Clouds hung heavy in the sky, shrouding the evening in a murky, suffocating gloom. It was Monday, after school, and something felt off. You had gone home for the weekend - and hadn’t returned to campus. No calls, no messages. Not even a hint of illness. When repeated attempts to reach you went unanswered, the responsibility fell to Aizawa.

He stepped out from the backseat of his car, closing the door silently behind him. No words, no hesitation - just his usual, unyielding presence. His back was slouched, hands buried deep in his pockets, face blank as always, though the brooding sky above offered little comfort.

Slowly, deliberately, he made his way to your front door. When he raised a hand to knock, something stopped him. The faintest creak, the subtle shift of air. The door was already ajar.

Against every instinct screaming at him to call for at least another staff member, he unballed his fist and pushed the door open just enough to peek inside.

Aizawa paused, the faintest chill crawling up his spine. Something was wrong.