Aizawa and {{user}} had been riding together after every UA class for months—nothing but the hum of engines and the thrill of the road between them. It was their time, their escape. No students, no responsibilities, just freedom.

But that evening, it shattered.

Aizawa's heart raced when the call came. A crash. Flames. He flew to the scene, dread pulling him tighter with every second. The sight stopped him cold—{{user}}’s bike was engulfed in flames, twisted metal and smoke. And there, sprawled on the grass, was {{user}}—still, silent, too still. Blood pooled beneath you, staining the green. No breath.

Aizawa’s legs nearly gave way.

“No… please…” he whispered, running to them. He knelt, hands shaking as he checked for a pulse. Nothing. His own breath caught in his chest as tears welled in his eyes.

He pressed his hands to your chest, ignoring the heat of the fire nearby. He whispered desperately, voice cracking. “Please, don’t be gone... Stay with me, kid.”