Chapter Text
The faster a clock moves, the slower time passes.
The hands within the clock on the infirmary wall are whirling so fast, the glass has shattered and the clock no longer hangs from its place on the wall. Aizawa watches as the hours whirl by, and still- nothing. Not a single movement. Never a sound. Nothing but shallow breathing and the high-pitched beeping coming from the surrounding machines that proves to him that this boy is still alive. Again, the only word that comes to mind is "unfair." It's unfair that the only reason he knows Kirishima is still alive is because of some stupid machine.
It's unfair that he's been the only one to visit Eijirou since he was saved. Although, he supposed there was no reason to be vexed by the absence of visitors; the students weren't allowed to see him until his illness wore off (neither were the teachers, but Aizawa hadn't taken 'no' for an answer), his mother had once again disappeared, and his father... well, Aizawa wasn't exactly angry at the man's lack of care. The further away he was, the better.
Still, Eijirou's room was painfully empty. Empty of color- a lifeless grey. Empty of life- only a single soul and a comatose body for days on end. Empty of sound- nothing but never-ending hours of silence that encompassed the entire room in a cold embrace.
The pro shook his head, ridding himself of the dismal thoughts that plagued him. There was no use in making a bad situation worse. He looked forward to the near future, when Eijirou would wake up surrounded by friends and the part of his family that still loved him. He longed to see that sharp smile, if only a glimpse. The man had a newfound feeling of hope. Of course, it might as well have been the same hope he had before Eijirou's disappearance, merely coming back for round two. This time, he was determined to hold on to it for as long as possible.
Shouta had hope that Eijirou would wake up.
The doctors assured him that one day in the near future, he would. The man wondered how far into the "near future" they were thinking, but nonetheless, he was mutely excited. They had also discussed the possibility of amnesia, whether that be temporary or permanent, they wouldn't know until he woke up. Aizawa had hope that he wouldn't have any. The CT scans say differently.
But hope is a funny thing. Hope doesn't rely on evidence to remain adamant.
Thinking back to the many other tests the doctors had performed in the boy, the image of the X-Ray machine, depicting the remains of his squashed arm, still haunted him. He remembered seeing the limb in the video that had been sent. The pure flimsiness of the arm had been concerning at the time, but seeing it in person only heightened his concern for the boy's recovery. The bones had shattered to mere shards, slicing into flesh and it was a miracle it hadn't ruptured any arteries. Though the nurses assured him that the arm would heal fully given weeks of physical therapy and surgery, he was skeptical. Recovery Girl was still useless at this point, Eijirou having no strength for her to latch on too.
The infection was what scared him the most, to be honest. It was no surprise that after laying in a vat of bacteria for who knows how long, his many injuries would fester with disease. It was his eye that had been the original source, of course. However, it had spread quickly. The bulbous pus that ran from the gash on his torso was proof.
Aizawa's eyes filtered across the room from where he sat at Eijirou's side before settling on the boy once more. There wasn't an inch of his body that wasn't wrapped in bandages, even his infected eye had been covered by the white fabric. The man stared hard at the space where his eye should be. He remembers the conversation vividly. The doctors approaching him with clipboards and blank expressions as they told him that Eijirou would much rather have a crater in his head than die of infection. An acrylic eye, they said. He can get an acrylic eye. But even if he did, Aizawa knew it would never be the right shade. It would never have the same glimmer, nor would it shed the same tears. It wouldn't reveal his emotions, like the real thing did. He would no longer be an open book. The cover had been shut.
The doctors had been wrong, to some degree. Aizawa much rather look at the bloodied carnage of what was once his eye, than a husk.
"What am I going to do with you, problem child?" The pro mumbled, his calloused hand coming to rest gently on top of Eijirou's head, the feeling of greasy, black hair rubbing off on his skin. He internally grimaced, wondering if the last time he had gotten a shower had been the day he was kidnapped. "I'll wrap you in bubble wrap and lock you in a room."
"You can try that," A deep, graveling voice came from the door. In no ways was it menacing, and yet, when Aizawa finally recognized it, a shiver went up his spine. He turned towards the door, catching the male's gaze at the door frame. "But I don't think that will work. He always finds a way to get himself in trouble."
"So it seems."
Kirishima-kun entered his son's hospital rom with an aura of confidence. Eyes steadfast on the boy laying prone in the bed, the man circled around and latched on to an extra chair, pulling it next to the cot on the opposite side of Aizawa. The teacher gripped on to the faded white sheets hanging off the side of the bed, low enough so the other man couldn't see his obvious rage bubbling up.
