Getting a few days away from Yaoyorozu Momo felt like a fucking vacation, Aizawa reflected as he held in a lungful of smoke, letting his head rest back against the chair.
He didn't know if she was still following him or not, in all honesty. He hadn't seen her since the night he escorted her to the train station, but that didn't mean she wasn't watching — and that was unsettling. He didn't want to underestimate her just because she was a student. He couldn't.
But, for this week, Yaoyorozu Momo was Uwabami's problem.
He had itineraries of all the mentor's schedules for where they intended to take students, and saw that Uwabami was due to be making a media appearance tonight at a bar, of all places. He would discuss with Uwabami the appropriateness when they connected next week, but right now he was just glad that he was guaranteed to have the girl out of his hair.
He gave himself a night out. An evening to do some business, show his face, unwind. He dressed well in his black, wool Dior suit. Cartier watch. A Testoni shoes. Eighteen year Yamazaki malt whisky. He tasted the dark honey and red apple. Espresso. Vanilla. It didn't go with his imported Davidoff cigarette, but he wasn't so refined that he couldn't enjoy both for what they were. Beautiful woman on his lap.
He was enough drinks in to relax at last — pulled his tie loose and unbutton the throat of his shirt. The woman had her hand beneath his collar, fingers stroking the back of his neck gently. He'd forgotten her name already, but he didn't really care — he doubted she'd be good enough to make him want to say her name if she went home with him later. But Aizawa offered her his cigarette, and the woman bent to wrap her lips around it, taking a drag while his eyes wandered over the crowd. Thoughts clear. Enjoying himself for the first time in fucking weeks.
A bombshell ascended to the second floor.
She hadn't dressed like the rest of the crowd — much more conservative, with her skinny jeans and silk cami. Long, dark hair that cascaded around her face in waves. No drink in her hand, no dancing or vibing to the rhythm. He stared at her and, in the haze of the Yamazaki, it took an extended second to process that he recognized her. And another second to realize who the fuck she was.
Yaoyorozu.
What the fuck.
She was staring back at him.
Aizawa didn't even know what he was going to do as he tapped the leg of the woman on his lap, and she hastily slid off. He was on his feet, flying blind, before Yaoyorozu took off.
The music was suddenly so loud, making even the blood vessels in his arteries vibrate, as he tracked her through the dancing crowd like a blood hound. He hunted her with single-minded intensity, eyes following the direction she dodged through the crowd, tracking her movements. He was quick on his feet, not letting the parted sea behind her close as he followed her across the floor.
She was heading for the wall. It would've been a smart move — fewer people to push through, and more likely to find security there watching the crowd. He couldn't let her get that far.
Aizawa caught up, slamming his hand to the wall in front of her face, and she flinched back. Her footsteps didn't stall though — she let the momentum take her another step backward before he punched his other hand there. Instinct now; he forced his knee between her legs, preventing her from ducking down and under his arms to escape to safety. Her routes were cut off, and he still hadn't begun to process what he should do. Big, dark eyes looked up at him with fear.
"Yaoyorozu. I have a feeling this isn't a coincidence."
His student was too thrown to even speak, and it gave him time to gather his thoughts. To consider what to do. Again, the simple solution came to mind. He could kill her right here…He had his knife on him, he could bleed her out quick. She'd be just another limp, passed out drunk until the club started to clear out and someone noticed the blood.
He'd already tried intimidating her once, and failed. He hadn't been able to use leverage against her then, however. Would it be worth the risk to try again now?
No. Keep it simple.
"I don't know what tipped you off, but I knew if one of the three of you was going to figure it out, it would be you," he said as he leaned in. His dagger was strapped to his ankle. How to get the dagger without giving her an opening against him was problematic.
He could read the tension on her face — the reluctance to engage. But she did.
"It was at U.S.J. You said they had no business with children."
What the fuck. That was all it had taken? He barely remembered having said that in either instance. That small breadcrumb was all she had needed to decide to undertake the monumental task of conducting surveillance on a Pro Hero. Damn, she was fucking smart. Aizawa dropped his head, conceding that win to her.
"So I did. I had started to get the feeling you were putting it together, though, and it has been quite the experience to watch you wrestle with your suspicions, Momo. I've enjoyed it greatly. More than I thought I would have."
A half truth, half lie. He had not enjoyed this in the slightest — checking himself and his belongings for planted bugs every day, watching in every storefront for a reflection behind him. He was glad it was over. He knew he was fast, but not fast enough to get to the dagger and straighten back up before she had time to make a move. Maybe he could strangle her.
"I have to turn you in. You know I have to."
That was boring, he lamented. He'd hoped she would've said something a little more creative than that. That maybe she'd have had it in her to try to blackmail him; he'd know what level she was on then. Strangling would likely draw far more attention than a quick slice of the knife. It would be a long process. No, he couldn't strangle her.
He went back to the idea of intimidating her into silence. He could use what he knew about her against her now, when he couldn't several weeks ago. Even if he could intimidate her into keeping her mouth shut for one night, that would do. He could plan a smoother, more inconspicuous way to kill her with a few hours to think and pull things together. He could try it, and if it felt like it wasn't going to stick, he would try for his knife.
"That would be any good hero's first response," he agreed. "But I think this has proven you aren't rash — so don't do anything thoughtless."
"Thoughtless?" she balked.
He let himself lean in closer, well aware he was using his physical presence to intimidate her. He was bigger than her, stronger than her. It was a brutish move, but sometimes the oldest ways were best. He let himself smile at her menacingly, letting his ill intentions radiate in his gaze.
"A good hero thinks of their duty to society — the obligation they've taken on to uphold the values of right. But a great hero knows where the line between right and wrong lives, and wouldn't cause unnecessary collateral damage if it could be helped. Heroes have more than just themselves to worry about, you know."
He pressed his pointer finger to her forehead demeaningly, and thought he saw her wilt a little. Thought he saw her cower just a bit. But, when she looked back up at him, her dark eyes were charged and scorching.
"You wouldn't dare," Momo hissed.
His wicked smile broadened, again wondering if he should just go for the knife. He had one more card to play before he did — but it's viability depended entirely on whether she had actually been able to document anything that could be used against him. Proof. Real proof.
"The police would never believe you anyway," Aizawa scoffed. He reached out, brushing a lock of hair away from her face, and she flinched back. An unexpected pang of guilt, that he was hurting her now in a way his men already had. He had to ignore it. Especially if the guilt was going to interfere when he killed her. "You know how absurd it is that the Pro Hero Eraser Head might be the leader of a Yakuza clan. That's why you're here, after all — because you didn't even really believe it yourself."
The silence was in her eyes, and a knot relaxed in his chest. Aizawa allowed himself to push himself away from her, straightening his back while she looked up at him with wordless defeat. He had a few hours to plan the best way to kill her now.
"Go home, Miss Yaoyorozu. You're a smart girl. I know you'll make the right decision."