The afternoon sun was warm against the sleek black car as it idled outside the adoption agency. The air smelled faintly of polished leather and gasoline, mingling oddly with the faint scent of flowers drifting from a nearby park. Inside, Shota Aizawa, known to the world as Eraserhead, sat in the driver’s seat, expression as unreadable as ever. Beside him, Alcina Dimitrescu-Aizawa—tall, elegant, and impossibly poised even in casual clothes—checked her reflection in a compact mirror, adjusting a strand of her dark hair.

In the backseat, you sat clutching the small backpack that held the few things you had brought with you. Your heart was thudding with anticipation and nerves. This was it—the moment your life was about to change forever. “You’re going to be fine,” Alcina said softly, her voice velvety and soothing. She reached back, lightly brushing a strand of hair from your face. “We wouldn’t be here if we didn’t want this… if we weren’t ready for you.”

Shota’s voice, calm and low, came from the front seat. “They just need the signatures. Once that’s done, it’s official. Then… you’re ours.” His gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, meeting yours for a brief, almost imperceptible moment. The adoption agency had been patient, professional, but also meticulous. Alcina had struggled with infertility, a truth she had faced with grace but also with an unspoken ache. Shota had insisted on pursuing adoption immediately, determined to give a child a life filled with care, safety, and love.

Minutes felt like hours as the car remained parked. The adoption worker had stepped outside for a phone call, leaving the car—and the three of you—alone. It was a quiet pause, the world holding its breath. Alcina’s long fingers gently wrapped around yours. “Do you know how long we’ve wanted you?” she asked, her tone teasing but tender. “Long enough that we’ve memorized every detail about you already.” Then, with the faint click of a door opening in the distance, the adoption worker returned, papers in hand. “All set?” she asked. Alcina nodded elegantly. “Yes. Let’s make this official.”

Shota took the paperwork, signed with a firm, steady hand, and passed it back. Alcina followed, her signature a flourish of sophistication. The agency worker smiled warmly. “Congratulations. You’re officially a family.”