"Why don't you escort me to the gardens, Lord Izuku?" Momo suggested. She somehow managed to make it sound like a request, even a pleasant one-but the look in her eyes was steely and gray.

Izuku knew better than to decline. "By all means, Lady Yaoyorozu," he said softly. Accepting the offered hand, he allowed Momo to twine their arms together, her long, slender fingers lacing into his gloved ones. She was a tall woman, slightly taller even than Shoko, so it was quite easy for her, despite Izuku's own height.

They made their way briskly through the winding corridors of the Iida mansion, past the feast halls and drunken partying, to the gardens, where many of those who had eaten their fill were taking a reprieve from the noise and bustle of the main hall.

The Iida gardens were, like all noble estates, beautiful tapestries of immaculately maintained hedges and flower beds and winding vines, with long paths and ponds and lawns of cool, fresh grass. It was along one of these paths that Izuku and Momo walked down, arm in arm. In reality, of course, Momo was setting the pace; it was all Izuku could do to keep up with her as she strode, straight-backed and stiff, past a lawn where a group of young noblewomen in beautiful gowns and elaborate hair, perhaps ranging from fifteen to twenty-five in age, were sitting on benches and in the grass, huddled in a group and giggling about something or other.

Izuku felt their eyes rake over him and Momo as they passed, like searchlights passing across a ship. He shivered a little under those gazes; a few were intrigued, a few more wary, but most were disturbingly hungry, especially in the way they looked at him.

He turned back to Momo, and noticed an odd look in her eyes; a moment later, he realized what it was. She'd been watching him. Seeing how he'd react.

Without breaking stride, Izuku spoke. "You chose this path on purpose, didn't you?" he asked, his tone mild and pleasant. "You wanted them to see us."

Momo raised an eyebrow. "Whatever makes you think that?" she replied.

Izuku's expression didn't change as he simply asked, "Am I wrong, Lady Momo?"

Momo was silent for a moment as they continued, making a lazy course back around the far side of the lawn before vanishing from the women's line of sight behind a hedge. Only then did she answer, "Very astute of you, Lord Izuku. I was parading you around, just a little."

Izuku tilted his head towards her. They were moving more slowly now, beneath weeping willow trees at the edge of a pristine pond. In a low voice, he rumbled, "Why?"

Momo chuckled, a sound like tinkling glass. "You don't beat around the bush, do you, Lord Izuku?"

Izuku frowned. This whole thing sat poorly with him. Momo had made no attempt to hide the dark look on her face when she all but demanded that he come with her, and now she was playing games with him? Something felt off.

"I see no reason to play cute," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "You clearly want to talk about something. Say it."

Momo was quiet for a moment, and Izuku found himself unable to determine why. She didn't seem to put much stock in his request, though, as instead of giving him a direct answer, she came to a stop at last. They were in a clear space surrounded by hedges, secluded away from the main trails and clearly thick enough to deter would-be eavesdroppers. Izuku, too, came to a halt, studying Momo as she half-turned away from him, leaving him unable to see her face.

At last, she snorted, and turned back. "So suspicious, Lord Izuku," she chuckled darkly, sounding more like Shoko than Izuku had ever heard her sound before. "Can a single noblewoman not enjoy a pleasant walk with a potential suitor? You're quite the marriage prospect, at the moment. I merely wanted to make those women a little…jealous."

Izuku raised an eyebrow at that. To be sure, he found it entirely plausible; he'd been fending off a significant amount of interest from a range of unmarried noblewomen already, though it was mostly through letters and formal greetings from houses friendly to House Yagi, for now. Nor was he stupid enough to not recognize the power of his new position; in terms of the raw power his wife would eventually wield as Lady of House Yagi, he was undoubtedly the most coveted prize of their generation. He had no doubt that he-and his marriage status-were one of the primary topics of those girls' gossip.

But even so…he wasn't sure he bought Momo's reasoning. But as they stood there, that mysterious half-smile on her face, Izuku found himself increasingly uncertain about Momo's intentions-and, to be honest, about his own thoughts.

To be certain, Momo was gorgeous. She was tall and curvy, her skin pale and smooth, and her elaborate, dark hair silky and elaborately dressed up. Her face was so flawless it could stop a man's heart. Momo Yaoyorozu was, in many ways, the perfect exemplar of a modern Japanese noblewoman; elegant, refined, graceful, dangerous. Not only that, she was witty, intelligent, and interesting. Izuku knew she'd been in the binder Toshinori had given him, too-the shortlist of options he thought would be good for Izuku.

