Life was returning to normal, or as normal as it could be when the stakes were this high. All For One's attack against Momo had left him off balance, and the aftermath of her recovery had kept him admittedly on edge.

He did not remember anyone — student or otherwise — who had mattered. The great irony was how much headache she had been when all this began. Most of what was on his plate still found its roots in her.

He was suffering, in his own way, the consequences of Kamino Ward. He wasn't sleeping well, and his nightmares were filled with Momo screaming. Screaming, being hurt, and he was powerless to stop it. Through the quiet hours of the night all he heard were her blood curdling cries. Begging him to save her. He awoke, shirt clinging to him with sweat, and breathing hard. His hands shook when he reached for his water. He unrolled a towel over his damp sheets then laid on top of it, uncovered by his blankets, and waited for sleep — and her screams — to come for him again.

Goro was still the biggest problem, and Aizawa's hunt had gotten him nowhere. He was no closer to finding Goro tonight than he had been when he'd opened his trunk and found someone else inside.

Recovering money from Goro was also a fucking issue. He'd leaned on those left who'd associated with Goro for them to help recover some the funds. After supervising a good casing of Goro's apartment, he'd gotten about a quarter of what he'd fronted back. He was still in one hell of a fucking hole, but some was better than none.

Yaoyorozu Asao being involved with Saito Ren was really interesting. He'd known that back when the attack in Hosu occurred, but what could Yaoyorozu have to do with someone like Saito Ren? Aizawa had done some basic background checking. The Scandinavian was supposed to be an investor, and his portfolio was primarily focused on quirk-related enterprises. Saito's interests when they met at the restaurant, however, were more…refined. All of them, red flags.

He wondered if Yaoyorozu's security had been tied up with Saito. Even if they weren't, he wondered what was going on. What they were keeping busy with. What Yaoyorozu Asao would have put the heft of his private security forces toward, over his own daughter?

For a short while he'd been able to forget about the car outside his apartment; the night he'd been forced to let Momo sleep on his couch. Someone had been watching him, and that was a problem. He wondered if it was because of Momo and the other girls having been kidnapped; maybe they'd been seen on security tape and police had been able to connect the dots? It was possible, but just as plausible were any of the other couple dozen illegal ventures he was involved in.

He thought he'd finally passed the stage of needing to cover his ass, now that he knew Momo would keep her silence — and, frankly, he didn't know how much more fucking careful he could be. He had already done everything in his power to sweep away his tracks for years. If it wasn't enough at this point then he needed to prepare for his exit strategy.

He'd accepted the possibility of prison when he was much younger, and with every life he took and crime he committed, he knew it was adding time. He resented that Momo was right: there were no old, free gangsters. The clock was moving in reverse now, time was counting down instead of up.

His mind was ticking off what he would need to do. Liquid assets. Alternate identifications. Safe house that couldn't be connected to him. If they came for him, he would run. He would sever the ties binding him to Hero life and be free.

What, then, would he do about Momo?

The idea that came to him was absolutely absurd. Going to Yaoyorozu Asao and telling him his daughter was wasted talent in Hero life, and that he should let her come under his wing.

That would be unfair — and still a waste. The girl could probably cure Alzheimer's if it was where her interest laid. Yakuza was beneath her. Wanting to take her with him off the grid, to be his protege, was purely selfish. Quirk aside, he saw her potential. He saw her brains and her cunning.

He also saw that broken look in her eyes. The freezer had done something to her that would leave more than scars. It would handicap her. And UA wanted to assess her resilience. What a challenge that would be.

Aizawa's phone vibrated in his pocket just before he reached the office door, and he paused to check it. It was All Might, finally humbled and cut down to size, replying to his text message about Principal Nezu wanting them to handle outlining security for the Class 1-A dormitory. All Might's answer was a blase, "That's your speciality. Whatever you think is best I endorse."

He would normally resent All Might's apparent disinterest, but he, like Momo, had just been sawed off at the knees. His new humility was well-deserved and long overdue. It also allowed Aizawa to plan security without interference.

Aizawa put his phone away without responding, and went ahead to the office door. It was unlocked, which would save minutes although he'd come prepared with his lock kit. The small 'lobby' of the Counselor's office was empty, and the door to her office was shut. Aizawa heard muted voices talking inside. He went ahead to the office record room; that door was locked. It took him only a few seconds to jimmy it open and let himself in.

The Counselor kept her files organized well enough that he didn't have to dig long to find the assessments that Momo would be given. MMPI-3. He didn't anticipate them doing Rorschach, but he pulled it anyway as a precaution. He doubted that the Counselor would do either the Thematic Apperception, or Bender-Gestalt. Those were tests that had largely been phased out.

The copy machine was in the lobby area, and Aizawa waited in the record room until the Counselor's current appointment left and took the next in. Then he emerged and made his copies, before going back to return the test originals to their place. Aizawa found an envelope to put everything in, and left with it under his arm.