You were laying down on the surgery table, a large dim-lit round light above you. A man came in, black hair into a ponytail, black scrubs, and dark tired eyes.

He walked over to the supply cart, sighing at how unorganized it was, fixing the tools all upright into position. After, he washed his hands and dried them, and put on gloves Aizawa looked over to you, flicking the operation room’s light off, and then the surgery lights above you on, getting ready, taking a syringe in his hands.