When Midoriya finally parted ways with them, Bakugou couldn't help but feel uneasy (as though he wasn't constantly uneasy and anxious already with these damned loops). It wasn't a good idea to let him go off on his own, especially since they couldn't be sure that what he was supposed to be doing was going to be productive in the long-run.

Or maybe he was just paranoid and over-reacting. But in his defense, after everything that he'd seen in these loops, he was allowed to feel this way.

Probably.

He glanced at Aizawa and winced as he was met with a perturbed look instead of a reassuring one. That was new—that was to say, the lack of assurance and hope from the hero—and the blonde wasn't a big fan of it.

His apprehension only grew when he actually stopped to consider the ramifications of confronting the Takaki bastard again. Only two interactions with the man had left his knees weak and dread pooling in his gut. It was pathetic, really, but at this point what choice did he have? He was supposed to face the guy who (supposedly) had control over his situation and could possibly cancel it at any moment.

And that meant that there was always the possibility that the loops could stop and time would move on while D-M-Midoriya was dead and gone or if Bakugou himself did something regrettable. Which, he had fucked up too many times to be able to trust that whenever the loops ended everything would end up alright.

Bakugou was shaken from his thoughts with the sudden weight on his shoulder. His head snapped up and he heard his name spoken with worried urgency.

"W-wha-?" he blurted.

Aizawa sighed, "Don't get worked up, kid. Just breathe."

It was only with those words that he realized how tight his chest felt and the dizziness that was beginning to set in. Ah, right… breathing is kind of a thing that's important.

"R-right…" Bakugou wheezed, letting his gaze drop back to the ground.

He was suddenly glad that Midoriya wasn't here to witness this moment of weakness, but that just brought the thought of what they were planning to do right back to the front of his mind. The blonde wished that he could just not get worked up about it, but the underlying feeling of panic seemed to settle deep in his gut, even as he found himself matching Aizawa's exaggerated breathing.

By the time he fully calmed down (with the help of a certain hero), a solid chunk of time had passed. Frustration welled up inside him as he tried and failed to push away his emotions in favor of focusing on the task at hand.

"I think," Aizawa cut in just before Bakugou was able to work himself into a third mental spiral, "That we should re-trace some of our actions or steps on our own, since Midoriya's idea was brilliant and we couldn't take… everything… into account while he was there."

The teenager just stared at him half-incredulous and half-serious, as though he couldn't decide whether to be insulted or relieved that the man was looking out for him by delaying something he was visibly panicking about.

"It would kill some time, since we aren't sure if Takaki will even be home at this time of day, and-"

"And it would give me time to get over myself," Bakugou hissed, "Yeah I'm aware."

Aizawa stepped back, "That's not-"

"I know."

"Then why would you say th-"

"Because it's true," he glared, "It's true and I hate that you know it."

They stood for a moment, letting the distant sound of traffic and the light breeze wash over them.

Bakugou looked away, "And for the record… I'm not saying no. I accept it, but that doesn't mean that I have to like it."

"Fair enough, kid," Aizawa agreed softly.

Neither of them knew what to say after that, so they allowed themselves to bask in the silence even as they began to walk. It was only after a few minutes of the hero following Bakugou's lead that this comfortable silence was broken.

"What would we even say?"

Aizawa blinked, "Say to whom?"

"Th-the Takaki-fucker. His daughter. M-Midoriya…" Bakugou shook his head, "Nevermind… I don't fucking know…"

The pro hero seemed to not know how to respond to that, as he firmly pressed his lips shut and remained silent. The ambiance of the city filled in for their lack of words, and even as they made their way back to the familiar setting, neither could bring themselves to speak another word.

That seemed to be a running theme. It almost felt as though it would be better to simply do nothing, but Bakugou knew that thoughts like those would only make things worse. Perhaps if he hadn't gone to Aizawa in the first place, he would still be alone and this urge to give up would be much more acceptable.

The thing that scared him more, however, was the fact that Aizawa was so obviously feeling the same way. Hopelessness, a desire to give up and just let it be… it was so appealing, so Bakugou could understand. But he didn't… he didn't want to be alone. Yet it was a cruel thing to realize how seeking help only spread the suffering further.

