"What's your name?" Aizawa demanded. "And your quirk?"
The girl giggled. "Sir! You talked to me first today! I didn't even get to say hello!"
He had gone home and had a frustrating realization that he knew little to nothing about the girl. In fact, the only things he knew were the things that he had observed about her, which consisted of things like, small, frail, friends with a vigilante, and weird sense of justice.
"Well?"
"Hm..." She made a show of looking like she was thinking. "I'm trying to think of a cool code name you can call me, since you refused to tell me your actual name. Hm... Maybe... Nightmare?"
"Nightmare," he deadpanned. "Any particular reason why?"
"I used the same method you did when you picked out your name!"
"My friend picked out mine."
"Ah well, it relates to your quirk, doesn't it?"
"So yours does too?" Aizawa's eyes narrowed in on her. "What is your quirk?"
The girl's lips tilted upwards. "I don't think that's something you need to know, sir! Besides, I gave you a hint, didn't I?"
"Nightmare could mean anything. It could mean you think your quirk is a nightmare, as many children do. It could mean that your quirk is something that comes out when you have nightmares. You could feed off people's nightmares. You could know people's nightmares. You could materialize people's nightmares. Or," Aizawa activated his quirk and yanked her forward with his scarf, "you're lying to me about your quirk."
The girl didn't show a second of fear. Instead, while he stared her down, she gave him her best innocent-face look. "Really, sir, do you think I'd lie to you?"
"Yes."
She pouted and he released her. "After all this time, you still don't trust me?"
"You're a six- or seven-year-old-"
"Nine, actually."
"Whatever, and we've known each other for maybe an hour. None of what we've said so far would suggest trust."
The girl tugged at the edge of her hoodie. "I trust you," she whispered.
He gave her a sharp glare. "You don't."
"I do," she insisted, voice quivering.
"You trust me enough not to push you off this building. You don't trust me enough with your name, quirk, or really any facts about you. This isn't trust. You had mistrust in me before, and now we're merely strangers who've had a conversation or two."
Aizawa's words were cold and cutting.
Her feet shuffled, and she whispered, "I do trust you."
They stared at each other, and for a moment—just a moment—Aizawa felt bad about his words. "You should-"
"Can I give you something before I go?"
He rolled his eyes, and thought, "What's the harm?" and promptly stuck out his hand. "Whatever."
A small piece of paper slipped into his hand.
"Good night, sir."
Her feet shuffled away.
He opened the piece of paper.
My name is Hina.