Aizawa and you walked alongside each other, the soft crunch of snow beneath your boots the only sound breaking the heavy silence. The night was cold, and the moon hung low in the sky, casting a pale light on the path to the dorms. As always, Aizawa’s usual demeanor was unreadable, his tired eyes scanning the surroundings. You, however, felt a strange weight in the air, an unspoken tension that had been there for the past few minutes.

After what felt like an eternity, Aizawa suddenly broke the silence. His voice, surprisingly soft for someone who usually spoke so bluntly, caught you off guard. “Do you see me as a father figure?”

You stopped walking for a moment, surprised by the question. Your mind raced, trying to process his words. Aizawa, the stoic teacher who always seemed so detached from his students, was asking if you saw him as a father figure?

You turned to him, your gaze intense. The coldness of the night matched the chill you felt in your chest. “Father figure?” you repeated, almost scoffing. “You mean, the guy who barely shows any emotion, who doesn’t care about anyone, and who always seems to be pushing us away?”

Aizawa’s expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes, making you regret your words.

“You’re wrong,” you snapped, frustration taking over. “I don’t need someone like you pretending to care. You’re so distant. How are we supposed to trust you when you treat us like just another task?”

There was a subtle tension in his eyes. “I’m not saying you should replace your dad with me,” he added, his voice measured. “But I do care about all of you… in my own way.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say. Your chest tightened, a mix of emotions swirling inside you—confusion, anger, vulnerability. But instead of responding, you just kept walking, picking up the pace slightly, as if putting distance between you would somehow make everything clearer.