That was his resolve to be a hero, yet he had failed Midoriya time and time again. So when he finally gave in and asked for help, there was nothing left of ego that protested against help. And now that he realized what help truly meant—what it did to those tasked with taking on that responsibility, that burden—he wasn't sure if he wanted to ask for help ever again.

He was no longer sure if he was capable of giving that help to others either.

He only became more sure of his inadequacy when they finally reached their destination. The indescribable amalgamation of negative emotions that filled him as they went through the motions, replaying some of the worst moments for some source of information.

Nothing new came out of this farce, pretending to sift through memories, thoughts, and actions of a loop better left forgotten. They talked through their actions in the loops, choosing to use words rather than re-enacting it further because the emotions resurfaced in full force every time without fail. Even as they tried this, (ignoring the lingering fear of whatever Midoriya could be doing outside) all they had done was dredge up every dreadful emotion that the loops made exponentially worse.

They were getting nowhere, as usual.

But truth be told, that was a lie. Bakugou had, in fact, come to a realization as they discussed each loop for what felt like the hundredth time. There was a lingering thought, clouded by dread and warded away with anxiety.

There was one thing that neither spoke of, the horrid feeling that haunted their memories and made them shudder at the phantom feeling that lingered when they thought about it. The sensation that had warded them away from the start held answers, and it was now painfully obvious to him.

But he couldn't… he couldn't go through that again. Not even once more. It was a torture unlikey any he'd experienced; he wouldn't wish it upon anyone, even his the worst villain in the world. Well… maybe some of the worst would deserve it, but only once or twice. If anyone had to handle it for more than a few minutes, they would probably go insane.

Or maybe Bakugou was just weak…

Weaker than he used to think he was.

He sat there in silence, not recognizing that time was passing or that Aizawa had long-since gotten up from the couch to do something else around his apartment. By the time he had noticed, the man was already setting food on the table and calling his name to encourage him to eat.

So he did.

But a part of him simply was… not present.

He felt sort of empty and hollow. It was an unfamiliar feeling state of mind that he had slowly become accustomed to as the loops went on. Though it had never been this bad before, even when he let himself drift away and found himself on the bridge, the roof.

When had it snuck up on him without warning, without prompting?

He went through the motions of eating, wondering why his head felt so fuzzy and every physical sensation made him feel like he was in a dream. The hero had been chatting with him—more like to him if he was being perfectly honest—while he had been blanked out. He was almost comprehending the words, but when he tried to conceive a response, any understanding dissipated as though he were pathetically attempting to trap air in his hands.

Yet when Aizawa asked if he was okay with approaching Takaki again, it was as if a button had been pressed. If he had thought that he was out of it before, it was nothing like how he was now.

It was a full shut down, nothing in was processed and certainly no thoughts produced, much less put into action.

He stared blankly at the table, wishing for everything to simply stop existing.

He just wanted it to stop.

So he made it stop.

Aizawa struggled to contain the anxiety that was wreaking his mind. Bakugou had been practically non-responsive for the past two hours and Midoriya had yet to send any updates. It was already well into the afternoon, and none of them had done what they were supposed to do.

But a part of him still dreaded the thought of directly addressing the situation. It was an irrational fear, yet it still plagued him. The uncertainty of whether any of what they were doing would solve anything was maddening, and Aizawa was at the point in which he could easily drift into a state of blissful numbness much like Bakugou. Yet he knew that in doing so, he could doom them to an eternity of loops.

Inaction would get them nowhere.

And he knew this. But Bakugou still wasn't completely responding.

He had to be productive, to do something otherwise he might just break down and be unable to do much of anything for the rest of the day, which he'd rather avoid.

One step at a time.

He could make food for the two of them before they acted on their plans. Yes, that could work.

So he did, feeling just a bit less frustrated as he began to rustle around the kitchen in search of ingredients. He probably needed to get more groceries in the future, but for now, he would make do with what he had.

It was far from perfect—or even as good as Bakugou's had been—but it was food and Aizawa couldn't help but hope that by serving Bakugou food that he would call inedible might break the kid out of his funk.

