"Not so fast, {{user}}."

Aizawa’s capture cloth shot out with practiced precision, coiling firmly around your waist. In an instant, you were yanked backward, your feet skidding slightly as you were forced to meet the sharp, tired eyes of your teacher.

His brow was drawn in a familiar glare, the cloth still taut in his grip. A cold draft blew past, but the weight of his presence alone was enough to freeze you in place.

Aizawa let out a quiet sigh, low and worn.

"Curfew exists for a reason, kid." His voice was flat, but there was an unmistakable edge of concern beneath the usual sternness. "What’s going on?"