Work Text:
The hospital was a mess. So many people were packed into the waiting room that he could’ve mistaken it for a rave. People pushed others around trying to force themselves to the front desk so they could see their loved ones.
Hizashi tried to wait patiently, but his foot tapped furiously as he tried to ignore the grip his nerves had on him. Slowly, the mess of a line to the front desk dissipated and he was able to speak to someone who wasn’t a fan recognizing him.
“Name and person you’re visiting?” The lady asked, sounding utterly exhausted.
“Hizashi Yamada, visiting Shouta Aizawa,” He answered, fidgeting with his speaker as he tried to decide to take it off or not.
The woman sighed and glared up at him. “Only family are allowed to visit pro heroes right now, not,” she looked him up and down and he resisted the urge to roll his eyes “colleagues.”
He groaned. “He’s my husband.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. A common reaction to that news, but an unhelpful one. She squinted at him for a moment, trying to decide if he was truthful or not, no doubt. Eventually she glanced at her computer for a second and looked back up with a more neutral expression. “Room 157.”
Hizashi said a quick thanks before making the track to the room. His breath was too quick, pace bordering on a run, almost tripping on the stairs as he skipped far more than a few.
His eyes were trained on the numbers on the wall. 151, 153, 155, before finally landing on the room he needed. He didn’t have enough time to think if he should knock before the door had been flung open.
He didn’t know what to expect. Maybe something like the USJ aftermath, where his entire face was wrapped in bandages. But the only thing wrong he was able to see from the doorway was the oxygen mask strapped to his face.
It looked normal, almost. Too normal, after all the hospital visits Shouta has gone through. Hizashi had been told he nearly died, but as he slowly approached, nothing seemed out of the ‘injured hero ordinary’.
Until he was right next to his bed, he thought the damage must’ve been mostly internal. Maybe some stab wounds hidden under his clothing, even. Not… this.
The next thing he noticed was the eye. Completely patched over, with a new vertical scar interrupting the old one under his eye. He could assume what was underneath, though he really didn’t want to. With his eye or the third thing he noticed.
His leg was gone. The fabric flattened completely at a point, lying on the bed like a dead animal. He didn’t want to imagine what had happened for that to be the result.
Hizashi barely had a second to take it all in before there was a knock at the door. He distantly heard himself call for them to come in, still more focused on the sight in-front of him.
“Excuse me, Presen— Yamada?” A small voice said and he reluctantly turned away, hand still tightly gripping onto the hospital bed’s railing. “There are two children here attempting to visit, Shinsou and Eri. I wanted to make sure they were family before I allowed them to come in, we’ve had… a lot of kids trying to come in here.”
“Yes, please, let them in,” he said on autopilot. He’d tuned out the man after his kids were mentioned, a sense of relief washing over him. They were okay, at the very least able to be the ones in the waiting room instead of the hospital bed.
The door clicked shut and he sighed. Nothing prepared him for this. For his husband to be missing two pieces of himself, with no explanation as to how. Had Shigaraki done this? Decayed his leg and his eye? But decay had destroyed entire landscapes by now, if it was him, there wouldn’t be anything left. Not like before, when his elbow never healed properly. Decay was a nuke compared to the quirk it was before, so it must’ve been something else. Someone else.
He pondered it as he moved the chairs from under a desk to the bedside. Two on the side he stood at, both more so stools than actual chairs. One chair went to the opposite side of the bed and he sat down, tugging off his hero gear and running his hand through his hair until it went from his signature look to his natural one. He wasn’t a hero right now, not for Shouta, not for his kids. They didn’t need that.
The door creaked back open and Hitoshi ran in, Eri on his heel. He nearly knocked over the chairs as he grabbed the railing staring at Shouta with an almost unreadable expression if it wasn’t for the tears in his eyes.
“What… happened?” He whispered, eyes quickly darting to Hizashi before they went to the ceiling to avoid the tears spilling. Eri ran around the bed and tugged at Hizashi’s pant leg until he picked her up.