"You know I would have come sooner," The father explained. "But every time I came they would tell me that he already has a visiter. I guess I know who that was. You've been here every day for the past week? Now that's dedication. Dedication to what, though? I don't know. Certainly not teaching. No teacher cares about their students this much."
"That's not true," Aizawa says sharply. "If they don't, then they shouldn't be a teacher."
"Right," Kirishima-kun chuckled. "You have any kids of your own?"
"No."
"Ah, I get it," The man chuckled. The room fell into an eerie silence as Kirishima-kun leaned forward in his seat, reaching a hand up to settle on Eijirou's head, not unlike how the teacher did merely moments ago. Aizawa watched the man's face go emotionless as he caressed his boy's head, not even grimacing at the slick texture. He almost looked sad in a way, but the hero knew better than to fall into that trap. "His hair used to always look like this; tangled, black and greasy. It was like he just never took care of it for whatever reason. But the days he did wash it, his mother would brush it out and it would look nice. I don't know why he didn't do it more often. Laziness, I guess. Then, he dyed his hair one night and the next morning he came downstairs with this mop of red and gelled up like spikes. I liked the black better, always. But I never said anything."
"Is there a point to this?" Aizawa said crudely, watching with bated breath as the man continued to pet Eijirou's head. Some might mistake the act as jealousy, but Shouta was not a jealous man. It was more an act if caution. For whatever reason, the image of Kirishima-kun suddenly yanking the boy's head and slamming him into the safety rail continued to pop up in his imagination. That being said, he wasn't like Sir Nighteye. He couldn't see into the future.
"The point is, everything comes back around," Kirishima-kun yawned. "He dyed his hair to escape his old, pathetic self- at least that's what he told his mother, who told me. And yet here he is, straight black hair and all. I just find it funny. He really can't do anything right."
"You only came here to berate him. I think it's best if you leave. For Eijirou's sake."
The man laughed heartedly, finger tightening in Eijirou's hair. Shouta watched them diligently.
"Who are you? His father?" Aizawa kept his mouth shut, refusing to look up. His hands shook, though he willed them to stop. They only worsened upon realizing Kirishima-kun's eyes were glued to them, a condescending smile on his lips. "Maybe it's you who should leave."
"I have every right to be here. Especially considering you've been completely absent up until this point. What, did you expect him to be happy when he woke up alone? I'm surprised his mother hasn't been here."
The man shrugged. "He would have gotten over it. In regards to his mother, I don't know where she is. I haven't seen her in months. Not since we divorced. Not that I care, really. She didn't receive custody so she took off to heaven knows where and left me with the kid. Some mother, am I right?"
Shouta raised an eyebrow. "I hardly think you have any right questioning another parent's actions. Not that I condone her absence," The pro shifted in his seat, feeling mildly uncomfortable with the direction of the conversation. Kirishima no longer looked peaceful, even as he laid. Almost as if he could hear his father's voice in his sleep. Though he hadn't moved an inch, Aizawa could sense a change in the air. He had heard once that people in coma's could still hear what was going on around them, and prayed that the myth was just that. "Eijirou never told me you got a divorce."
"Why should he have?" The man grumbled, looking irritated. "It's none of your business, really. Not tell you was the smartest thing Eijirou has ever done, hah. I'm surprised he listened to me when I told him to keep quiet about the whole thing. He's a chatterbox- no matter how many people tell him to shut up... he just keeps talking."
"Considering his predicament, I should think you egret not listening to him ramble more often. But something tells me you don't care that your son was at his death bed no more than a week ago. I bet his school friends miss his voice more than you do."
Kirishima-kun narrowed his eyes in thought. "I'd long ot hear his voice, if it weren't so loud. He's just like that; loud and obnoxious, always. You can never get him to quiet down, not even for a second. He has to always be the center of attention, the biggest personality in the room. And yet, he never did have many friends. He tried too hard to get people to notice him, but no one cared about the plain boy with a lame quirk. His mother tried to convince him to apply to Yuuei. I was against it. I knew he was humiliate himself. I guess I was right."
"This wasn't his fault," Aizawa argued, though a part of his truly ddi think that the boy played a role in his own kidnapping, considering that he was the one to leave Yuuei in the first place. "He was kidnapped."
"Is that what he told you?"
"We have proof that that's what it was."
"Okay. Okay, sure," The man mumbled. "You can leave now."
