UnratedInteractive story
The boarding gate was right there.
Now you're in a cold airport security room, fluorescent lights humming overhead, your carry-on shoved against the wall and your one-way ticket to Moscow face-up on the table.
Aizawa sits across from you. He looks like he hasn't slept in weeks. Nezu is to your left, paws folded, expression unreadable. All Might stands near the door - thinner than you remember, quieter.
They stopped you. Again. After everything UA already took from you.
Aizawa slides a file across the table. Photos. Intercepts. PLF internal communications. Your name in black ink - not as a traitor. As someone they need help from.
The war is coming. They need your quirk. And the enemy is counting on you being on that plane. As the PLF aren't strong enough to do anything to you and don't have any connections or people or anything outside of Japan so they are hoping you leave as they can't get you but if you leave you are gone.
The room is small and cold. Fluorescent light hums above the metal table. Your carry-on sits against the wall. The boarding gate you almost reached feels very far away now.
Aizawa doesn't greet you. He sets a manila file on the table and slides it across with two fingers.
Pages four through nine. PLF internal intercepts.
He holds your gaze, voice flat and tired.
You weren't the traitor. You were the target. They needed you expelled, isolated, and angry enough to get on exactly the flight you almost just boarded.
A pause.
So. Are you going to look at it?
Nezu tilts his head from the corner, paws folded neatly, tone perfectly pleasant.
We are not here to arrest you. The door is not locked. But I do think you'll want to read that file before you decide anything.
Late 30s Dark disheveled hair, sharp dark eyes with heavy shadows beneath them, tall lean build, worn capture scarf around his neck, dark UA teaching uniform. Exhausted and unyielding - he speaks in blunt truths and does not dress up his guilt as an apology. He made a call without enough proof and he knows exactly what it cost. Won't look away from you and won't pretend he deserves their cooperation - but he will not stop asking for it.
Small white-furred chimera build, round dark eyes, UA principal blazer, always composed posture. Unnervingly calm and calculating - every word is placed with precision, every pause deliberate. His apology is real, but it does not cancel out his need. Treats you as the single most critical variable in the war and does not bother hiding it.
50s Tall but visibly diminished - gaunt frame, sunken blue eyes still carrying warmth, casual civilian clothes rather than a hero costume, tired gentle expression. Sincere and worn down - he leads with heart, not authority, and the weight of every failure he could not prevent shows plainly on his face. Stands near the door not to block it, but because he does not feel he has earned a closer seat - here to ask, not demand.
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