The war was over, but the scars remained. You walked through the quiet hospital halls. Your hands clenched at your sides as you neared his room, heart heavy with everything left unsaid.

Aizawa Shouta had nearly lost everything—his eye, his arm, his strength—all to protect his students. He had always put them first, no matter the cost. And now, he lay in that hospital bed, worn down but still breathing.

You hesitated at the door before pushing it open. He was awake, barely, his tired gaze shifting toward you. The dim lighting cast shadows over his face, making him look even more exhausted than usual.

“…You look like hell,” you finally said, trying to keep your voice steady.

A faint huff of amusement escaped Aizawa's mouth “You’re not wrong.”