And yet…there was something missing when Izuku looked at her, in the dying dusk of a beautiful night. He found no particular desire for her in his heart, nothing that might have been affection, or even really lust. She was interesting, yes-but something about the whole situation felt too artificial, too manufactured, to really pique any further interest from him. And then, of course, there was the issue that he didn't trust her in the fucking slightest.

Finally, Izuku decided to take a gamble; his instincts said something was up here. He said in a perfectly even voice, "Or, to put it another way, you wanted an alibi. A cover for what you really want to talk about."

Momo's expression froze for half a second. Then, she blinked slowly, and sighed. Idly, she raised a hand and twirled a finger around a loose curl of dark hair, before smiling. This smile was not the coy, coquettish thing she had been wearing their whole walk; it was darker, more alive. There was an edge to it, the same edge that seemed to be underneath every expression Shoko Todoroki wore. It was the smile of a dangerous woman dropping the pretense.

"I suppose I deserved that," she admitted. "I should have realized; you've proven yourself more than perceptive enough to see through my excuses, Lord Izuku. I apologize."

Izuku kept his face even and neutral. "Apology accepted," he replied, a dry undercurrent in his voice. "Provided, of course, that you actually explain why you dragged me out here."

Momo nodded. "Fair enough," she agreed. Any trace of humor vanished from her expression. "I brought you out here to give you a warning."

The temperature seemed to drop around Izuku. Momo made no motion or sound that could be perceived as threatening, but his voice was still deadly calm as he tilted his head and asked, "What kind of warning?"

Momo's only response to the casual danger in Izuku's voice was rolling her eyes. "Not a threat, if that's what you're wondering," she replied. "I'm trying to keep you from getting hurt."

"Hurt by what?" Izuku asked, warming up again, ever so slightly.

"By Lady Shoko," Momo said, deadly serious. "You have no idea how dangerous your situation is, right now."

Izuku raised an eyebrow. "Really? Enlighten me, then."

Momo nodded gravely. She seemed on edge, looking over her shoulder every few seconds, despite their seclusion; Izuku wondered what possible reason she had for being so jumpy. Was she really that scared of being discovered by Shoko?

"Tell me, Lord Izuku," she said. "How much do you really know about Lady Shoko?"

Izuku blinked. For a moment, he was silent, considering. Then, he replied, "I know that every noble in Japan is scared of her."

"Do you know why that is?" Momo pressed. She remained deadly serious, her voice dangerously soft.

Izuku fell silent. At last, he sighed; an admission so obvious he didn't need to say a word.

Momo sighed. "Very well, I suppose I'll give you a history lesson," she said. "Tell me, are you familiar with what House Wars are?"

Izuku thought for a moment. The term was somewhat familiar, and he knew the phenomenon. It didn't require any great explanation, or insight, to understand; the nobles of Japan were a proud, arrogant lot, and they controlled Houses that were as much economic, political, and military organizations as anything. Every House had a private army, their House Guard; these ranged from a team of a few hired bodyguards to, to loosely organized militias, to elite, highly trained paramilitaries better-equipped than Japan's actual Self Defense Forces. With the weakened rump of the old pre-Quirk government only existing to confirm and protect noble interests, there was essentially no law or superior force to stop inter-house conflicts from escalating beyond all control-which they did often enough to justify those House Guards. "Well enough," he replied.

Momo nodded. Still speaking in an urgent, low voice, she said, "The last significant House War was…three years ago, now? You wouldn't have heard about it, in America, but it was bad."

"How bad?" Izuku asked, still unsure where this was going.

Momo pursed her lips. "It was between two decent-sized but otherwise fairly unremarkable Houses, House Shishikura and House Shindo," she began. "Their heirs were both young men, and they got into an argument at a feast, like this one. Things…escalated."

Izuku blinked. "An argument turned into a war?" he asked incredulously.

Momo nodded gravely. "It shouldn't have," she said. "There are other mechanisms for resolving disputes-formal duels with rules of engagement, restitution for insult or injury, things like that-but neither House was willing to use them. These Houses had something of an old rivalry, and it flared up again, so bad that nothing could cool it off. Insults turned to threats, threats became action…and before anyone could intervene, House Shishikura and House Shindo wiped each other out. They slaughtered each other to the last man, and leveled half of Osaka besides."

Izuku's eyes went wide, and he felt a chill pass over his skin. "God," he breathed. "It was that violent?"

"Yes," Momo answered. "They only ever found pieces of Shishikura's heir. And, in case you're wondering how this is relevant…Lady Shoko is the one who caused it."

