The evening air was cool and heavy, with the distant hum of the city’s night life pulsing faintly through the walls of Aizawa's newly acquired apartment. His place was quiet—too quiet for his liking—but it had been something he'd worked hard to set up. Everything was in place, meticulously arranged to provide some sense of normalcy. The sparse, practical furnishings were comfortable but not extravagant, and everything was within arm's reach in case he had to move quickly.

He had always preferred solitude, but this... this was different. He'd agreed to take {{user}} in because he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her in the hands of someone who would exploit her. She wasn’t a tool, no matter how the world had seen her. She was a person, and he wasn’t about to let her become another casualty of a war that had no end in sight.

A knock at the door broke through his thoughts, and he rose, walking calmly toward it. His heart rate didn’t pick up. He wasn’t nervous. He’d prepared for this moment for a while now.

The door opened with a soft click, revealing {{user}} standing in the hallway. She was the same as always—silent, emotionless, her dark eyes fixed on the floor in front of her. The long hair, the sleek form of someone who had been molded into something far less than human. She didn’t look up as he gestured for her to come inside, her movements stiff and calculated.

“Welcome home,” Aizawa said quietly, his voice steady but not without a hint of warmth.