“I don’t know,” he answered blankly, feeling a sense of detachment wash over him even as Eri started sobbing now that she could see the state Shouta was in.
Hitoshi scowled. “Who does?”
“Kid, everyone who was in the fight is in the same state he is, nobody can tell you. But once we know, I promise you’ll be the first to hear.”
He wanted to argue, to storm off and force anyone who had been in that fight to talk. But a small sound stopped him before he could spin around and storm out.
“Dad…” Eri mumbled, barely above a whisper. She was reaching out her hand towards Shouta’s from her place on Hizashi’s lap.
It took both of them by surprise. Eri had nicknames for all of them, but she had never actually called either of them that. Honestly, they thought they had heard wrong for a second but Hizashi smiled slightly and stood, setting Eri very carefully on the hospital bed so she could grab Shouta’s hand.
“No quirk,” he quickly reminded her as he realized what she might be trying to do. She looked up at him with big eyes brimming with tears and he almost crumpled but held strong. “You’ve come a long way Eri but without Sho awake, it can go out of control.”
She let out a sob too large for such a small girl, grabbing onto his hand like a lifeline. Hitoshi watched as she sobbed, barely holding back his own. Eventually he shuffled over and picked her up, letting her cry into his shoulder.
“Whoever did this,” He mumbled, and Hizashi almost told him to not act on revenge but bit his tongue. “I swear to put them away. Forever.”
He nodded approvingly. Hitoshi always had to be careful of coming across as a villain, of falling into what everyone thought he was, but this wasn’t that. This is what he wanted to do. Not to kill or maim, but to lock them up.
The kids stayed until they were able to still their tears and a bit after that. Hizashi eventually called for the nurse to take them back to the waiting room where one of his friends was waiting to take them home.
They fought to stay, but eventually were dragged off to get some rest and not stare at their injured adoptive parent. Hizashi almost took them himself but…
He stayed. He had to. He hadn’t been there for Shirakumo, but now he could be here for Shouta.
No matter what happened.
“Shouto?” Rei asked as he suddenly stopped in front of a door. They had left Enji’s room a bit ago and were slowly making their way down to the main floor. It had been mostly silent walking until he stopped dead in front of this door.
He opened his mouth to explain but nothing came out. Fuyumi gently rested a hand on his shoulder and handed him her phone so he could type out what he was thinking since his voice was strained.
‘Mr.Aizawa’ the screen read and he pointed at the door. The three crowded around the screen to read it and they glanced between each other. Fuyumi recognized the name, she had been going to parent-teacher conferences since he started at this school since neither of her parents were available. She wasn’t sure if Natsuo or their mother would recognize it though.
Shouto didn’t give them a chance to before he knocked at the door. It was a second before an unfamiliar voice called for them to come in.
He strode in confidently while the rest of them hesitated at the door. Did he want them to come in or just wait until he was done visiting?
Thankfully the person who had called for them to come in gestured for them to follow. Natsuo quickly followed after Shouto, standing just behind him as he observed the two other people in the room. Fuyumi and Rei still hesitated but they eventually walked in, forming an awkward line that blocked the door.
The four of them stood there awkwardly, staring at the man unconscious in a hospital bed and the unfamiliar person next to him. Rei whispered to Fuyumi asking who the blond man was and she shrugged, not recognizing him either.
“Who are you?” Natsuo asked after way too long. Shouto finally glanced up from where he was staring at his teachers extensive injuries to look at the other visitor in the room. There was something painfully familiar about him but he couldn’t place it.
“Hizashi Yamada, one of Todoroki’s teachers,” He offered and it clicked for half of them. “More well known as Present Mic.”
Rei and Natsuo thankfully understood who the mystery man was now. Fuyumi was still trying to mentally connect the over enthusiastic yelling pro-hero to the person in front of her to little success. Shouto atleast took it in stride, shrugging off the weirdness of the appearance and slowly approaching the bed.
“Todoroki,” Hizashi said after the boy had gotten a full look at the damage. He glanced up, along with the rest of his family. “You were at the fight, weren’t you?” He nodded. “What happened?”
