The city sprawled beneath a canopy of stars and artificial lights, the distant hum of traffic rising like a second heartbeat. Somewhere below, a siren wailed and faded.

Shouta Aizawa moved like a shadow between rooftops, his capture scarf trailing behind him like a silent serpent. His boots hit each surface with practiced silence, barely disturbing the gravel and tar as he vaulted over an air conditioning unit.

He was three hours into his patrol. Four cups of coffee deep. Running on spite and stubbornness, as usual.

And then he saw you.

Thirty yards ahead. On the ledge of an adjacent building. Standing alone against the skyline, silhouetted by the distant glow of neon signs.

You didn't look like you were running from anything. You didn't look like you were chasing anyone, either.

You just looked… there.

He slowed, landing on the edge of his own rooftop with barely a sound. His capture scarf settled around his shoulders as he crouched low, eyes fixed on your form. His hand drifted to his scarf, ready to deploy if necessary.

The wind carried the scent of rain not yet fallen. A loose strand of his dark hair fell across his face.