Aizawa narrowed his eyes as he walked deeper into the alleyway, the city's usual noise fading into an eerie hush. You hadn’t returned from patrol, and that alone had set alarms off in his mind. You were responsible, punctual, never the type to vanish without a word.

Then he saw you lay crumpled against the cold concrete, motionless. Aizawa rushed over, kneeling beside you and shaking your shoulder. “Hey. Shinoe, talk to me—what happened?” Panic edged his voice. Your pulse was faint, but steady. No blood, no visible injuries. Just unconscious.

He barely had time to consider what kind of Quirk had done this when everything turned black.

Moments later, he gasped awake, blinking against unfamiliar sunlight. The air felt different. Lighter. Warmer. He sat up slowly, confusion flickering across his face—until a small figure caught his eye.

A child was walking down the pavement. Young. No older than ten. But that face, you.

He wasn’t in the present anymore. Somehow, he’d been thrown into the past and into a time where your story was just beginning.