He opened his mouth to answer before it clicked closed and he remembered the phone in his hand. He walked back over to Fuyumi to unlock it before typing furiously. After he was finished, he handed the phone back to her and she began to read it aloud.
“Late into the fight, Mr.Aizawa got hit with a quirk erasure bullet by Shigaraki. He… cut off his own leg to make sure it didn’t spread. Blinked in the process. Shigaraki tried to decay him but he erased his quirk again, so he only clawed out his eye.”
Rei and Natsuo held a similar, open-mouthed expression as they stared at the unfamiliar hero on the hospital bed. Fuyumi was staring at her phone, at the words her brother typed, looking like she wanted nothing more than to not believe them.
Hizashi felt a harsh range of emotions. Utter rage, at the man who had started all of this. The reason his husband hated using one of his arms, had more eye damage than he should at this age, who was now missing an eye and a leg. Shigaraki had said he admired Eraserhead once and the voice of the disgusting villian saying that only fueled it. This is what admiration did?
At the same time he battled with a wave of grief. It wasn’t as harsh as when he died, but it was there. Grief for the life they had before this and grief for the life that was now going to be even harder in the future. Grieving the parts of his husband, two things about him that were so utterly mundane before felt too important to lose and a bit of him shattered.
“Shouto says he’s sorry,” Fuyumi spoke after a long stretch of silence only broken by the sounds of the multitude of medical equipment.
“You have nothing to apologize for listener,” Hizashi reassured, voice breaking. He hadn’t realized the emotion had bled into his voice that much. “This is all Shigaraki’s fault, so why don’t you go get some rest and make sure you’re healed before we kick that bastards shit in.”
A small laugh escaped Shouto and he smiled warmly before leading his family out of the hospital room. He spared a last glance back before closing the door and saw that Yamada had put his head in his hands.
Hizashi had gone home that night to recuperate and tell Hitoshi what has happened as promised. They kids threw themselves at him at the door like dogs and his friend was quick to walk over and greet him with one of the cats in his arms.
Eri thankfully didn’t pry when he asked to speak to Hitoshi alone, easily following the cats into another room. He handed a bit of cash to his friend as payment for the current babysitting before he left the room too.
He told Hitoshi everything, no matter how much his mind told him to shield him from it. He needed to know and he was sure the information would spread throughout the students eventually, it was better for him to get the information now rather than later.
It… went okay, all things considered. More fear than violent intent and right now that’s the best he could ask for.
Hitoshi gave Eri a more appropriate version of the story as Hizashi went to go shower, finally fed up with the product still in his hair and the hospital-smell clinging to him.
The house beckoned him as he grabbed a small bag to prepare to leave again. Eri begged to atleast come with when he told her he couldn’t stay and it felt impossible to say no. Hitoshi eventually stepped in, promising her that they’d be notified whenever Shouta woke up and would visit then. Hizashi nodded and grabbed one more thing before heading back out the door.
Commute to the hospital was thankfully a lot shorter now that he had his car instead of running, though parking felt impossible. He eventually found a spot and made his way back up to the room.
He had foolishly hoped that by the time he was back, Shouta would have woken up. The only difference was the oxygen mask had now been removed. Small steps, he supposed.
Hizashi sat back down in his chair and grabbed his now charged phone from his pocket. There was a flurry of notifications but he glossed over them, only looking at the small date that hovered over what time it was.
12:57 am. On their wedding anniversary.
What should’ve been a day of celebration had him trying his best to fall asleep in a chair as he desperately hoped for any sign of life in his husband besides the beeping on a heart monitor.
Waking up after not remembering how he even managed to fall asleep in that position and with his glasses on and hearing aids still in sure was an experience. He attempted to get rid of the soreness that had become routine each night he stayed in a hospital chair instead of a real bed.
He tried to ignore the part of him that wanted to do anything for his anniversary. What was there to do? Venture around the hospital and get some really weird looks because barely anybody even knew they were married?
Thankfully he remembered what he had grabbed before leaving and rummaged through his bag for frankly too long before finding it.
