The apartment is unusually quiet. Rain taps softly against the windows while the city glows dimly outside, and somewhere in the kitchen, a pot simmers forgotten on low heat. Tamaki Amajiki sits cross-legged on the living room floor helping his six-year-old son with homework, shoulders slightly hunched the way they always are when he’s concentrating too hard. His son squints at the worksheet dramatically. “I hate math.” Tamaki blinks down at the page. “…It’s only three questions.” “Exactly. That’s too many.” A tiny snort escapes him before he can stop it. His son gasps immediately. “You laughed!” “I—” Tamaki’s face goes pink almost instantly. “S-Sorry.” “No, do it again.” “I can’t just… do it on command…” The child dissolves into giggles anyway, leaning against his arm. Tamaki looks down at him quietly for a second, expression softening in that small, almost hidden way he has when he forgets to be nervous. Then the lights flicker. Outside, thunder rumbles. The little boy immediately grabs onto the sleeve of Tamaki’s sweatshirt. “…Dad?” Tamaki notices the fear right away. “You okay?” “I don’t like storms.” He says it quietly, embarrassed, eyes fixed on the floor. Tamaki’s chest aches a little at that. Without saying anything, he shifts closer until their shoulders touch. “When I was little,” he admits softly, “I didn’t like them either.” His son looks up, surprised. “Really?” “…Mm.” “Were you scared?” Tamaki hesitates. “…Yeah.” “What did you do?” For a moment, the only sound is rain hitting the windows. Then Tamaki gently pulls the blanket from the couch around both of them like a shield. “I waited for someone to stay with me,” he says. Another crack of thunder shakes the apartment, but this time the boy doesn’t flinch as hard. Tamaki reaches over awkwardly, smoothing down his son’s messy hair. “…So you don’t have to be scared alone, okay?” The child stares at him for a second before quietly scooting into his side completely. And although Tamaki still has unfinished reports, dinner on the stove, and exhaustion pulling at his body— he stays there anyway. Because nothing has ever felt more important than this.

*The city was quieter than usual that night. Not silent—never silent—but the noise was distant, dulled by the hour. Patrol at this time meant long stretches of nothing broken by sudden stupidity.* *I preferred it that way.* *My capture weapon rested loosely around my shoulders as I walked along the rooftops, the fabric shifting with every step. The wind tugged at it, carrying the smell of rain and exhaust. Somewhere a siren wailed, then faded.* *Routine patrol. Observe. Intervene if necessary. Go home.* *That was the plan.* *Movement below pulled my attention down into an alley. Three men—two nervous, one loud. The loud one had a knife and more confidence than skill. A mugging in progress.* *I sighed.* *Dropping from the roof, I landed behind them without much effort. The alley light flickered overhead.* “Walk away,”*I said, voice flat.* *They didn’t.* *They never do.* *The loud one turned first. The moment he recognized me his bravado cracked. I activated my Quirk automatically, eyes locking onto him. If he had one, it was gone now.* *The fight ended quickly. It usually did.* *One went down after I wrapped the capture weapon around his arms and slammed him into the pavement. The second tried to run and tripped over a garbage bag. The knife clattered across the concrete.* *The loud one swung wildly. Predictable.* *I was already moving to counter when something shifted at the edge of my awareness.* *A presence.* *Not the criminals. Something else.* *I’d felt it before.* *For weeks now.* *A shadow that lingered just outside my line of sight. A faint weight in the air during patrols. Someone careful enough not to get caught, but persistent enough to be noticed.* *I’d been waiting for them to make a mistake.* *Tonight, apparently.* *The moment of distraction cost me.* *Something struck the back of my head—hard. Not enough to kill, but enough to drop me to one knee. My vision sparked white.* *The alley twisted.* *I heard movement behind me.* *Not the criminals.* *Someone quieter.* *Then darkness swallowed everything.* — *When I woke up, the first thing I noticed was the light.* *Dim. Yellow. A single lamp somewhere behind me.* *The second thing was that I couldn’t move.* *Not restrained exactly—just… weak. My limbs felt heavy, like my body hadn’t decided to cooperate yet.* *My eyes adjusted slowly.* *Ceiling. Plain. Cracked plaster.* *Not a hospital.* *Not a police station.* *Wrong smell too. No disinfectant. Just dust… and something faintly sweet.* *I shifted slightly, forcing my focus forward.* *That’s when I saw her.* *A woman sat in a chair directly in front of me, leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees.* *Watching.* *She didn’t look surprised that I was awake.* *If anything, she looked… pleased.* *My mind snapped fully alert.* *Dark hair fell around her shoulders in loose strands. Her posture was relaxed—far too relaxed for someone sitting in front of a pro hero she had apparently kidnapped.* *Her eyes were fixed on me with an intensity that immediately put me on edge.* *Not fear.* *Not panic.* *Recognition.* *I studied her face quickly, running through memory. Villain registry. Past arrests. Known associates.* *Nothing.* *But the feeling hit me instantly.* *Familiar.* *Not her face.* *Her presence.* *That quiet pressure I’d been noticing during patrols.* *The shadow behind corners.* *The weight of being watched from rooftops.* *Understanding settled in.* *So it was you.* *My voice came out rough.* “…You’ve been following me.” *Her smile widened slightly.* *Not denying it.* *Not pretending otherwise.* *Just… satisfied that I finally understood.* *And in that moment, one thing became painfully clear.* *I’d known someone was watching me.* *I just never realized how close they’d been the entire time.*

*(Your bakugo’s “imaginary” friend)* *you were chilling on the floor next to bakugo’s desk and only he could see you and bakugo told no one he had an imaginary friend but deku could see something was off*

*(Start your own scenario.)*

*Aizawa was on night patrol in the city, when he notices you walking alone.* Aizawa: What's a girl her age doing out at this time of night alone? *He mutters to himself in his usual monotone voice.*

*Aizawa was on night patrol, in the sketchy part of the city, when he noticed you, walking down the street* Aizawa: What's some girl doing out here, easy target for the gangs around here. *He mutters to himself in his usual monotone voice*

}, red eyes softer than anyone else ever got to see. The usual sharpness was still there, but underneath it was something nervous, something hopeful.* “You’re my best friend,” *he said, blunt as ever.* “So don’t go makin’ this weird.” *Then, quieter—almost too quiet to hear:* “…But I don’t hate it. Being here. With you.” *He stayed there, close, pretending the moment wasn’t heavier than it was. Pretending his hand wasn’t itching to reach out. Pretending his heart wasn’t loud in his chest. The night stretched on, calm and warm, neither of them moving away. And for Bakugo, that was enough—for now.*

*Aizawa is doing his usual night patrol in the city, when he notices you walking into an alley* Aizawa: Someone going down alleys alone at night, must be trouble. *He mutters to himself in his usual Monotone voice.* *Aizawa decides to follow you discreetly, at least until he finds out where you're going*

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