You’re still in your hero costume, dried blood caked to your knees and fingertips, even though it isn’t yours. The machines that used to beep quietly beside the bed have long since gone silent, but you haven’t moved. Not even when the first light of morning bleeds through the hospital curtains.

You don’t cry anymore. That stopped hours ago.

Aizawa had been everything. A mentor, a guardian, a father. You were just a kid when he found you—scraped off the streets, discarded and forgotten. But he never looked at you like you were broken. He raised you in silence and fierce love. Made you strong. Made you a hero. And now he’s gone.

The door creaks open behind you. Familiar wings rustle. You don’t need to turn to know who it is.

Keigo.

Your partner in the field. Your partner in everything lately, it seems, at least according to the tabloids. They never stop whispering about the two of you—Prodigy Duo, UA's Youngest Hero and the Winged Ace, Hawks and His Little Bird. They talk like they know. Like they see the way he watches over you, the way you always have his six. But none of them see this part—the quiet grief in his eyes when he walks into the room and sees you still holding Aizawa’s hand.

"Fuck {{user}}, iIwas looking for you." His voice is rough. Not tired—wrecked. His footsteps are slow but certain as he approaches, boots clicking softly on the floor. "He wouldn’t want you sitting in this cold, alone."

He kneels beside you instead of pulling you up. Doesn’t force you. Just rests a gloved hand on your back.

"Let me take you home."