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It was all his fault. If he’s had been a little faster, a little stronger, they’d be sitting here with him. But they weren’t. They were waiting in the morgue for their bodies to be embalmed. ‘You can’t blame yourself Shouta, you couldn’t have known about the attack,’ they said.
There's a grief that can't be spoken,
There's a pain goes on and on.
Empty chairs at empty tables,
Now my friends are dead and gone.
He sat at the table in the bar where they always met for drinks after their missions, or after school. They sang karaoke and drank together and shared their dreams of the future. Toshinori’s hope that Izuku would finally find the strength in himself. Mic’s dream that his radio show would take off, and he’d finally be moved to better hours. Thirteen’s dream to explore space. And, of course, the collective dream of peace in their beloved city.
From the table in the corner,
They could see a world reborn,
And they rose with voices ringing,
And I can hear them now
The very words that they have sung
Became their last communion
Now those dreams would never be seen by them, and it was all his fault. He was living, while they lay motionless in the dark cold metal room. Their cool skin, never to see the sun again. He was here, suffering without them. Again. He was all alone again. Who could he turn to now? Mic was gone, Toshi was gone, Midnight was gone, everyone he relied on was gone.
Oh my friends, my friends forgive me
That I live and you are gone
There's a grief that can't be spoken,
And there's a pain goes on and on
He saw them in everything he did. Brushing his teeth, teaching class, seeking revenge on the villians who did this. He could see All Might standing before him, ‘Don’t let this consume you Shouta. This is not who you are. You are stronger that this.’ Aizawa buried his head in his arms and began to sob. He missed them. The bags under his eyes grew worse as his nights became later and later due to his obsession with finding those wretches who did this. He didn’t even know why he was a hero anymore. All his friends were dead, the new batch of pros could handle the villains. Why was he even trying anymore? Because he knew that they were disappointed with him. He could see them stalking through the halls of his apartment, he could hear them laugh in the other room, at him. They were unhappy with him. And even though it hurt him, the erasure hero clung to that idea that they were still with him somehow.
Phantom faces at the window,
Phantom shadows on the floor,
Empty chairs at empty tables where my friends will meet no more.
Oh my friends, my friends don't ask me
What your sacrifice was for
No matter how hard he clung to the idea that his fellow heroes were still with him, he could not undo time. He could not bring back the dead. He could not conjure their spirits. So he left the idea of them haunting him. He sat at their same lunch table, at their same bar, and let the tears fall.
Empty chairs at empty tables
Where my friend will sing no more.
As he let those tears fall, Shouta swore he felt their hands on his back. He felt Hizashi’s hands wiping away his tears, he felt Yagi’s warm embrace and Midnight’s presence. And then, they were gone.
Aizawa Shouta was found the next day in his apartment with the comment, ‘The Mission is Finally Over’ written in his own blood.