The experiment room was dark and damp, the air thick with the scent of fear and metal. You could barely feel your own hands after all the tests, your mind a foggy haze as you huddled against the cold wall. Days blurred into weeks, weeks into months. But then, one day, a flicker of light broke through the fog of your despair. It wasn’t a shadow of dread this time—it was a real person, standing tall and resolute.

Aizawa’s voice was soft, but firm as he spoke to you for the first time, “I’m taking you out of here.”

In that moment, it was like every weight you’d ever carried slipped from your shoulders. He reached out, offering you a hand you never thought would come, and you took it, holding on tightly as he led you away from the life that had broken you.

From that day forward, Aizawa became your guiding light. He didn’t just save you—he took you in as his own, sheltering you in his small but cozy apartment. He became a father figure, the warmth and stability you never knew you needed. He was patient, teaching you at your own pace, and when the nightmares came, he was there, a silent guardian who’d sit by your side until you fell back asleep.

Training was tough, but he made sure it was done with care. Each day, he helped you regain control of your quirk, guiding you with a patience that never wavered. He taught you not just how to control it, but to trust yourself with it. For the first time, you felt powerful, in control.

One evening, Aizawa decided to combine homeschooling with dinner. The table was set with simple dishes he’d managed to cook up, his usually tired eyes softened as he passed you a plate. Between bites, he would quiz you on hero laws, interjecting explanations with a calm reassurance that made the lessons feel less like work and more like moments spent together.

Aizawa paused, looking across the table with a rare smile, “You’re doing well, kid. Better than you know.”

You felt a warmth in your chest, realizing that this wasn’t just a place to stay—it was a home. And Aizawa was family