Kobayashi sat himself down comfortably in the chair beside Aizawa, and both men bent at the waist to remove their shoes. Aizawa set his neatly, side by side, and laid his plain black socks on top. A woman sat on a stool and waited as he rolled up the cuffs of his black pants. Another sat in front of Kobayashi; the basin at his feet was filling already. Acetone was bright and sour in his nose. Aizawa leaned back in the pedicure chair and waited for Kobayashi to do the same, before he raised his hands.
Aizawa's fingers moved, smooth, through his gestures and signs while Kobayashi watched with arms crossed over his chest.
What took so long? Aizawa signed.
Kobayashi dropped his arms to answer in kind; He was there for over an hour. Money?
Aizawa's lips pursed tight. He shifted to reach into his back pocket for his phone, and he ignored Kobayashi's eyes as he made the transfer. The woman at his feet tapped on his ankle for his attention, and Aizawa's head jerked in her direction. The basin had filled, and she gestured for him to put his damn feet in already. The massaging chair made his gun dig into his kidney rhythmically.
Kobayashi took a drive from the breast pocket of his jacket and held it out as Aizawa sank his feet into the hot water. The drive dropped into Aizawa's palm, then was nowhere to be seen.
He's on here, Kobayashi signed.
The whole conversation?
Everything Boss recorded.
Did you listen to it?
No.
That was the last. There was nothing more to say to one another, and Aizawa didn't much feel like shooting the shit. There was still a knot of anxiety in his chest that, perhaps after he'd left, Saito Ren had said something to Yaoyorozu Asao to give him away.
Was he ready for that? Was he ready to make his moves in case the day had finally arrived when he had to walk away from the mask of a Hero that he'd hidden behind for so long?
He'd been smart about the decisions he'd made along the way, up until that fateful night. He didn't mix the money from his extracurriculars with his school work. It was readily accessible if he needed it. He had identities established and available. He had places to go, where he could lie low, that even his crews didn't know about. If the hammer fell, he was ready — but there was always that single caveat that he would need to anticipate the blow. All the contingencies in the world wouldn't do shit for him if he ended up behind bars before he could get away.
There are no old, free gangsters.
This pedicure bullshit took much too long. Aizawa wanted to get back to his apartment and listen to what the recording said. He wanted to know what business Yaoyorozu Asao had with Saito Ren, and if his secret was still intact. Instead, he had to sit and fake fucking patience while the woman fussed over his cuticles. Never again, he swore, would he give Kobayashi the power to choose where to meet.
Kobayashi's service finished first, bastard, and the man merely raised a hand in goodbye as he walked away. Aizawa felt twitchy and irritated by the time he pulled his socks back on.
What would he do about Momo if his secret had been exposed?
He'd have to cut ties with her, for the sake of the future she'd chosen: to be a Hero. He'd intended that though, hadn't he? He had planned on washing his hands once this business of her transfer was done. If Goro never showed his face again then this was all over. Momo could transfer to Shiketsu and there'd be no more to this story.
Right?
He'd done enough, hadn't he, to cover her involvement? He had tried to keep Yaoyorozu Momo above reproach through this all. Her nose should be clean if there was an investigation. Shit. He stressed as he drove home, fingers tapping on the wheel and changing gears a beat too soon, wondering if he'd thought far enough ahead.
Patience was his strength, but it failed him now as Aizawa kept his head down as he unlocked his apartment door. He fished his laptop from a shelf and his headphones from his gym bag, and wasn't even sitting down yet when he plugged in the drive. He was shaking — shaking — as he waited for the recording to play. Saito had been in Yaoyorozu's office for over an hour. What could have taken them so long?
He sat through the niceties of Yaoyorozu and Saito greeting one another. The offer of a drink — though only coffee or tea. No clinking of glasses. Maybe Yaoyorozu didn't like Saito that much, and Aizawa wouldn't blame him. Saito declined the drink.
Then, with no further preamble, business.
"Where are we at?"Saito's voice asked. Subtle, subdued noises in the background as both men settled into their seats, ready to talk shop.
"More than halfway there," was Yaoyorozu's answer. "We are at a point now where the majority of your overseas assets have been taken care of. Liquidated, or reinvested."
"How long until it's clean?"
"A couple more weeks. Are you good through it?"
"I'm good. Where have we put it?"
"More start-ups. With how the Hero market has been, the companies are desperate for the investors. They were already sloppy before, but now they really ask no questions. And you'll get the government incentives on top."
"Good. I like it."
"You have anything specific you want to do?"
"I have some things in mind. Can you send me white paper on these start-ups?"
"Yeah."
"Any of them medical?"
"A couple of them."
There was a lapse in the conversation then. Aizawa sat on his couch, fingers steepled and staring at the floor as he waited through it. Gentle rummaging. A hinge. The strike of a match, then the sounds of the men getting comfortable again.
"My boys should be back by the end of next week, though, with the last of your physical property," Yaoyorozu continued.
"Sorry for the inconvenience. I'd expected some trouble with customs, but not that much."A pause. "It left you short-staffed at a bad time."
"I have my personal life handled."
"I heard your daughter was in the hospital. What happened?"
"Quirk-related accident," Yaoyorozu lied smoothly.
But Saito saw through it;"You could've just told me to fuck off."
"I could've," Yaoyorozu agreed.
"What's her quirk?"
"She can make things — from her mother's side of the family. It has a lot of limitations, though. Not a lot of real-world application, though she tries."
Interesting. Aizawa paused the recording, then pressed a finger to his lips while his brain digested. He wasn't surprised Yaoyorozu was downplaying it when it came to his daughter; he didn't know that he'd want a man like Saito Ren knowing the ins and outs of Momo's quirk either. All For One already had his eye on her, though. Saito Ren was a small fish in comparison. All For One would chew her up and leave nothing behind.
He had his answer though, at long last, of where Yaoyorozu's staff was when shit had gone down in Kamino Ward. They'd been off cleaning up whatever mess Saito had left back overseas. The timing couldn't have been worse, and Aizawa wondered for the first time whether, under normal circumstances, Yaoyorozu would've posted people up at the hospital with Momo following the incident at the training camp. If he had, then Momo wouldn't have been able to sneak away with Todoroki, Midoriya, and the others. Everything that happened to Momo in Kamino Ward could've been avoided. The realization left a bitter taste in Aizawa's mouth.
"I heard the authorities are trying to extradite you,"Yaoyorozu murmured.
"They can try. I'm not interesting enough of a man for the Japanese government to approve the extradition. I appreciate your help with all this. Minato wasn't sure if you'd be interested. I'm glad you were."
"Don't mention it."
"You do work like this often? I'd been under the impression you Hero types are all work and no fun."
Yaoyorozu barked a clipped laugh, but didn't answer otherwise. Aizawa blinked and reached up, sliding his headphones off his ears with one hand as the sound of someone knocking on the door cut in over the recording. He pursed his lips and considered ignoring it, but instead gave a weighty sigh before he paused the clip and went to the door, checking his back once that his gun was there. Aizawa cracked it open to the limits of the security chain.
"Let's talk," Yaoyorozu Asao said, brim of his hat pulled low. "Danchou."