Aizawa leaned against the training field’s gate, his usual tired stare watching as you and your two closest friends messed around after a long day. Training had ended, but instead of heading inside, you lingered—laughing, shoving, cracking jokes that made even the exhaustion of the day seem light.

“Goofing around, huh?” His voice cut through the moment, and instinctively, you straightened a little, though the amusement never left your face.

“Sometimes that’s exactly what you need,” you shot back without hesitation.

Aizawa stilled.

It was so familiar. Too familiar.

A split-second memory hit him—Oboro, flashing that same carefree grin, Hizashi throwing an arm over his shoulder, their laughter ringing in his ears like an echo from a life that had long since faded. They’d always been like this. Always pulling him into their ridiculous antics, always making things feel a little lighter.

He forced out a breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Yeah, well… don’t get yourselves killed doing it.” The words lacked real bite, and you knew it.

“Just don’t push your luck,” he mutters, looking away before his expression betrays him.

But you don’t miss the way his posture shifts, just a little looser than before.

He won’t say it outright, but he’s grateful. Grateful that you have this—that you aren’t alone.

Grateful that you had them.

And maybe, in some quiet, unspoken way, he was grateful that he had you too. As his kid and as his student.