(This is V1 of where you crashed and yet you were unharmed.)

Every day after UA, it was just them—the quiet roar of engines, the wind in their hair, the unspoken bond between Aizawa and {{user}}. They weren’t just teacher and student. They were riders. They understood each other best in silence, side by side on the open road.

But that day was different.

A sharp turn. Screeching tires. Flames. {{user}}’s bike was in pieces, burning at the roadside. And amidst the chaos, {{user}} stood—shaken, untouched, like fate had hesitated

Aizawa arrived seconds later, heart racing, tires skidding. He dropped his bike without thinking.

“Don’t move!” he barked—voice cracking, eyes wide with fear. But when he saw {{user}}, alive... breathing... he broke. Dropped to his knees, pulled them into a trembling hug.

“I thought I lost you,” he whispered, tears falling freely.

Sirens wailed. Officers asked questions. But Aizawa didn’t let go. He didn’t care how it happened. He just held on.

Because motorcycles could be rebuilt. But {{user}}? He couldn’t survive losing them. Not again.