"What you in for?"

Aizawa's gaze drifted to the man who'd asked. He looked wiry and twitchy, a sheen on his face like he was fresh coming off withdrawal. As he leaned against the fence, Aizawa could see one jailhouse tattoo on the inside of his forearm.

"I'm surprised you haven't heard, since you've been in here before," Aizawa said, exhaling cigarette smoke from the corner of his mouth, "but you don't talk offenses."

He'd have gotten a lesser reaction if he'd decked them upside the head. Tension hung as the man stared at Aizawa, evaluating him, sizing him up to see if he'd be worth the trouble — before deciding against it. Aizawa didn't look at him as the dude scoffed, but he kept his cigarette paused while he waited for him to retreat. In the background someone laughed, and got told to fuck off.

He'd been given the option of a different wing or to work in hospital — the last bit of Hero courtesy he'd receive — but he'd declined. That'd just get the wrong people's attention. Better that he be here with everybody else and just keep his head down. Aizawa knew he looked bad enough to get some space — easily one of the most heavily tattooed people in here, that was for sure. With his hair cut, he also didn't look like the official UA staff photo that the media was circulating around. Long as he kept his mouth shut no one would piece together he was Eraser Head — because being a Hero behind bars wasn't much different than being a cop in jail.

"Aizawa." He looked up and saw a pair of correction officers standing near his table, and rolled his eyes. "Interview room, let's go."

"Still haven't heard back from my lawyer," he answered without moving.

But one officer jerked their head in the direction of the door and repeated, "Interview room. It's Majestic."

"Tell him to fuck off. I haven't heard back from my lawyer, I'm not saying shit."

"Tell him yourself."

Damn it. Aizawa shoved up to his feet, scowling openly as he followed them. They got the cuffs and shackles out for him once they were inside, so that he could duck walk into the interview room.

Momo's big eyes came up to him, and he wanted to curse and turn around and fucking leave. She had no business being here, getting this close to the situation. But she sat prim and proper beside Majestic and his sidekick in her navy pencil skirt and suit jacket anyway. Hair up, glasses on, looking at him from behind a stack of binders and folders. Then she covered her mouth with a hand and turned away, and he had no idea if she meant it or if it was all show for the Heroes.

There are no old, free gangsters, Danchou.

Aizawa inhaled deep in his chest. She wouldn't have come without cause. He couldn't tell Majestic to just fuck off, not if Momo was having thoughts about something.

"Let's get this over with," Aizawa said, dropping in the chair on the other side of the table. When Majestic started in with the red tape, though, he leaned back and cut him off. This was his conversation to have.

"I know the routine. 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, head tilting, whole hat moving as he did.

It only took him a moment, thinking how far back that was — then it hit him. He chuckled. "Yeah."

Majestic sat stoically, wanting — needing — more to follow, but Aizawa waited him out. It was a game of patience, and Majestic bowed first.

"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?"

Aizawa didn't miss how Dropshot's eyes went to Momo, evaluating, but she was turning into a beautiful liar as she turned her gaze away and her face crumbled.

"That was you? It was you all along?"

"Yaoyorozu."

Aizawa felt himself bristle when Majestic spoke to her; she was smart. Intuitive. But it's be easier for her to accidentally walk into a trap question than him. Majestic pushed a copy of a police report in front of her.

"Is everything stated in this report true and accurate?" the Hero continued.

"Y-Yes—"

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

They'd call her as a witness at court, Aizawa realized with sinking horror. And there the lawyers would have at her, cross examining her and looking for clues in her every answer. Looking for something else to use against him, and it would take a single slip for it all to come down — and she might end up in here, too.

"You aren't here to interrogate her," Aizawa interjected, unwilling to let them keep going. "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 demanded.

"…Yes."

"It was to protect us! That man wanted us trafficked, and he—"

"Don't talk, Yaoyorozu," Aizawa said, keeping his eyes on Majestic. These were the kind of traps he was wary of her falling into. The ones where her emotions would get the better of her.

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

He had to think hard. Whatever was said here would follow him to the courtroom, and if he said it was to protect her then more questions would follow. Majestic laid it out like it was a path for leniency, but Aizawa saw every IED along that road that might go off with a single wrong step. No. It was better to minimize Momo's involvement in every way.

"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.

Aizawa looked at the pictures, and was certain he felt the same bubbling panic as Momo. She was in those photos. Cloaked in her disguises, but it was her nonetheless. Aizawa needed the photos off the table before Majestic and Dropshot had a chance to take a good look between the photos and the girl sitting beside them.

"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?"

He spaced his words carefully, pacing himself as his stare darkened. "If you don't know, I'm not telling you."

"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. Beside them, Momo stayed quiet, smart as always, not drawing attention to herself.

"Okay. 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."

He made a mental note of this, though, because he knew it'd come up in court. At least because of the timing, he could deflect it onto the situation with All Might and All For One.

"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. Who did you give it to?"

"If you wanted to know so badly, you should've had round-the-clock surveillance." He was fucking glad they hadn't, though.

"Listen—"

"No." Aizawa cut him off, and Majestic sat up straighter in response. "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, and one of the officers dropped a hand on his shoulder in warning.

"Watch."

Dropshot got up from the table and turned away, pissed. Majestic just shook his head. Momo was hastily clearing the photos off the table when the Hero spoke again.

"Yaoyorozu, give him the file. 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."

Momo was going through the files and Aizawa deliberately kept his eyes off her until he heard the officer chastise, "Felt tip pens only."

"Oh—Of course, I'm sorry."

He heard them shuffling things around as they got a pen. He saw, from the corner of his eye, the flourish Momo presented it to the guard with. Then her arm stretched out and she pointedly laid the pen on top of the folder of papers they'd made for him. Her hand lingered there. Only for a second, but enough that he knew whatever came next mattered. He looked at her, and she was looking back at him expectantly.

"Thank you for saving me that night," she said, hand still on top of the pen. "You have…done terrible things, but we only want to help you. Ionly want to help you." She let go of the pen then and nudged the folder in his direction. "Please do this — for me."

Her dark eyes were steadfast. Unwavering. They didn't need telepathy for a quirk, he got a message loud and clear. Whatever she'd slid into that folder mattered.

"I'm sorry, Yaoyorozu," he said, the edge to his voice softening. He kept his eyes with hers.

Wondered if this might be the last time he saw her.

For all that had happened, for how these months had unraveled, he regretted nothing now. How long had it been since someone had made themselves matter. How long since someone had impressed him and continually caught him off-guard the way Yaoyorozu Momo had. He only wished he could tell her that.

"I'm sorry I wasted my energy saving such a spineless, unintelligent girl," he lied instead.

He saw the flutter of her lashes before she shrank away in show for the Heroes. It did what they meant it to do; Majestic came forward in her defense while Dropshot comforted her. Aizawa wasn't ready for the officer to yank him up by the arm to take him away.