Boring Yaoyorozu Momo off his trail while being vigilant to her activities was exhausting work. It'd been more than a week and the girl hadn't let up — she had smelled blood in the water, that much was clear. Whatever had tipped her off must have been more significant than he'd originally imagined. She wasn't quitting. If he had not been the subject of her steadfast investigation, it would have been an admirable trait.
He was sick of it now though.
Wherever he went after school hours ended, she was his shadow. He admired the nuances she paid to her surveillance — she seldom changed her 'undercover' clothes, wholly dedicated to looking homeless in the same shades and jacket every day outside his apartment. She'd gotten a bit better at staying out of sight around the mart where he stopped for cigarettes, but he inevitably glimpsed her trailing him on the way to the restaurant. There was a flower vendor who kept a stall en route, and in the polished silver backing he could see her.
He didn't know where she went while he was in the restaurant, but he knew it couldn't be far. It was a part of his routine he was reluctant to continue with, but there was money to be made and as long as she wasn't in the building he decided it was a calculated risk — one he mitigated by frisking himself diligently in the restroom immediately upon arriving. In the case the girl had upgraded from trackers to listening devices. He also now took with him a container of carry out every time he left, in the hope it would mitigate suspicion.
This man though, Saito Ren, there was a slyness to him. He didn't trust the man, and he'd glimpsed the same distrust on Yaoyorozu Asao's face when he had seen him alongside the Scandinavian downstairs at the restaurant one day.
Yaoyorozu Asao's presence had been alarming, considering the timing of all things. Perhaps, he mused at first, Momo had gone to her father instead of the police or another Hero. It made sense — he'd worked as a minor Hero, and had Yakuza background. He was well-qualified for such a task.
But then Saito Ren had passed Yaoyorozu Asao an envelope, fat to burst, and Aizawa knew Yaoyorozu wasn't here on Hero business — even on behalf of his daughter.
The girl inevitably made herself comfortable across the street from his apartment every day. She stayed late, until the sky was pink and red, and he wondered how she was managing to still get all her homework done when she spent half her hours sitting like a stoner outside his home.
Today, however, he'd finally been taken off profile following his injuries at USJ. He was eager to expand his boring routine anyway and, when he looked outside as the sun set and there was no bum in aviator glasses and a hat where Momo normally sat, he decided to do it. He would go to the gym. It would be enough change to dull his restlessness, and innocent enough that if she tried to follow him, she would have nothing to show; it was members only.
He changed into his gym clothes — sweatpants and a hoodie. Gyms, even his, did not take kindly to tattoos being on display, and it was better that he keep a low profile when he was in close proximity to his own home. He pulled his hair back and laid a pair of headphones over his ears.
He was only a couple blocks from his apartment when he caught the reflection of someone down the street behind him in the dark, unlit angled glass of a storefront.
Shit. Yaoyorozu.
Aizawa continued past, his stride unchanged, but in his head he was pissed. Pissed at her and her persistence. Pissed at her parents for not keeping a closer eye on her. Pissed at himself for not considering that his charade of such a boring life when she was so clearly suspicious could lead to her amping up her investigation instead of toning it down.
He couldn't see any of her features to know it was her, but his gut instinct was certain. What to do. He would go to the gym, as he'd planned. She couldn't enter, he reminded himself. Members only.
The gym was ahead, and his internal debate fueled on as he approached. He could go in and pretend she wasn't there, and she'd be a fifteen year old girl sitting on a dark street late at night, alone. Fucking A.
He stole a discreet look back over his shoulder as he reached the door to the gym, and saw the hoodie-clad figure still down the road behind him. There was brief admiration for her dedication to the character she decided to play — a slight slouch to the walk, head down. She would be a top notch undercover Hero. Aizawa didn't let his gaze linger, and stepped inside.
The man at the desk greeted him with enthusiasm, asking where he'd been for the past several weeks. Some injuries from a car accident, he lied, nothing to be concerned about but enough to keep him out of commission. His dishonesty was met with sympathy, and Aizawa accepted it like a champ.
But his gaze went behind him for a moment. To the floor-to-ceiling one-way windows that lined the front of the gym. He saw the silhouette of Momo and her disguise taking up residence in the doorway of the business across the street, illuminated from behind by the dim, yellow-hued lights inside. Something…didn't sit right.
"Any way we can negotiate something for the last month, since I wasn't able to make it in for medical reasons?" Aizawa asked, stalling. He could see someone else arriving through the one way glass, but then their hand dropped away from the door handle.