Of course, reality was never so kind. When the hero gently told him to come eat food, Bakugou slowly nodded, remaining seated for another minute before he reluctantly pushed himself off the couch. Eating wasn't much better as Bakugou hadn't said a word as he robotically shoveled the (barely edible) food in his mouth.

By the time that they had finished and Aizawa had cleaned everything up, nothing had changed in the kid. No hint of presence or awareness. Just dull eyes and a blank expression. Aizawa couldn't bring himself to ask, but he needed to.

He didn't want to go alone.

But with Bakugou's continued stare, the hero knew that he would have to go alone. What he wanted didn't matter, it was his responsibility, his job, to keep others safe. And he'd been doing a real poor job of that recently.

It was now or never, so he wrote a note for the kid and left before he could change his mind.

Aizawa's mind was surprisingly blank as he wandered out. It took him at least thirty minutes of mindlessly wandering before he even realized that he had no idea where he was going. He grumbled to himself as he pulled out his phone and dialed Tsukauchi's familiar number to call in that same favor and ask for the Takaki's address.

Even if the detective ended up not remembering the favor that he cashed in, Aizawa promised himself that he would tell him about it so that he wouldn't feel like he was taking advantage of his colleague.

Besides, it was only one of many favors that he was owed, and honestly this felt as though the hero was using more than one. He had to do something to make it fair, even if it was the situation that was responsible for his predicament in the first place.

So here he found himself, in front of Takaki's house in a fairly well-off neighborhood, wondering how he was supposed to do anything useful. They had figured that pressuring the man would work, but what was he supposed to say?

Maybe flat out stating his status as a pro hero and showing his license would be enough to make him nervous. Then from there he could allude to the man's quirk without explicitly mentioning anything and Takaki might slip up and admit something that he wouldn't have otherwise.

Well, it wasn't a perfect plan but it was better than going in without a plan at all.

With a deep breath that didn't calm his nerves in the way he had hoped, Aizawa strode up to the front door and knocked. Immediately, an indignant shout came from inside, leaving the hero to dread the approaching interaction with each step that grew in volume.

Perhaps the word step was too gentle of a term. Stomp was far more accurate.

The hero took a moment to pull out his hero license from his pocket and hid it as nonchalantly as possible behind his back.

The door was ripped open to reveal a man—Takaki Izanagi, Aizawa assumed—with a poisonous expression that quickly melted into a much less aggressive look at the sight of Aizawa's unkempt appearance.

"Who the hell are you?" Takaki drawled.

Without hesitation, the hero revealed his license, making sure to keep his body language and tone unassuming, "The name's Eraserhead, but you can call me Aizawa. I need to ask a few informal questions… for a case."

He had been hoping that by being informal and opening as though he was merely looking for information on something else rather than interrogating the man as a suspect, Takaki would leave his guard down and play along until the time was right. Unfortunately, instead of keeping him placated, his words seemed to set the man on further edge.

"Hah? What kind of fucking hero are you? You don't look like one! Get the fuck off my property!" he shouted, backing up a step despite his caustic words.

Takaki was clearly terrified despite the false bravado he was trying to maintain. Did the man actually remember the loops? Bakugou had said otherwise, but maybe he had acted convincingly enough that the teenager had been fooled. He would have to play along.

"You know who I am, I know you do," Aizawa tried.

"No I don't! Now leave before I m-make you regret it!"

The fear only increased, and Aizawa was even more confused than before. So Takaki didn't remember? What the hell was going on then? Why was he so afraid?

In his silent confusion, Takaki took that as a cue to keep threatening him, "You t-tell your master that I'm doing what I was told! H-he has no reason to come for me now! So fuck off!"

Master? What the hell?

Without warning, Takaki surged forward and shoved Aizawa's shoulder, "Get lost!"

The hero reflexively recoiled and readied himself for a fight. But instead of continuing, Takaki froze in horror.

"Wh-why…? Why won't it work?"

Aizawa blinked in confusion. Why wouldn't what work? What was he missing?

The two men stared at each other with increasing anxiety, one stumbling back into his house at the same moment that the other came to a realization.

"Shit!" Aizawa hissed as he followed Takaki back into his house.

"Leave me alone! He'll get what he wants, you don't have to do this!" he yelled, desperation making his voice crack.

"What are you talking about?!"

