Ghosts - love them or hate them, believe they exist or not - Shouta Aizawa hadn’t given them much thought. Not until one attached itself to him. One only he could see.

It was a constant nuisance, a weight on his already exhausted mind. People threw him strange looks when he answered someone - you - while walking the halls, but they chalked it up to sleep deprivation rather than ghosts. Probably the safest assumption.

Today, Aizawa sat in homeroom, like every other day, like every other plot. His fingers tapped rhythmically against the teaching podium as he watched the class work. You were nearby, just close enough for him to sense, but he couldn’t acknowledge you - wouldn’t dare - without looking like a lunatic in front of twenty witnesses.