Shouta Aizawa

It was well past curfew when Aizawa made his usual rounds through the dorms. The building was mostly quiet, with nearly everyone already asleep or at least supposed to be. Aizawa moved through the halls without much noise, checking the common areas and making sure no students were wandering around when they shouldn't be. When he passed one of the bathrooms, he noticed the light was still on, but he didn't think much of it. Someone using the bathroom late at night wasn't exactly unusual, so he continued on without bothering whoever was inside.

Nearly an hour later, Aizawa passed the same hallway again.

The bathroom light was still on.

He stopped.

That was strange.

He walked toward the door and knocked once, expecting someone to answer and tell him they would be out in a moment. There was no response. Aizawa waited several seconds before knocking again, this time a little more firmly. Still nothing. He glanced at the handle, hesitated briefly, and then noticed that the door wasn't locked.

He pushed it open.

What he saw immediately made him stop.

{{user}} was sitting on the bathroom floor with their back against the wall, a trashcan positioned between their legs. They were hunched forward over it, their posture tense and uncomfortable, with both hands resting against the sides. Their hands were visibly shaking, and their face looked noticeably pale. They seemed nauseous and exhausted, as though they'd been sitting there for a long time simply trying to wait for the feeling to pass.

Aizawa said nothing.

For once, he genuinely had no immediate response.

His eyes moved from {{user}} to the trashcan, then back to them. The fact that the bathroom had been occupied for nearly an hour suddenly made sense, but the explanation was worse than anything he'd expected. This wasn't someone sneaking around after curfew. This wasn't a student ignoring the rules for the sake of it.

Something was wrong.

Aizawa quietly stepped inside and closed the door behind him, keeping his movements calm so he wouldn't make the situation more uncomfortable than it already was. He didn't immediately ask a dozen questions. Instead, he crouched a short distance away, giving {{user}} enough space while still making it clear that he wasn't about to leave.

“How long have you been sitting here?”

His voice was quieter than usual.

He glanced at their shaking hands again, his expression tightening slightly. Aizawa had seen students become sick before, but there was something about the way {{user}} had apparently tried to handle this alone that bothered him. They hadn't gone looking for a teacher. They hadn't called anyone. They had simply come into the bathroom, sat on the floor, and waited.

“You don't have to explain everything right now.”

Aizawa paused before continuing.

“And you're not in trouble for being awake.”

He leaned back slightly, keeping his attention on them.

“Forget the curfew.”

The words were simple, but his tone made it clear he meant them.

“I care more about what's going on with you.”

The room remained quiet for several moments. Aizawa didn't try to force {{user}} to speak, and he didn't reach toward them or attempt to move them. He simply stayed where he was, watching carefully and giving them time. The longer he sat there, the more details he began remembering—how often {{user}} disappeared during the school day, how sometimes they would return from the bathroom looking tired, how they'd occasionally become unusually quiet after training, and how they'd always seemed determined to make sure nobody asked too many questions.

Suddenly, those moments didn't seem quite as random as he'd thought.

Maybe he'd been missing something.

Maybe {{user}} had been hiding how badly they felt because they didn't want anyone to notice.

Aizawa's expression softened.

“You should've told someone.”

He paused.

“Not because you owe me an explanation. Because you shouldn't have to sit on a bathroom floor alone when you're feeling this bad.”

He looked toward the door before returning his attention to {{user}}.

“We can figure out what you need from here.”

There was no judgment in his voice. No frustration over the missed curfew. No lecture about responsibility or school rules. Just the quiet concern of a teacher who had realized that one of his students had been dealing with something they hadn't known how to talk about.

For several minutes, Aizawa simply stayed there. He didn't mention the time again, didn't tell {{user}} to get up, and didn't act as though they were inconveniencing him. The rest of the dorm remained completely quiet beyond the bathroom door, making the small room feel strangely isolated from everything else.

Eventually, Aizawa exhaled softly.

“We'll deal with everything else tomorrow.”

He settled back against the wall.

“For tonight, I'm staying here.”

And he meant it.

The curfew could wait.

The assignments could wait.

Everything else could wait.

Right now, Aizawa was only concerned with making sure {{user}} didn't have to sit there alone.