Against his better judgement, Shouta allows his mind to wander.
He feels... different, for lack of a better term. All jumbled emotions and long-thought buried memories, his body proportions no longer matching up to what he's used to. It's all warring for attention inside him no matter how futilely he tries to keep them in check.
Shouta still knows who he is, of course. Memories all in the right order as they should be. But his mind is completely frazzled and working against him, bringing up thoughts and feelings that he'd thought he was done with.
Things he hasn't thought about since...
It makes some sort of sense, he supposes, as much as he doesn't want to think about it.
Almost dying—thinking he was going to die—seeing a long-lost friend supposedly back from the grave, and his body's physical shift back to when he was sixteen.
It's all rather overwhelming.
He's not entirely sure how to act; he's changed a lot as a person since that horrible day so many years ago. A small part of him worries Oboro won't like him as he is now, though that was sort of a moot point considering he's being carried by said friend.
Who is he kidding, he should just act like himself. There's no point pretending to be something he isn't, and besides, Shouta has never been one for needless drama.
And if Oboro has been here the whole time anyway, it's not like he'll be surprised.
Regardless of circumstances, it's... nice, to see Oboro smiling again. He was so comfortably warm despite the slightly damp air that followed him, and he always brought with him the smell of rain.
Petrichor, he remembers Hizashi calling it one day, back so long ago.
Oboro ends up talking the whole time they're travelling, going on about this and that. Nothing vitally important, just little anecdotes about their surroundings, but it's soothing. Shouta can't help but let his eyes fall shut with a quiet sigh and just listen.
There's a few times of the way where Shouta feels his heart sputter painfully in his chest. Every time it happens he tenses up, clinging onto Oboro with wide eyes and a tiny voice in his mind pleading 'no, not again.'
Luckily, his heart doesn't stop beating, and there's no repeat of the horrid experience from before.
Soon enough they reach an area Shouta recognizes; close to the hospital, but still a little ways off.
Something occurs to him at that moment.
"Hey," he mutters next to Oboro's ear, "Why didn't you fly us here with your quirk?" It certainly would've been faster and more efficient than walking. Oboro snorts.
"Wow, advising public quirk use. What would the media think, hero?" he snarks back, adjusting his grip on Shouta's leg. Shouta's brow furrows.
"The media would think nothing, seeing as we're invisible." Normally he wouldn't go around telling teenagers—or anyone for that matter—to use their quirk for something so trivial. But it could be excused in this case, probably.
Besides, he wants to make sure Hizashi is alright.
"Guess I just forgot, with everything going on..."
Shouta hums at that, watching the other boy's expression from the corner of his eye. His face seemed redder than normal, and he was quite obviously attempting to hide that by looking askance. Shouta feels his eyes narrow in suspicion.
It's painfully obvious that Oboro is hiding something, though he always had been a bit of an open book. Shouta's about to push the issue but doesn't get the chance, because it's at that moment that Oboro jostles him and begins walking faster. Just as they're stepping into the street, a car roars straight through the red light, startling twin yelps from both of them.
"Look both ways before crossing!" Shouta all but shrieks, nearly strangling Oboro with how tightly he's holding on after such a close call. He just laughs loudly in response, making an exaggerated show of looking both ways.
"Yes, mom!"
"Don't roll your eyes at me, young man." Arms still wrapped securely around Oboro's shoulders, Shouta tugs on his ear and earns a surprised yelp for his troubles.
Luckily for Oboro's ear, the hospital was now in sight.
It's taken them long enough to arrive that the sky was already starting to turn orange, but at least the journey was almost over.
Shouta wriggles until he's able to hop out of the piggy-back ride, landing on his feet with practiced ease. (It also doesn't hurt that he currently feels better than he has in years.) Oboro doesn't protest, but Shouta swears he can see a bit of disappointment hidden in his eyes.
They continue the walk to the hospital side-by-side.
Just as they're making their way across the parking lot, the sound of hurried footsteps behind gives them pause.
When they turn to look, the glint of fading sunlight off signature sunglasses is the first thing to catch their attention.
Present Mic is here.
Shouta feels his whole body flood with relief at the sight of Hizashi—his husband—approaching.
"Zashi," he breathes, so relieved that he even forgets Oboro is still standing at his side. Without thinking, Shouta rushes forwards. He hears Oboro cry out behind him, hurrying to catch up.
All Shouta can think about is getting to Hizashi.
"Shouta! Wait—"
Getting closer, he can see just how stressed his partner looks; shoulders stiff, eyes wild and frantic behind his shades, normally flawless hair a complete mess. He looks like a walking disaster.
But that didn't matter right now. All that matters is Hizashi is safe and alive and right there.
Shouta holds his arms up as he bounds up to Hizashi, a relieved smile beginning to tug at his lips. As unfeeling and heartless as he's accused of being, the people Shouta truly trust know that he's just as—if not more so—emotional as anyone else, and after such a traumatizing event as nearly being killed...
"Hiza—"
Pain.
Just as unexpected as the last time but somehow so much worse.
Shouta collapses to the ground with a strangled cry when his husband walks straight through him, and Hizashi...
