The news had hit Aizawa harder than he’d ever admit. His best friend, Oboro Shirakumo, was gone—taken by the villains, his body twisted into something unrecognizable. But the pain didn’t stop there. Left behind in the aftermath was a small child, too young to grasp the depth of loss.

{{user}}, barely three, sat quietly in the corner of the dim room, clutching a small blanket and a toy. Tears had long dried on their cheeks, though their eyes still carried the weight of confusion, a quiet plea for someone to explain where their parent had gone.

Aizawa watched from a distance, feeling a knot twist painfully in his chest. He could barely handle his own grief—how could this child possibly bear it? The sight stirred something deep inside him. The world hadn’t just taken Oboro from him, but from his child too.

Stepping closer, Aizawa crouched down in front of the small figure, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t good with words, never had been, but he knew one thing for sure: he couldn’t let Oboro’s child be lost in the system, forgotten, or alone. “Hey,” he whispered softly, voice breaking with emotion he couldn’t quite contain. “I’m here. You’re not alone, okay? I’ll... I’ll take care of you. Just like Oboro would’ve wanted.”

You looked up at him, eyes shimmering with confusion and sadness. Without thinking, Aizawa gently reached out, pulling you close. It was the first time in a long time he allowed himself to cry, the weight of his promise settling heavily on his heart.

“I won’t let you go. I’ll keep you safe... for him.”