Life is going pretty alright, if you asked Aizawa-Yamada Shouta.

His most problematic class of students has long since graduated from UA and gone on to become incredible heroes in their own right. He can never quite stop the proud little feeling that worms its way into his chest when he watches the news and sees yet another success story featuring one of them.

Hizashi would say he's going soft in his old age. Shouta would beg to differ.

He's still Eraserhead, even if he's down an eye and a leg. He's still the no-nonsense homeroom teacher of class 1-A. So what if the kids—his kids—visit for meal during their free time despite all being old enough to make their own food. His collection of 'best teacher' coffee mugs make sense, Hizashi. It'd be rude to throw away a gift after all, and they serve a function.

The mess of childish scribbles hung up on the fridge—drawn by Eri, of course—also serve a purpose. It's only logical to encourage her artistic abilities. The beaming smiles and hugs are just an added bonus.

Besides, those kids have all been through so much, it's only fair to cut them some slack.

...Okay, so maybe he is going soft. That doesn't mean anything!

It's just... nice, seeing everything go right for a change.

All for One and the League of Villains are no more, arrested or reformed or dead. To be honest, fighting regular criminals is a little underwhelming after that utter shit show.

Hizashi and Nemuri are happier now too, ever since they were able to break through to Shirakumo. That poor man still has a lot of catching up to do, but he was slowly but surely regaining his memories.

Shouta's missed his old best friend, and it seems like Sushi did, too.

For the time being, Shirakumo was staying with Shouta and Hizashi while he got back on his feet, their spare bedroom quickly filling up with all the clothes Hizashi keeps buying for their revived friend. And after so many years he was rather touch-starved, tending to seek out contact whenever possible. Luckily Shouta is well-versed now in physical affection, considering Hizashi's the same way.

Eri is absolutely enamored by her newest uncle.

It's an odd thing; having so many people now that he cares about. So many people that care about him in return. Nearly unbelievable, really. And to think that back when he was a teenager, Shouta had been convinced that companionship was unnecessary.

He's pleasantly surprised to be wrong about that.

So, yeah. Life is going pretty alright.

A scream rings out through the darkness of night, jolting Shouta from his thoughts.

Right, he's on patrol. Best not get distracted.

Footsteps silent across the rooftops, Shouta heads for the noise which has by now gone eerily silent.

So far it'd been a quiet night, an uneventful night, and Shouta had honestly been considering heading home early before hearing that scream. He can call it a night after this, but right now someone needs his help.

There, down in this alleyway.

Shouta spots a loose ring of people from above, the lot of them menacingly circling their prey; a single unlucky bastard in the wrong place at the wrong time.

His goggles already in place, Shouta drops from the rooftop to land directly on top of one criminal, knocking them out instantly. He's already on the move while the remainder try to figure out what's going on. Not that he'll be giving them that chance.

Already his capture weapon is flitting out to wrap around two more of them, slamming the stunned villains together before he flings them towards the other end of the alley.

One villain—a burly man with a kangaroo mutation of all things—is the first to break out of his stupor.

He lunges for Shouta, and Shouta's only narrowly able to avoid being smacked into next Tuesday by the guy's tail. Off balance from such a wide swing, the villain goes down easily enough, but now his element of surprise is long gone.

The last several villains charge at Shouta all at once in an effort to overwhelm him.

Shouta grits his teeth as he weaves in and out of the mess of quirks, his gaze flitting from person to person. It was difficult enough trying to keep track of so much information back in his prime, but now that his depth perception is next to nonexistent he has to pay even more attention, never letting his guard down. Constant vigilance.

At the same time he tries to keep track of the victim, who was now lying worryingly still on the ground behind him.

He does his best to ignore the fatigue and fog taking up residence in his brain, the pull of his overtaxed muscles, the stinging urge to blink.

Gaze fixed firmly on the next villain to charge him, he dodges backwards—

Shouta feels all the air get knocked from his lungs as something cold and sharp sinks into his side from behind.

