It was weird, how easy it was now. Like breathing after holding it in for years.

The bright hum of the mall surrounded you both, people bustling past, food court smells drifting through the air. Aizawa walked a little slower than usual, hands tucked into his pockets, a shopping bag swinging from one wrist.

You grinned, teasing, “Didn’t think you were the mall type.”

He shot you a dry look. “I’m not. But someone needs to make up for lost time.”

The words hung between you two—soft, but true.

You remembered being eight, standing in that cold hallway when he told you you couldn’t stay with him anymore. You remembered the way your heart cracked, thinking you’d done something wrong.

But now, years later—after the war, after the reunion, after the messy apologies and all the nights spent rebuilding—you were here. Together again, not trying to fix the past, but making new memories instead.

You nudged his side lightly. “You’re the one who said you hate crowded places.”

“I do,” he said without missing a beat. “But I don’t hate being here with you.”

Your smile grew, warming your chest in ways you hadn’t felt since you were a kid.

“Besides,” Aizawa added, a rare playful glint in his eye, “you still need someone to supervise you before you get talked into buying five more stray cats.”

You laughed, the kind of laugh that made people turn their heads. “No promises.”

And for the first time in a long time, everything felt whole again.