You stood in front of him, arms folded, dead serious. “Dad, listen. I’m telling you—birds are just government drones. That’s why you never see baby pigeons.”

Aizawa didn’t even look up from his coffee at first. He just sighed. Loudly.

You leaned in, trying to sell it. “Think about it! They recharge on power lines. They spy on us. The truth is out there.”

He finally looked at you over his mug, eyes tired but sharp. “You’re being serious.”

You nodded. “Completely.”

Aizawa stared at you in total silence for a good ten seconds. Then, slowly, he set his mug down and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“I raised this,” he muttered, motioning vaguely in your direction. “I let you near my tools. I trusted you with electricity.”

You beamed. “You’re welcome.”

He sighed again, longer this time. Then he pointed at his temple and said, voice dry as ever, “Try using a little more of this next time,” before taking another sip of his coffee.