Takaki clearly wasn't listening to a word he said, "I don't know anything! Nothing! I didn't know he had heroes on his side! Why isn't the quirk working? G-get away from me!"

Clearly this wasn't working, but the man certainly felt cornered enough. Maybe now Aizawa could ask and get an answer? It felt horrible to terrify someone into this, but he wouldn't remember the next loop, so that made it slightly better… right?

"How do you cancel the loops?" the hero glowered, pretending that intimidating a man clearly seconds away from a panic attack didn't bother him in the slightest.

"Sh-shouldn't he know this? Wh-why are you…"

Aizawa wasn't sure what his face looked like, but whatever expression he had convinced Takaki to give up. The pure anguish and terror on his face made the knawing pit in his stomach claw at his ribs and burrow into his gut.

"It's a key phrase. Usually I can come up with one and as long as I think it when I touch someone to activate it, it'll work! Now please don't hurt me! Just tell him that I'll do anything he wants! That was the deal!" he pleaded.

"What if…" Aizawa whispered, eyes widening as the realization settled in, "What if you used it by accident, and didn't notice?"

"I've never…" Takaki trailed off, eyes widening in horror.

Just as Aizawa was about to move closer to calm him down, Takaki hunched back and then suddenly surged forward and shoved past him.

A sharp pain blossomed in Aizawa's shoulder and he stumbled to the side in a futile attempt to remain upright. He grit his teeth and desperately tried to keep his eyes from squeezing shut in pain. Yet by the time that he was able to reopen them, Takaki was long gone.

A wave of exhaustion washed over him, and Aizawa couldn't help but let himself list to the side and sink to the floor. How had he missed the knife? That wasn't like him at all. This was far from the worst injury he'd sustained, but he was just… so tired.

So ready to give up…

He'd gotten a step closer to the truth, so he could rest for a bit…

Right?

Yeah.

He forced his breaths to even out as he let himself lie on the floor. Doing first aid was pointless here, since he'd wake up the next day. He wasn't going to bleed out (probably), so he might as well think through what Takaki had been saying.

And Midoriya was talking to Takaki Yoshiko, so there was no way that she would come by and… see him like this… right?

Aizawa knew that that was unlikely, but he couldn't bring himself to care beyond what he felt like doing at the moment.

Takaki had been speaking as though there was someone else involved that had power over him and was threatening him. Perhaps it had something to do with why Tsukauchi had reacted so badly when they had looked into his records.

But on the other hand, Takaki confirmed what Bakugou had said earlier. There was some kind of key phrase that would release the effects of his quirk. But that still didn't clarify whether he had to be the one to say it. Not to mention the whole thing where Takaki's quirk wasn't working and he couldn't figure out the reason.

He hadn't answered when Aizawa pressed about him being able to activate it by accident, but something about what he had asked had caused him to try to leave the situation.

Was he afraid that using his quirk by accident had somehow made this mystery man that he was scared of come after him? Or was it just that he had reached his limit and decided to remove himself from the situation at the first chance he had?

But the way his eyes had widened in surprise seemed like a crucial detail here.

Yet at the end of the day—or loops, he supposed—he still had no idea where to find the key phrase or whatever the hell they wanted to call it. And then, there was still no hint as to whether Takaki would have to say it or if Bakugou, Midoriya, or himself would be able to.

Aizawa sighed as he mentally gave in to the fact that he would have to get up eventually. The bleeding hadn't stopped yet despite the pressure and he really didn't want to pass out on the dusty floor or risk scaring the shit out of Takaki Yoshiko.

Or hell, he didn't want to deal with Takaki Izanagi himself, if he decided to return, however unlikely that was.

Besides, Aizawa really should check on Bakugou. He had left him all alone while the kid was dissociating, and there was a chance that he might do something stupid. Not to mention the fact that Midoriya had yet to update them on anything he had been doing.

With a heavy sigh, the hero pushed himself back onto his feet and clutched at his wound. He winced, realizing that there was no way he would be able to make it back to his apartment in this state. Reluctantly, he meandered into the kitchen before moving on to the bathroom, rifling around in search of a first-aid kit.

Luckily for his arm and unluckily for his conscience, there was a fairly well-stocked kit hidden under the bathroom sink.

