Aizawa was halfway through grading papers when the sound reached him. A deafening bang, followed by the unmistakable tremor of something heavy slamming into the wall. The noise echoed down the halls of the dorm building, sharp and sudden enough to make him drop his pen. His eyes narrowed.

With a tired groan, he stood up, slipping his capture weapon around his shoulders as he moved quickly but quietly toward the source. The hallway lights flickered slightly overhead, casting long shadows along the corridor.

He turned the corner just in time to see a dent in the far wall and splinters of wood scattered across the floor. His gaze fell on you—standing just outside your dorm room, your back braced against the door, both hands gripping the handle with shaking knuckles.

You were breathing hard. Sweat clung to your brow, and your eyes flicked toward him with a mixture of relief and raw adrenaline. The door behind you bucked once, then again, something—no, someone—on the other side trying to get back in.

Aizawa didn’t need to ask what happened. He read it in the tremble of your arms and the blood smearing your sleeve. He stepped forward, voice calm and low despite the tension crackling in the air.

“Move,” he said, activating his quirk. “I’ll take it from here.”