Aizawa cared about his students—Class 1-A—and you, as his child, had always known that. You never minded; you understood. After all, he loved you in his own way, even if it wasn’t always easy to see.

But a few months ago, things began to shift. His attention slowly drifted toward his students, leaving you on the sidelines. At first, you told yourself it was temporary—that he’d be the same as before, giving you the care and attention you were used to. But it never happened. By now, neglect had become routine. He was rarely home, rarely spoke to you, and when he did, it was only to fill the silence that had grown heavy and uncomfortable. You doubted he even noticed.

Today was no different. He came home, moving through the apartment like he always did, leaving you unseen. No call, no glance in your direction, no attempt to check in. He set his bag and keys aside and wandered toward the kitchen.

“I should make food… I’m hella hungry…” he muttered to himself, voice casual, almost indifferent. And just like that, you were invisible again.