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“Shouta, wakey wakey,” a far off voice washes into Aizawa’s ears, luring him softly to the land of the living.
Do I have to?
The voice laughs, the sound warm and comforting, “I’m ‘fraid so Sho!” The voice remains soft and gentle, treating Aizawa with tenderness, even in his morning grumpiness. “We have to get to class.” Aizawa can feel the steadiness of the winds wrapping around him, the pillow of clouds he’s resting on gently expanding slowly, helping him stretch his back on the way up.
Aizawa groans, a sneer working across his face as he brings his hands up to his eyes- not wanting them to open again as the all time eye strain comes ebbing back. “I said that outloud?” He doesn’t bother trying to move his hands from his eyes when he hunches forward to rest his elbows on his knees, waiting for his best friend to tell him that he’s gonna ruin what’s left of his posture. To which he will retort back with something equally snarky and they’ll both laugh before they rush to get back to class.
But it doesn’t come. The other has gone silent. Everything’s gone silent. No birds, no wind, no far off chatter, not even a pin dropping.
Aizawa doesn’t want to, but he slowly removes his hands from his eyes, blinking to try to get them into focus. The air has grown cold and rigid, Aizawa sinking into darkness as what’s left of the sky blues and fluff white clouds fade and run from view. The only light left are two yellow orbs that stare at him unblinkingly.
Aizawa tries to speak, but his words knot in his throat, dying there. The man feels whatever stability he has collapse beneath him as he begins to fall deeper into the darkness.
Memories that spread throughout his life come and go, passing him up as he begins to fall faster.
Death enters and leaves his lifetime, danger bringing him to the doorway again and again. At first he thought it was him, he was the incorrect factor- but as he matures and watches it happen everywhere, kids almost dying, some do die, he sees the same old story repeat. The older he got, the more he realized that these are children, literal infants who know nothing of the world they’re getting into, idolizing a system that their society is blind to the flaws of. They’re too young! Most of them don’t even know who they are yet-
Aizawa’s vision blurs as he feels his breath escape his lungs and he can’t-
Aizawa closes his eyes, wrapping his arms around himself as he tries to ground himself and level his breathing once more.
This is why I refuse to die. I will teach them to survive. Not to solely rely on their quirks.
But I can’t protect them from everything! I can’t teach it all to them…
I know, but I must do what I can to ensure that they have a future that isn’t six feet under.
This isn’t right! They don’t know what they’re getting themselves into, I need to tell-
I can’t. If I try to expose the commission for what they’re doing, then I run the risk of not only losing my hero license, but worse my spot as a teacher. Then there’ll be no hope for those kids.
This is bullshit! I can’t lose them! Not again-
I won’t lose them. I’ll pro-
“Shouta! You can’t protect them all yourself!”
Aizawa opens his eyes, curled in tightly to himself as he’s floating in the darkness. “Oboro?”
His old friend floats just outside of arm’s reach. He’s formally dressed and his skin is dusted in a dark mist.
They did this to him, I’ll see them all in Tartarus-
“Sho, this isn’t his fault!”
Aizawa unclenches his fists, tears threatening to spill over once more. “But-”
“Shouta, I’m gone. I was gone long before AFO took my body.”
AFO?
“Young Shigaraki Tomura…” The other’s voice changes slightly, but remains the same level of soothing. “This isn’t his fault. He’s also too young.”
Aizawa feels his heart sink to his gut.
Oboro closes his eyes as he smiles sadly. “The doctor said that my affection towards him was purely from the mods he added to me, but you said it yourself.”
“You’ve always been like that.”
When Oboro opens his eyes, they’re yellow and glowing. “He reminds me of you. He would have liked you, I think.”
“You really are pretty cool, Eraserhead…”
Aizawa feels a smile tug at his lips. “All of them remind me of you.” Aizawa inhales deeply, a single tear falling from his eyelashes. “Every single day.”
“Thank you.”
Aizawa tilts his head, confused. “For what?”
“For trying to teach them the best you can with what you have. They need someone like you.”
A silence settles between them until Aizawa breaks it. “You needed someone like me.”
“That wasn’t your fault-”
“I know. I just-” Aizawa pauses, drawing in a quivering breath into his rattling lungs, “It wasn’t supposed to happen. You shouldn’t have ended there.”
“I know.”
The two fall into another silence as they’re weightlessly suspended in darkness.
“What am I going to do-” Aizawa looks to the man mostly covered in dark mist as he runs his hand through his hair, “Kurogiri, was it?”
“There’s only so much you can do, Aizawa.” The man of mist crosses one leg over the other. “When Shigaraki stole All Might’s schedule, he also saw your teacher records. Statistically, your students live longer into their careers.”
“But it isn’t enough! I’m not-”
“Aizawa.” The teacher falls silent to the other. “You’re doing what you believe is right. It’s like what Oboro previously stated. You can’t protect them all. Forcing yourself to try is one of the many things wrong with this hero society. Saying that everything is the responsibility of the heroes is why everything that’s going ‘wrong’ right now is happening.”
Aizawa loses himself to his thoughts for a moment.
“And these kids idolize that system. Even the ones who have been harmed by it.” The hero’s stomach churns as he thinks about each of his students. The ones who think there’s something wrong with them.
“Dad! Dad!” A head full of white hair and a single, small horn runs through his mind. “Look at this picture I drew of us!”
Tagged onto that memory, Aizawa is also grimly reminded of all the whispers he’s heard from other heroes and the commission.
“When Eri gets control of her quirk, she’ll fix everything.”
“I can’t wait for her to rewind…”
“She’ll fix…”
“She can…”
“...repair…”
Aizawa regains a grip over his anger. “She isn’t anyone’s tool. She’s a child. She doesn’t have to do anything. I am her legal guardian and I will do everything in my power to keep it that way.”
Kurogiri narrows his eyes. “Because you know that the moment the commission deems you unfit, they will take her away from you.”
“They don’t care about her well being. They don’t care about any of them.”
“And none of them realize it.”
“And I’m back to this.” Aizawa breathes in, trying to find a way to escape this thought loop, but can’t think of any way out. “Something has to change, doesn’t it?”
“If you wish to escape a vicious cycle, you must find a way to break it.”
“How…”
“Aizawa.”
“Hmm?”
The hero watches as Kurogiri begins to fade into the darkness.
“Aizawa.”
“Where are you going?” He reaches out to him, trying to hold on to the other just a little while longer. I know he isn’t Oboro, but I felt a little less alone in my thoughts…
“Aizawa.”
“Wait! Come back-” he tries to reach farther, but his arm feels trapped.
“Aizawa, wake up. I need your help with something.”
The teacher blinks his eyes to see Sero bearing so many emotions under the surface. “Sero?”
“I’m sorry for waking you up-”
Aizawa pushes himself to consciousness. “Don’t worry about it, Kid. You needed me?”
The hero stands and steps out of his sleeping bag, stretching.
A lone thought echoes throughout his mind. Oboro-... Kurogiri. I’ll try.