Nemuri Kayama's heels clacked on the hard tiles of the hospital corridor as she made her way through the building. The air was sterile with disinfectant, and the artificial lights stung her eyes. She walked slowly, the hum of conversation and the beeping of machines fading into the background. She wiped her eyes, the lingering tears evidence of the breakdown she had shortly after giving her report to the police. Yamada needed support and positivity, not a sobbing mess. His room was a few floors up, in a wing specially designed for patients with tricky quirks. The crying had been... loud, to say the least. His mother had tried to hush him, but he had been too distraught and too delirious to control his Voice properly. Kayama had been forced to make him sleep, as much as she disliked using her quirk on her friends, although hopefully some enforced rest would aid his recovery. If only Aizawa were here, he could manage Yamada's quirk without having to knock him out.
Speaking of Aizawa... Kayama pulled out her phone, hoping he might have replied to her numerous messages. Nothing. She sighed, and pocketed the phone, stepping into an elevator. She could feel a few eyes glancing not-so-discreetly in her direction. It was to be expected; the accident, and all those involved, had attracted significant media coverage. Several journalists had tried to pin the blame on U.A. for sending students into such dangerous situations, or on His Purple Highness' inability to protect his own intern. As much as she loved working for the Pro, Nemuri doubted whether his reputation would be able to bounce back after such an incident. And then some reporters were eager to interview the student who had single handedly taken down the behemoth villain. There had been a crowd waiting for him outside the police station, once he'd been interviewed the day following the accident. Kayama had watched as he'd drifted like a ghost through the throngs of people, ignoring all their attempts to gain his attention. She'd tried to catch him, but he'd disappeared by the time she forced her way through the crowd.
Yamada had been taken to hospital the same afternoon, after he'd had trouble breathing. The doctors said that the soaking they'd received, plus the day's trauma, had likely overwhelmed his system. Kayama exited the elevator, and continued on to the end of the corridor. One of Yamada's sisters, - Himari, Kayama thought she was called - opened the door for her, and caught her in a bear hug; hyperactive affection must run in the family. His mother gave Kayama a warm smile and a quick embrace, before returning to her son. The boy in question was asleep, curled around a pillow, with an oxygen mask strapped to his face. Nemuri wondered how much persuasion had been needed for him to wear it. She hated seeing him like this; he looked so unwell, skin pale, body shaking, and every breath seemed a struggle. Even his usually vibrant hair was dull and limp.
"Thank you so much for coming, Nemuri, it means so much to Hizashi, having his friends close", his mum said, hand resting on her son's feverish brow. "Is Shouta with you?"
Kayama shook her head. "He's been incommunicado since... y'know."
Yamada's mum nodded, and asked quietly, "And how are you?"
Kayama took a deep breath, and sank into an empty visitor chair. "I'm... I'm upset. Guilty. Angry. Exhausted. I don't really know, I'm just trying to get through one day at a time". She looked at her stricken friend. "And I'm wishing there was something I could do to help him".
"You're here, aren't you?" Himari spoke up. "That's all you can do. My little brother's a fighter, he'll be just fine, don't you worry".
Nemuri nodded, and tried to say something more, but her emotions got the better of her again, and she covered her mouth so her sobs wouldn't disturb Yamada. Suddenly she was engulfed by arms from both sides, Yamada's mum and sister nearly crushing her in their embrace.
"It's alright, it's alright love," his mum whispered, stroking her head. "I know this has been a hideous time for you all, and I'm so sorry. If you ever need anything, even just a talk, our door is always open, ok?"
Nemuri managed a nod, and a small "Ok", in response.
"Mum?" All three of them turned at the croaky voice, and saw Yamada looking over at them, blinking blearily. "Oh, hey, Kayama", he said upon noticing her, and waved his hand vaguely in her direction, before collapsing back down onto the pillow in a fit of coughs. His mother was by his side in an instant, murmuring comforts and bathing his face with a cool cloth, while Himari remained with Kayama.
"Do you know if anyone is with Shouta?" she asked quietly. "He probably shouldn't be alone right now".
Kayama shook her head. "I really don't know what to do with him. Shirakumo was his closest friend, I doubt there's anything I could say that would make him feel any better."
Himari rested a hand on her shoulder. "I've found actions are much more effective than words".
"Kayama," a weak voice called. Yamada was looking back at her, though his eyes were so glassy Nemuri wasn't sure he could even see her. He pawed at his face, and pulled the mask away from his mouth. "Hey, is Aizawa alright? Someone-" cough "-better make sure he's-" cough cough "-alright." Yamada's head slumped back, eyes closing, wheezing painfully.