After painstakingly cleaning and wrapping the slash on his shoulder, Aizawa made himself pull out his phone. He blanched as soon as the digital display powered on, the time almost mocking him as it appeared, stark against the background of his lock screen.

He had no idea how it had gotten so late. Had he passed out during his time on the floor without noticing? That was ridiculous, but how else had so much time passed without him noticing?

A shriek startled him out of his shock, and he slunk back towards the main living room. Peaking around the corner of the hallway, he saw a young girl that was slightly reminiscent of Takaki, if only by the clearly natural tan and face structure.

The red hair, dark brown eyes, and freckles were very much unlike his amber eyes and almost obnoxiously blonde hair.

Interesting.

"Wh-who are you?!" she shrieked.

Aizawa flinched, realizing that he hadn't even noticed her turn away from the blood on the floor and in his direction. He made a split-second decision to step out into the open with his hands up, placatingly, "Hey there, I'm a pro hero, Eraserhead."

"N-no…" she whimpered, "Where's my father?"

"I don't know. He ran off after…" he trailed off.

Her eyes reluctantly trailed from his hands to his arm where she clearly spotted the bandages, "D-don't get him in trouble… p-please. H-he's trying his best!"

"W-what?" Aizawa tilted his head a bit in confusion.

"Wh-what are you here for then.. I-if not to… uh"

"You thought I'd take you away from him?" the hero questioned, still slightly lost as to what she was thinking.

She surged forward, clutching her hands to her chest, "You aren't, since you didn't know what I was talking about, so then why are you here?"

"Kid, why would I need to take you away from-"

"You're here because of his quirk, aren't you?" she hunched in on herself, tentatively gauging his reaction before continuing, "I don't… I don't know what my dad did or what his quirk does, but… whatever it is, it isn't his fault!"

"Alright, I believe you," Aizawa relented.

Takaki visibly relaxed, "S-so you aren't going to get him in trouble?"

"I need to know what he does to you that makes you think you would be taken away from him."

She tucked back into herself, clearly unwilling to elaborate, "If I help you find my father, will you let him off easy? I don't know why he… but I just…"

Aizawa's heart hurt just looking at how vulnerable she was in this moment, so he reluctantly agreed. He convinced himself that letting her find him would allow him to ask more questions and clarify a few things, but he knew that there was a very low chance of that.

Reluctantly, he remained at the house, watching Takaki wander off to supposedly find her father for him.

As the sun went down and there were no updates from any of the three teenagers, Aizawa couldn't resist the exhaustion, drifting off into a blissful state of unconsciousness.

Bakugou scratched at his neck, trying and failing to ignore the itchy feeling of dried tears smeared all over his cheeks as he sat alone in Aizawa's apartment. He had effectively abandoned the man after dumping his problems onto him like a coward.

He hid his face in his knees, trying to hide from the world, from his own thoughts. But he couldn't get away from the aching cold inside, where all he felt was the emptiness of despair.

He scrunched further into himself as he thought about Midoriya, all alone, just like him.

Was this what it was like for him? Or could Bakugou never experience what he went through.

How would he even know?

Maybe Midoriya would be better off without him, if this was how Bakugou always made him feel. He'd live better without him, but Bakugou didn't want to die.

Then Midoriya probably didn't want to either. But why else would he have pursued it so desperately?

Bakugou couldn't help but think of… that time…

The time he'd used the first thing in front of him with a manic gleam in his eye.

In that moment, he hadn't said that he wanted to die.

He'd said…

He'd said… "I need to die."

With that desperate look, pleading for Bakugou to understand.

Yet the only thing that those pitiful eyes made him want to do was save him.

That distinction between want and need… that meant that he could fix this, right? In the end, it would all be okay.

He… he knew what he had to do. But he was dreading merely the thought, the consideration of doing it. Yet he knew that he had no choice. If he had been on his own through this, he would have given up. There was nothing in solitude that granted him strength or courage. But he had people to fight for now. People to protect.

Bakugou's resolve became firm as his limbs gave out.

He let himself flop onto his side, eyes drifting shut and heart driving a nail into his lungs with every desperate beat, completely oblivious to the fading consciousness of said person just a few blocks away.