Izuku's expression did all the talking he needed to do. In the shocked silence that followed, Momo continued, "Shindo and Shishikura's heirs had both set their sights on marrying her. She didn't particularly dislike either of them-Shindo in particular was a fairly decent man, all things considered-but she decided she had no interest in either of them. So she started setting them against one another, and just…fed the fire until it exploded."

Izuku considered this. Skeptically, he asked, "Surely, it was more complicated than that, right?"

Momo snorted ruefully, shaking her head. "She did it easily," she replied. "I watched her do it. You've seen her talk. You know how… powerful her words can be."

Izuku nodded slowly, saying nothing.

"Imagine her riling up a pair of arrogant young noblemen and setting them against each other, egging them on with promises and suggestions, until one of them gets hurt," Momo said quietly, her voice weaving a terrible, deadly picture. "Then, feeding their fathers' paranoia and mistrust with quiet, subtle words, winding them up until they're convinced that they will be destroyed by their most hated rival, that the only way to protect their houses is to strike first. A few words here, a suggestion there, a conversation there…and now she's started a full-scale war. All while pretending she's just a bystander. She publicly mourned them. All while House Todoroki took over the majority of both Houses' assets, of course."

Izuku hadn't felt a chill this strong in years. "I…Jesus Christ," he muttered, shaking his head.

Momo nodded again. "Yeah," she agreed. "Don't let the facade she wears fool you-and that's what the woman you've met is, the mask she likes to wear. She likes to pretend she's just another noblewoman-but in truth, she is, without a doubt, the single most terrifying person I've ever met."

Izuku said nothing for a long moment, thinking things over. Momo's story was chilling, no doubt. More than that, it had the ring of truth to it-and quite frankly, it would have been a stupid lie, claiming responsibility for such a major event everyone had heard about. Izuku could fact-check Momo's account quite easily with Toshinori. And yet…something once again felt off.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked. "Aren't you her right-hand woman?"

Momo smiled weakly. "Yes," she confirmed. "The safest place when you're dealing with someone like her is as her playing piece, and I'm comfortable with that. But even so…we're not all heartless, Lord Izuku. I've seen her chew through men like you. It never ends well for them. And, quite frankly…I like you. I'm trying to give you a chance to get out unscathed. That's my suggestion: leave. Get out before she pulls you any deeper. Find yourself a nice, pretty noble wife, play dumb, and make her lose interest. She won't hurt you that way."

Izuku once more considered his words before speaking. What did he say to that? What did he make of the odd feeling in his chest-the distinct impression that Momo was still hiding something from him.

Before he could decide, Momo sighed; Izuku got the feeling she'd been waiting for something, some answer, but had finally given up. "That's all I had to say," she replied, sounding almost… disappointed? "I suppose I'll take my leave now, Lord Izuku."

That managed to make Izuku refocus. "Allow me to escort you back to the hall, at least," he offered.

Momo nodded her assent, and she once more took his arm as they made their way back through the gardens. The noblewomen on the lawn once more whispered eagerly to each other at the sight of them; some seemed approving, while others were, as Momo had predicted, visibly jealous.

Izuku barely noticed any of it, even as they approached the entrance to the hall. He was still lost in thought, trying to make sense of the strangeness of their conversation. What about it was throwing him off so much?

He never did put a finger on what exactly it was. But suddenly, a thought came to him, and he very nearly pulled to a stop mid-stride.

Surely it was impossible. Surely he was fumbling in the dark, jumping at shadows. But he had an inescapable suspicion that he wasn't.

It was time to do what he had done best as a mercenary-roll the dice.

Finally, they reached the hall entrance, and Momo released her grip on Izuku's arm. Her fingers skimmed down his forearm, but before they could slip away entirely, he casually took her by the wrist.

Momo looked up at him in surprise, then in confusion as Izuku smiled mischievously. He raised her hand to his lips, and brushed a kiss against her knuckles. It looked to all the world-and to the noblewomen still watching from the lawn-like a fond farewell.

But none of the onlookers heard him tell her, "Farewell, Lady Momo. Next time, please tell Lady Shoko that I'm just as happy to hear her words from her own lips as from yours."

With that, Izuku rose again, and turned his back, disappearing into the hall before Momo could wipe the stunned look from her face. She looked after him, disbelief and no small amount of awe plain in her expression, then turned and beat a hasty retreat of her own.

She had another warning to deliver.

Shoko was sipping from what she intended to be her last glass of wine for the night when Momo returned-without Lord Izuku.

She grinned playfully as her right hand closed the door behind her, looking shockingly frazzled by her own flawless standards.

"Well?" she asked, setting her glass aside. "How did your little escapade go?"

Momo looked at her, and Shoko frowned at the visible shock on her face. What was-

"He saw through it," Momo reported, maintaining control of her voice with obvious effort.

