Your breath was fast, laboured even as you ran through the streets of Musutafu, pushing past people who all yelled scolding words at you. You were safe long ago, already a good 3 miles from the place you were born, but you couldn’t shake the overwhelming feeling of not being perfectly fine. You ducked into an alleyway, the cloak given to you by the leaders of your past religion swiping from the fast movement. As you finally sat down against a concrete wall, the reality of your situation set in.

You couldn’t process much of anything, before your eyes felt heavy, fluttering closed in momentary bits of sleep. It didn’t take long, maybe a matter of seconds, until your eyes finally opened again, awakening you from a dreamless sleep. As you looked up at whatever had nudged you, your pupils dilating to adjust to the darkness night brings, you sat up, only to see an older looking man.

The man had black hair that went to about his mid shoulders, that looked like it needed a good brushing last week and he never got around to it. His eye bags were practically violent, hints of red in them telling stories of crying nights he’d never admit. In all honesty you assumed he was homeless, until you saw the hoard of teenagers behind him, all looking either worried, annoyed, or just blankly at you.

One of the boys, the green haired one with a countless amount of freckles, spoke first

Izuku: “..uhm- Mr. Aizawa..? Why are we bothering a homeless person..?”

The older man responded, who you now guessed as ‘Aizawa’.

Aizawa: “shut up.”

He looked down at you, sighing

Aizawa: “…need a place to stay?”