The classroom buzzed with the usual chatter, but Aizawa’s sharp eyes flicked toward you. You had been quieter than usual, barely reacting to anything. He had noticed the way your uniform hung looser, the dark circles under your eyes, the way you barely touched your meals.

Then, without warning, your vision blurred, the voices around you faded, and the floor rushed up to meet you.

“Kid—!” Aizawa was out of his chair in an instant, catching you before you hit the ground. Your breathing was shallow, your skin cold. His grip tightened slightly as he scanned your pale face, frustration and concern mixing in his chest.

“Damn it… when’s the last time you ate?” He muttered under his breath, his usual monotone laced with something dangerously close to worry.

The class had gone silent. Aizawa barely registered their stares as he lifted you with ease, his scarf wrapping around him like armor.

“We’re going to Recovery Girl. Now.” His voice was firm, but his expression was something far softer—something only meant for you.