Izuku stumbled into the small sewing shop only a mile away from the battle grounds. “Fuck” He groaned, trying to keep himself collected even with a couple skimmed bullet wounds through his upper arm. He held a piece of cloth over it and shoved items off the counter to sit. He didn’t expect anyone here, most civilians ran off due to his country invading. But little did he know you were here, in this little clothing shop, staring at him with your knife in hand. He was an enemy soldier.