"Going to fuck her right here in the open, Danchou?"

He knew that voice. It was a voice he'd been waiting for weeks to hear, but had given up on. He had not expected to hear it on the UA campus.

Aizawa was already moving. He put himself between Momo and where Goro's voice had come from, using his body and the stone sign of the dorm to block her from sight. He laid his hand over her mouth, quieting the startled noise she made.

The bastard came across the quad, his hands in his pockets as he strode, looking much too cocky. Aizawa felt a tension in his chest ease. He had waited weeks, he'd given up, but now the moment had come. The last threat left to Momo from that fateful night. The time was now.

Goro drew his hands from his pockets, and Aizawa caught the gleam of a blade. Did he have weapons on him? No. He had gotten comfortable — lax — behind the security of UA's walls. Certainly hadn't expected Goro to show up here. He thought of Goro's quirk; Flash Step. He could move faster than the eye could follow. Fast enough to leave a mirage behind. It didn't have much in the way of practical every day application, but here…One on one…Aizawa would just have to hold him off.

"You think you're such tough shit," Goro growled. "After I cut you down, boss, I'm going to cut my own hole in her to fuck."

Aizawa didn't take the bait. It was just a bitch move to get a rise out of him, and he wouldn't fall for it. Momo was smart, she was withdrawing as far as she could behind the sign. The less he had to worry about her, the better.

Goro moved.

Aizawa caught the shimmer of the mirage before it had even fully formed, and he recognized the direction of its movement. He bent away, leaning his waist away from the strike zone, as Goro manifested again before him. Goro couldn't Flash Step efficiently this close up, but it was fucking hard to see the blade in the dark; he was reliant on the security lights to catch a gleam off it to know where it was going. He didn't want to resort to his quirk yet. He couldn't hold it as long as he used to, but Aizawa didn't know if it was wise to wait until the situation was critical to reach for it.

There was a flash of white as Goro went high with the blade, stepping forward to compensate for his shorter height, and Aizawa saw its arc in the moonlight. The adrenaline came in as the knife went down.

He thrust his arm upward, knocking Goro's blade askew, but his kobun didn't lose control of it for a moment. Aizawa didn't see where it went next — but he felt when it connected. The quick one-two of a stab. The punch of the puncture. The ground-trembling sensation of withdrawal. Heat seared through his lower back, wet heat. The first time Aizawa had been stabbed, it'd put him on his knees. He was no novice to knife wounds now, though, and he gave only a grunt when he acknowledged what happened.

He shifted himself away, keeping his precarious balance as he twisted to evade the knife again, and he knew it. He just knew it was about to happen when Goro got ready to Flash Step. Aizawa narrowed his eyes and erased his quirk.

Goro knew the moment it happened, that much was clear from the enraged gnash of his teeth as he followed through with the high kick, even though his intentions had been foiled. Aizawa felt it now, his groove, the surge of readiness as Goro went for another kick and he got his arm up with more than enough time to block the blow. He felt Goro's anger as he switched his plan of attack, going back to using his hands. Left hook, right hook, had to keep an eye on that right hand that still held the knife.

He was starting to really feel the stab wound. It burned and the burning spread with every sharp movement he had to make. His eyes fucking burned from keeping his gaze locked. Goro came in with a wide, fan-blade slash, and Aizawa saw the opening. His hand snatched and caught Goro by the wrist, and there was a moment where he felt blinded by pain as he moved fast, slamming Goro's chest with his knee before shoving to arm's length. Giving himself a moment to get his bearings back.

Goro tried to come back around on the other side with the knife, lashing out blindly, and getting close enough to his face that he was forced to let go in order to keep from blinking.

"Fight me like a man!" Goro demanded, raising his empty hand at him, mockingly. "Stop erasing my quirk and see how good you really are!"

He couldn't hold it any longer. His eyes were burning, dry and scratched-feeling. He blinked. The physical relief rushed him and a tightness in his chest releases, and he gave a glance back at the sign to see if Momo was still there. She was. Of course she was, she wasn't a person interested in retreating. She'd give him space to fight, but she wouldn't go.

"I wouldn't leave. I wouldn't leave you."

Aizawa turned back to Goro. Shoulders squared and feet planted.

Goro charged him, blade at the ready, and he stepped forward to meet him. Aizawa grabbed Goro's hand as he came at him. He disarmed Goro in a single swift gesture, catching the very back of the hilt and twisting Goro's arm around to take it before he sidestepped out of his path. Aizawa put a hand between Goro's shoulder blades, putting all his strength into that singular shove, driving Goro face-first on the ground.

