The world didn't end with a bang, nor did it end with a whimper.
It didn't 'end' at all, in fact.
Perhaps it would have been better if it had; if their world was snuffed out before any of them could truly comprehend just how fucked they were.
But no. Instead, the world just kept getting progressively worse and worse as time went one, dragging out the inevitable. Anyone left alive was just too damn stubborn to let go. Too stubborn to lay down and die after everything they'd lost.
Society as they'd known it was long gone, leaving all to fend for themselves or to join one of the warring factions that still held on.
Things like 'heroes' and 'villains' no longer exist.
People roam the streets like ghosts, using their quirks as they saw fit regardless of who else might be hurt by it. Those who used to be considered heroes were hunted down in cold blood, often for attempting to save innocents as they had once been trained to do. More still are killed by the nomu, whether it be by battle or simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
How many buildings have been reduced to rubble by now? How many people buried with no one the wiser?
There's not much left worth living 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 allies... The deaths of his students. He daughter.
Still living despite the fact he doesn't want to.
He just keeps moving forward. It's all he can do.
Still living as it became more and more difficult to find food to fill his remaining student's bellies. As their enemies draw ever nearer. As every safe haven they managed to find was exposed, and they were forced once more to flee.
Even as he buries his fallen students one by one, not strong enough to keep them alive. To keep them safe.
He's failed them. Is failing them.
Past and present and future, though there's not much of a future to have.
They've all lost so much.
Shouta his right leg, everyone their families. Their world, lost. He sees it in his student's eyes, that growing fear and dread that returns ever stronger with each passing death, knowing any of them could be next. The distrust, after they were betrayed by one of their own. The hunger.
Day by day, Shouta loses a little more of himself. Some days he feels more animal than human—that same feral, ravenous look reflected back in each of his student's eyes.
He is so, so tired.
But he can't rest, not yet.
There's still work to be done. So long as Shouta has even a single child left under his care, he can't rest.
Midoriya Izuku, Uraraka Ochako, Bakugou Katsuki, Yaoyorozu Momo, Tokoyami Fumikage, Asui Tsuyu, Shinsou Hitoshi, Hatsume Mei. They're the only ones left alive.
In the beginning, when everything had gone to shit, it had been just his 1-A students along with a few stragglers left over from the other classes. The ones that survived the raid on UA, that is. It was them, and Shouta, and Hizashi...
Sadly, it didn't last for long.
A traitor, none other than Mineta Minoru—one of the very students he was protecting, damnit—had sold them out.
So many lives lost senselessly.
So much potential. Gone. Just like that.
Shouta couldn't understand it.
It seems like only yesterday that he'd first met this class. Yet at the same time, an eternity. By his estimation, they should have been starting their third and final year at UA by now.
They all would have made incredible heroes.
Now, his students are barely recognizable from the naïve children they once were. The ones that had walked through that imposing 1-A classroom door with wide-eyed wonder.
Flashy costumes were great for marketing, but not so great for staying hidden.
Bright colors have 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.
Shouta can almost hear Hizashi's voice in his ear, high and lilting, teasing him over creating an army of mini Eraserheads.
In a way, he supposes he has.
So what if his students all looked like underground heroes? All that matters to him is that it keeps them alive.
Just because they're out of school doesn't mean he's stopped being their teacher.
Lessons on history and math have been replaced with learning how to survive. How to remain silent and unseen in the face of danger. How to protect oneself against an opponent that was bound and determined to hurt you. To kill you. It was a last ditch attempt for Shouta to cram all the useful knowledge he's acquired over his career as an underground hero into their minds.
Before it was too late.
They've all had to grow up much too fast, but they're still his students.
His kids.
Shouta lives and breathes for them, and so long as even one of them was still alive then Shouta would do his damndest to keep himself going. For them.
He can't remember what the exact time or date is—he lost track a long time ago—but he'd estimate that it's around noon at the moment.
The morning started as it normally did these days; wake up, go out searching for supplies, avoid being noticed by the enemy, find a new shelter for the night, eat, sleep, repeat the next day.
All things considered, they were doing pretty good on that front. Up until the 'avoid being noticed by the enemy' part.
There's a shout, and a scuffle, and without even needing to look at each other Shouta and his ragtag group of students were already on the move.
He's taught them well.
Shouta immediately falls into position at the back along with Fumikage and Dark Shadow, ensuring sure no one could sneak up on them while also making sure they all stayed together.
Katsuki and Izuku take 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 all stay as close together as possible without risking tripping over one another.
Footsteps echo throughout the ruins—they're being chased.
Shouta hears the first target's approach before he sees them, to his 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 to knock the breath from them. They collapse, and thus can't continue the chase, but Shouta keeps the metal poles extended and at the ready.
