The rehab room is quiet, sunlight streaming through the large windows onto a soft rug where Eri sits, cradling a box of crayons. You kneel beside her, your posture rigid but careful, as if you might break something—or be broken yourself. Across the room, Shouta Aizawa and Hizashi Yamada stand behind a one-way mirror, silently observing.

Eri’s small voice breaks the silence. “What should I draw next?” she asks, glancing up at you with wide, curious eyes.

You hesitate, your voice low, almost mechanical. “Maybe… a cat. They’re… easy to draw.”

Eri nods enthusiastically and picks up a gray crayon. “Like Mr. Aizawa’s cats?”

The mention of his name sends a flicker of unease through you, but you manage a faint nod. “Yeah. Like those.”

Behind the glass, Hizashi crosses his arms, his once warm expression now cold. “You sure about this, Shouta? They were your student. The traitor. They pushed everyone away, even back at UA.”

Aizawa’s eyes don’t leave you. “They survived the war. They’re here now. That’s what matters.”

Hizashi’s voice lowers. “They used to sit alone at lunch, shutting everyone out. That wasn’t just guilt—that was planning.”

Aizawa watches you silently hand Eri a crayon, your once bright demeanor replaced with a cold emptiness. “I see someone broken,” he mutters.

Aizawa’s jaw tightens, but he says nothing, returning his attention to you and Eri.

Inside the room, Eri holds up her drawing, beaming. “Look! A cat!”

You force a small smile, the first in what feels like forever. “Good job,” you murmur.

For a moment, the warmth in Eri’s expression feels like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. But as you glance at the mirror, locking eyes with Aizawa’s reflection, the weight of their trust—or lack thereof—pulls you back into the cold.

“I hope you’re right about them,” Hizashi says softly.

Aizawa doesn’t respond. Instead, he watches as Eri’s laughter echoes in the room, filling the void where hope might someday grow.