As Aizawa closed the door behind Momo, all he could hear was the pendulum swinging in his mind, slicing through the heavy air and counting down to the End Of Days.

He reached into his pocket and took out his phone, and pulled checked Momo's GPS location on it. He didn't have the option to escort her back to her property, not now, so he had to trust that she could get there herself. Looking at her coordinates, she was doing just fine. Aizawa left his phone open on his lap so he could watch, leaning his jaw in one hand while the cogs in his head turned, tick by tick.

A few days ago his greatest concern had been Yaoyorozu Momo running her mouth about his side gig. He had let himself get comfortable in the certainty that she was the only threat to him, and had been blind to the real danger at his own elbow. Now he had a bigger problem on his hands than if Momo had just tried to tattle to the police.

His mind quickly ticked through the possibilities, and the fields narrowed quickly. It was someone, not a Hero though, who knew he was a teacher and Momo was his student. No Hero or Good Samaritan would look at the situation from the outside and see an opportunity for blackmail. Some of the men who had been there when Momo was brought in had been at the club that night, something that hadn't even crossed his mind because he was too caught up in being found. He thought of all those gouges in his desk, and heaved a sigh as he sank into his chair beside the window, covering his face.

It might be more than one of them as well. A deliberate mutiny, engineered to put his double life into play as a weapon against him by putting Momo in the crosshairs. He considered the rumors that might be spreading through his own ranks, among his own kobun. How many of them might have heard the rumor at this point? Aizawa elicited a muffled groan as he realized how much blood he might need to spill to clean this mess up. It was so much worse than if Momo had just turned him in.

He needed a fucking cigarette.

Aizawa pushed himself out of his chair and went to his bedroom, to the nightstand beside his bed, and took out a pack of cigarettes. He tapped the box against his thigh before shaking one out and putting it between his lips. There was a lighter in the drawer, too. He rolled it with his thumb to light the cig, and took long, deep pull, filling his lungs with the polluted air to make himself feel better. The pendulum was still swinging. Steady slices. He took out a pad of paper and a pen, and began a list.

Akihiko.

Junpei.

Goro.

Hayate.

Eito.

Susumu.

They were the ones Jiro normally hung around, who rotated in his crew. Goro, Junpei, and Eito had been at the club that night as well. That made them the primary suspects, whether they liked it or not — but he'd probably have to clear the whole crew to get to the root. Fuck. That was going to be messy. The whole fucking endeavor was going to be messy. He needed to decide where to even begin.

He'd need protection for Momo until this was over. To keep an eye on her house in case their blackmailers tried to abduct or intimidate her or her family directly, and to make sure she didn't come back to his fucking apartment. That was a real bad look, too, for her to show up here with those kind of accusations put into existence. He couldn't use his own people for this — it had to be Heroes then. How the fuck was he going to manage that. Aizawa choked on the smoke he was exhaling as he laughed at the notion, and it burned hot in his nostrils, making his eyes water.

After the feeling had faded, Aizawa took out his phone and stared at it, debating. He could spread it out, or he could do it all at once. All at once would be harder to carry out, but if he spread it out then word might start getting out to the others involved. His thumb hovered over the screen while the pendulum sliced.

Spread it out. But do it quiet.

He unlocked his phone and went through his contacts. The line rang three times before a man answered. It sounded like he'd been woken up. Aizawa didn't care.

"Yeah, boss?"

"I need somebody to go down to Tokyo for me this week. Who's free?"

The man on the other end of the line, Tetsu, paused to think for a moment. "I've got Yosuke, Eito, Junpei, Kenzou, Natsuo—"

"Eito and Junpei will do. I want them at the restaurant tomorrow night. Nine. I'll give instruction from there."

"You've got it, Danchou."

Aizawa ended the call and stared at his phone awhile longer, before making one more, pacing his apartment while he did. When it was done, he reclined back on his bed, chain smoking as he waited. Time ticked by, the pendulum sliced, the cogs turned. A knock on the door. Aizawa snuffed his cigarette in the ashtray full of butts and went to open it.

Chiyo looked up at him, annoyance on her face but he could see from the gleam in her eyes that it was all a facade. He stepped aside to let her in and she brushed past without looking back at him.

"So what happened?" she asked as she unzipped and shrugged out of her jacket. "Feeling insatiable, or did the new girl not meet expectations?"

"Does it matter?" Aizawa said as he came up behind her, reaching out to take her cheek in his hand. Her skin felt warm and soft under his calloused fingers. She leaned into the contact, and sighed as he dropped his hand away. His other hand came up, leveling the suppressor on the muzzle of his gun at the base of her skull. "Thanks for coming back."

The noise was muffled, and as her knees went out he caught her before she fell forward, taking her weight. She was still breathing. Aizawa put the gun in the waist of his sweatpants so he could pick her up in his arms, and he carried her into his bathroom, her blood trickling down his chest as her skull laid limp against him. Her breathing was shallow and ragged, and weakening with every passing second. He laid her out in his tub before going back to his kitchen. He returned with a bottle and a fresh cigarette. Aizawa propped himself against the sink, taking a swig of liquor as he waited, patiently, for her death rattle.