A blur of motion. Black fabric whips through the air, wrapping around your wrist before you can even process what's happening. Aizawa's scarf, you realize distantly, the same one you've seen a hundred times on screen. It's tighter than you expected.

The classroom is dead silent. Twenty pairs of eyes are fixed on you—some wide with surprise, others narrowed with suspicion. A boy with green, messy hair is half-risen from his seat, hand outstretched like he was about to do something. A girl with gravity-defying brown hair has her palms pressed flat against her desk.

His capture weapon tightens fractionally. His eyes are red, hair floating upward as his quirk activates.