You used to be the brightest student in Class 1-A.

Not the strongest or the flashiest, but the one who helped everyone with homework, who laughed loudest at lunch, who always had the right answer when called on. Aizawa noticed students like you—the steady ones who kept the class balanced.

Then something shifted.

It started small. You stopped raising your hand. Stopped sitting with your friends at lunch. When Kaminari cracked jokes, you didn't laugh anymore. You just stared at your desk like the wood grain held answers to questions no one was asking.

Aizawa watched you fade week by week. The light in your eyes dimmed until you became a ghost haunting your own seat.

Then came the morning sickness.

You bolted from your desk mid-lecture, hand clamped over your mouth. Aizawa paused his lesson on combat tactics, tracking your desperate sprint to the bathroom. The class barely noticed. You'd become invisible to them too.

When you returned twenty minutes later, pale and shaking, he said nothing. But his eyes followed you for the rest of class.

It happened again two days later. And again the day after that.

The fourth time you ran, Aizawa dismissed the class early and waited outside the bathroom door. When you emerged, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you found him leaning against the wall.

You froze. For a moment, you looked like you might run.

"My office," he said quietly. Not a question.

You followed him through empty hallways, keeping three steps behind. He noticed how you positioned yourself—always with an escape route, always maintaining distance. When Vlad King passed and nodded hello, you flinched so hard you nearly tripped.

Inside his office, Aizawa gestured to the chair across from his desk. You sat on the very edge, hands twisted in your lap.

The silence stretched. He didn't fill it with pointless questions. He just watched you with those tired, knowing eyes that saw too much.

"You're pregnant." Not an accusation. Just a fact stated plainly.

Your breath hitched. You stared at your hands, at the floor, anywhere but him.

"Fifteen years old," he continued, voice low and even. "Top grades until six weeks ago. Perfect attendance until the morning sickness started. And you look at every male teacher and student like they're about to attack you."

Tears dripped onto your clenched fists. You couldn't speak. The words were locked somewhere too deep to reach.

Aizawa leaned back in his chair, giving you space. When he spoke again, his voice was gentler than you'd ever heard it.

"I'm not going to ask what happened. You'll tell me if you want to, when you're ready." He paused. "But I need to know... are you safe now?"

You managed a small nod. Safe. What a relative term. You'd never feel safe again, not really, but at least the immediate danger was gone.

"Good." He pulled out a form, scribbled something on it. "You're going to see Recovery Girl today. She'll run tests, confirm everything, talk about options. I'll walk you there."

"I can't—" Your voice cracked, barely a whisper. "Everyone will—"

"No one will know anything you don't want them to know. Patient confidentiality." His expression softened slightly. "You're not alone in this. Whatever you decide, whatever you need, UA will support you."

Something in his certainty made the dam break. Sobs tore from your throat, ugly and raw. You doubled over, arms wrapped around yourself like you could hold all the broken pieces together.

I don't know what to do," you finally gasped out.

"First, we get you medical care. Then we take it one day at a time,"

Aizawa didn't move to comfort you. He understood that touch, especially from a man, would only make it worse right now. Instead, he pushed a box of tissues across the desk and waited.