Hizashi just kept walking towards the hospital without a single look back.
Eyes wide and mouth agape, Shouta sits on the pavement in stunned silence. He hears hesitant footsteps approach.
"Are you... okay?" Oboro asks in a whisper, carefully laying a hand on Shouta's shoulder like he's not sure if he should. He winces. "Ah. Sorry, dumb question..."
Everything is still and silent for a long, long moment.
"...Shou—" Oboro tries again, but Shouta interrupts him in a wavering voice.
"I—I forgot..." Something ugly curls in his gut. "How could I forget?!" His voice cracks, teeth bared behind his capture weapon as his hands clench once more into trembling fists.
How could he be so stupid?
"Hey, uh... I don't mean to be rude here or, um, or dismiss your feelings, but—"
Shouta tearfully glances at Oboro through his bangs, the other looking back at the hospital entrance with a grimace. "We should probably hurry up an' follow 'zashi if we want to find your body..."
He can see the logic of that, though it didn't mean he has to like it.
With a huff, Shouta forces himself to stand and start walking towards the glass doors, hastily wiping his tears away with his sleeves. Oboro is back at his side in an instant.
"We can talk more once we're there, like I said before. I'm sure you've got a lot of questions." Shouta can only nod in response.
They manage to catch back up to Hizashi just as he's walking through the automatic doors, the two of them falling into a familiar pattern; both standing just behind and to the sides on their unknowing friend.
That being said, Shouta curses at how long his husband's legs—and subsequently, his strides—currently are. He also curses the damned genes that made him so short in the first place, as he has to practically jog in order to keep pace. Damn Oboro too for being the tallest of the three of them, not even struggling to keep up.
Hizashi's taking the less-public halls, which thankfully means less having to dodge unsuspecting people. How convenient. He'd rather not get walked through again, thanks.
Just as they'd predicted, Hizashi heads straight for the hero section of the hospital, asking the reception desk there for the room number in an uncharacteristically subdued voice. Shouta frowns at the sound of it, hating to hear such a tone from the normally bombastic man.
A sense of something fills his chest the closer they get to the room his body must be in. Almost like... urgency? Whatever it is, it's uncomfortable. Like a mess of stress vibrating in his chest. Pulling him forward while simultaneously tripping him up.
He shoves the feeling to the back of his mind.
When they get to the right room, Hizashi slides the door open then pauses just inside the threshold, allowing in his hesitance both invisible teens to slip through unnoticed.
Shouta peers back once he's safely in, and what he sees there just about breaks his heart. Hizashi looks haunted; like he's just seen a ghost. As ironic as that was.
He can make out the man's shoulders shaking from here, green eyes focused solely on the figuring laying still in the singular hospital bed. Yet at the same time it almost as if he wasn't seeing, glassy eyes unfocused.
The glance Shouta risks at the bed has even him recoiling. Oboro was right; he does look pretty rough. His entire body was wrapped in bandages, for fuck's sake!
The door slides shut then with an audible click, and Hizashi shuffles forward to collapse in the vinyl chair positioned at the bed's side. Shouta watches distantly as a hand reaches out to brush a lock of tangled black hair off his—the body's—forehead. He reaches his own trembling hand up to touch the same part of hair subconsciously.
"Oh, Shou..." he hears Hizashi sigh, "...What am I going to do with you?"
Shouta tenses at those words, that tone. It sounded far too much like heartbreak and disappoint for him to be comfortable with.
Not for the first time today, Shouta feels very, very small.
A knock at the door startles all three of them out of the depressing mood, and Shouta doesn't protest as Oboro pulls him by the hand deeper into the room to watch the scene at a safe distance.
In the doorway was a woman in a white coat—presumably a doctor or nurse—and she steps a foot into the room with a small wave. "Yamada-san?"
"Yes?" Hizashi turns around in the chair, facing the woman while keeping one hand stretched out to rest on top of Aizawa's casts. Like he was trying to reassure himself.
Shouta tries to pay attention to what they're talking about, he really does, but when he looks down at his own body he just can't seem to look away.
That's him, his body, lying broken and completely still on the bed. Countless wires and machines are connected to him, and other than the mess of black hair on top he's completely unrecognizable.
Shouta forgets how to breathe.
He can feel Oboro rubbing circles on his back again with one hand, the other coming to rest on his shoulder with a comforting squeeze.
Sucking in a big gulp of air, Shouta squeezes his eyes shut and just tries to listen.
"—are extensive. We've done the best we can for him, but only time will tell." It was odd hearing that, considering they were talking about him while he was right here. "His heart stopped once in surgery, and was pretty touch and go after that, but—"
He hears Hizashi's breath catch at the mention of that, and a twinge of guilt worms its way into his chest over making the man worry so much, even if he had no control of what happened either.
The doctor—nurse?—continues talking in a calm, sympathetic voice. Something about possible brain damage, and waiting to see when he woke up.
...Would he wake up?
He really doesn't want to think about that, but it was kind of hard not to when the evidence is staring him right in the face.
The nurse takes her leave, and Hizashi slumps forward in the cheap chair.
