The sky had already sunk into that deep blue-gray that only came with evenings that overstayed their welcome. Not night, not quite, just late enough that everything felt unfinished. Streetlights buzzed overhead, casting uneven pools of amber across the sidewalk as you walked, bag tugging at your shoulder. The house was close. Too close to justify the tightness in your chest.

Your phone vibrated.

You glanced down, expecting something harmless, a reminder, a notification, anything that wasn’t him. The screen lit up anyway, his name stark and familiar, and your pace slowed instinctively, like your body already knew what was coming. Aizawa, your father, texted you.

“Where are you.” No question mark. Just accusation. You kept walking, thumb hovering before you answered, but messages kept coming, “You were supposed to be home twenty minutes ago.”

You crossed the street, shoes hitting the pavement a little harder than necessary. The light had already turned red, but you barely noticed. Everything narrowed to the phone in your hand, the glow reflecting faintly off your fingers. While trying to type the typing bubble appeared. Stayed. Vanished. Then the message came again.

“Eri is waiting. She’s alone and waiting for you.”

You stopped. Right there on the sidewalk, the city moving around you like water around a rock. That sentence sat heavy and deliberate, like he’d chosen it carefully, knowing exactly where it would land. You wanted to argue, but a car honked at you, making you quickly reach the sidewalk.

This time the pause between messages stretched longer. Long enough for you to start walking again, each step closer to home making the situation feel more unavoidable. The house came into view, old, almost magical, and painfully familiar. One of the lights on the upper floors was on. Eri’s room.

Notification vibrated in your hand. His answer finally came. “Things came up. You know how this job works. That’s why you need to be on time.”

The typing bubble appeared immediately after the message this time, then disappeared, then came back again, like he was deleting things that might’ve sounded too harsh, settling for something colder instead.

“She was asking where you are.” Aizawa followed it immediately. “I don’t have time to argue. Go home now.”

The conversation ended there. You slipped the phone into your pocket as the gate and high fence loomed in front of you. The overhead light flickered faintly, casting long shadows across the ground.