Shoko had had masterful control of her facial muscles nearly all her life. It was necessary in this world-not just to hide your reactions, but to create false ones, to use body language to mislead and misdirect in ways that words simply couldn't. But that control nearly failed her now, as she had to fight to keep her jaw from dropping.

"Really?" she asked. "He actually saw through your "warning?"

Momo nodded. There was a second glass of wine Shoko had set out for her on the table; she took it, and drank deeply, leaving Shoko a precious few moments to gather her thoughts.

The little game she and Momo had just played was something they had done many times before; Momo would play the worried underling with a good heart, trying to warn someone off from drawing Shoko's attention with stories of what she was really like, then reporting their reaction to Shoko, who found it highly revealing about their intentions, and whether they were worth continuing to keep around. Those who were intimidated by the "revelations" about Shoko's involvement in the destruction of House Shishikura and House Shindo were too timid and weak to be worth bothering with; those who loudly declared that they weren't afraid were a little more interesting, but Shoko had never found a single one who could actually back up that confidence.

Nobody had ever figured out that Momo was playing a part; Shoko knew firsthand that Momo was a world-class actor who could have made it on pre-Quirk Broadway, and the fact that both her opinion of Shoko and the story of the House War itself were strategically sprinkled with the truth made it that much more convincing. It seemed that Lord Izuku Midoriya was significantly more clever than she had given him credit for.

At long last, Shoko gave up the struggle of trying to keep her face even and her emotions contained; her lips curled upwards into a vicious, catlike grin, and she burst out laughing. Momo watched nervously as Shoko's mirth filled the room; that laughter only ever meant very bad things for anyone involved.

When she finally regained control, Shoko leaned forwards, over the table. "Now this is exciting!" she declared. "Tell me exactly what he said to you."

Momo did so, and Shoko had to fight back another peal of laughter. "I like this one," she said with a grin. "He's got balls."

Momo shrugged, but slowly grinned as well. "I hate to admit it, but I kind of like him too," she admitted.

That made Shoko grin all over again. "Now that's a first!" she said. "Although, judging by the rumors that are probably already swirling, you've got your hooks into him before I do!"

Momo's smile stiffened a little. "I suppose," she allowed. "I'm not sure he's my type, though."

Shoko chuckled. "I suppose not," she agreed. "After all, we all know what your type is."

Momo winced. "I thought we agreed to never talk about that." she muttered.

"Oh, please," Shoko scoffed. "I agreed to never talk about it in front of other people. But I'm going to make fun of you for it forever. After all, who thought elegant, refined, polite little Momo Yaoyorozu would be into-"

Momo coughed loudly and pointedly to interrupt her. "Need I remind you, Lady Shoko," she replied formally, though a grin was teasing at the corner of her mouth, "That I also know what you're into? We're both rather deviant, here."

Shoko's grin never wavered. "Ah, but you see," she shot back, "the key difference is that you're shy about it. I'm not."

Momo laughed, conceding the point with a wave. Before she could respond, though, there was the sound of shouting from the main feast hall below.

Shoko hopped to her feet smoothly, and reached the balcony in seconds. Beneath her, she saw a pair of dark-suited bodyguards who had seemingly told Lord Iida something that made him furious. Beside his father, Tenya Iida was also standing, looking shocked.

Before Shoko could even begin to guess what was going on, her own bodyguards appeared in the doorway to their private room.
"Lady Shoko," one of them said, "We should be going. Lord Iida has ordered the feast to end, and all guests to leave the estate, with his apologies. Apparently, there's been an incident."

Shoko nodded; she knew better than to argue with her guards on matters of security. That was what they were paid for, and House Todoroki only selected the best; if they said it was time to leave, it was time to leave. Still, her curiosity refused to let the matter go entirely, even as she nodded farewell to Momo, whose guard had also come to collect his charge.

"What sort of incident?" she asked the guard who had spoken, her mind racing.

He told her. Her eyes went wide.

Fifteen minutes earlier, Northern Japan

Kaina shivered as the wind picked up. Even with the camouflage netting and blankets wrapped around her, her position attached to the side of a steep, stony mountainside above a narrow valley and a winding train track was utterly exposed to the elements, and it was not warm up here.

If she was the sort to have second thoughts, she might have had them then, dangling above a thousand-foot drop, held in place only by a few straps anchored to pitons driven into the rock. But she'd made her decision, and she was going to stick with it; the temporary discomfort of an afternoon spent freezing halfway up a mountain was nothing, compared to her goal.

The radio at her belt squawked, jolting her from her thoughts. Without removing her eye from her arm-rifle's sight, Kaina turned it on.

