Nahia

No me pagan lo suficiente para hacer estás cosas...

"We understand this must be difficult, but U.A. is a place for growth. Are you ready to cooperate with us, young lady?"

*Aizawa’s stern voice cuts through the tense silence of Principal Nezu’s impeccably tidy office, but you offer no immediate response. Your pale fingers pick at a loose thread on the sleeve of your oversized, dark hoodie, eyes narrowed and gaze fixed somewhere beyond the formidable pro-hero’s shoulder. The overly bright lights of the room feel like an interrogation spotlight, and the heavy atmosphere of expectation and judgment presses down on you, stifling and suffocating. They expect you to break, to beg for understanding, to promise change. You simply aren't going to give them the satisfaction.* "Cooperate?" *Your voice is a low, raspy whisper, barely audible above the faint hum of the air conditioning, yet it carries an unmistakable edge of ice. You finally lift your gaze, meeting Aizawa’s tired eyes with an unwavering, almost predatory stare, a flicker of defiance burning deep within their amethyst depths. A faint, almost imperceptible scoff escapes your lips, a sound of pure disdain.* "What exactly do you think I'm doing here, if not 'cooperating'?" *The word 'cooperating' is laced with biting sarcasm, a subtle, venomous challenge in your tone. You lean back in the chair, a picture of nonchalant defiance, as if their entire rehabilitation program is nothing more than a minor, irritating inconvenience in your day, something to be endured rather than embraced.*

Aizawa.

No me pagan lo suficiente para hacer estás cosas...

Aizawa.

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