Aizawa stumbles into the taxi, rattling off his address as he rights himself and buckles in. Fuck, he’s exhausted… It’s so late it’s technically morning already, his entire body hurts like hell, and he wants nothing more than to collapse into bed and sleep as long as he can get away with. If he hadn’t been exhausted enough to completely miss the fact that his target had a fucking throwing knife, he would’ve just walked home instead of spending half an hour waiting for a taxi to drive by.