He didn't really believe in God, and he was skeptical of the idea of luck. Aizawa was a parishioner of the belief that nothing was coincidence; things do not just happen. It was his faith, and he the attendant to its temple. But, sometimes, things happen.
Asao laid his palms on his broad desk and rose to his feet, and Aizawa mirrored him. They each offered a polite bow to one another while Aizawa wondered exactly how he'd become so deeply entangled with the Yaoyorozu family — and how much work, how long it would take, to unravel himself from them.
Momo would move on-campus until her transfer was approved, and he was now duty-bound by her father to watch over her. Aizawa had his doubts whether Momo could minimize how much of a nuisance she was for that long, but he'd do his damnedest to keep her at arm's length. He needed distance to prevent the lines from further muddying.
He had limited doubts as to whether she would pass the provisional licensing exam. Her confidence in using her quirk in class had rebounded since the finals, and while he couldn't predict what her triggers would be following Kamino Ward — and he was sure she'd have a fuckton of them — he was more inclined to believe that she wouldn't encounter them at the exam. What were the odds, after all, of her being trapped and cornered in a cold, confined space again?
"I appreciate you coming all the way out here," her father was saying as he came around the desk. One of his arms rose to direct Aizawa to the office door. "You have been of great service to my family."
But would the man be so welcoming if Yaoyorozu knew for a split second he'd considered kissing his daughter?
No. He'd threaten to coerce him into marrying Momo again to protect her reputation, and Yaoyorozu couldn't possibly know what he'd really be binding his daughter to if Aizawa obliged. Merging the morally grey Yaoyorozu line with Danchou's syndicate. What a shock that would be.
"Of course," Aizawa answered plainly as the door opened, and Saito Ren was sitting in an armchair across from the door.
He and Saito locked eyes. Aizawa had a split second of hope that he wouldn't be recognized; he'd shaved for today's meetings, and brushed his hair back. But Saito's cold blue eyes openly went to the scar on his face and smiled.
Saito's primary interest during their few conversations was in liquidating assets back overseas. It was not difficult to guess why Saito Ren had returned to Japan, the country he was born in, after decades of living abroad: Japan had policies against extraditing its own citizens. What Saito had done, though, Aizawa had decided it was better — cleaner — if he didn't know.
Aizawa's arms were stiff at his sides as he gave a polite bow in Saito's direction, and the man offered a blasé nod of his head in return without getting up. Neither of them said a word, and neither had to.
He was seen.
"You'll hear from me," Aizawa said to Yaoyorozu as a butler approached.
"I look forward to it."
Aizawa did not look at Saito again as the butler gestured with a closed hand in the direction he'd entered by, and he inhaled deep to calm his nerves as he walked away. It would take one word — one word — for Saito to lay him bare. All he had to say to Yaoyorozu was 'Danchou' and the rest would unravel by itself.
That was out of his hands now.
Four. Seven. Eight.
He kept his cool as the valet brought his sedan around to the front and parked it for him, then stood aside with the door ajar. He kept his cool to the end of the drive, where the guard at the gate let him through. He kept his cool to the first stop light, when Aizawa finally relaxed his grip around the wheel enough to get out his phone and call Kobayashi.
"Yeah?"
"Does Yaoyorozu Asao record the meetings in his office?" Aizawa asked. No sense in fucking around with the foreplay and niceties. He heard Kobayashi exhale. "Seven hundred thousand yen to tell me yes or no."
The pause dragged as Aizawa waited while Kobayashi considered.
"Yes."
"What's your price to get me the recordings?"
"You're insane," Kobayashi barked with crude, dry laughter. "You want me to get you all of his recordings?"
"No — not all of them. Saito Ren is in his office with him right now. I just want this one."
The silence held even longer this time.
"How's it going, finding Goro?" Kobayashi asked instead.
Aizawa drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, head tilting away from the road in front of him for a moment while he focused in. Calm. Quid pro quo.
"It's a work-in-progress."
"Any leads?"
"I'd rather just pay you for the recording."
Kobayashi laughed again. Then, "Six million yen."
"For one recording? Go fuck yourself."
"Must not want it that bad then, Danchou."
"I'll do three."
"Boss Yaoyorozu will give me three just to tell you to suck my dick."
"I don't have the cash like I usually do," Aizawa admitted, and pursed his lips tight. Chewed on the inside of his cheek. "Four. Best I can do is four."
"Alright then. Four, and whatever Italian sports car you bought with the other two."
"I didn't buy a car. Four?"
"How are you so broke that you can't afford six million yen?"
He'd be damned if he told Kobayashi that on top of Goro honey dicking him with a quirk double, he was still our three-quarters of the blackmail money.
"It's not up for discussion."
"Alright. Three. And you will make the rest up after."
More quid pro quo. He didn't have many options. "Alright."
"Give me two hours," Kobayashi said. "I'll text you where to meet."