You and Aizawa have fought too many times. He never says much. Neither do you. What’s left to say when the person who raised you is now the one trying to drag you in?

Tonight is different.

Face-down on the rooftop, Aizawa’s capture scarf pins your wrists. Cold wind bites through Naruhata’s empty skyline. Hizashi’s distant voice calls your name, but you don’t move.

“I didn’t want it to be like this,” Aizawa murmurs.

Your fingers twitch, and it begins—not with rage, but with silence.

The world shifts. Hizashi’s face distorts. You hear the whispers.

“You’re not worth saving.” “He left you.” “They all did.”

“I waited,” you whisper, voice cracking. “I waited for you to come back.”

Aizawa doesn’t answer.

“I counted the days. 547.” You pause. “That’s when I realized you weren’t coming back.”

Your voice breaks. “I thought you were dead. I wished you were. That would’ve hurt less than knowing you chose to let me break.”

The scarf tightens, but he says nothing.

“I hate this. I hate this city. I hate you.”

Tears mix with the rain.

“And I hate that part of me still wanted you to save me.”

Aizawa calls your name, but you don’t answer.

The part of you that waited? It died long before this rooftop.