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Aizawa lays in a clouded daze. His eyes are heavy against his skull, throbbing, and when he tries to move, a searing pain shoots through his right leg. Briefly, he remembers cutting it off.
For a moment, he just lets that thought sit with him.
And then the last thing he remembers, when he forces himself to think back to that fight, are the fingers of what should have been a corpse running down his face, digging desperately into his skull.
Moving one of his own hands to his face, he feels the stretched cotton mesh covering the majority of his head, including both of his eyes. Judging by this, the thin fabric beneath him, and the indistinguishable smell of a sterile environment, he knows he’s in a hospital. Aizawa hoists himself up into a sitting position; held steady by his locked arms, he wheezes and groans from the effort.
“Well, that wasn’t very smart.”
“Who’s there?” with dust and chalk still coating his throat, Aizawa coughs into a fist.
“I know I screamed a shit ton back there, but has my voice really changed that much?”
“Hizashi?” Aizawa lifts a hand to the left, in the direction he believes the voice is coming from, but the sound is wobbly and jarring to the senses he has access to.
“Other side, bro.” Aizawa drifts his hand over the bed and collides with another, too small to be Yamada’s.
“Aizawa-san?” a little squeak comes through and Aizawa momentarily freezes as a burst of panic and adrenaline shoots through him. The image of Eri he thought of in his last moments in battle had come back to him once again. He tries to focus on the girl that’s most likely standing on her tippy toes to be at his bedside.
“Eri-chan?”
“Aizawa-san, are you okay?” Eri’s voice is barely a whisper. Her hand is trembling, so he takes it in both of his, and squeezes it lightly before feeling around for her hair.
“I’m here. I’m okay,” Aizawa says as he pats her head. “Hizashi?”
“Hm?”
“Can these,” he points to his head, to the bandages, “come off?”
“Uh. Not yet. We’ll ask the nurse when she comes back, but just know there’s an additional, padded eye patch on top of your right eye.”
A moment passes as Aizawa nods his head down, one hand had let go of Eri’s and was now lightly twisting the sheets. “Am I blind?”
“No, well, yes, but,” Hizashi pauses, runs a hand over his face, and sighs, “only out of your right side. Your left eye is just light sensitive.”
Before Aizawa can ask about anything else, the whoosh of the sliding door to his hospital stay, and the light shuffle of multiple footsteps, from what he can tell, indicate they’re no longer alone.
A smile brandishes Yamada’s bruised face as he looks to the group from his chair, “you have some more guests now.”
“Guests-?”
“Aizawa-sensei!” He had never heard his name be said so much at once by seemingly so many people. Only when the group calms down a bit can he decipher that they’re all members of his class.
“How are you feeling?!” Loud but concerned questioning with rapid swishes flying through the air? Iida.
“Oh my god, you’re okay!” Definitely Sero. Maybe.
“We were so worried!” Ensuing tears – Ashido.
“Hey guys, let’s give him some space,” Momo, thank you, but it’s okay.
“Class,” Aizawa holds up a hand and his students quiet immediately. “I feel fine. Thank you.”
The calmness is short-lived as the chaos from his class surrounds him again, full of tears and prayers of joy, but it only brings a smile to his face. They talk rapidly, giving him insight into their rescue and infiltration missions, which he is thankful for. It’s a distraction from the pain resonating within his sockets and joints.
“Is everyone here?” he asks abruptly. Unfortunately, silence takes over, but Iida is quick to recover.
“Tokoyami, who rescued Hawks, and Todoroki are recovering from burns, both caused by Dabi,” Iida informs him, letting the news momentarily sit before continuing, “Kaminari pulled what we are now claiming as a ‘pikachu moment’ –” this results in light chuckles from the others, even Aizawa lifts a smile, “and Deku and Bakugo are with All Might-sensei, sir, but… Deku has not woken up, yet.”
Aizawa could only nod at that. He felt, then and now, that Deku had appeared out of nowhere on that field. It took everyone by surprise in how that young man took over the battle in a full swoop, head on with Shigaraki. It left Aizawa confused – it was apparent now that Deku was the immediate target after Shigaraki’s show of destruction, but why?
The hand still in his grips slightly, and Aizawa reflexively responds with a gentle squeeze of his own.
“Eri-chan,” Aizawa shifts his head back toward the little girl, “he’ll be okay.” The hold on him only becomes stronger. The door slides open again, which he registers, but assumes it’s the nurse as he focuses on the child in his care.
“Can I be like you, Aizawa-san?” Stumped for a moment, Aizawa isn’t sure what to say.
“What do you mean, Eri?”
“You saved them. Can I save people too?” Aizawa cocks his head slightly, still confused.
“She’s referring to your class. They’ve been telling her stories of your teaching,” Hizashi informs, “and your saving.”
“Ah,” Aizawa pauses, lifting his head back to think for a moment. “Do you remember what Deku said to you before, Eri-chan? You’ve already saved him. You’ve already saved someone.”
“But-! I can save others too!” Eri’s boldness surprises him, so much so that he doesn’t know how to respond again.
“You can definitely save others, Eri-chan, especially with Aizawa-sensei’s help.” An old voice paired with new, heavy footsteps approaches the end of his bed.
Though he cannot see it, Aizawa can feel the shift in his class as they look at the newcomer, but, more than that, a heat begins to build in his chest as he finds it hard to breathe. His palms sweat immediately and the formerly gentle grasp on Eri’s hands becomes rigid.
“Who is –?” Ashido begins to ask.
“Hizashi –” Aizawa speaks at the same time, his voice suddenly hoarse.
“Ah, the nurse is here!” With a call and clap of his hands, Yamada cuts his best friend off. “Class 1-A, please vacate the premises!” A chorus of “yes-sir’s” and “get well soon, Aizawa-sensei” emits from his class as they leave. He’s aware enough to raise a hand in goodbye, but his mind is racing with a voice he hasn’t heard from in a long time.
“You’d be pretty good at working with kids.”
“You could do just about anything if you put your mind to it.”
“You’re strong, you won’t lose-!”
It’s almost too much if he thinks about it long enough. When the room and his mind are made silent, Aizawa speaks up.
“Hizashi, I’m taking these things off,” he declares.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” he hears the smirk within Yamada’s voice. The dramatic scoundrel. Eri lets go of his hand almost on cue, and Aizawa essentially rips the bandages off.
And he stares, with the one good eye he has, in a light that’s blinding him.
But he can see.
“Hey,” a man with wispy, blue-white hair rests upon the end of his bed, pushing against the railing with outstretched hands. Distantly, out of the corner of his eye, Aizawa can see the nurse who has accompanied the new guest, but his vision tunnels, homing in on the man before him, his mind thrumming with white noise.
And he stares.
“You good there, Shouta?”
“You okay there, Shouta?”
And then he stops staring. He gets up, hastily, ripping off his bedsheets and getting out on the left side, to not crash into Eri or Yamada. The pain in his leg soars as he clambers forward, but he ignores it. The nurse calls for him to sit down, but he ignores it. Sight blurry, but gaining clarity, he reaches out to the person also wanting to catch him in the moment, even if it was to initially support his friend in his current act of physical stupidity.
He grabs his long-lost friend into his arms; warm, a breath against his ear, and a heart pumping. His friend is home. Alive.
“Shirakumo,” Aizawa begins, tears welling up and honestly refreshing his eye, but he can’t process his thoughts fast enough, “shit-!”
Yamada only crosses his arms and smiles.