Your name was different now.

So was everything else.

You didn’t blame him for not recognizing you the first day of school. Your voice had changed. Your eyes were colder. You didn’t smile the way you used to — like everything in the world might be good again if you stayed near him.

He’d glanced at you once when calling roll.

Just once.

No flicker of recognition. No pause.

You sat through that first week silent, controlled — every move calculated to keep people from asking too many questions.

You didn’t let yourself look at him longer than you had to.

Didn’t let yourself hope.

But that didn’t mean you stopped watching him.

Aizawa hadn’t changed much. Still tired. Still sharp. Still muttering soft warnings to students under his breath like he knew exactly what rule they were about to break.

You hated how easy it was to fall back into his rhythm — even when he didn’t know who you were.

⸻

The Sports Festival changed everything.

You didn’t mean to be the one everyone remembered.

You just wanted to prove something.

Your opponent was loud. Flashy. Way too confident.

And when the round started, he tried to take you out fast.

But he didn’t know your quirk.

Didn’t know what it could do now.

One pulse. One perfect strike. And he was out of the ring before he even knew what hit him.

The crowd lost it.

But you were already scanning the staff section.

You knew exactly where to look.

Hizashi leaned forward over the railing, mic halfway down. He’d stopped commentating mid-sentence.

And Aizawa?

He was on his feet.

Eyes locked on yours. Tense. Still. Disbelieving.

“Shouta,” Hizashi murmured. “You saw that, right?”

“That’s their quirk,” Aizawa said hoarsely. “That’s my kid’s quirk.”

You stared at him. Just for a second.

Then turned away, walking back to the tunnel with your pulse still roaring in your ears.

You won.

But your heart hadn’t figured out what to do with that win yet.

⸻

The sun had dipped low by the time you left the locker room.

Most of the crowd had already cleared out. Students were walking home in pairs. The air buzzed faintly with leftover adrenaline and sunset heat.

You were alone when you reached the UA gates.

At least… you thought you were.

Then you saw them.

Two figures standing by the edge of the school sidewalk. One with bright hair and headphones pushed around his neck. The other in black, scarf loose, hair tied back, eyes locked on you like they’d never stopped watching.

Your steps slowed.

You could’ve kept walking. Could’ve passed by with a nod. Could’ve pretended you didn’t notice.

But you didn’t.

You stopped.

Aizawa looked at you for a long time. His expression unreadable. Still. Just like it used to be when you came home late and tried not to meet his eyes.

Then:

“…So,” he said. Voice low. Familiar. “You got strong.”

You stared at him.

Then shrugged. “You left me no choice.”

A pause.

Then — Hizashi smiled first. “You headed home alone?”

“…I was.”

“Mind if we walk you?”

You didn’t answer right away.

But your feet started moving.

And you didn’t stop them.