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Izuku could only lay on the ground beneath him. He couldn't move any part of him, at least not much without it hurting immensely. He couldn't even breathe without pain; his lungs were aching beneath their broken ribs. Izuku thought it best to simply lay down, not wanting any more pain in his body.
Izuku could almost feel the blood pouring out of his body. It was slow, almost barely noticeable, but the dizziness and breathlessness were exacerbating the longer he lay there.
The ground was getting wetter. A puddle of crimson grew the longer he lay.
He was tired. His head felt light and numb, and he knew what to do if that ever happened, but doing that would only bring more pain. So he simply lay, and let the blood fall out of him.
Even not moving was agonising. He didn't remember what had happened in that battle, but simply laying there was bad enough. There was no point in moving, really, when the pain was that bad already.
The pain was causing his heart to beat rapidly, but weakly. His lungs were trying to take in any oxygen, but the shock caused from the agony made them tremble and hyperventilate.
As Izuku breathed out, gazing at the dark sky above, the blackness interrupted by a sharp street lamp, the sound of faint, distant yelling just barely made its way into his ears, dampened by blood pumping and ringing. Izuku coughed, struggling as he lifted his arms onto his ears, his fingers rubbing out blood from his eardrums. The sound was a bit clearer.
He didn't know what they were yelling, but it sounded like they were yelling his name.
Slowly, Izuku began to turn onto his side. He lifted his arm, his muscles tense as he tried to force it to move. As he rolled over, the arm seemed to fall against the floor. Izuku breathed out, resting for just a short moment, before forcing his hands against the blood-soaked ground.
He very slowly lifted himself up, each second seeming longer than it was as he pushed himself onto his knees. He breathed out and whimpered as he did so.
Just then, there was the sound of footsteps, at first faint, but slowly getting louder as he hoisted himself up onto his knees. He looked around, wondering whether it was another villain coming to hurt him further, or worse, finish the job.
Reluctantly, he lifted his neck, looking straight ahead. The grey scarf, and the long, flowing, almost effeminate dark curls were virtually unmistakeable.
Aizawa.
Aizawa, too, was covered in blood, but was sprinting towards him furiously. Izuku shook. Aizawa stopped in his tracks, much closer to him.
Aizawa's eyes bulged as he breathed shakily.
Seeing Izuku covered in blood was so much to take in. He'd seen Izuku injured before; his finger broken during early training. But this was worse. He'd been through something terrible. For a moment, Aizawa didn't even want to know what had happened to him. But if he didn't, whoever did this wouldn't pay.
"Izuku," Aizawa said, firmly but shakily as he lifted the younger boy up. Merely standing sent intense, extreme pain signals to Izuku's body. "Izuku... who... who did this...?"
Izuku didn't know.