The man behind the desk defaulted to quoting the gym policy, mentioning proof of injury and such. Aizawa stood nodding his head as the man reached under the counter to pull out his manual. Aizawa's eyes went to the door, and saw the man outside approaching Momo's spot under the eaves across the street.
"Ah, shit," Aizawa said abruptly. "I forgot my duffel bag at home."
The employee laughed. "Guess you're more out of the habit than you thought."
"Guess so. Let's table this for now, I'll grab some documentation, and we can do this all over again tomorrow."
"That works."
Aizawa turned on his heel and left, hands pushing the door ajar and the warm air of the night hit him. The other man wasn't across the street yet — but his target hadn't noticed him yet. Before, ambling down the sidewalk in her jogger sweats and hoodie, Momo had been ambiguous. Now, though, she stood was bent to touch her toes, and her figure was more pronounced. The slope of her calves, her thighs. Hips. Aizawa could almost read the other man's lecherous thoughts. Then the man opened his mouth and let them out.
"Hey honey, need some help?"
Aizawa made himself hang back, staying across the street and limiting himself to listen. He wouldn't interfere if he wasn't needed, and he heard, to his satisfaction, Momo's firm, "No."
Then she flicked a pair of sunglasses down to hide her eyes.
The attitude on this kid. Aizawa smirked, appreciating her firm and abrupt dismissal. But the man wasn't taking it.
"Don't be like that," he was saying as he leaned toward her, taking up residence beside her with no clear intention of leaving.
"No thanks," Momo retorted, unruffled.
"You might like it."
And this…What happened next, Aizawa felt himself shouldering the blame for. His men had scarred her. Had left her jumpy and anxious, and he saw every muscle in Momo's face flinch as the man came closer. Reaching for her. Aizawa's feet were moving then regardless of rationale, and his hands curled into fists as he swiftly crossed the street. The punk's one hand was under Momo's hoodie, and the other threw her sunglasses to the sidewalk. Aizawa could hear his pulse in his ears when he saw Momo's face, frozen for a split second under the weight of her panic as the stranger took a liberty with her body that he had no business with.
"Get off me!" she shouted, but Aizawa was already there.
Aizawa grabbed her assaulter from behind by the neck, fingers digging as he ripped the man away. He heard the man choking and Aizawa inhaled, satisfaction and adrenaline filling every square inch of his lungs. It was slick across his tongue. He ripped him away from Momo, flinging him away before planting himself between the man and his student.
"She said no," Aizawa snarled.
It didn't take more than that. The man who'd dare put his touch on Momo shrank away, dropping his head and limping down the street in the direction he'd first come from.
Then Aizawa turned to Momo, and true realization dawned — understanding that she would know now that he'd noticed her. That this line dividing them was compromised.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded, shoulders bristling as he looked down at her.
Maybe, he'd wonder later, she would have given a better answer if she hadn't been so rattled by being groped by a strange man — again. Momentarily reliving the nightmare of not so long ago, at the hands of his men. Instead, the response she gave was perhaps the weakest lie he would ever heard her tell.
"I—I was running an errand for my parents."
He couldn't help it. His mouth pursed, eyes narrowed. She'd been so proficient with her lies and deceptions up until now. An errand for her parents was the best thing she could come up with on the fly — when her household probably had as many people on staff as UA. Absolutely not.
"Your parents?" he repeated tensely.
Her lower lip trembled. He could press her. He'd be within reason if he did. But, staring down at this girl who had managed to stalk him for who knows how long…Who had planted a tracking device on his own person…He didn't feel done. He wanted to know what else she could — would — do.
"You shouldn't be out in the streets this late, Yaoyorozu. Get moving. I'll walk you to the train station."
He left no room for argument and she didn't look for it. She kept her mouth shut, hands in the pockets of her sweats, and started walking. Aizawa kept pace beside her.
He could say something, he realized. He could confront her even. Tell her he knew she was following him and ask her way — verbally corner her. See if she had the guts to say it. In his mind, he dared her to say it.
"I think you're Danchou."
No.
He wasn't done with this. He wasn't done with this game of cat and mouse that she'd started.
He didn't speak. They walked in silence to the train station. He was merely her escort, there was no reason to converse. If he'd looked at her, maybe he'd have seen the wheels spinning in her head — might have been more suspicious about what she intended to do next.
They reached the station without further incident, and he sat next to her on the bench until it arrived. He made sure she knew what stops she needed to take to get back home, and as he walked away once she boarded, he merely raised his hand.
If she was going to confirm he was Danchou, she would need to find another way to find the truth.