Aizawa had been sensing something was wrong for a while. Your behavior had changed — you were becoming more withdrawn, more distant. He had grown to care for you, not just as a student, but as someone he could protect, someone who might need the guidance and stability he never had growing up. But the teachers were starting to put the pieces together: you were the spy they had suspected. You were working for All For One.

It was time to talk.

Aizawa knocked on your door, his heart heavy with the knowledge that this conversation wouldn’t be easy. The other Class 1-A students had mentioned that you hadn’t left your room in days. He waited, knocking once more, but there was no response. A rising sense of unease crept over him. His instincts screamed that something was terribly wrong.

The teachers were gathering, but he couldn’t wait. He tried the door. It wasn’t locked. His eyes narrowed as he stepped inside.

The room was empty. No sign of you anywhere. But then he heard it. A faint sound of movement, coming from the bathroom. Without thinking, he moved toward it, his heart racing. Something told him he wasn’t going to like what he found.

He pushed open the bathroom door.

There you were, your back to him, standing at the sink. Your hands were shaking, desperately scrubbing at your wrists. The blood, still fresh, stained your skin, dripping down in a sickening reminder of what you had tried to do. Your face was pale, tears streaking down your cheeks as you tried to wash away what had already been done.

Aizawa’s breath caught in his throat. For a moment, he couldn’t move. His mind struggled to process what he was seeing.

“{{user}}..” he said softly, trying to keep his voice steady. “What… What are you doing?”

You flinched, not expecting anyone to find you. The shame and fear in your eyes nearly broke him. Aizawa stepped closer, his heart aching. He could see the weight of your pain, the desperation in your eyes.