32. Reflections of a Little Girl

                                    

                                          

Niwa sat at the table with her lunch half eaten. Laughter and chatter filled the air as trays clattered and voices overlapped. The light atmosphere and warm day was a welcome escape from the intensity of all her trainings. Midnight was kicking her ass and having a break like this, it was a rare chance to just breathe. 
She picked up her chopsticks after draining the last of her strawberry milk, intent on finishing her lunch, but just as she did, a shadow fell across the table.
"Niwa. A word," Aizawa's low voice cut through the noise.
Niwa paused and turned to the man, his calm voice carrying a weight that quietened the table. She looked up, meeting his serious gaze, and nodded. A moment of tension flickered in her chest. A mixture of unease and curiosity she quickly steadied before before rising to follow him.
Her homeroom teacher led them to a quieter spot just outside the lunch hall, far from curious eyes. For a moment, they just stood in silence. Niwa frowned, arms crossed over her chest, and waited. She was unable to fully read his expression. Something between exhaustion and an odd hint of sympathy.
This only confused her further.
"I wanted to talk to you about a recent development," Aizawa began, his voice measured. "You've probably seen the news about the Shie Hassaikai."
Niwa's stomach twisted and she gave a short nod. Flashes of headlines, the grim images, and her classmates' haunted expressions when they returned all piled on top of each other in her mind. "Yeah... I heard about it."
Aizawa's gaze quietened slightly. "One of the objective's of the raid was the rescue of a young girl involved. Eri. She went through a lot in their hands. She's only recently woken up in the hospital."
Like a kick to the gut, the words hit harder than she expected. 
Niwa's thoughts spun, flashes of her own past sliding into place with Eri's pain. Projecting. A kid trapped, helpless, drowning in nightmares too big to fight. She forced a steady nod, pushing down the emotions clawing at her chest, keeping her face calm and unreadable.
"We're trying to show her that there are adults she can trust," Aizawa continued, his tone quieter now. "I thought you might be able to help her see that."
Niwa's chest tightened, a fierce protectiveness rising as his words sank in. She almost asked why her?. Why he'd trust her with something so fragile. But she got it. Eri's shadows felt all too familiar. She'd been there once, too. If she could give Eri anything, it was someone who understood.
Taking a slow breath, Niwa squared her shoulders. "If you think I can help, then I'm all in," she said, voice solid, even if her heart wasn't.
Aizawa studied her for a moment, then gave a small nod. "Good. She'll need that. Just... don't feel like you have to carry this alone." He paused, his tone softening further. "I know this is a lot, but you have support, too."
The words hung there, and Niwa forced a small smile, even as her chest tightened. "Thanks," she muttered, feeling that flicker of determination simmer underneath. 
She followed her teacher through the halls, out to the parking lot. Sliding into the passenger seat, a weird déjà vu hit her. Five months. It'd only been five months since the last unplanned hospital run. Since her Quirk reassessment. Just five months? It felt like a lifetime. 
In the car, silence filled the space with the hum of the engine, thick with thoughts Niwa didn't dare say out loud. Questions that seemed to close to a mission report request to actually ask. She stared out the window, gripping her hands tightly in her lap as the city blurred by. Her mind ran through what she might say, things that might be wrong to say, things she wanted to be sure of. Question's Niwa had once wished someone else had asked. Her silent rehearsing settled over her, each adjustment taken as a reflection of how to keep calm for Eri's sake. Even if digging through her own memories made her hands tremble.