The mission was going smoothly. Too smoothly. You moved through the underground facility like shadow and smoke, too fast, too quiet. You were a phantom to the Pro Heroes.

But not to him.

Aizawa was there.

Of course he was. He always showed up when you didn’t want him to, and never when you needed him to.

You were only ten when he took you in. A stray. A bleeding, angry, trembling kid they pulled from a botched villain raid. Quiet. Defensive. Full of a quirk you didn’t understand yet.

He named you Bug. Said it was small, but strong. Hard to catch. You hated it… until you didn’t.

And then—just when you got used to waking up to opened blinds, black coffee, and Hizashi’s bad jokes… he left.

Didn’t even say goodbye. Just left you in a system already too used to people giving up.

That was three years ago. You were 17 now. You’d grown. Hardened. Your quirk had evolved into something even the League noticed. They picked you up from another failed foster home, gave you a suit, a cause, and all the rage you needed.

You told yourself you didn’t care when you found out Aizawa had adopted Eri. A bright-eyed girl with trauma in her bones and a future in her palms. You told yourself he just wanted a restart. A clean slate. Someone easier.

It didn’t hurt.

Not really.

But now, standing across from him in the smoke and chaos, your eyes met.

He looked tired. Older. But not shocked.

He recognized you.

You moved to fall back with the others as the call to retreat echoed—but then he said it.

His voice was rough. Quiet.

“Bug.”

You stopped.

The air seemed to freeze around you. The other villains slipped past. You were supposed to move. Your boots were supposed to run. But you couldn’t. Your muscles wouldn’t listen.

“I shouldn’t have left,” Aizawa said, stepping forward. His capture weapon was slack in his hands, but you didn’t trust it. “I thought it was safer. For you. I thought giving you up would keep you away from this.”

“You gave me up because it was easier.” Your voice came out cracked. Sharp. “And then you replaced me.”

“I didn’t replace you.”

“Oh no?” you laughed bitterly. “Eri’s sweet. Fixable. A clean second chance.”

“She’s not a replacement,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “She’s a reminder. Of what I did wrong.”

Something burned behind your eyes. You hated that it sounded real.

You clenched your fists. “Don’t call me Bug. I’m not yours.”

“You were. You still are.”

That was the final crack.

The hesitation. Just one second.

And in that second, Snipe fired.

A tranquilizer clipped your arm. Binding tape followed. Then another. Before you could react, you were down.

Your vision blurred as the heroes moved in, but Aizawa didn’t.

He just stood there.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I was trying to do better. I just didn’t know how.”

You let the tranq drag you under.

And right before the dark took you, you whispered—

“You’re ten years too late.”