Chapter Text
The mission was simple. It should have been.
They simply had to infiltrate a building guarded by villains, a building used for experiments on quirkless individuals. They had already participated in this type of mission about ten times between their internships and their first year as Pro Heroes.
Uravity, Dynamight, Best Jeanist, Present Mic, Mirko, and Eraserhead. They all knew each other, their strengths and weaknesses. But no matter how prepared they were, their enemies had other resources. And no matter how prepared they were, they couldn't protect themselves and save the quirkless at the same time. So, when a bullet was fired by one of their enemies, Eraserhead stepped in, knowing full well that his former student wouldn't be able to dodge it in time… or survive.
Then everything collapsed in the space of five minutes.
Dynamight and Uravity turned when they heard the gunshot, just in time to see Eraserhead fall and a puddle form on the building's dirty floor. They nodded, confirming their agreement. Uravity moved closer to Eraserhead, her heart pounding. Perhaps he had only been hit in the shoulder, or the leg. But no.
She gently lifted him, resting his head on her knees. There was nothing to be done. The blood was flowing too quickly, and even if she carried him out of the building to reach the rescue team, they were busy with the villains' victims. And Mr. Aizawa's wound, she knew, was fatal. No one had ever survived a bullet to the middle of the back.
So she stayed with him until the end, joined by Dynamight when all the villains were defeated. Aizawa didn't have much time left.
“Sensei… please stay with us. You can't leave now, not like this.”
Tears quickly began to flow. Aizawa had no strength left; every breath was pure torture, and he couldn't feel his legs. He felt his eyes slowly closing. He knew he was going to die. It was inevitable.
“It’s… nothing, Uravity.” He let out a painful sigh. “I’m proud of all of you… You're all… the best heroes… we’ve ever been.”
Dynamight knelt beside them, tears welling in his eyes even though he tried to hold them back.
“I forbid you to die, old man.”
Shota suppressed a smile. God, he was in so much pain.
“SHOTA!”
Present Mic ran. As fast as he could. Gently, Ochaco gave up her place. She knew, as did the rest of her classmates, about the relationship between Mr. Aizawa and Mr. Yamada. And seeing the pain her former teacher’s condition caused her, she didn’t dare imagine what his husband’s condition must be like.
“Zashi…”
Yamada gently stroked his hair, tears streaming freely down his face, his smile gone.
“Hey… Hey Shota.” He looked around, searching for the help that should be arriving soon, but in vain. “You did the right thing, my love.” He leaned down, kissing his forehead. “You did so well.”
Aizawa coughed, a spurt of blood escaping his mouth and trickling down his lips and jaw.
“I love you… Zashi. Please… Take care of Eri and… take care… of my class.” He fought to keep his eyes open. The pain was subsiding, he could feel his body less and less, struggling to keep his eyes open.
“I will, Shota.” His throat tightened. “You can rest, my love, you did the right thing.”
And Shota didn’t resist. He surrendered to Hizashi’s caresses one last time. And Eraserhead died with a peaceful heart and a serene mind.
Ochaco and Hizashi's sobs grew even louder. Katsuki let his tears flow freely. As tough and stoic as he tried to appear, he felt a part of him tearing apart at the sight of his teacher's death.
The man who had taught them everything, who had raised them, had shown them what it meant to be a true hero.
The one they all considered a father figure had died protecting one of their own.