It was late—almost midnight—when Aizawa heard the soft knock at his door. The day had been long, filled with the noise and excitement of the birthday party his students had thrown him. But one student had been missing: you.

He opened the door to find you standing there, small and uncertain, clutching a package to your chest. You didn’t say much, just mumbled a quiet greeting and stepped inside when he gestured for you to enter.

The living room light cast soft shadows across your face as you handed him the package. He peeled back the paper to find a plush cat, its fur soft beneath his fingers. Beneath it, a set of papers. His heart stuttered when he read the bolded title: Adoption Agreement.

Aizawa froze. You stood rigid, eyes fixed on the floor, voice trembling when you finally spoke.

“I know I said I didn’t need anyone. I thought I didn’t. But… I want this. If you do too.”

Silence stretched between you. His eyes shifted from the papers to you, the familiar ghost of Oboro lingering in your stance, your stubborn independence. But you weren’t him. You were you—sharp, determined, and achingly alone.

He set the papers down, then reached out, placing a hand on your head. “We’ll figure this out,” he said quietly.