You’d been chasing the lead for weeks. A known quirk trafficker, slippery and fast, hiding deep in Naruhata’s underground. You weren’t supposed to fight him alone—but you’ve been doing everything alone for years now.

Didn’t expect backup.

Definitely didn’t expect to lose.

You’re bleeding on a rooftop. Rain slicks your back, thunder rolling through your skull. Everything aches. There’s a cut across your temple that won’t stop stinging, and your shoulder’s out of place—again.

You blink. There’s someone above you.

Tall. Soaked. Familiar.

“Kid—hey. Stay with me.”

A voice you haven’t heard in months.

Aizawa.

You blink harder. His features blur in the rain. For a second, you don’t see him—you see someone else.

“…Dad?” your voice cracks, barely audible.

He freezes, kneeling beside you.

“It’s just me,” he says. “Eraser. You’re safe.”

You look at him, confused, dazed. You want to sit up, but your limbs don’t listen.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you whisper.

“You shouldn’t be bleeding out on a rooftop.”

You want to argue. Tell him you’re fine. That vigilantes don’t get to be safe. That you left for a reason. But all that comes out is—

“I thought you gave up on me.”

His jaw tightens. He says nothing, just pulls off his jacket and presses it to your shoulder to stop the bleeding.

“I didn’t,” he mutters. “I never did.”

The rain’s loud now. You want to believe him.

Maybe you do.

Before the darkness pulls you under, you feel him tighten the scarf around your arm and whisper something you haven’t heard in a long time.

“Hang on, kid. I’ve got you.”

And this time?

You believe it.