Mic was grading calmly, red pen occasionally tapping against his desk in thought. Some student's handwriting was nearly illegible from spelling errors, poor grammar, and penmanship, like Kaminari and Sero, as well as a few other students with temper problems, like Bakugo, were in a furious scrawl, if in fairly good English. He wondered if hearing the language would help them, or should he focus on actually showing them how to have neat handwriting first? Decisions, decisions…That's when the alert had gone up: USJ had been attacked. Mic was scared, angry, and worried, driving himself and several others there in his car as a tense silence filtered through the air. Aizawa had said it would be fine. He insisted he, Number 13, and All Might could handle it. Only All Might had run out of time for the day, so hadn't been able to attend. Mic had offered to join: he refused with the statement: "13 and I can handle this. Focus on your grading." When he arrived, he saw Aizawa first. His best friend bleeding, eyes unable to be opened, supported by a student Mic hadn't gotten to speak to personally yet, completely unconscious. He had purple splotches pooling into his exposed arms: something had started to turn his elbow into mush. And it was their fault: they would pay for targeting his students and his friend. Mic barely registered what he was doing: he screamed at the enemies as loudly as he could without hurting his allies. They either retreated or were apprehended: he didn't care which. He sat in the ambulance with Aizawa, face in his hands. He'd almost lost another friend, and it was his fault. He should have insisted. He should have been pushy. He sat in the waiting room during the examination, silently watching during the surgery. He hated hospitals. He was always scared of the thought that someone was shuffling around inside his body. It made him squirm, the very concept of it. But he stayed there, hoping his best friend would be okay. The doctor came out, and Mic stood, worry written on his face.

"Are you Mr. Aizawa's family?" Mic shook his head: as much like brothers as they were, he couldn't claim that.

"No, I'm his roommate. Is he okay? Did it work?" The doctor looked over the paperwork as Mic tried his best to remain calm and controlled while his best friend may be dying or be lonely. He didn't like either idea.

"He had a few broken bones and his face was very damaged, particularly below his eyes." Mic nodded, wanting to get to the good news. "However, he'll make a complete recovery with nearly full sight. It will be a fair amount of time before he will be completely healed from this, however. No hero work for quite some time, if he can keep from it, and plenty of rest and relaxation. Can you make sure he does this?" Mic nodded firmly. "He'll also need help changing bandages once he's released, but for now, you can see him." Mic followed him to the room, where Aizawa was covered in bandages but seemed to smile at the sight of a nervous Mic. "Please that it easy, both of you. I'll prepare the paperwork for your discharge." Aizawa thanked him, and as soon as the doctor left, Mic wrapped Aizawa into a gentle but firm hug. Aizawa returned it, though his was stiff due to the broken arms.

"I thought I lost you, Sho." Aizawa laughed weakly, obviously trying to make light of it,

"It will take more than that to kill me." Mic locked eyes with him firmly, heart breaking at the sight of the damage.

"Don't joke! You could have died, or gone blind! It's not something to take lightly!" Aizawa slumped.

"I'm not. I know it was a close call, very close. I don't want you to worry, that's all. I'm sure you panicked enough while I was unconscious. Did anyone else get injured?" Mic shook his head.

"Other than Number 13, Midoryia-kun, and a few bumps and bruises, no. You had the brunt of it."

"Then I did my job." Mic growled, covering his face, not wanting to cry in front of Sho again, not now.

"You almost DIED, Sho. No job is worth that much loss. You know that."

"…I know." The harsh tone softened. "Zashi, I'm not throwing my life away. It was a dangerous situation, and I did my best to be careful." Mic rubbed his eyes dry. His friend was right: Aizawa never did anything foolishly, even if it seemed like it. He was overreacting again, blowing things out of proportion. "Hey, it's alright. You have every right to be concerned. Don't shut down. That's my thing." Mic chuckled quietly, looking down still.

"Yeah, I know. This…I couldn't help at all." Aizawa sighed, patting Mic's pant as gently as he could with a cast.

"You did. Even I heard that scream: you took out over half of them. I guess you were just too emotional to notice."

"I did? Huh. I still think I could have helped more." Aizawa sighed again.

"You're going to DJ the Sports Festival again this year, right?" Mic nodded,

"Yeah, I've done it every year since I was 17. You know that."

"Why don't I join you?" Mic blinked at him in complete confusion. "I'll never admit to asking."

"I know. You have your grumpy persona to hold to. But you hate public appearances."

"Yes, but I know that I'm not going to be the one having issues from the attack: you are. And if that will help." Mic grinned, hugging him tightly in a back-breaking embrace. Aizawa winced, saying as loudly as he could, "Ow, Zashi!" He let go, turning red as he signed and called his apologies, making Aizawa smile beneath the bandages again,

"S-sorry, got overexcited!" Aizawa shook his head in quiet amusement.

"It's fine. Let's just get the stupid paperwork done so we can go home and I can go in my sleeping bag for a month."