Kayama moved a strand of sweat-soaked hair out of his face. "I'll go find him," she promised. "I'm sure he'll want to see you."
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Kayama didn't bother going to Aizawa's house first, she knew he didn't spend much time there. Most of their local haunts turned up nothing but skiving schoolkids, so she headed to the last place she wanted to be. The halls of U.A. were silent, all students having been given compassionate leave. The warm sun caressed her face as she pushed open the door to the rooftop.
"So this is where you've been hiding," she said. Aizawa was slumped against the wall, head bent over his knees, messy black hair looking even more unkempt than usual. He didn't move when Kayama spoke, nor when she sat down next to him. "Have you seen my messages? Yamada's in hospital, he's sick." Still nothing. Kayama frowned. "He asked me to make sure you were alright. Won't you go reassure him yourself?"
"Leave me alone," Aizawa answered gruffly, still not raising his head. "Just tell him I'm fine."
The Hero-in-training snapped. She grabbed Aizawa's shoulders and spun him around to face her. "No, you're coming with me now, and we're going straight to Yamada! His only thought this whole time has been about you, the least you can do is pay him one visit!"
Aizawa looked startled, but yanked himself up and out of her grip and stalked off. "Didn't you hear me?" he growled over his shoulder. "Go away."
Nemuri gaped, and clambered back to her feet. She didn't notice her wet cheeks. "You're not the only one who lost a friend, Shouta!" He stopped in his tracks. "You can't shut us out! Me, Hizashi, everyone, we're all in pain, but we're facing it together. And you have to as well! We're all here for you, we'll always be here for you, but you have to meet us halfway!"
Aizawa didn't speak or move for a long while. Kayama wasn't sure he was even listening.
"You're still taking care of Sushi, right?" His voice was barely above a whisper.
"Yes, I am," Kayama replied.
"It was me that first found him. I left him my umbrella, but I didn't take him with me. I just... couldn't. But Shirakumo did, without hesitation. He helped that cat, when I couldn't, and he believed in me, when I didn't. When I beat that villain, it was because he was there with me, cheering me on. But he can't have been there, he was already dead, and now I- I can't help anyone anymore, if he's gone, there's no way I can-".
Aizawa's words choked off into sobs as his shoulders hunched, pent up emotions finally bursting through. Kayama all but leapt on him, holding him in a crushing embrace, as he cried, and cried, and cried.
She wasn't sure how much time passed before Aizawa started to calm down.
"We're here for you," Kayama whispered, her own tears flowing freely. "Whatever you need, whenever you need it, we're here for you."
Aizawa nodded, exhausted, but pulled himself away.
"Thank you," he murmured, wiping his eyes. "How is Yamada doing?"
"He'll be alright, but he's pretty sick," Kayama replied. "He has to wear an oxygen mask to help with his breathing; you can imagine how well that went down."
Her fellow student grunted with laughter. "I can, he hates having his mouth covered. Afraid someone might actually find a way to shut him up."
Kayama chuckled. "Your Erasure usually does the trick." She looked at him. "If you really don't want to go, I'm not actually going to force you. But..."
"I'll go," he said, and turned, heading towards the exit. Kayama smiled, and followed him.
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When they arrived back at the hospital, Kayama convinced Himari to take her mum home so they could freshen up, and have something to eat.
"We'll stay with Hizashi, he'll be fine. You guys need some rest."
"She's right, we'll call you if anything happens."
"Aizawa, that you?" Yamada murmured, eyes cracking open.
"I'm here," his classmate responded quietly, sitting next to him.
"You ok?"
"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Look, I'm sorry I made you worry, I just- hey, what's wrong?"
Tears were trickling down Yamada's cheeks, and he twisted onto his back, covering his eyes with an arm. "Nothing, just... you're ok."
Aizawa hesitantly reached out and gripped his friend's hand. "I am, 'Zashi, I promise. And you'll be back to screaming your lungs out in no time. Then we can get back to becoming the heroes that... that Shirakumo would want us to be."
Yamada nodded, though his lips were clenched together, chin trembling.
Kayama sighed. "I don't know about you Aizawa, but I haven't slept in days. We should try and get some rest".
She kicked her shoes off and plopped down on the bed next to Yamada, wrapping an arm round him and pulling him close, so that her chin rested atop his head. Aizawa watched for a moment, and then awkwardly joined them, huddling close to Yamada's other side. When a nurse came in to check on them later, all three kids were dead to the world, squashed together on the bed, and holding onto each other as if, at any moment, another of them might be snatched away.