Hizashi put his wedding band on before carefully putting Shouta’s on him.
It was the smallest gesture possible and he knew it. They hardly wore their wedding bands outside the house, sure, but they wore them plenty at home. Still, there was literally nothing else he could do.
He hadn’t realized he had been crying until a knock at the door startled him out of it. He selfishly wished he had remembered to take his hearing aids out as he shakily called for the person to come in.
Well, less a person and more a group of baskets. He could barely recognize who was who behind the gifts stacked higher than should be possible.
Uraraka set her basket down on the now abandoned stools and guided the other three on where to put them. Hizashi watched in a mix of pride and confusion as he looked at the mass of gifts inside each of the frankly too small baskets.
“Oh!” She said quickly as she noticed Yamada, who very much looked like he had been crying. “Uh, is this a bad time?”
Hizashi waved his hand as the other wiped away the rest of the tears caught in his glasses. “Nah, your fine little listeners. What’s all this?”
“We made gift baskets for some of the injured,” Mina said excitedly. “We were going to bring them individually but we all wanted to see Mr.Aizawa.”
The other three nodded, at-least he thinks so. It was always hard to tell with Hagakure.
“Why’re you here?” Tsu asked bluntly. Hagakure elbowed her slightly.
“And more importantly are you okay?”
He hesitated. An explanation to both questions was on the tip of his tongue, but it meant telling them. Shouta had made it clear he valued his privacy, especially with the suspicion of a traitor. They had promised each other that after the League was completely defeated, they would tell people.
But was that ever going to happen? Was there going to be an after?
“I’m alright,” he answered eventually, opting to ignore the other question. He wasn’t sure if he had the wherewithal to ignore it a second time though.
Mina and Tsu repeated the question as the silence went on and he wished desperately for Shouta to be awake to tell him to not answer. The small walls of privacy he held crumpled completely as he twirled his hands together and felt the painfully cold wedding band.
“Im here to visit,” he said plainly before steeling himself for the expected reaction of the rest of the statement. “Wanted to make sure I was here for our wedding anniversary.”
He was sure if they were still holding the baskets they all would’ve been dropped. Hizashi wished it was daytime instead of near one in the morning so birds chirping could’ve filled the silence.
“What?” Uraraka asked quietly, starting to believe she hadn’t heard that right. Right? Cause if she didn’t…
“You guys owe me so much money!” Mina shouted excitedly before Tsu gestured for her to lower the volume. “Pay up.”
“How did you win that,” Hagakure moped as she handed her a substantial amount of money. The other two handed their smaller amounts to her too, cursing themselves for betting wrong.
Mina was practically bouncing on her heels as she fought the urge to run into the other hospital rooms and demand her winnings that she’d only have to share with Shinsou.
“What was that?” Hizashi asked after a moment though he could wager a pretty good guess.
“We made a class bet on who Mr.Aizawa was dating,” Mina said simply, counting the money. “Me and Shinsou are the only ones who guessed you.”
He should probably reprimand them for that but he only laughed and said he deserved a cut of the winnings for telling them. It felt weird, having them know now of all times, but it lifted their spirits; took their minds off things. And if he was going to do nothing but sit by a hospital bed? It was the best he could do.
The other girls groaned as they picked up three of the four baskets and began trudging out, Mina leading the charge. For a while, he could hear loud reactions to them spreading the news and Mina’s wild cackling.
Maybe there wouldn’t be an after, but there was a before, and he’d be as happy with it as he could be.
‘Someone’s knocking’ Shouta signed at him, flinching at the noise. Hizashi rushed to put his hearing aids back in as he called for the person to come in with what was hopefully a quiet-ish voice.
“I’m sorry we tried to hold him back!” Mineta said in a flurry as he held desperately onto Bakugo’s shoulder, tugging at him to leave. Kirishima was on the other side, quirk apparently not helping him stop Bakugo.
“You saw him dude now you’re supposed to be in bed!” Kirishima shouted. Hizashi glanced at Shouta who was pretending to be asleep. Helpful.
