Aizawa had ninety-nine problems and Yaoyorozu Momo was at the root of every single fucking one.

He wished that it was the reasons from two weeks before. He'd even forfeit the money he'd forked up if he could go back to when his problems had been as simple as Goro still being on a lam, a government car watching his apartment, and knowing Momo had developed an unhealthy schoolgirl crush on him. In hindsight, those had been easy to handle. What a joke it had become, how quickly the situation was slipping through his fingers — and he had no one he could blame but himself.

He'd done this. He'd let down his guard around Momo once she'd shown she could keep his secrets, and somehow he'd gotten pulled right in. He looked back now at the distance he'd come from when this all began, how this had all started when he declared he didn't want any business with children — and mere months later he'd been fully considering conditioning Momo for the syndicate. Sitting in a dark theater, both their emotions raw from Kamino Ward, his lack of discipline caught up to him. He had betrayed himself. He'd looked at Momo and thought of kissing her.

He needed to keep that part of him — the weak, misguided part — under lock and key.

Aizawa kept his thoughts shuttered behind his stoic, detached expression as Momo entered the office. He had All Might sitting beside him and at the other end of the table was Principal Nezu. All Might was an oaf and Nezu a busybody, but they both were more than capable of following their noses if anything between he and Momo smelled off. Additionally, at the center of the long table were the shrinks.

Aizawa remembered how, when Momo had taken the final, he'd known there was no test UA could offer that could accurately quantify her intelligence. This was no different. He'd given her the tools to outsmart this panel and, if he was a betting man, he'd stake it all on Yaoyorozu Momo.

"Good morning, Ms. Yaoyorozu," Aizawa drawled when no one else spoke. "As you're aware, this is going to be a psychological evaluation to assess your wellness after what you experienced in Kamino Ward. We need the utmost honesty from you on this, and implore you to be truthful in all your answers. Do you understand?"

Momo raised her eyes, raised her chin, and she gave a sharp, punctuated nod. In the split second where their eyes locked, he saw steel. How nasty it was that he should sit here and hope that she could lie through her teeth now, and at once have to rescind the word that kept coming up around her. Protege.

Aizawa nodded in return before sitting back in his chair to listen as the psychiatrist began, "Can you please tell us what happened that day?"

Lie, baby, lie. She didn't mention how he'd visited her hospital room alone before his press conference. No need to mention how she'd practiced making her trackers on him before applying the tactic and technology in the situation against the Nomu. She glossed straight to when the boys came to ask for help.

It didn't take long, though, before the truth began to bleed through the page. He saw her fear, he saw the memories alive on her face as her eyes dropped away, and he could see her scar tissue from where he sat. When she spoke of All For One, Aizawa sensed All Might tense beside him, but Momo didn't know better — she didn't spare the Number One Hero a word as she quoted the Number One Villain. Aizawa felt petty and selfish for relishing in how he knew this was twisting the knife he'd put in All Might's gut.

Her voice was taking her back there, too, though. Coaxing him back into those moments of fear. Powerlessness. Vulnerability. Aizawa didn't realize he was shutting down, stepping into the skin of who he'd been then.

"You need to get the hell out of there. The police have the situation—" Momo's terrified gasp curdled his blood. "What was that?"

He was back on the on ramp to the highway, yanking his car around the vehicle in front of him when they slammed on their brakes. He said her name. Once, twice, again.

"S-Someone's here with me."

It'd been All For One, and he'd known who she was. It had all but confirmed Aizawa's worst suspicions that she'd been another intended target at the training camp. He remembered putting his emergency responder light on his dash. The blues and reds flashing in his view as he maneuvered around the impacting traffic. He heard her gasps while he begged her to talk to him. It was the same sound he heard in his sleep now…before her screams began.

"I…didn't realize there were bodies inside until I was already in."

Aizawa sucked down air and pressed the heels of his boots into the floor to ground himself. His gaze had been latched on Momo as he skinwalked, and as he came back to the now she was looking away. Her eyes went everywhere but them, anywhere but him. The blood had drained from her face, and her lips were too red on her pallid complexion. From the corner of his eye, Aizawa saw All Might moving in his chair, to get up, and Aizawa put a firm hand on his arm to stop him. Under his hand, the remnants of the Number One Hero felt brittle and frail. Aizawa shook his head at him, telling All Might to stay in his fucking seat, and confident beyond a shadow of a doubt that he could break All Might's fucking arm if he tried to approach Momo anyway.

Momo went for the kill herself.

Aizawa hadn't seen it coming. He hadn't expected it through her tears. But Momo's big, dark eyes went to All Might then. Wide and innocent. Vulnerable. If she'd looked at him with those eyes, Aizawa knew she would've gotten him, too. All Might took the kerchief from his breast pocket and offered it to her.

She manipulated the way an artist makes strokes with a brush. She saw the mutual disdain between her teachers, and she weaponized it to her advantage. Protege. No, she couldn't be that, though. He couldn't let her. Momo inclined her head demurely and kept her eyes averted as she touched the handkerchief to her eyes and nose. He hated it. He hated how easy she made it to admire her cunning.

The psychiatrist began their questioning when Momo finished, and Aizawa felt his own pulse tick up a notch as though it was him in the hot seat and not her. Retelling may have been the difficult part, but now came the hard shit. How she fielded their questions would answer it all: whether she would remain at UA. And he would know from her answers if she was throwing the match or not.

In the end, though, it didn't really matter what she said here. She was never going to be the same. She'd traveled to a place and couldn't ever come back. No psychiatrist's stamp on a stack of paperwork would comfort her at night while the bodies swayed. No words of approval from Principal Nezu would keep the League of Villains from hunting her down.

Momo nodded when Miss Counselor dismissed her, and Aizawa kept his distance as she left. He was done here, too, ready to go back to the silence of his apartment and find the fullest bottle of liquor in his cabinet then drink and chain smoke himself into a stupor. He reached the door first, holding it ajar with his foot as the professionals left, with All Might following close behind.

Except All Might didn't leave.

He stopped in his tracks in front of him. "We should talk."

What the fuck now, Aizawa lamented. But he said nothing. Just stared at him and waited.

"In your report, you said that Awase claimed they — he and Yaoyorozu — were specifically chased by a Nomu. Then she was targeted by All For One—"

"Did it take you this long to put those pieces together?" Aizawa bitched. He should've been glad that All Might had looked past the tip of his own nose to notice, but instead he just felt even more resentment. Hate. He didn't want to give All Might quarter — so he didn't. Didn't even give a damn if Nezu overheard. Let the little fucking rat fire him. "I know you're a little more self-absorbed than usual with all the negativepress, but maybe pay some attention to your students before you lose another of them. I can't be the only one looking out for their safety."

All Might's face looked like a slapped ass, jaw slack in hurt surprise. Aizawa felt like a beast who feeds on tears; All Might's offense tasted like fine wine, and he sipped it. Savored it. Let himself enjoy it for that prolonged moment before he turned his back and walked out.

He had ninety-nine problems, but he'd be damned if he let fucking All Might be one of them.