"I'd rathe not."
An indescribable amount of time passes before Aizawa. It doesn't even feel as though time continued to tick by as they sat in silence, staring at the boy- one with concern and the other with a sick version of fondness. But just vaguely, he can hear the tell-tale sound of the hands on the wall clock twitching by. As the seconds pass, a tense feeling settles in Shouta's gut. It seemed as though if he didn't leave now, he would be stuck in that room forever with this monster, condemned to suffer an eternity of white walls, bloodied bandages and the smell of medicine. Stuck in an empty time loop.
But the door opens, the sound of a creaky cart wheeling in following. He doesn't need to check to know it's a nurse. She smiles slightly, staring at the boys father for a moment before switching out the bag of fluids at Eijirou's bedside. Aizawa has seen her here before She comes by every few hours or so, scribbles something down on her clipboard and bids farewell. Aizawa doesn't know her name. He doesn't want to know it.
She broke the time loop, and finally, he can breathe.
However, she hasn't left the room, Aizawa realizes. She's talking to him. The man's lips are moving but the teacher can't hear, but when the nurse turns towards him with furrowed eyebrows and her hands clasped in front of her stomach, he knows. The woman speaks in a gentle tone, asking politely if he would please leave- he's causing a disturbance. This father is trying to grieve over his son's injured state. He needs to leave or she'll call security to escort him out. Wordlessly, he gathers his belongings and exits the room, the world falling down around him as he wandered through the halls. Without realizing, he's made his way to the parking lot.
The inside of his car is another time loop, and this time, no one is there to break it.
People come and go from the parking lot and the occasional sound of the ambulance's sirens blaring to life echoes through his skull. And yet, he finds solace in laying back in the driver's seat, breathing in and out with his eyes closed, and for once, not worrying about opening them to see that Kirishima's heart had stopped beating. The boy was alive. Alive and recovering.
His mind drifts from thoughts of Eijirou, to the men who took him. There was no way the two escapees could have pulled something like this off without help. Aizawa continued to have dreams that played out more like memories, of the man at the electronics store handing him Eijirou's phone so nonchalantly. The fake admiration in his eyes at seeing a pro hero. The selflessness he had at giving him the phone without picking a fight, as most vendors were prone to do. It was strange. Each dream would play out the same: he would walk out of the store feeling accomplished, phone in hand, but when he glances back, the store had disappeared and in its wake, a gaping alley way. Almost as if it never existed at all. However, the phone remained in his hand until finally, the scene faded to black and he was startled awake by an unknown force.
That's it, Aizawa huffed. Starting his car, the man started the grueling drive to the one place that had been haunting his dreams the past week or so. He paid no mind to the itch at the back of his mind telling him that leaving Eijirou with his father alone was a bad idea. Still, he shook the concern from his head and continued the drive in relative peace. It wasn't until he arrived at the establishment that the panic he had been holding back rushed to the front of his mind.
The building had been vacated.
Completely empty with a sign posted to the glad signifying that it was open for rent. Not a single electronic in sight. Aizawa looked around, catching sight of the familiar stores surrounding the darkened establishment. Laying back in his chair, the teacher struggled to even take in a single breath, his lungs collapsing in on themselves. Closing his chapped lips, Aizawa's vision unfocused and he sat in what seemed to be the remains of the apocalypse. It was as though the world had folded in on itself and left him standing among the ruins.
I knew it wasn't just a bad feeling, Shouta assured himself, eyes flicking towards the vacant building. I was right. I knew there was something strange about that guy. He had to have been working with Tengai and Rappa... his store closing after we received the phone couldn't have just been a coincident. But then again, hadn't Tengai warned us to dispose of the phone the second we got it? Even so, there was no wya for him to know we even had the phone without the employees help. They had to have been working together someway, somehow. But that raises the question... did Tengai want us to find Kirishima via messages from his phone? If so, why would he want us to get rid of it? None of this is making any sense.
Feeling burnt out and confused, Aizawa sighed and put his car into drive. The drive from Kamino to Yuuei would be slow given the time of day, but the man was willing to sit through hours of traffic if it meant he could spend the rest of the night laying in bed. Hopefully, tonight, he would be able to sleep knowing Eijirou was in good hands and that the nursing staff wouldn't allow his father to harm him in any way. More than a few times, he found himself sitting still at green lights, his mind not registering that it was his time ot go. Not even the faint honking of fellow drivers could break him from the spell that the time loop encased him in.
