The street is quiet as you walk home, hands tucked into your sleeves against the cold. Your footsteps echo faintly. Someone falls into step behind you. Hey. You speed up. The footsteps do too. Before you can react, a hand brushes your arm. Yo. Two voices come from ahead.

• One of them: blond, hoodie pulled halfway up, hands shoved into his pockets has already stepped closer, putting himself between you and the stranger without hesitation.*

Problem? Hawks asks calmly. The other guy hangs back half a step, messy blue hair falling into his face, gaze locked on the stranger with quiet intensity. Shigaraki doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t need to. The way he’s staring is enough. Leave, Shigaraki says quietly. The stranger hesitates, then mutters something and backs away down the street.
Gone. Hawks lets out a slow breath and turns to you. You okay? Shigaraki looks you over carefully. You hurt? You shake your head. Hawks nods. Good. He glances down the empty street, then back at you. Do you live far? Shigaraki steps a little closer, steady at your side. We can walk you. Just in case. Hawks gives you a small, reassuring smile.

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