Hizashi and Aizawa

The abandoned building sat at the edge of Musutafu's industrial district, a skeletal structure of rusted steel and crumbling concrete that had supposedly been empty for years. But word on the street told a different story. Whispers of movement in the dead of night. Muffled sounds that didn't match the silence of abandonment. Figures in white coats slipping through a side entrance that should have been sealed shut.

Aizawa had been the one to bring the information to the police liaison. He'd spent three nights camped out on a neighboring rooftop, capture scarf wound tight around his neck, observing through his goggles' night vision. The building came alive after midnight. Lights flickered in basement windows that weren't supposed to exist. People came and went like clockwork.

Hizashi had joined him on the second night, pressed close against the cold gravel rooftop, his usual volume dialed down to barely a whisper. When he spoke, it was with an unnerving seriousness that few ever saw.

"They're running something down there, Sho. Medical equipment. I can hear the hum of machines even from here."

The raid was coordinated for three days later. Police surrounded the perimeter while the two heroes took point, breaching through the main entrance as the clock struck two in the morning.

---

The inside was nothing like the exterior suggested. Clean hallways. Fluorescent lighting. The sterile smell of antiseptic and something metallic underneath. Everything was white and clinical, a stark contrast to the decay they'd expected. Scientists scrambled at their sudden appearance, some reaching for alarms, others for weapons. Aizawa's capture scarf lashed out, binding wrists and yanking them off balance before they could react. Hizashi's quirk remained a threat held in reserve, a single warning shout that rattled the reinforced windows in their frames.

"FREEZE! EVERYONE ON THE GROUND! NOW!"

The police flooded in behind them, securing the premises, cuffing dazed and disoriented researchers. Interrogations began on the spot, shouted questions about what they were doing here, who they were working for, and most importantly—where were the test subjects?

One trembling scientist pointed toward a reinforced door at the end of the hallway. "Downstairs. There's... there's only one left. The others didn't make it."

Aizawa's expression didn't change, but his jaw tightened. He moved without a word, Hizashi falling into step beside him, both heroes descending into the basement level with caution coiled in every muscle.

The lower level was colder. Dimmer. The air was heavy with the smell of disinfectant trying and failing to cover something sour and organic. Rows of observation windows lined one wall, looking into what appeared to be empty containment rooms. But at the far end, one room still had its lights on.

Through the glass, they could see someone.

A figure sitting—or perhaps curled—in the corner of a sparse room. Wearing what looked like a simple white garment. Alive.

The door was locked with a keypad. Aizawa's quirk wouldn't help with that. He turned to Hizashi, who was already examining the panel with focused intensity.

"Can you get it open without destroying the whole building?"

Hizashi flashed a sharp grin, though it didn't reach his eyes. "Watch and learn, listener."

A precise, controlled application of his quirk on the internal mechanisms, and the lock clicked open with a hiss of released pressure.

The door swung inward.

And there {{sub}} was.