“Get off me you extras!” Bakugo yelled, shoving both of the boys away from him. He panted for a second before looking back up and making eye contact with Yamada. He awkwardly smiled, not quite sure what he wanted until he kept yelling. “You’re one of the only heroes that didn’t get injured why aren’t you fighting?!”
He flinched slightly, the volume control on his aids clearly not set low enough. He fumbled to speak for a moment, not quite sure what he could say to that. “Why don’t we chill out listener?”
Kirishima whistled through his teeth as the words sent Bakugo into more of a rage. Once his long-winded rant was done, him and Mineta shot Yamada an apologetic look before trying to drag Bakugo back out. He shoved them off again, looking at the pro-hero for an answer.
“It’s not like I’m intentionally slacking off!” He defended eventually. “I’ve been worried and there’s two many civilians that could be caught in the crossfire of my quirk. Trust me, if I thought I was better off in the field than here, I would be out in the field.”
Not a lie, but there was nothing that could convince him he was better off in the field right now. He barely went home, he wouldn’t risk missing last moments to fight two-bit criminals.
Bakugo huffed, clearly not happy about the fact that answer but unable to push further. “Whatever. I came in here to talk to Eraserhead, not you.”
Hizashi shrugged, leaning back in his chair as he gestured for Bakugo to say whatever he wanted even if Shouta was still feigning sleep. He might’ve fallen asleep at this point, he wasn’t entirely sure.
Mineta mumbled something behind him and Bakugo whipped around. “Can’t I do anything without your extras? Let me talk to Eraser alone.”
Kirishima and Mineta shuffled out, still reprimanding him for being out of bed. Hizashi hesitated for a second before getting up, patting the student on the shoulder before he left and telling him to not push himself. He didn’t try to bite his hand so it felt like progress.
He shut the door behind him and ushered the other two to go visit someone else as he leaned against the wall. They scampered off thankfully, though anybody passing by tended to ask what he was doing.
Bakugo sighed as everyone finally left. “I know you’re awake,” he said confidently even though he wasn’t entirely sure. Thankfully he was right and he sat up until his good eye could actually look at Bakugo.
“I heard you got impaled,” He said bluntly, observing the mass of bandages covering his students body, trying to swallow the regret of not being there.
“Tch, I’m fine now. Not like I lost a leg,” he quipped before taking a seat on one of the stools. His stomach was killing him despite his bravado and sitting at-least made it the slightest bit better. “I’m sorry.” The word felt too foreign still, even though he’d said them a lot more lately.
“For what?” Aizawa asked and at first he thought it was a reprimand before he realized there was genuine confusion. “Bakugo, it was never your responsibility to protect us. If anything, I should be apologizing to you for not being able to save you from,” he gestured to his midsection “this.”
“Shut up,” he said harshly. “You cut off your goddamn leg to try and keep protecting us. If Shigaraki hadn’t tried to disintegrate you like an ass you would’ve kept fighting.”
He nodded. That had been his plan, cutting off his leg so his quirk remained and he’d just claw his way through the pain. Blinking while the pain washed over him ruined the whole thing and now he was here, both an eye and a leg missing. “None of you should’ve been anywhere near that fight.”
“Yeah, well, we were,” Bakugo snapped and it wasn’t nearly as harsh as anything else. “And we’re going to be right there in the next one. So you better be there to protect us.”
Shouta heard the strain in his voice and the small shake of his hands as he grabbed at his pant leg. “I can’t keep you from this war, so I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you. Not matter how injured.”
There was a hint of a smile on Bakugo’s face before it turned into the recognizable scowl. “Just… making sure,” he said defensively before standing back up. “Do you want me to send blondie back in here?”
“No, tell him to go home and get some actual sleep,” He said quickly. Bakugo nodded and went to open the door. “And Bakugo?” He turned, hand resting on the doorknob. “You need rest too.”
He scoffed but trekked out, closing the door behind him. He heard the sound of talking from the other side of the door but didn’t bother trying to distinguish it.
