The world didn't end with a bang, nor did it end with a whimper.
It didn't 'end' at all, in fact.
It just kept getting progressively worse and worse as time went on, dragging out the inevitable. Society as it was known had fallen long ago, leaving everyone to fend for themselves or join the League of Villains. Many chose the latter nowadays.
Villains roamed the streets, using their quirks freely and without restraint. Heroes were hunted down in cold blood, often for attempting to save innocents as they had been trained to do. More still were killed by the nomu, either in battle or just by being in the wrong place at the wrong time. How many buildings had been reduced to rubble, how many people buried with no one knowing?
There wasn't much left to live for.
And yet, here Aizawa Shouta was, still living despite everything. Still living despite the death of his beloved husband, the deaths of his coworkers and friends, the deaths of countless pro heroes... The deaths of his students. His daughter.
Still living despite the fact he didn't want to.
He kept moving forward, it was all he could do.
Still living as it became more and more difficult to find food to fill his student's hungry bellies, as their enemies drew ever nearer, as every safe haven they managed to find was exposed and they were forced once more to flee.
Even as he buried his fallen students one by one, not strong enough to keep them alive, to keep them safe. As he lost his right leg. As he saw the fear in his student's eyes grow with each passing death. As they were betrayed by one of their own. As day by day he lost a little more of himself. Some days he felt more animal than human—the same feral, ravenous look reflected in each of his student's eyes.
He was so, so tired.
But he couldn't rest, not yet. There was still work to be done.
Midoriya Izuku, Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki, Yaoyorozu Momo, Tokoyami Fumikage, Asui Tsuyu, Shinsho Hitoshi, Hatsume Mei. The only students left in his care. At first it had just been his 1-A students, and a few stragglers from other classes joining over time as they were found, though sadly not for long. Mineta Minoru, the traitor, had sold them out. So many lives lost senselessly, so much potential, gone.
He couldn't understand it.
It seemed like only yesterday he'd first met this class. Yet at the same time, an eternity. By his estimate, they should have been starting their third and final year at UA around this time.
They all would have made incredible heroes.
His students were barely recognizable from the naïve children that had first entered the hero course so long ago.
Flashy hero costumes were great for marketing, but not so great for staying hidden. Bright colors had long since been replaced with dull grays and blacks—functionality and stealth taking priority over aesthetics. Gone were the impractical, bulky designs of a typical limelight hero.
He could almost hear Hizashi's voice, high and lilting, teasing him about creating an army of mini Eraserheads.
In a way, he supposed he was.
But just because they were out of the school didn't mean he stopped being a teacher. Lessons on history and math were replaced with learning how to survive, to live. An attempt to cram all the useful knowledge he had acquired over his career as an underground hero into their minds. How to remain silent and unseen, how to protect yourself against someone bound and determined to hurt you, to kill you.
They all had to grow up much too fast, but they were still his students, his kids.
Shouta couldn't remember what the exact date or time was—he'd stopped keeping track long ago—but he'd estimate it was around noon at the moment.
The day had started as it normally did; wake up, eat, search for supplies, avoid being noticed by the enemy, move to a new location, sleep, repeat the next day.
They'd been doing pretty well all things considered, until the whole 'avoid being noticed by the enemy' part, that is.
Luckily, he'd taught his kids well. So the moment a shout had rung out to blow their cover, the ragtag group was already on the move.
Shouta immediately takes up position in the back with Fumikage and Dark Shadow, making sure no one can sneak up from behind, while also making sure they all stay together.
Katsuki and Izuku took the lead, clearing the path ahead and deciding which direction to run, respectively. The rest of the positions changed sporadically, though for the most part they stayed as close together as they could without tripping.
Shouta hears them before he sees them—someone approaching rapidly from the left. With a flick of his wrists, he extends the walking sticks strapped to his forearms out and spins, catching the unsuspecting pursuer in the chest and knocking them away in one fell swoop. He keeps the metal poles extended and at the ready for now, narrowed eyes darting around as Dark Shadow lashes out to his right with a staticky shriek, knocking another pursuer back.
Izuku suddenly changes direction, lashing out with Black Whip when a chunk of building blocks their way forward. The ground trembles under their feet—an abandoned building ahead crumbling in a wave of debris.
When the dust finally settles, Shouta can see what has happened. The narrow street is blocked by the fallen building, twisted steel and brick piled too high to climb, not when they were still being chased.
They were trapped.
Quickly positioning himself between his students and the villains, Shouta bared his teeth, elongated canines glinting dangerously in the sunlight. The inhuman snarl rumbling in his chest gives some of the attackers pause, uncertainty and fear bleeding into their body language.
Good.
Shouta can hear his students shifting into fighting poses behind him, no words needing to be spoken.
In an instant, they attack as one.
Shouta retracts the brace on his right so he can reach up to grab his capture weapon, batting away another attacker with his left. From the corner of his eye, Mei lunges forward and tases one unlucky bastard in the gut, sending them flying with a well timed explosion from Katsuki.
Ochako slapped anyone who dares get within reach of her, negating their gravity and allowing them to be thrown away by Tsuyu. They don't show any mercy—mercy would get them killed, or worse—fighting with everything they've got and uncaring of the injuries they impose on their attackers.
With a swift kick, Shouta sends a man with a lizard mutation backwards into a wall. Pivoting on the spot, his capture weapon shoots out to wrap around a much larger villain that had been charging at Momo. Shouta lets the left arm brace retract, and using both hands, swings the larger man into as many attackers as he can, throwing them all off balance.
The battle seems to be going well, but none of the heroes let their guard down for even a second.
Dodging away from a knife that would have lodged in his shoulder had he not been fast enough, Shouta doesn't see the villain charging up an attack until it's too late. He does, however, smell the ozone in the air.
There isn't enough time for him to find the source as the staticky energy blindsides the cornered heroes.
Shouta feels it slam into his left side, throwing him bodily backwards into one of his students, and bringing them both down to the ground with startled cries.
Pain blossoms outwards from where he was hit, a terrible mixture of fire and electricity that seizes his lungs and leaves him choking on air. He's felt worse, but it's still enough to steal all the breath from his lungs.
Mouth open in a silent scream, Shouta can only watch in horror as the energy arcs out in a dome, latching onto all of his students in an instant.
He can feel the light burning into his retinas—leaving behind phantom images as everything goes blindingly white.
Shouta hears his kids scream, the noise crescendoing into one big wave of noise that drills into his skull like a siren. Shrieking, grating, unending. Distantly, he can feel a hand twisted tight in the fabric of his jumpsuit, holding on for dear life. At least, he thinks so—his whole body feels like a livewire of noise and electrifying pain.
The whole world seems to shift on its axis. He thinks he hears a shout of distress before the hand abruptly disappears, and Shouta realizes that he's alone.
A kaleidoscope of colors blur together, shifting and speeding up randomly. Distantly, Shouta wonders if this is what being in a washing machine feels like. Concepts like 'up' and 'down' no longer hold any meaning. He's half convinced he must have been hit by Ochako's quirk, somehow.
He can no longer feel his body beyond the static, but the prevailing sense of falling makes itself known regardless. Nausea bubbles up in his throat, and it's all he can do to keep it down.
Just when Shouta starts to think it will never end, it does.
Without warning, the light dissipates around him, leaving only darkness. Aizawa feels himself keep falling for another moment, before slamming down onto the hard, unforgiving ground with a crack. His head bounces off whatever he landed on, and Aizawa Shouta knows no more.