Soon enough, the sun that had once illuminated the world sunk into the horizon, leaving nothing but a deep purple that faded into orange. Exhaling softly, Aizawa stepped out of the loop and sure enough, he found himself back on Yuuei campus with only one thing on his mind: bed.
His home is stuffy. He opens every window and yet it still feels suffocating. He slams every door open to increase airflow and he still can't get a single breath in. Making a bee-line for his bedroom, Aizawa found solace in suffocating himself underneath the weight of the comforter, relishing in the overwhelming heat that followed. He legs felt sticky with sweat, causing his pants to cling ot his skin in a way that made him feel as though thousands of ants were roaming up and down the limbs. He needed out.
But there was no where to go.
Shouta briefly considered calling Yamada, but quickly dismissed the idea. It was Sunday, so the blonde was most likely enjoying his only day off during the week. Completely and utterly alone, Aizawa pulled the comforter up and over his head. Content with the idea of just heading straight to bed, he was crudely reminded of dorm checks when the alarm on his phone blared to life.
Right. Dorm check.
____________________________________
To say he was surprised to see the entirety of his class in the common room was an understatement. Glancing at his phone, he confirmed that curfew started ten minutes ago and students were required to be in their dorms by then. However, it seemed as though not even Iida payed it any mind, so he seemed a little antsy from his spot on the couch, Uraraka's gentle hand on his bicep did little to comfort him.
It was far from silent, seeing as though the television blasted he evening news while the students carried on their own conversations. It wasn't until he came into their line of vision that they noticed his presence.
"Aizawa-sensei!" Kaminari exclaimed, a nervous smile gracing his lips. "Fancy seeing you here!"
"What are you all doing out of your rooms?" The silence crawled to every corner of the room, leaving the group in shambles- poorly concealed coughs, low murmurs and wild glances. "Iida, I expected you to deal with this, as class rep. You better have a damn good excuse."
The boy in question turned a bright red under his teacher's heated stare. Clearing his throat, Iida proudly stated. "I'm sorry, sir. I tried to tell them this was a bad idea, but they refused to listen and I figured if they insisted on carrying out such a foolish idea, I might as well be here to supervise to ensure that if anyone is to blame, it's me," The boy paused, finding the right words. "The others were becoming increasingly concerned over the lack of information we are receiving on Kirishima's condition. I-... we... are very worried."
Aizawa blinked slowly like a cat coming to from a midday snooze.
"You couldn't have waited until morning?"
Iida stammered uncharacteristically. "I-... well-... we have been waiting quite awhile, actually. We-... We were told you left for the hospital at noon so we expected you to be back at around three but you never... came back. We've been waiting since then, I suppose. I haven't been keeping track of time."
Now, Aizawa didn't feel bad, per-say. Although, he did feel pretty stupid. For whatever reason, he didn't want his class to assume he had spent nine hours at the hospital, looking over his injured student. Usually he would throw caution to the wind; who cares what other people thought? But looking into the eyes of Eijirou's friends, he realized all too quickly that it seemed unfair of him to seemingly spend his whole day with the boy while the others weren't even sure if he was going to make it. The older man sighed.
"While I'm sure Kirishima would appreciate your concern, I assure you, he is going to be okay. The doctors still aren't sure when he will wake up, but with all the rest he is getting, I'm sure he'll begin to heal in no time. Visitors will be allowed next week; I told you all this," The pro looked over the group, but they merely started back, dumbfounded. He held back another sigh. "I was only with him for about an hour or two before I left to run an errand. But trust me, he is going to be just fine and soon enough, he'll join us in class. It will be awhile before he can do any hero training, however."
"Probably not until next year... right?" Uraraka's small voice carried through the air, striking the pro like a butcher's knife. She was correct, but he didn't have the heart to tell them that.
"We'll just have to wait and see," The pro uttered, refusing to meet their gazes. Feigning a yawn, he nudged his head toward the elevator. "Now if that's all... I think we can all benefit from a good night's sleep. You don't need to worry about Kirishima any more. He's safe, and so are all fo you. Now go to bed, brats."
"Yaomomo said he might be sick!" Ashido's voice screeched out suddenly. Aizawa raised an eyebrow at Yaoyorozu, who blushed and looked away, stumbling over her words before giving up. He should have known his students would be smart enough to know that where there is serious injuries, there is infection. Still, he hadn't been prepared to talk about it. "So, is he really okay or are you just saying that to make us feel better."
