It was a chilly December morning, the kind where the sun’s weak rays struggled to break through the heavy gray clouds that blanketed the city. The air was crisp, and a soft breeze carried the distant murmur of the crowd gathered at the space center. Rows of sleek, futuristic shuttles lined the tarmac, their metallic surfaces gleaming faintly under the overcast sky. Families and onlookers stood behind barricades, their hushed voices blending into a dull roar as they watched children, clad in identical white uniforms, boarding the spacecraft in neat lines.

Aizawa stood at the edge of the crowd, arms crossed, his scarf wrapped tightly around him to block out the cold. His gaze was fixed on the scene ahead, his expression unreadable, though a flicker of unease lingered in his sharp eyes. He had been distant with you ever since the argument—a cold silence replacing the usually steady bond you shared. But as his eyes scanned the boarding children, his breath hitched. There you were, walking toward the ramp with your head slightly bowed.

His heart sank. What the hell are you doing there?