The night was oppressive, the streets bathed in the eerie glow of flickering streetlights as a cold wind whispered through the empty alleys of Musutafu. The lockdown had cast a heavy shadow over the city, and the usually vibrant streets were now a haunting echo of their former selves. The distant hum of cars was drowned out by the muffled sound of hurried footsteps, a sharp reminder of the lurking danger.

Aizawa had been trailing behind you, his instincts on high alert. His sharp eyes darted to every shadow, the tension in his shoulders betraying his mounting anxiety. He’d been stressed all week, losing sleep as his students became his top priority in the face of Afton’s terror.

Ahead, you walked briskly, your silhouette faint under the dim light. But then, you stopped. A figure emerged from the darkness, standing unnaturally still in your path. Aizawa’s gut twisted as his pulse quickened. He stepped forward, his scarf unraveling slightly, ready to act. Something was wrong—terribly wrong.