Aizawa dropped on top of Goro, grabbing him by the clothes to twist him over onto his back. Goro was stunned, eyes rolling loose and uncoordinated, and Aizawa adjusted his grip on the switchblade's hilt. He saw, the corner of his eye for only a moment, Momo's gaze focused on him.

"Look away," Aizawa ordered.

Goro was coming back to it now, and his hands came up to grapple. But Aizawa couldn't do it yet, he couldn't do strike the necessary blow with her eyes on him. He wouldn't give her more to have nightmares about. His words were strained as he fought to keep his leverage as Goro's hands grabbed at his arms, pushing back.

"Don't look."

Momo turned away.

Aizawa lifted off Goro, catching him by surprise and Goro's pushing arms flung out at the unexpectedness. Before Goro could recover his muscle control, Aizawa dropped his full body weight forward. Goro's eyes went wide, mouth opening in surprise as the knife slammed into his chest. Aizawa felt the blade catch on rib bones before pure force changes its angle and it sank to the hilt.

Aizawa's let go with one hand in order to clamp down over Goro's gaping mouth, and his teeth ground tight, feeling every bit of resistance up his arm as he forced the blade to the left then right. Every contraction of Goro's body under him kept him on high alert until finally the twitches and tremors began to fade. Goro's eyes stayed wide, gazing up past him, through him, to the moon and the stars and the cosmos as the light left.

Aizawa's shoulders slumped at last, muscles burning at the relief as he let go. He only had a moment to savor the feeling. Someplace behind him, he heard Momo gagging. His head turned to look for her and found her slumped against the stone sign, her complexion drained and pallid.

"Don't look yet," he instructed, and she nodded. "Stay where you are. Don't move."

He had to think for both of them right now, to cover both their assets. His eyes went back and forth across the quad, looking for anyone who might be watching, then looking at the path to his car. Aizawa inhaled deep deep deep then let it out in one solid breath, ready to work.

He bent and grabbed up the dead weight of Goro's corpse, and grit his teeth as he hefted him up across his shoulders into a fireman's carry. The stab wound smarted like hell, protesting loudly as Aizawa got him positioned before heading to his car. He didn't have his key on him, but that was alright. His car had a line of digits under the handle that he could use to unlock it instead. Where was his cellphone? He felt both phones in his pocket against his leg as he walked. Good.

Vulnerability left him twitch as he made his way, the short distance much too open to someone seeing him. He'd set up this route to come and go as he pleased; it had not been laid out with the idea of carrying a dead fucking body off the UA campus. But he made it to his car, adjusting Goro so he could use one hand to press the code for the car door then bend to pull the release for the trunk.

Dumping Goro into the trunk was the easiest part of his night.

Aizawa kept going with his mental checklist. He'd need to send his car off to get 'detailed' today, because it'd be more than a little sus to keep sheets of plastic handy in his POV.

He got into the passenger seat of his car, the first aid kit he kept in the trunk accompanying him now. Aizawa hissed through his teeth as he drew up his shirt and got a good look at the stab wound for the first time. It would need stitches, but he didn't have the time, tools, or space for that here. So instead he locked his teeth on the neck of his shirt, lips curling in, as he poured cauterizing powder on the injury.

He jackknifed off the seat, spine twisting. The noises he held back were like an animal with a leg caught in a trap, vision going white then black and spotted, and he dug his heels into the cheap floor rug. Aizawa panted hard as he waited to come down. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but after a few minutes he folded gauze over it then put a large bandage over that.

Then, lightheaded, he backtracked to the quad to check on Momo.

He found her where he left her, but she was on her knees now. He could hear her heavy, labored breaths as he got closer, reaching out to lay a hand on her shoulder.

"Momo?"

She didn't answer, and he knew already where her mind was, what place it had gone to. His body was sore and fatigued, but Aizawa didn't think twice as his arms went around her. One beneath her knees, the other across her back, and he gave himself a moment to mentally prepare for the pain before he forced himself up to his feet. Fight it. Work through it. Her breaths were too rapid, too shallow, and her eyes wandered. She laid limp against him as he carried her into the privacy of the shadows, where he gently lowered her to sit on the ground. He knelt before her, hands on each of her shoulders.

"You have to breathe for me," he said, grip on her firm, needing her to feel him. She needed to know he was there. "With me. Breathe in for four. Hold, hold, hold, four, three, two, let it out slow. Slower. Eight. Slower. Breathe in again, like that. Deep. Hold for seven. Eight now, let it out. Slow. That's my girl."

It was like watching the dead come back to life. Her eyes focused in on him, seeing him, and some of the color was creeping back into her cheeks in slow motion. Aizawa felt a tightness in his chest relax as her lower lip trembled. He smoothed a hand down her dark hair, down her shoulder, down her arm. Fuck. He wanted to kiss her, as if that would confirm and was really okay and uninjured.

