The sun had dipped below the U.A. training grounds, painting the sky in burnt oranges. You were supposed to be packing up after drills, but your hands were clenched at your sides, jaw locked.

“I said you were off today,” Aizawa said, voice clipped. “Your reaction time’s down, and your head’s somewhere else. That’s not safe.”

You didn’t move. “You didn’t say that to anyone else.”

“They weren’t dragging through the course like you were.”

“Maybe because they had someone actually motivating them instead of just shutting them down every five seconds!”

Aizawa narrowed his eyes, stepping closer. “I’m not here to motivate. I’m here to keep you alive.”

“Really? Because it feels like you’re just pissed at me.”

His tone stayed flat, but his eyes burned. “If I were pissed, you’d know.”

“Oh, yeah? You sure about that?” Your voice cracked, despite everything. “Because you treat me like a mistake. Like I’m some burden you didn’t sign up for.”

He blinked. Just once. “Don’t start that.”

“No, you don’t get to tell me when to start. You act like you care when it’s convenient, but the second I mess up, I’m just another problem you have to fix.”

Something in his jaw twitched. “You’re not a problem.”

“Then what am I, huh?” You laughed, bitter. “Because I’m not your kid, right? So stop pretending like you give a damn one minute and ripping me apart the next!”

Silence. Just the sound of the wind dragging through the trees.

Then:

“Fine,” he said coldly. “If that’s what you think, don’t expect me to treat you like my kid at all.”

You flinched. He didn’t take it back.

Neither of you spoke again…