Chapter Text
Shouta Aizawa turned at the sound; the sound of Hitoshi Shinsou's body landing on the concrete ground.
"Shinsou!"
The boy lay limp, his eyes staring up at nothing.
A knife's tip cut into Aizawa's shoulder, jerking his attention back to the henchman he was fighting. Stumbling back, the pro hero quickly set his focus back on taking the knife wielding man down.
He flicked his wrist, directing one end of his capture weapon towards the man's right. In response, the man lurched to the left, just as Aizawa had predicted. With a sudden flick of his left wrist, he sent the other end of the cloth towards the man's left leg, catching it before his opponent could even place his foot down. Aizawa then directed his cloth to the ground, sending the man to the floor.
In a flash, Aizawa stood on top of him and pounded his foot into the man's face. There was no concern of hitting too hard, of possibly permanently injuring him. His anger and pain fueled the blow. A groan escaped the man as he went limp and the knife slipped out of his hands.
Gasping for air, Aizawa stumbled back. Blood ran down his right arm and dripped onto the floor. Sharp pain stung his shoulder and his head ached from a blow he hadn't been able to dodge in time.
He spun around and dashed towards his student. In seconds, he was on his knees, by his side. Blood spotted Shinsou's mask and haggard face. A harsh cut ran down his elbow to his wrist, which had been hastily wrapped with one end of his capture weapon. The gray fabric was completely overtaken by red. But that was nothing compared to the burn that marred his abdomen. Gently, he scooped the injured boy up. The boy that, at first, had just been another student.
But after months of training and mentoring, he had become much more to Aizawa. Somehow the scraggly and scathing, purple haired student had grown on the rational and detached teacher. He never saw it coming, he simply had planned to help him realize his dream of becoming a hero. A dream that so many had, and a dream that Shinsou deserved to see come true. But that was all; he had never anticipated the bond that would grow exponentially, how he would go from student to becoming like a son to him. And now he was on the verge of losing him.
Shouto Todoroki ran towards them and came to a skidding halt. Aizawa jerked his head up at the sound of his ice cleats screeching against the concrete floor. His raging eyes locked with dual-powered student's.
"This is your fault."
Todoroki gasped at the sight in front of him. Everything had gone all wrong. Trembling, Aizawa carefully removed Shinsou's jacket and gently placed it over the burn. Shinsou's deep purple eyes stared past him. Aizawa held him close, causing the kid's unruly hair to brush against his chin. He tried to think of how to proceed but panic gripped him like a vice.
It tore through his mind, disrupting any plans he hoped to formulate and rendering his body barely functional. All he could do was hold him. Noticing his teacher's shock, Todoroki knelt down beside him. He started to fumble with his belt; it wasn't much, but he carried some first aid items with him.
"Well, well."
A voice fractured the silence. Todoroki and Aizawa's heads shot up. A tall figure, wrapped in a tattered black coat, confidently strutted towards them. Bright and deadly blue flame danced in each of his hands. Dabi, or known by his villain alias, Blueflame, approached them.