on her hips and a glare on her face, those pink eyes boring into his own. Heh.

"Working," he said, flatly, before a smirk tugged at his mouth and he cocked his head. "Why? You offering to buy me a drink?"

"Tch!" Tanaka scoffed at that, flicking some of her hair out of her face. "As if!"

She strutted off down the street, moving surprisingly quickly on those high heels of hers, plus all that wine she'd had beforehand. She didn't look back. Tanaka seemed to have lost interest in barhopping, or perhaps watching the fight had spooked her into returning home, at least for now. She may or may not have instigated it, but she'd been careful about keeping her nose clean since leaving jail. Not that you could blame her for a little paranoia, given what the prison guards had been doing to her and others.

Aizawa watched her flip her hair at him and march off in the direction of a taxi rink, a crooked grin tugging at his mouth. Had she copied that move from a film? He stood for a moment, observing her. Her nonsense was beginning to amuse him, rather than exasperate. Perhaps, because he could see right through it.

And what was underneath wasn't…wasn't a monster. She was still a spoiled, insecure brat whose moral compass was distinctly off. Her first and foremost concern was herself, and herself alone. But heartless monster? He'd seen monsters. His finger drifted to the scar beneath his eye. Fought them.

"Brat." he muttered, before turning into the nearest alley to make for the roofs again. He'd see her home safely, whether she wanted him to or not.

Youmu sighed as she slumped against the seat of her taxi, winding a strand of hair around her finger. Well. What a night that had been.

She pursed her lips. It was funny, though it had been fun to get dressed up and go out, she'd forgotten a few things about this game since she was in prison. Namely, how long she'd been doing it. Ever since she'd left the orphanage, she'd been sharpening those particular tools at her disposal and flirting with random guys got…boring. Most of them were so painfully uncomplicated. They wanted a woman to smile and nod and smooth their ego, more often than not. Oh, she could play the damsel, the vixen or the ice queen, but it all just got so tiring after a while.

Heh. And didn't he promise you that you'd leave all that behind? She thought, the words cutting right through her tipsy haze. He lied. Or at least, he didn't try very hard to keep his end of the deal.

She brooded for the rest of the ride, though mercifully she didn't have to make small talk with the driver – no doubt he was grateful his passenger wasn't puking onto the upholstery or shrieking into her phone and it was nice to be getting a lift from someone who wasn't spying on her, either on the court's instruction, or from Motoya. She was just a normal woman going home, that was all.

…That was, until she saw the police lights.

"What the fuck?" Youmu said, stumbling out of the taxi after she'd hastily paid, teetering up the path towards the front entrance of her apartment building. "What's going on?"

"Sorry, miss, but you're going to have to stay back- "began a cop, holding out a hand as if to ward her off.

"I live here!" Youmu returned indignantly, fishing her room key out of her bag and waving it in his face. "Tell me what's going on!"

"There's been a break-in," the cop said, seeing that he wasn't going to dissuade her so easily. "You're going to have to wait outside until I get the all-clear. We don't know if anybody is still up there yet."

Youmu suddenly felt cold, and it had nothing to do with the little dress she was wearing. This was not a coincidence, and she knew without having to be told it was her apartment that had been broken into. Her stomach twisted and she glanced up at her floor.

Is this another one of his 'messages'…or did he think I'd be there? She thought, wrapping her arms around herself. He said he's got someone watching me…I'm really not safe anywhere, am I?

"Tanaka." A familiar voice reached her.

Youmu spun around and somehow, she wasn't remotely surprised to see Aizawa standing there, apparently still following her around like a dog. If she wasn't so spooked by this new development, she'd have been pissed off. He was looking at her strangely, a quietness to him that wasn't there before.

"Oh, Eraserhead-san!" said the cop, as if his saviour had arrived, hurrying over him to update him on the situation.

Youmu watched, annoyed, as the menfolk conferred with each other, apparently deeming her unworthy of being kept aware of what was going on. They surely couldn't believe she had anything to do with this, could they?

…Unless they knew, or suspected, that Motoya was calling her and thought she might be planning something with him. But who would arrange for her own apartment to be robbed? She didn't have anything of value for Motoya to steal from her, unless he suddenly had a hankering for some stolen Prada handbags…

The words mumbling between Aizawa and the cop grew louder, and Youmu heard snatches of them, "safehouse", "situation more serious than I…", "supervision" and then, just three little words from Aizawa that made Youmu snap out of her musings sharpish;

"I'll do it."

"What?!" Youmu said, loudly, her words rising up in the quiet darkness like a bird frantically taking wing. "You can't be serious!"

"Tanaka-san, I'm afraid that we're going to have to take some more security measures, in light of what we know right now," the cop told her. "We believe you're being threatened, and it would seem your location is no longer confidential. We have no choice but to move you somewhere safer."

But Youmu wasn't looking at him, she was staring at Aizawa. How could he make such an offer, when it was obvious he thought of her as a troublesome burden at best? Why was he taking on so much responsibility?

"Don't you have important Pro work to be doing, instead?" Youmu demanded to know, even if she could already tell she was fighting a losing battle. Aizawa was implacable as a brick wall.

Aizawa himself turned to look at her, his mouth obscured behind the coils of his scarf. Expression unreadable.

"It'll keep. Villains that are on the run will stay on the run. School is out for the meantime."

He gave a long exhale, settling into resignation. Youmu could practically see the cogs in his brain whirring – no doubt that kind of on-the-fly adaptability served him well, when he wasn't being a thorn in her side every ten minutes.

"We'll gather some of your possessions. A colleague of mine will need to fetch some of mine.'" He descended into muttering; his gaze distant. "I'll need to make sure Maron has all whatever he needs and get some groceries…"

Youmu didn't ask who Maron was, and in fact fell into silence after that. Even when the cop got the all-clear and escorted her upstairs, Aizawa following them like a wraith, she said nothing. Transport for her things would be organised, she was to pack a small suitcase to take with her for the time being. One thing was clear, though, that no matter how much she argued with this, the decision had already been made.

She and Eraserhead were about to be spending a lot more time together. As roommates.

Oh, joy.