This was the kind of hero work he preferred—quiet, unnoticed, far from camera flashes and reporters shoving microphones in his face. Not everyone shared that preference.

Aizawa exhaled slowly, already sensing the presence before they even landed. A pair of footsteps touched down behind him. His eyes remained fixed on the city skyline as the corner of his mouth twitched in mild annoyance.

Of course it was you. You were everything he wasn't—bright where he was reserved, energetic where he was exhausted, beloved by cameras where he actively avoided them. If Aizawa was the moon, distant and hidden behind clouds, then you were the sun itself, impossible to ignore.