His eyes narrow, catching a blur of movement as Dark Shadow lashes out to his right with a staticky shriek, knocking another pursuer back.
Their direction changes abruptly, Izuku lashing out with Black Whip when a chunk of building falls to block their way. The ground heaves under their feet, nearly knocking the lot of them over if not for their extensive training.
Shouta looks ahead just in time to see an abandoned building ahead of them crumble in a wave of debris.
As the dust begins to settle, he can see what's happened.
The narrow street is completely blocked now by the fallen building, twisted steel and brick pilled too high to climb, not when they're still being chased. And it's too much for Katsuki to safely blast through.
They're trapped.
An ambush?
Shouta whirls around so he's standing between his students and the villains chasing them, teeth bared. His elongated canines glint dangerously in the dust-hazy sunlight.
The inhuman snarl that rumbles in his chest gives some of their attackers pause, uncertainty and fear bleeding into some of their body languages.
Good.
No words need to be exchanged, Shouta's students all shifting into defensive stances behind him.
In an instant, they attack as one.
Shouta retracts the crutch on his right arm so he can grab his capture weapon, batting away his first opponent with the left crutch.
In the corner of his eye, he sees Mei lunge forward to jab her homemade taser in one unlucky bastard's gut, and she dances away just in time for Katsuki to send them flying with a well-timed explosion.
Ochako slaps anyone who dared get within reach of her, negating their gravity and allowing them to be thrown away by someone else, though Tsuyu was the one closest to her right now. Izuku helps with Black Whip, sending those unlucky enough to get caught in the grips of Zero Gravity to be tossed high over the rooftops, only to drop when Ochako released her quirk.
They don't show any mercy—mercy would get them killed, or worse—fighting with everything they've got and uncaring of any injuries they may impose on their attackers.
The guilt can be dealt with later, once they're all out of harm's way.
Shouta sends a man with a lizard mutation flying backwards with a swift kick to the chest, pivoting on the spot to wrap his capture weapon around a much larger villain that had just been charging at Momo.
He has to retract the crutch on his left arm so he can use both hands, grunting as he swings the larger man off towards where some of the villains have drawn together. It knocks them all off balance, so Shouta moves on to the next target.
The battle seemed to be going well, but all of them knew better than to let their guards down for even a second.
A knife flies through the air, and it would have lodged in Shouta's thigh had he not been quick enough in dodging. But it distracts him. He doesn't see or hear the person charging at him until it's too late, and neither do any of his students.
He does, however, smell the spike of ozone in the air.
Someone yells his name, but there isn't enough time for Shouta to dodge again as a staticky energy blindsides all of them.
Shouta feels it slam into his left side, the force of it enough to throw him backwards and right into one of his students. They're both brought down to the ground with startled cries.
Pain blooms outwards from where he was hit, a terrible mixture of fire and electricity that seizes his lungs, leaves him choking on air. Oh, he's felt worse, but it's enough to steal all the breath from his lungs and render his body useless.
Mouth open on a silent scream, Shouta can only watch in detached horror as the energy arcs out in a dome around him, latching onto all eight of his students in an instant.
The light burns into his retinas, leaving behind phantom images of their terrified faces before everything goes blindingly white.
Shouta can hear his kids screaming, the noise crescendoing into one big wave of sound that drills into his head like a siren. Shrieking, grating, unending. He thinks he might be screaming, too, but he can't be sure. Everything burns.
Distantly, he feels a hand switch tight into the fabric of his jumpsuit, holding on for dear life. Or at least, he's pretty sure.
His whole body feels like a livewire of noise and light and electrifying agony.
The whole world seems to tilt on its axis.
There's a washed-out cry of distress, before the hand abruptly disappears and Shouta realizes that he's alone.
His students, where are his kids?
Everything around him is a blur of colors and sound, all kaleidoscoping together, shifting and speeding up at random. Some distant part of Shouta wonders if this is what being in a washing machine felt like. Concepts like 'up' and 'down' no longer held any meaning.
He's half convinced that he must have been hit by Ochako's quirk, somehow.
Time... stretches.
He can no longer feel his body beyond the static, but the prevailing sense of falling makes itself known regardless.
It's all he can do to just keep the nausea bubbling up in his throat at bay.
Just when Shouta begins to think this may never end, it does.
There's no warning, the light simply dissipates as though it had never been there in the first place if not for the afterimages dancing in his vision, leaving behind only darkness.
Shouta feels himself continue to fall for a fraction of a second, before he slams down into the hard, unforgiving ground.
His head bounces off of whatever he's landed on, and Aizawa Shouta knows no more.