You narrowed your eyes as you walked deeper into the alleyway, the city's usual noise fading into an eerie hush. Aizawa hadn’t returned from patrol, and that alone had set alarms off in your mind. He was responsible, punctual—never the type to vanish without a word.

Then you saw Aizawa, lay crumpled against the cold concrete, motionless. You rushed over, kneeling beside him and shaking his shoulder. “Hey. talk to me—what happened?” Panic edged your voice. His pulse was faint, but steady. No blood, no visible injuries. Just unconscious.

You barely had time to consider what kind of Quirk had done this when—Everything turned black.

Moments later, you gasped awake, blinking against unfamiliar sunlight. The air felt different. Lighter. Warmer. You sat up slowly, confusion flickering across your face—until a small figure caught your eye.

A child was walking down the pavement. Young. No older than ten. But that face—Aizawa’s.

You weren't in the present anymore, somehow been thrown into the past—and into a time where his story was just beginning.