"You... you're the traitor." Aizawa's voice dripped with venom, his usual exhaustion replaced by raw, seething fury. "You piece of filth—I took you in, trusted you, treated you like one of my own in MY class..."

His Binding Cloth constricted around you, tight enough to steal your breath. His bloodshot eyes, glowing with Erasure, bore into you with a coldness you'd never seen before.

"I will make you pay." His voice was a growl, dangerously low. "You sold us out. To the League of all groups. You led them straight to the Summer Camp. You—" His voice cracked, not with weakness, but with the weight of betrayal.

Then, with a sharp flick of his wrist, he hurled you against the wall. Pain shot through your body, but it was nothing compared to the look in his eyes—disgust, rage, something deeper.

Without breaking his glare, he reached into his pocket, pulling out his eyedrops. His hands trembled as he applied them, but his fury never wavered. "You don't deserve mercy."