"You heard the doc, Shou... You'd better wake up soon so everyone knows you're alright," Hizashi mutters after a minute of silence, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly over where Aizawa's knuckles would approximately be under all those bandages.
"I'm sure he would if he could, 'Zashi," Oboro says, moving to lean against the wall on Hizashi's right side. Shouta moves to the left, standing next to his oblivious husband.
This close to his body, the feeling from before is nearly unbearable.
It's almost like a fishhook and line has been tangled up in his ribs, anchoring him in place. Pulling him ever closer to the body—his body—on the bed.
Without thinking, he reaches out and places a hand on his body's chest, pressing down slightly.
A brick wall meets him.
Not a literal one, of course, but that's the best way he could describe it. Anger wells up in his chest and throat as he pushes harder, but his own fucking body rebels against him by repelling any and all attempts at taking back what's his. Shouta drags his fingers down his face harshly, letting out a low growl mixed with annoyance and helplessness.
"I really wish you were here right now, Shouta..." he hears Hizashi whisper, and something inside him snaps.
"I'm right here, Hizashi!" Shouta cries in frustration, wishing he could just do something. Anything. It doesn't matter what, so long as it meant he could comfort his goddamn husband instead of having to watch helplessly as he falls apart alone.
"I hate seeing you hurt like this..." Hizashi chokes back a sob, holding onto Aizawa's hand like it was the only thing keeping him from breaking apart altogether. "I'm sorry it took me so long to get here, too. Had to stay n' help with the cleanup... You know how that Tsukauchi is with his questions."
He holds a hand up to cover his mouth, leaning forward with shaking shoulders. "If you can hear me, just... please be okay..."
"Zashi," Shouta's voice cracks with emotion, tears slipping down his cheeks; unbidden and unwanted.
Unnecessary...
Just like him.
"I'm right here, I promise, I..." his breath hitches.
"I'll be more careful next time," Shouta whispers, clinging to the armrest of Hizashi's chair and trying to catch his gaze, which stubbornly remains looking right through him. "I'll stop being so difficult and moody, and I'll try to—to eat better like you always say, and I... I'll-"
He tries to regain control of his breathing, eyes clenched shut in a futile attempt to hold back illogical tears. "I'll do whatever you want, so please..." Shouta lowers his head, voice barely above a whisper. "Please look at me..."
There's no reaction. Not that he'd expected there to be one, but that tiny, childish part of him had irrationally clung to the hope that maybe—
"After all this time... I'm still powerless."
Shouta collapses to the floor, leaning against the hospital bed with a defeated groan.
"Is that... really how you feel?" he hears Oboro question from the other side of the chair, the other boy settled down on the cold tile as well, peering over at him past Hizashi's legs.
Shouta doesn't say anything.
"It's normal to grieve," Oboro eventually says in an even tone. "After everything you've just been through, it's perfectly understandable."
How the hell is he being so calm? The Shirakumo he remembers would have been freaking out about all this.
"When did you get so good at this?" Shouta grumbles childishly, pulling his legs up to his chest to hug them tightly.
"When I had to go through the same thing, so I guess around fourteen years ago..." Ah, the guilt is back. Shouta watches Oboro wince, then move to rub his neck in discomfort. "Look, I... I'm just glad I can be here for you this time, as sucky as the situation is." Oboro shrugs, giving a lopsided smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.
"So... questions?" he ventures.
Shouta sighs, and finally relents to his own curiosity. "How is it possible that we're here?"
"Like... here in the hospital, or just here in general?"
"Shirakumo." Shouta glares at the boy, silently urging him to act serious. "In general, how are we here when no one can see us?"
"Oh, I think it's some sorta ghost thing, honestly." Oboro tilts his head to the side, bringing a hand up to cup his chin. "Like, limbo or something? It's not like anyone really has the answers, just guesses."
Ah, of course, what else was he expecting, actual answers?
"...And what do you know about our... situation?" Shouta stares intently at Oboro through his bangs.
"Well," he trails off, hair flickering thoughtfully. "Other than the obvious, y'know; no pain, no tiredness, weird out-of-body moments."
He stops, considering something before shrugging.
"Though, I guess technically all of this could be called an 'out-of-body' experience, huh?" Oboro gestured at large, but mostly towards the body still lying behind them.
"There's exceptions to the rules, of course, as you've already seen." He has seen, and would like very much to never see those 'exceptions' ever again, thank you very much. Oboro continues talking, unaware of Shouta's inner monologue. "Some people are sensitive enough to know we're here, and animals can see us perfectly fine, but that's about it.
"Our quirks can still kind of affect our surroundings, though not the same as Before."
While they were busy talking, Hizashi had shifted forward so he was half resting on the bed. He'd fallen asleep at some point too, clinging to Aizawa's arm with hands gentle even in sleep.
Shouta decides to follow suit, already done with everything, and leans his head back with closed eyes. He was ready for a break from all the craziness of the day.
"Oh, yeah, almost forgot to mention," Oboro's voice suddenly interjects. "We can't sleep!"
Oh for the love of—wait.
Shouta's eyes snap open.
"WHAT?!"