"The doctors are monitoring his infection closely-..."
"Infection?!" The room erupted.
"Everyone calm down!" And just as quickly, the room succumbed to silence once more. "Like I said, the doctors are monitoring his infection closely and as of right now, he will be okay. I'll tell you when something happens or if his condition changes but for now, he's survive. You all have nothing to worry about. Now, like I said, go to bed, You have school in the morning!"
A series of exhausted 'yes sir's followed suit as each child passed by and made their way to their respective floors. All, except one. Aizawa sighed, meeting Bakugou's unwavering gaze with one of his own.
The two entered a silent staring contest until finally, the blonde broke.
"I won't believe you until I see him," The boy stated solidly, voice unwavering. The older hero sighed heavily, rolling his eyes. Before the words could even exit Aizawa's mouth, the boy was already uttering, "I'm serious. I won't believe you until I see him in person. For all I know he could be dead and you're just covering for everyone involved until they finally come clean. I don't trust you, or anyone else here. You've hidden things from us before, who's to say you're telling the truth?"
Aizawa blinked slow, again. "I can't exactly bring you to him. You can visit him next week and see that I'm not lying."
"You can bring me to him."
"I can't," The man grumbled, anger slowly rising within him. The idea of his student not trusting him was scary enough, but something about the desperation in Bakugou's voice made it that much worse. "You think that just because I’m a pro-hero, I can do whatever I want? The laws that apply to regular civilians apply to us too, for the most part. You can't do anything but trust me for the time being. I'm sorry you feel as though I'm lying to you, but truthfully, Kirishima is okay and you have nothing to worry about."
Bakugou caved in on himself, slightly, with an irritated huff. "He disappears for two fucking months and when he finally comes back, we cant even see him. How is that fair? I'm his best friend!"
"He knows that. Just because you aren't there doesn't mean he doesn't remember you. Kirishima's body needs time to heal, and right now, space is the best thing you can give him."
"You're full of bullshit!"
"You're only saying that because you know I'm right," Shouta said calmly. Meanwhile, Bakugou raged on in silence, fists clenched and teeth barring against one another. Aizawa took a seat on the couch, far enough away from the blonde that if he were to explode, he wouldn't get hurt. "Think about it: all this anger and arguing, when you could wait a week and be exactly where you want to be- by his side again. It's natural to worry. It's okay to care about him."
"I don't-..."
"Be careful fo what you say," Shouta stood, suddenly not feeling like sticking around like he originally planned too. Heading towards he the exit, he said softly. "Kirishima may be okay now, but he wasn't when we found him. And somewhere, in another life, he never made it out. It's okay to care. Kirishima probably really appreciates it. Goodnight, Bakugou. See you in class tomorrow."
He hears a faint huff and a small voice mumbled to itself:
"It's not fair."
But Aizawa thinks maybe the world has heard enough of "not fair."
_____________________________________
The universe had other plans for him, even as he finally settled into the warm escape of his bed. As if every cosmic body in the entire universe had decided to screw him over, just as he was beginning to doze off, there was an incessant banging at the door. Groaning with every angry cell in his body, Aizawa moved his creaking body towards to the door. There, standing in his ever present suit, was Detective Tsukauchi.
"Hey, sorry to bother you. Can I come in?"
"No."
And yet he left the front door wide open as he wandered towards the coffee machine. If he wasn't going to get any sleep, he might as well be conscious enough to follow the conversation. The detective settled on the coach, back straight and somehow looking wide-awake. Aizawa both envied and hated people like that. At the rate of a snail, he carefully put the coffee together until nothing but silky, black goodness was sliding down his throat.
Truth be told, despite his obvious aversion to being disturbed, he was fairly happy to see the detective again. That meant something new had happened. Whether that be a good or bad thing, Aizawa didn't care. As long as he was up to date with the situation, he was content. And as long as Kirishima was still dozing away peacefully in that hospital room, he might as well be braindead.
"Again, sorry to bother you so late, but this is urgent. There's been a development in the case and I need your opinion on it immediately."
"Go on."
Tsukauchi's gaze fell into Shouta's. It was a heavy stare, but not one that the teacher hadn't felt before. It was concerning, however, coming from the investigator. That glare never meant anything good. The world fell away and though the other man looked even more confused as ever, the detective uttered aloud:
"Do you remember that man who sold you Kirishima's cellphone?"
Aizawa nodded. "Of course. He gave it to me for free, though. I never bought it."
"Right. He was found dead this morning."