No, don't do it.

"How long does it take to light to reach Earth?" he asked instead.

"Eight—" She voice broke, and she swallowed hard before trying again. "Eight minutes and nineteen seconds."

"Name something made from carbon."

"Uh, diamonds. Graphite."

Don't do it.

"At what temperature does air become a liquid?"

His hand went back up her hair, fingers sliding through the strands. Momo leaned her head into his palm, fuck, and her dark eyes came up to look at him.

"Negative one hundred ninety degrees Celsius."

Don't do it. Don't. There's a body in your car, there's blood on the sidewalk, it's not safe. Get moving.

"What's the formula for bleach?" he asked.

"NaOCl."

"Do you think you're capable of making that?"

"Of making bleach?"

"Yes."

"I…"

She closed her eyes. He waited, knowing that even if she couldn't, it would ground her back in this world even more. It hurt him, though, to see her tremble and make a strained sound. He realized his hand was still on her, fingers still in her hair, but he was wary of the consequences if he let her go now.

"It's fine if you can't," he reassured her.

"I can, I swear I can—"

"You don't have to."

"Let me try again, please…"

"No. Save your energy. Stay here, keep your eyes closed."

He left her there, in the shadow of UA, as he headed back to his car for some bleach. That he could at least get away with carrying. He tried to come up with a plan, but as he kept trying to countdown against the clock he came to the hateful realization he didn't have enough time to handle this on his own.

He fished out his burner and called Kobayashi. The conversation was blessedly short, and for once Kobayashi didn't ask about money. Aizawa found a few bottles of water in his gym bag, along with the bleach, and headed back to the dorms. There were prickles up and down his neck and arms as he walked, trying to keep his strides calm. Trying not to limp. He was really fucking hurting, but it wasn't someplace lethal. It wasn't deep enough to be more than a severe inconvenience.

He reached the place he and Goro had fought. The blood wasn't as spread as he'd first thought it might've been; the worst of it was the flying droplets from when he'd picked Goro up. Aizawa opened the waters, covering the mouth of the bottle with his thumb and squeezing with his other hand. It was enough pressure to spray the blood away so it didn't pool. There was a garbage bin near the dorm's front door, and he tossed the empties there. Aizawa opened the bleach next, sloshing it across the walkway before he went back to Momo; her eyes closed obediently as she waited for the all clear.

"Let me take you back to your room," he said gently, and he touched her shoulder to cue her rise.

Momo nodded, getting his touch guide her up, but she opened her eyes to look at him, and Aizawa's breath was slapped out of him as her knees went out and he grabbed for her, wrenching his injury as he did. She held onto him in return, slight in his arms, and she reached up weakly to brush at his face. He exhaled slow. Deliberately.

"Damn," he said under his breath. "Okay. Okay, you'll just have to come with me."

He returned her to her feet and put one of her arms across his shoulders for support, and she followed as he led the way.

He took her to his nondescript sedan and opened the passenger door for her. Momo lowered herself into the seat, and he had to lean across her in the small space to buckle her in. Her head fell back limply as she watched him, and when his eyes met hers, he didn't let his gaze linger.

Don't fucking do it.

He shut her door and went around to the driver's side. As he climbed in, he tossed a jug of bleach into the backseat. There was a mostly-empty fluid slosh as it landed. It was a goddamn relief to finally be off his feet. Beside him, Momo covered her mouth with one hand.

"How bad—"

"It's ugly," he said dismissively, "but superficial."

But Momo was pulling herself together now, and he averted his eyes fast as she raised her shirt to create something. She held it out, putting it in his view. He looked at her then, rolling his eyes.

"A chest seal bandage? Relax, it's not that bad. Nothing vital got nicked. And I already covered it."

He was glad he sounded more convincing than he felt; he'd relief was visible on her face when she followed his pointing finger down to the first aid box at her feet.

"Take this then?"

He wanted to tell her to stop, she didn't need to prove anything — least of all to him. But, he also recognized what she was doing. The ancient warrior's instance on going to war in whatever capacity they could. She handed him a clean shirt.

Aizawa hesitated, then took it from her. Christ forbid if he got pulled over looking the way he did now. She had the decency to keep her eyes down as he tugged off his bloody shirt, wet and clinging to him with every move now.

"Are you well enough to go to your dorm and wait there?" he asked, stuffing the dirty shirt under his seat.

He blinked in surprise as Momo grabbed onto his forearm, "Please, no!" and when he look at her he saw the terror in her eyes. Aizawa inhaled deep deep deep. He wanted to get her close and reassure her everything was fine. He was fine. She was fine. The situation was under control. Instead, he drew away.

"Okay."