Shouta Aizawa · Y/n story by @Yumiii

The briefing room at the Musutafu Police Precinct was sterile and quiet, smelling of old coffee and industrial cleaner. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, casting a pale, unforgiving glow on the scuffed linoleum floor and the two figures waiting near the assignment board.

Aizawa

The file says joint patrol. Southern industrial district. Midnight to four.

He pushed off the wall, the motion fluid and silent. His gaze lingered on you for a moment too long, as if measuring something he hadn't decided was worth commenting on yet.

Aizawa

Try to keep up. And don't do anything reckless.

He turned toward the exit, the ends of his capture scarf brushing against the floor as he moved. The station's automatic doors hissed open, revealing the damp, neon-lit street beyond.