He sucks a sharp breath in through clenched teeth, feeling it rattle unnaturally in his chest. The ColdSharpPain twists deeper, curls inside his ribcage and punches a ragged cry from Shouta before he can pull away.

In that exact moment, Shouta knows that something is very, very wrong.

"What's the matter, hero~?" A voice sneers in his ear. "Didn't see me?"

A hand clamps around his upper arm, easily slicing through the fabric of his jumpsuit when Shouta tries to jolt away.

"Hold still, won't you?" The voice continues, sickly sweet as it puffs against his ear. "I promise to be gentle~"

Shit, this is so bad.

Kicking out blindly behind him, Shouta manages to extract himself from the villain he'd backed into, but the pain increases tenfold as whatever impaled him disappears with a concerningly wet sucking noise.

Shouta feels nauseous. Burning hot bile unexpectedly slides its way up his throat, forcing him to swallow it back down while he dodges the wild swing the villain takes at him. With how bad his ribs are hurting, he's probably going to need stitches. Great.

Ugh, Hizashi is never gonna let him live this one down.

He'll be lucky if he's even allowed out of the house without a bodyguard for the next month.

Breathing heavily, he whirls around to face the bastard and catches sight of shiny claws protruding from the villain's hands, dark and dripping with blood. His blood. The man is grinning madly, eyes wild with bloodlust.

"Aww~ Don't be like that, hero!" they croon, licking the blood from one claw with a... frankly disturbing noise. Shouta bites back a shudder. "I just wanted a little taste~"

He grits his teeth, lashing out with Erasure activated to kick the fucker into the wall behind him with enough force to nearly crack the old brickwork.

"I'm not on the menu," he snarls breathlessly, making sure the villain is without a doubt unconscious before he turns, and sees that the rest of the villains—the ones that aren't knocked out or have already fled—have returned to their earlier victim.

Oh, no the fuck you don't.

Shouta forces himself to move faster, hit harder, frustrated by the fact he'll be worrying his overworked husband. Hizashi has enough on his plate as is, and Shouta hates making him worry. Hates how weak and inadequate it makes him feel.

He's sure everyone that knows him will be hearing about his injury and the subsequent trip to the hospital by morning.

It'll worry Shirakumo as well, and he'll probably insist on trying to help Shouta with things while he recovers. Shouta knows how much it worries his partners when he returns home injured, covered in blood and bruises. He remembers the heart wrenching sobs from the one time Eri had been awake from a nightmare and had seen his injuries before he'd had a chance to treat them himself.

He never wants to hear his daughter cry like that again.

Shouta lets the pain spur him on, managing to take out the remaining villains in record time.

Stumbling to make sure all the villains are well and truly unconscious, Shouta fumbles for his phone to call in the attack.

Before he can push even a single button though, a wave of vertigo sets his vision swimming. The whole alley tilts sideways, sending Shouta into the nearest wall with a wheeze. He barely even recognizes the rough bricks catching on his jumpsuit as he slides down to the ground, unable to catch his breath.

He gags, earlier nausea coming back with a vengeance, and he keels to the side sputtering.

Shouta's throat burns, dragging deep, hacking coughs out of his lungs. Bile, searingly hot and sticky forces its way up his throat, and this time he isn't able to swallow it down before it splatters against the pavement and gets everywhere, staining his grey capture weapon.

He scrabbles for purchase with one hand on the wall, dull nails chipping against rough and unforgiving brickwork.

Several agonizing minutes later find Shouta slumped over, his whole body wracked with tremors and tears streaming unbidden down his face. With wide-eyed horror, he realizes it wasn't bile after all.

This is... fuck, this is worse that he thought.

The blood is frothy, something that Shouta's never seen before. Panic seizes him, only making it that much harder for him to breathe.

He needs to call for help.

Now.

