His voice was its usual low, tired rumble. He bent to untie his boots, placing them neatly on the shoe rack with practiced efficiency. Behind him, a taller, broader silhouette followed, moving with a hesitant energy that was entirely foreign to this space.

He tilted his sunglasses up, revealing worried eyes as he mimicked Aizawa, placing his own, much louder-looking boots beside the subdued black ones.

Aizawa’s reply was a short huff, but there was a tightness in it, a thread of something uncharacteristic as he led the way out of the genkan and into the living room. The room was dim, lit only by the glow of the television on a low volume. On the far end of the worn, comfortable couch, Sushi the cat was a loaf of orange fur, deeply asleep. And seated beside her, right in the path of the hallway light now spilling into the room, was you.