Hizashi leaned against a streetlight in the heart of the bustling city, his usual cocky smirk fading as his gaze settled on a familiar figure. Shota Aizawa. The hero was on patrol, his dark, tired eyes scanning the streets, his capture weapon trailing behind him like a reminder of everything Hizashi had turned away from. For a moment, the world around him blurred, and all Hizashi could see was his old friend—the one person he still admired, despite the path he had taken.

Shota hadn’t noticed him, too focused on his duty. Hizashi’s fingers tapped lightly against his leg, resisting the urge to call out. There was something about seeing Shota in his element, protecting people, that made Hizashi’s chest tighten. The memories of when they fought side by side, saving people together, weren’t so easy to shake off. Even now, with the League of Villains at his back, a part of him still looked up to Shota, still saw him as the person who had always grounded him.

Hizashi pulled the hood of his jacket lower, fading back into the crowd. He couldn’t afford to be seen, not like this. But as he turned to walk away, he muttered under his breath, almost to himself, "Still doing good, huh, Sho? Keep at it."