The restaurant was a symphony of elegance and indulgence, the kind of place where even the air seemed to shimmer with an unspoken promise of luxury. Crystal chandeliers hung like frozen constellations from the high ceilings, their light refracting into prisms that danced across the pristine white tablecloths. The faint clinking of silverware against fine china mingled with soft murmurs of conversation, creating an atmosphere both serene and suffocating in its perfection.

Gojo Satoru leaned back in his chair, arms crossed casually over his chest as he flashed you one of his trademark smirks—equal parts charm and mischief. Geto Suguru sat beside him, his posture more composed but no less commanding, his warm smile carrying just a hint of something darker beneath the surface. Both men exuded confidence, as if they owned not only this moment but every breath you took within it.

"Order whatever you want, L/N," Geto said smoothly, gesturing toward the menu with an almost regal wave of his hand. His voice was honeyed, inviting, yet there was something about the way his eyes lingered on you that made your skin crawl. It wasn't malicious, exactly—it was worse. Calculating. Like he could see straight through you, past your carefully constructed walls, to the chaos simmering inside. "Don't worry about money."

Your fingers tightened around the edge of the menu before you realized what you were doing. You forced yourself to relax, to breathe, to keep up appearances. But deep down, your inner beast stirred, restless and wary. These men are dangerous, it growled low in the recesses of your mind. They're predators wearing human faces.

You swallowed hard, trying to ignore the gnawing sensation in your gut. Instead, you focused on Gojo, who had tilted his head slightly, his expression playful yet sharp enough to cut glass. "Yes! You're our guest after all," he chimed in, his tone light and teasing, though his piercing blue eyes betrayed none of the levity his words suggested. He tapped the side of his temple dramatically. "And don't think too hard about dessert—I already know you'll go for the chocolate lava cake."

Your jaw clenched at his presumption, but you didn't rise to the bait. Instead, you fixed them both with a steady gaze, your voice calm despite the storm raging inside. "Am I going to see my class anymore?" The question slipped out before you could stop it, raw and honest, cutting through the veneer of civility like a knife.

Gojo blinked, genuinely surprised for once. "What?"

Geto's smile faltered ever so slightly, his fingers absently rubbing at his cheek as though he were considering how best to respond. After a pause, he shrugged nonchalantly, though his eyes never left yours. "Um... I don't know, maybe? But why would you want to? You're going to get a new class as soon as we get to Tokyo."

His words hit like a punch to the gut, knocking the wind out of you. Your hands instinctively clasped together under the table, nails digging into your palms as you fought to maintain control. Beneath the surface, the animal inside roared, desperate to break free, to tear apart the fragile illusion of peace that surrounded you. This place, this moment—it wasn't yours. None of it was real.

"They're my friends," you said quietly, your voice trembling only slightly. Each word felt like pulling teeth, dragged reluctantly from some hidden reservoir of defiance. "And I trust them." A beat passed, heavy with unspoken meaning. Then, quieter still: "Especially more than you two."

The silence that followed was deafening. For a split second, the world seemed to hold its breath. Gojo's smirk faded, replaced by something unreadable—was it surprise? Disappointment? Or perhaps something darker? Geto's smile, meanwhile, stretched wider, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. There was a flicker of amusement there, mingled with something colder, sharper. Approval, maybe. As if he'd expected nothing less from you.

"Well," Gojo finally drawled, leaning forward until his elbows rested on the table. His grin returned, brighter and sharper than before, like sunlight glinting off broken glass. "That's fair enough. Trust is earned, right?"

Geto chuckled softly, shaking his head as if amused by some private joke. "Indeed. Though I hope you'll come to trust us eventually, L/N. We have big plans for you, after all."

Big plans. The phrase sent another shiver down your spine, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you lifted your chin, meeting their gazes head-on. Whatever games they were playing, whatever schemes they had in store, you wouldn't back down. Not here. Not now.

Because even if the beast inside you wanted to lash out, to destroy everything in its path, you knew better. Survival meant patience. And patience meant waiting for the right moment to strike.

Until then, you'd play along.

SCENEBREAK

The office of U.A. High School was quiet, save for the soft rustling of papers and the occasional flick of Nezu's tail as he mulled over the situation. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting long shadows across the room that seemed to stretch endlessly—much like the weight of their current predicament. Aizawa Shota stood before the principal's desk, his usual stoic demeanor tinged with an uncharacteristic edge of unease.

"I don't know, sir," Aizawa said, his voice low and measured, though there was a faint undercurrent of tension beneath it. "I haven't seen her in a while." He paused, his sharp eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to piece together some invisible puzzle. "And I don't think she'd dare drop out."

Nezu nodded slowly, his small paws pressed together thoughtfully as his intelligent gaze locked onto Aizawa. His bushy tail gave another flick, betraying just a hint of agitation. "No," he agreed, his tone calm but laced with concern. "She wouldn't. But it's still worrying. Her parents don't know where she is either."

Aizawa's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly at this revelation. It wasn't like you to vanish without a trace, not when you had responsibilities—and people who cared about you. The thought gnawed at him, coiling uncomfortably in his chest like a snake preparing to strike. You were one of his students, after all. One of the few who had managed to earn his begrudging respect despite his notoriously high standards. If something had happened to you...

Nezu turned his attention to All Might, who stood nearby, his towering frame exuding both strength and uncertainty. The Symbol of Peace shifted uncomfortably under the principal's scrutiny, his normally boisterous presence subdued by the gravity of the moment.

"I can't ask you to look for her, All Might," Nezu said firmly, his voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to making difficult decisions. "You need to focus on Triangulation and strengthening your Weeseel. The future of hero society depends on your success."

All Might opened his mouth as if to protest, but Nezu raised a paw to silence him. There was no room for argument here. Instead, the principal turned back to Aizawa, his expression resolute.

"You, however, can go out and look," Nezu continued, his tone leaving no room for refusal. "I'll send the pro hero Hawks with you as well. He's young, capable, and has proven himself reliable in recent missions. Between the two of you, I'm confident you'll find her."

Aizawa bit back a sigh, his lips pressing into a thin line. Of course, it would be him. And, of course, Hawks would be involved. Perfect. Just what he needed—a brash, overly enthusiastic rookie trailing after him while they searched for a missing student. Still, he couldn't deny the logic behind Nezu's decision. Hawks' speed and reconnaissance abilities would undoubtedly be an asset in their search.

"I understand," Aizawa said finally, his voice steady despite the storm brewing inside him. "Thank you, sir." With a slight bow, he turned and walked out of the office, his steps deliberate and unhurried. But the moment the door clicked shut behind him, his composure faltered ever so slightly.

His concern for you slithered further up his chest, tightening its grip with each passing second. It wasn't just worry—it was guilt. As your homeroom teacher, he felt responsible for your safety, even outside the confines of the classroom. If anything had happened to you... No. He wouldn't let himself entertain that possibility. Not yet.

You were one of his students. One of his . And he would find you. No matter what.

As Aizawa strode down the hallway, his mind raced with possibilities. Where could you have gone? What could have driven you to disappear like this? Whatever the reason, he intended to uncover it—and bring you back safely. Because that's what heroes did. Even reluctant ones like him.

He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, scrolling through his contacts until he found Hawks' number. After a brief hesitation, he tapped the screen and brought the device to his ear. When the younger hero answered with his usual energetic greeting, Aizawa cut straight to the point.

"Hawks," he said, his voice clipped but urgent. "We've got a mission. Meet me at the front gate in ten minutes."

There was no time to waste.