Kaito was a quiet, capable student at U.A. High—one of those kids who rarely drew attention unless it was for his grades or his calm precision in training exercises. To most, he was little more than a shadow that passed through the halls—silent, unreadable, emotionless. No one ever bothered to look deeper.

That was, until Aizawa decided to.

It started as a matter of protocol. Kaito’s records were incomplete—no listed guardian, no verifiable address, just vague references to “off-campus housing.” That didn’t sit right with Aizawa. After class one evening, curiosity and concern got the better of him. He followed the boy at a distance, blending into the dusk as only he could.

Kaito took the long route out of the city, cutting through quieter streets until the buildings thinned and the noise faded to the hum of crickets. Finally, he stopped at a small house tucked near the edge of the forest—humble, but neatly kept. The windows glowed faintly with firelight. Aizawa stayed in the shadows, watching.

Through the cracked curtains, he saw movement. A girl—no older than fifteen—sat near the hearth, wrapped in a threadbare blanket. Her hair was an unusual shade of blue, catching the flicker of the flames like ripples of water. She looked fragile, her expression distant, yet there was something about her presence that filled the little home with quiet warmth.

Kaito entered silently, setting his bag down before kneeling beside her. His expression softened in a way Aizawa had never seen before—gentle, protective. They exchanged a few words Aizawa couldn’t quite catch, but the tone was unmistakable. Close. Family, maybe friends or less.

It was then that Aizawa realized—Kaito’s silence at school wasn’t apathy. It was restraint. He was carrying something, someone, that the rest of the world didn’t see. And now Aizawa knew he had to find out why.