Hizashi didn’t return, finally going home to sleep in something other than a chair and see their kids. And one of the nurses popped in to thank him for getting Bakugo to stay in his hospital room.
Shouta drifted off to sleep thinking about how to keep that promise. How he can protect his students and family now.
Yagi knew all this sitting and waiting for Midoriya to wake up wasn’t good for him, but he felt immobilized. He could hear the One For All users in the back of his mind, including the one currently passed out infront of him, but he’d been hearing their unintelligible voices for way too long. He thought it had been a sign that he was going to wake up soon, but now he thinks it was just a coincidence.
He hesitated in front of the door after returning from a short trip to the cafeteria to grab something to eat so he wouldn’t end up in the hospital bed too. Most of the students had stopped in to see Midoriya at some point and a fair amount of the staff had checked on him, but there still wasn’t an appearance from the person he really wanted to talk to.
Instead of going into the now familiar room 150, he walked until he ended up at 157. He knocked softly, already mildly regretting his decision as a voice that was definitely not Aizawa’s answered.
Hizashi raised an eyebrow as he signed Toshinori’s name to Shouta, giving him a small heads up to what he was getting into as he adjusted until he was fully turned toward the man.
They stared at each other blankly for a second, the awkwardness strangling the room. He almost told Toshinori to hurry up with it or get out before one of them finally spoke.
“What do you want?” Shouta asked, eye narrowed. To anybody who hadn’t known him, it was rude and standoffish. Unluckily for Toshinori, he really didn’t know him that well.
He held up his hands in surrender. “Just— checking on you. I’ve been with young Midoriya this entire time and felt like I should drop by.”
“Well I’m just perfect,” he snarked. Hizashi rested a hand on his shoulder from his place now at his side. “How is the kid?”
“Still knocked out, but steady,” he answered shortly. “He’s expected to make a full recovery in a week with Recovery Girl’s help.”
Shouta breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Great.”
The silence returned and Hizashi fidgeted anxiously, tapping his foot. “I was also wondering if you’d be willing to talk about our next steps.”
He almost laughed in the man’s face. Next steps? His next steps were going to be him face planting into the ground as he tried to get used to the fact that he cut off his leg.
“Toshinori, we appreciate the visit, but he just woke up yesterday,” Hizashi jumped in. “We’ll talk about plans later.”
They only got a sharp nod in response before the hero turned to leave. “Toshinori,” Shouta called quickly, almost a warning. He turned back around like he had heard All Might. “Tell me when Midoriya wakes up.”
“Oh, uh, of course, but I don’t think he’s going to be healed enough to come visit,” he explained hesitantly.
“I will be,” he snapped. The gentle hand resting on his shoulder disappeared as Hizashi stared at him.
“No you won’t,” He said almost instinctively. “Sho, you lost a leg, your not going to be able to walk around any time soon.”
“I cut off my own leg and I’ll deal with whatever consequences I want,” he bit back. “I’m visiting that stupid kid whether you help me or not.”
Yagi felt even more awkward than before as he watched the two bicker, not sure if he was supposed to leave or not. He cleared his throat after Aizawa started bringing up ‘in sickness and in health’, now very certain he wasn’t meant to head that.
“I think the nurse could probably get you a wheelchair for now,” he suggested lightly.
Hizashi nodded quickly, happy with the compromise but Shouta scowled before thanking Toshinori for the suggestion and sending him out.
It was a long day after that.
Izuku almost wanted to fall back asleep after talking to All Might but before he got the chance, the hero had told him to hold on and rushed out the door.
He forced himself to stay awake as he waited for the mysterious surprise. It took a while before the door opened and he glanced towards it to see a gift basket stacked to the brim almost completely obscuring his mentor. He set it down quickly before rushing back out of the room before he could ask a question.
Thankfully it wasn’t long before he returned to the doorway, along with two other people. He hated to admit how long it took to recognize them in his state.
“Mr.Aizawa?” He said, confused. About a lot of things really. How he was here, alive and standing (well kind of, his arm was slung over Mic’s shoulder and he could assume the hero was supporting most of his weight).
