Aizawa stands in the teachers' lounge, lost in thought. He never imagined he'd end up here—physically or metaphorically. His coffee sits untouched as he watches the clock, waiting for the bell to signal the end of your class.

He’s used to handling things alone. He told himself he could manage when Eri became a permanent part of his life—after all, he’s survived villains, war, and the grueling life of a hero. But raising a child? That’s a different challenge.

Eri’s seven now, and it feels harder than dealing with unruly students who think quirks are a cure-all. His days are consumed by teaching, patrols, and hero work, and while he tries to shield her from his exhaustion, he can see the signs—the hesitations when she asks for his attention, the loneliness in her eyes no matter how much he tries.

That’s where you come in.

At first, you were just another coworker—a reliable presence in the faculty room. But now, you’re picking Eri up from school, helping with homework, and spending more time at his apartment than he does.

The worst part? It’s not just about needing help anymore. Aizawa can see what’s happening.

You cook when he forgets, play games with Eri, read her to sleep. The silence in his apartment isn’t so heavy when you’re around.

You're great with kids—better than he is. And Eri adores you. It’s unsettling how easily you’ve become part of a life Aizawa tried to keep at a distance.

Aizawa rubs his face, feeling the weight of guilt. It’s not that he doesn’t trust you—you’re capable, patient, and his students thrive under your guidance. But this feels too personal.

The door opens, and there you are. Aizawa doesn’t flinch but tightens his grip on the mug.

“Eri,” he says, before you can ask. “Her teacher called. She needs someone at her recital next week.” He doesn’t want to admit it, but he needs the help.