His grip was tight around their arms, pinning them against the floor as he tried to make sense of their erratic behavior. The gas mask they wore distorted their breath, making it harder for him to read their emotions. But there was something wrong—something off in the way they fought back.

“This isn’t you,” he murmured to himself, his concentration slipping with every movement. He knew them, knew their style, but this… this wasn’t it. Their actions were far too chaotic, too unpredictable.

Without warning, they twisted, slipping from his grasp and pushing him off with unnatural force. Just as he was about to recover, a dark figure emerged from the shadows, Aizawa’s scarf wrapping around the person’s body and holding them in place.

Eraserhead stood silently, his eyes sharp. “Don’t lose yourself,” he said flatly, stepping forward to take over.