"How's it looking up there, Nagant?" Dabi asked.

"Same as it did two hours ago," she grunted. "Why did you have us set up so early, again?"

Dabi sighed. "Sorry about that, but House Iida sometimes runs the trains offset of their schedule by a few hours for security reasons," he said, offering no explanation for how he'd gotten that information, as usual. "We don't want to miss our opportunity."

"Fair enough, I guess," Kaina muttered. "Just tell me I can get down off this stupid mountain soon."

There was a pause, and then Dabi's voice filled the speaker again. "Well, Nagant, seems like your wish has been answered," he said gleefully. "Our lookout just spotted the train on approach, ETA thirty seconds. You're up. Don't miss."

Kaina allowed herself a small grin, just for a moment. She could hear the train in the distance now, the sound echoing off the walls of the sharp valley and filling her ears.

This wasn't any ordinary passenger train; it was one of House Iida's max-security transport runs. The Iida family had become obscenely rich off of a transportation empire; they owned shipping conglomerates, trucking companies, logistics hubs of every kind and capability. Most of all, though, they were rail barons; just about all of Japan's famed pre-Quirk rail infrastructure survived, in one form or another, but it had been taken over years ago by House Iida, as part of the general conquest of the Japanese state and economy by noble houses that divvied up the spoils of society like parasites. Most citizens never noticed the difference; the trains still ran on time, still went to the same places, were even staffed by the same people. But behind the scenes, the Iidas did things like this: for those who were in possession of goods to valuable to risk on an ordinary cargo train, or for those who wanted… extra discretion, high-security, high-speed trains were constantly running in the off hours, when nobody would notice their movements across Japan.

The thing was, these transports were protected as much by practicality as by the armed guards they always carried; robbing a train, particularly one in motion, was hard work, and it required enormous manpower to pull off. Any group large and organized enough to actually pull off a heist almost always had much more lucrative, and less dangerous, criminal opportunities available to them. There was simply no reason to rob this train if all you were after was the money.

But of course, Dabi and his crew weren't after the money. To be sure, they were going to take everything on this train that wasn't nailed down-the money would keep the small army of low-grade thugs and local criminals currently hidden from view down in the valley below the train tracks very happy, and finance their ongoing operations-but the thing they were after was the reputation damage.

House Iida's services relied on their reputation for speed, reliability, and absolute discretion. Disrupt that-say, by ambushing and robbing a train full of irreplaceable artworks, valuable goods, and documents and secrets that somebody was willing to pay exorbitantly to ensure nobody ever saw-and their business would dry up. The only way they could possibly survive such a blow to their honor would be swift and furious violence; hunting down the culprits as fast as humanly possible.

A problem for a criminal gang out to make a quick buck without getting shot by elite House Guard troops. But if another Great House could be framed somehow…

Well. It'd been a few years since a House War.

The train came screaming around the bend, and into Kaina's vision. It moved far too fast to draw a decent bead on-but she wasn't aiming for the train.

Several hours earlier, Dabi had had his men position a small, innocuous-looking box between two of the ties of the track. It was that box that Kaina put in her crosshairs, held steady on, and shot-while dangling from the side of a mountain a thousand feet up, being blown by crosswinds and shivering to her bones.

It felt good to be the best.

The box-which was obviously packed to the gills with military-grade explosives, what mercenary left their house without a box packed to the gills with military-grade explosives-erupted in a gout of fire and twisted metal just as the train crossed it. The result was instant; the engine of the train jumped the tracks at several hundred miles per hour, ripping every car behind it along with it as it went screaming down the gully on the outside of the bend in the tracks, sending showers of sparks as high as a building.

It was an oddly magnificent sight, in a horrific way; it took less than twenty seconds for dozens of men to die without ever understanding what was happening, as the train jackknifed into the walls of the valley and tumbled across the slope onto lower ground. The forward cars of the train were smashed to bits, their contents spilling out across the uneven ground; the cars further back had a landing cushioned somewhat by the sacrifices of their comrades, and men staggered out of them, wounded and bleeding but raising their guns all the same; even at this point, they knew they were under attack.

It didn't do them much good, as seemingly every bush and bit of scrub had vomited forth a man with a gun or minor quirk, a hail of fire taking the surviving train guards as they tried to defend themselves. Flashes of fire and tremors heralded Dabi, Rappa, and Miruko's parts in the fight, which was so brief and one-sided that Kaina didn't even bother taking part. She just gripped the pitons that had held her weight, and began the long, slow process of climbing back down the mountain.

The first blow had been struck-and though there would doubtless be a response, she had to admit, it felt good to make the Houses bleed.