“Midoriya,” he replied in acknowledgment as Hizashi practically dropped him into the open chair. He gestured for the other two to shoo as his student stared at him with tears in his eyes.
The kid sniffled weakly, bandaged arms raising slightly as if he was attempting to wipe the un fallen tears away. “You’re… alive.”
“Astute observation,” he snarked lightly. “Glad to see you are too.”
“Is your eye going to be okay?!” He asked in a flurry, panic etching itself into his features, drawing deeper as he failed to give a response.
“Shigaraki ripped it out, I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s somewhere on the battlefield,” he answered noncommittally, but it was clear that it was a hard ‘no’.
The sniffles quickly developed into full-on sobs and he wished he hadn’t gotten surgery to reverse all the damage to his hearing. Midoriya heaved a mess of apologies through the tears. He managed to catch about half of it, most of what he understood was about how he should’ve taken one or both of the injuries now marring his body. He waited until he was done to talk.
“You’re injured to hell and back Midoriya, I’m sure you don’t need more,” he lead with. “And I wouldn’t wish my decisions on anyone. What I did was to protect my students and it is… unprofessional at best to expect a student to do that. I did what I had to and what I signed up for.”
It felt too similar to what he had told Bakugo however long ago and Nezu after the USJ attack. This was his decision, and he’d face the consequences of it.
“Are you… still going to be a hero?” He asked quietly, eyes drifting between his missing one and the prosthetic.
“I’m still breathing,” he said loftily. Because being a hero was that to him, as natural as breathing. No matter the countless things and people that stood in his way.
“Even if— but— won’t your quirk be worse now?”
He wanted more reassurances to spew out of his mouth but none came. He had tested erasure on a confused but willing nurse and she had been able to still use her quirk but to a much lesser degree.
“It is,” he answered truthfully. “But hero work doesn’t start and end at quirks. After the war I already have plans for a prosthetic to help.”
“And during the war?”
“It’s a work in progress, but since students will be participating in this fight no matter what we do, I’m intending to enlist Monoma to take my place,” he explained. Planning always gave the kid an escape, somehow, and he hoped feeding this bit of information to Midoriya would get him thinking about anything besides how he ‘messed up’ by not putting his and by extension everyone’s lives in danger trying to save him.
His eyes practically sparkled at the idea and the rambling began. Shouta listened dutifully, building slowly but surely into how Monoma copying erasure would be most effective. It was an easy conversation compared to practically every other one.
Eventually the speeding train of thought came to a slow stop as Midoriya grew increasingly drowsy. He bid the kid a goodnight before slowly standing, ignoring the shooting pain from the stump that definitely shouldn’t have a prosthetic on it yet.
He at-least made it to the door where Hizashi was waiting with a wheelchair he gratefully collapsed into. His husband questioned what the visit had been about as he helped him back into the dreaded hospital bed. He told him the entire idea, skipping over the apologies almost completely.
The two of them built on the plans exponentially, Hizashi typing them down to make sure they eventually got to Toshinori and the other heroes helping plan out this war.
“Alright, enough war preparation,” he said after far too long. “Where are my kids?”
Hizashi wanted to play dumb and ask which ones since he had twenty-something, but he just dialed Hitoshi’s number and handed over his phone.
He let the two have a long winded conversation that he lost immediately as he stared out the hospital window.
Everything he saw could be destroyed whenever the decay bastard decided to show up again. But it could also be safe and sound. Or maybe rebuilt after a long tiresome war.
Life was so uncertain now. It used to be smooth sailing, now the sails had been ripped to shreds in the name of destruction. He wasn’t sure how he had managed to go this long without letting his quirk run amok like a wild animal.
Shouta tapped his shoulder and handed the phone back, the small smile on his face quickly falling as he laid back in the hospital bed.
“Tired?” He asked playfully.
“I don’t know,” he answered, dragging a hand across his face that snagged on the eyepatch.
Nobody knew anything anymore. The future, the damages, the fatalities, themselves.
They could only hope to find out if there’s an after to this war.