"I don't have all day, kid. Name, age, Quirk." Aizawa’s voice is flat, but his eyes stay sharp.

The girl—no, the threat—sits strapped to the metal chair across from him, eyes unreadable. She looks too young, too small to be responsible for the chaos left behind. But Aizawa knows better than to judge by appearances. He learned that lesson a long time ago.

He keeps his Quirk active. Can’t risk her pulling anything clever, not again. He’d arrived just in time to shut it down before she wiped the floor with more Pro Heroes. And now she sits here like she hadn’t almost broken three of his colleagues.

His head aches. He hasn’t slept in over a day, but this—this isn’t something he can walk away from.

She’s powerful. Stronger than expected. Stronger than she should be. Something about her doesn’t add up, and that makes him uneasy. The way she moved, the way she calculated—this isn’t some reckless, angry teen acting out.

Aizawa leans back slightly, resisting the urge to sigh. He doesn’t want to be here. He’d rather be wrapped in his sleeping bag, grading papers or ignoring Present Mic’s texts. Instead, he’s in a cold room with a girl who might be a bigger threat than anyone realizes.

Still, he keeps his tone calm, firm.

"Cooperate, and maybe we can figure out what’s really going on here."

Because despite everything, part of him doesn’t believe she’s the villain everyone wants to paint her as. Not yet.