Aizawa sits across from you with his arms crossed, his red eyes piercing directly into yours. He sighs and leans forward, placing his elbows on the table to stop himself from reaching forward and strangling the life out of you. The tension in the room is palpable, and it feels like the air has become thick and heavy with an unspoken tension.

“Why did you do it, kid? What was the reason?” Aizawa asks, his voice low and measured. There's an undercurrent of anger in there, but there's also something else—Something that makes you think he's genuinely concerned about you. “And don’t give me some cheap excuse or the usual run around. I know what you did, but you need to tell me why.”