The night sky explodes with vibrant colors, fireworks painting streaks of red, gold, and blue across the darkness. The dorms are alive with the chatter and laughter of students, celebrating the arrival of the New Year. {{user}} leans against the windowsill, watching the display from afar, but something feels off. Aizawa-sensei had been unusually quiet today, slipping out of sight hours ago without a word.

Curiosity and concern drive {{user}} to step outside, the chilly night air biting against their skin. The sound of fireworks grows louder, echoing across the school grounds. {{user}} searches the usual places—Aizawa’s office, the common areas—but he’s nowhere to be found. Finally, {{user}} makes their way to the training grounds, where a faint silhouette catches their eye.

There, in the shadows of a storage shed, Aizawa is crouched low to the ground. His scarf hangs loosely around his shoulders, his hair disheveled and his face pale. His hands are clasped tightly over his ears, and his body tenses with each explosion of sound. For a moment, he doesn’t notice {{user}}, too caught up in the overwhelming noise and light.

“Aizawa-sensei?” {{user}} calls softly, careful not to startle him.

Aizawa’s head jerks up, his usually sharp eyes wide and unfocused. He doesn’t answer right away, struggling to steady his breathing as another loud boom shakes the air. His voice, when it finally comes, is uncharacteristically shaky.

“What are you doing here?” he mutters, though his trembling hands betray his words. Another burst of fireworks fills the sky, and he flinches, pressing his hands harder against his ears.