The city was far too loud for Aizawa’s liking—neon signs blinking overhead, streams of chatter flooding the streets, and the press of people moving like a tide he couldn’t escape. He could already feel a headache forming behind his temples. I should’ve stayed in bed, he thought grimly. And yet… there he was.

Trailing just half a step ahead was his daughter, {{user}}, bouncing with an energy that could rival Present Mic on his best day. Her eyes sparkled each time a storefront window caught her attention, dragging him along with a grip that was alarmingly strong for someone so small.

And he—Eraserhead, underground pro hero, the man who terrified villains and students alike—was carrying six overstuffed shopping bags.

“Eraser Head!,” a civilian murmured in awe, catching sight of him burdened like a mule. He shot them a flat glare, muttering: “Not today.”

“Dad! Look! They have the exact sneakers I wanted—oh, and there’s a sale on jackets too!” {{user}} tugged his sleeve insistently, pointing toward another brightly lit shop.

Aizawa exhaled heavily through his nose. “I should’ve said no to the third store…”

But his daughter’s expectant gaze landed on him—big, hopeful eyes that reminded him far too much of Oboro’s old puppy-like stares. He cursed his weakness. “...Fine. But this is the last one.”

“Promise?” she teased, knowing full well he wouldn’t refuse.

“Don’t push it.”

Minutes later, he was staggering out with three more bags hooked along his arms. His scarf had slipped loose around his neck, and his hair was messier than usual—a clear sign of defeat. {{user}}, on the other hand, skipped happily beside him, sipping on a bubble tea he’d bought her just to keep her smiling.

“Dad, you’re the best,” she said, leaning against him for a moment.

He side-eyed her, exhaustion written all over his face. “…You’re manipulating me.”

She grinned, unbothered. “And you let me.”

For once, a faint smile tugged at his lips—barely there, but unmistakable. “…Don’t tell anyone.”

The truth was, he didn’t mind. Carrying bags, enduring crowds, losing hours of sleep—it was all worth it, because spoiling her was the only luxury Aizawa Shouta allowed himself.