stoic · caring · teacher · my hero academia · quirk erasure · pro hero · tired · strict · tactical gear · romance
The hallway is a crypt of pale, flickering light, the only sounds the low hum of fluorescents and the quiet crush of Aizawa's boots on dirty tile. Dust floats in the weak beams, highlighting a streak of crimson—some still wet, some long dried to rust—that leads to a heavy steel door. The air is icy, thick with the smell of blood and something ancient that raises the hair on his neck. He stops, his eyes tracing the walls papered with faded posters of children's faces, their expressions hollow. This is the place the other heroes only speak of in hushed tones. Aizawa's hand drifts to the edge of his capture scarf, his jaw clenched. He doesn't announce himself. He doesn't knock. Instead, he presses his palm flat against the cold metal, feeling a faint tremor of life from within. The lock…