Luckily, his phone hadn't fallen very far when he'd collapses, and he's able to grab it without moving too much.

Any amount of movement feels like too much.

It takes him several tries as his hands shake, but Shouta is eventually able to press the side button of his phone three times in a row, activating the emergency feature to send his coordinates to the police department and let them know he's hurt. Hopefully they'll be here soon.

Desperately, he tries to staunch the bleeding from his wounds.

He can feel it running down his back, fabric sticking uncomfortably against his skin. Every little movement brings with it a fresh wave of pain, but Shouta just can't seem to reach that spot on his back no matter how much he twists and turns. At the very least he's able to wrap the claw marks on his arm, his capture weapon always handy in a pinch.

Shouta chokes down a shuddering breath, gagging on molten hot blood as it dribbles down his chin. His vision wavers at the edges now, distant sounds of nighttime traffic barely reaching his cotton-stuffed ears.

He has to... no, he needs to stay awake until help arrives.

He needs, he... Shouta wants Hizashi.

Phone still in hand, Shouta squints blearily at the cracked screen—it must have broken when he dropped it—scrolling until Hizashi's contact comes up. It doesn't take long; he has the contact favorited so it's right at the top.

The smiling face of his husband greets him.

He presses the call button, trying and failing to suppress another cough. A mist of pink blood splatters over the phone screen and his already bloodstained hands.

Shouta listens to the phone ring, nearly sobbing as another sharp wave of pain rolls over him.

Ring... ring...

Click!

"Hey hey!" The voice of his husband, tinny and distorted as it is over the cheap phone speaker, still brings a tired smile to Shouta's face.

"You've reached the one and only Yamada Hizashi, yeah!"

"H'za—" Shouta coughs wetly, clutching the small phone in shaking hands and cradling it close. Like a lifeline. Sounds are growing distant again, and it's all he can do to just keep his eye open.

"I can't come to the phone right now, so make sure to leave a message at the beep~" ...Beep.

"Za... shi..." he tries again, chasing after the little voice and urging it to understand. He takes in a gulping breath, only for more frothy blood to bubble its way forth instead of words. "Messed up—di'nt mean t'. Hurt..."

Why isn't Hizashi saying anything? Maybe Shouta's mumbling too quietly... He just needs to speak up, then surely he'll be heard.

He didn't—he... he really doesn't want to be alone right now.

When had his eye fallen shut, again?

No, no... he needs to focus. This is important. It feels important.

"'m s'rry... 'r you still th're...?" Shouta can only just make out the picture he'd set for Hizashi's contact. His blonde hair shone like the sun, burning Shouta's eyes. But he can't look away.

Hizashi still isn't responding, and Shouta is so very tired.

His body feels warm and fuzzy along the edges, gentle waves of CalmTiredRest lulling him closer to sleep. He can't quite remember what he'd been so afraid of before.

"H'zah... shi?" Shouta tries again.

No response.

"I..." He swallows thickly, body growing more and more slack by the second. Shouta can only just feel the strands of his hair catching on the sharp edges of the bricks as his head finally slumps to rest on the oddly warm pavement.

His thoughts wander.

That was his third broken phone in as many months, his agency isn't going to be happy with him. He'll probably have to wash his jumpsuit and scarf too, and Hizashi hates getting blood in the washing machine. Is Nedzu going to make him take time off work? Eri's parent-teacher conference is next week, he hopes he'll be able to make it.

All Shouta can make out now is the light of his phone screen.

...What was he doing again?

Oh, yeah.

"Be home... soon. I pr'mise..."

Ah, his eye has fluttered shut again.

Shouta can't convince himself to pry it open again though, he simply relaxes with a lazy yawn.

A nap sounds nice...

That's okay, isn't it? Just... a quick nap.

He can't remember ever being this tired in his entire life, all the aches and pains he's so used to enduring now felt distant. Just a quick nap.

"L've you... Z'shi..."

.

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