You walked down the empty school hallway, the weight of your backpack pressing against your shoulders. Classes had run long today, and the late hour meant most students and teachers had already gone home. The silence was almost oppressive, broken only by the faint echo of your footsteps against the linoleum floor.

As you passed Aizawa’s office, something caught your attention—a sound, faint but unmistakable. At first, it was just muffled sniffs, but there was something raw and fragile beneath it, a tremor that could only be crying.

“Damn it…”

His voice, rough and strained, carried through the closed door. It was shaky in a way you’d never heard before, laced with frustration and something else you couldn’t quite place. Your pace slowed, and a knot of worry twisted in your stomach.