When she had cleared her plate Sasaki stood up.
"Thanks for the food," she said.
"No problem. It's not healthy to only eat cup noodles anyway."
Sasaki nodded placatingly and walked to the door.
"You should go to sleep soon. If you aren't fully rested tomorrow you might fail the exam," Aizawa advised.
"Yeah," Sasaki said.
Her hand tightened around the doorframe. If she walked through the door now she would never come back.
Sasaki let her gaze wander across the apartment. She took in the bare, white walls, the scruffy sofa and the dead or dying plants. It didn't look very inviting but for Sasaki it had become home just like UA had, maybe even moreso.
Finally she moved on to Aizawa. He was the person who had made both UA and this apartment home. She still thought he looked homeless but his messy hair, tired eyes and signature slouch were familiar now.
He was the closest thing to a father she'd ever had. He would be the closest thing to a father she'd ever have and she would never see him again after tomorrow.
She would never hear his worried voice or see his terrible smile. And she'd never feel his eyes on her back again.
"Is something bothering you?"
"No, sorry. I just zoned out for a bit," Sasaki waved his concerns away.
"Okay then. Remember you can talk to me if something is up."
"I know."
"Goodnight and see you tomorrow."
"Goodbye," Sasaki whispered.
Whereas Aizawa's voice had carried its usual tiredness Sasaki's was filled with finality.
Before he could say something she closed the door behind her.
Sasaki ran down the corridor to her apartment. The keys clattered loudly as she tried to open the door with shaky hands.
As soon as she slammed the door closed behind her she slid down to the floor.
Tears started streaming down her face while she tried to hold in her sobs.
That had been her last goodbye, Aizawa wouldn't get more than that.
He'd get a body, a half-hearted goodbye and all of the blame.
When she "died" it would look like his fault. He would spend nights and days blaming himself, thinking about how he could have saved her just like Tsukomo.
He'd build her a shrine just like he did for his classmate and he'd sit before it and blame himself.
And it would be her fault. Hers alone.
Sasaki pressed her hand against her mouth. It did nothing to muffle the sobs wracking through her body. She didn't want to leave. She didn't want to hurt these people she had come to love.
But the least she could do was honor them. She could keep up their hobbies and activities. She could frame their pictures and hang them on her bedroom wall. She could go through their chat logs and remember all the fun they'd had.
Most importantly she could make more friends. She'd take care of herself better and she'd let herself be a teenager from time to time.
Sasaki couldn't make up for all the things they had taught her but she could embody their ideals and teaching as much as she would be able to.
Sasaki vowed to never forget. She vowed that for them she'd change.