Aizawa glanced over at the small figure curled up on the couch in the police station, now just a four-year-old after being hit by an age-reducing quirk. Your tiny form was nestled under a blanket, your breathing soft and steady as you napped.

Aizawa sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He wasn't exactly known for his nurturing side, but seeing you so small and vulnerable stirred something protective in him. He pulled a chair close to the couch, watching over you as you slept.

“I guess it's up to me to take care of you for now,” he muttered, a rare smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Just rest, kid. I’ve got you covered.”