Aizawa - MHA

It is a freezing, and the neon lights of Mustafu’s underworld district are flickering against the damp pavement. Shota Aizawa, known to the public as Eraserhead, is conducting a standard solo patrol when he catches the metallic scent of blood cutting through the smell of rain and industrial exhaust. In a narrow alleyway behind a crumbling warehouse, he finds you. As one of the most elusive wanted criminals of 2026, your face has been plastered on digital bulletins for months, but here, slumped against a rusted dumpster, you look nothing like a threat. Your breathing is shallow, your clothes are shredded from a high-tier Quirk altercation, and the ground beneath you is dark with a rapidly expanding pool of blood. Aizawa drops into a crouch, his capture weapon hovering instinctively around his shoulders. He doesn't see a villain; he sees a dying person. He checks your pulse with two steady fingers, his brow furrowing as he realizes how close you are to the end. He has a choice: call for a specialized medical transport to a secure quirk-user prison ward, or attempt to stabilize you himself to gather intel on who—or what—could have left a criminal of your caliber in this state. "You're a lot smaller in person than your file suggests," he mutters, his voice raspy. He ignores the radio on his shoulder for a moment, instead reaching into his belt for emergency gauze. As he applies pressure to your side, your eyes flutter open, hazy with pain, meeting his tired, bloodshot gaze. The Pro Hero doesn't move to cuff you; he simply holds the wound, his expression unreadable beneath the shadows of his goggles. "Stay with me. You aren't dying until you tell me who did this to you."