Work Text:
“Promise me I won’t die?” It was unfair. It was childish. Aizawa stared at the kid’s, his kid’s crumpled form, eyes that had lost their hope years ago. The kid’s one pinky finger reaching out, covered in blood that had pooled from his stomach. People say stupid things in stressful situations. Izuku knew that, people had said many stupid things to him over the years, but the words he feared most, that his mother had spoken back when he was barely a child, that had changed his life forever, that Aizawa now whispered to him as his body fell cold, those were words that would haunt him forever.
“I’m so sorry.”
--
Nobody left flowers at Izuku’s grave.
There was nobody left to do so.
Not even adults, class 3A were all killed in the war. The war was won, Nezu made sure of it, but not without sacrifice.
The world started a new era, Nezu became the HPSC President, the few heroes that were left starting training young adults. The minimum age to begin training to be a hero became 18.
The Cursed Class of 1A was forgotten, overshadowed by the war that ended their, and many other’s lives.
--
Aizawa was left behind. Those that he had loved, trusted, were gone. He spent his time exploring the wastelands that the war had left behind, with each familiar body he found, he lost hope.
It took years to begin recovery, or at least, it felt like that to Aizawa. He watched as mismatched teams searched through the rubble for the now decaying corpses, and clearing the street.
Those that were lucky enough to get buried, were not labelled. Aizawa went to the graveyard that most of the soldiers had gone to and couldn’t help but wonder how many people he knew were there.
His husband might be, but Aizawa would never know.
It wasn’t the first time in his life Aizawa thought about ending it all. Since the war, he thought about it more than not.
Aizawa was so tired.
--
It was common knowledge Nezu did not understand human emotion. That was evident throughout the war.
Nezu did what he had to in order to win, if that meant that the only humans he trusted were killed, so be it.
Nezu did what he had to do.
He looked across the field of graves, unlabelled and recently dug. If there was any moment in his life that he felt emotion, it would have been then.