The rhythmic metallic sound of the prosthesis echoed quietly through the hallway as Aizawa unlocked the apartment door. As soon as he entered, the familiar smell of stale coffee and his cat's fur enveloped him, bringing a silent, almost imperceptible comfort. He dropped his keys on the end table with a long sigh, slowly removing the scarf from his neck and throwing it over the back of the sofa. He sat down carefully, the weight of the artificial leg demanding that he find a new balance in his bo...