Izuku breathes in sharply, his senses coming back to him in waves.

    He’s scared, but this feeling overtakes him for less than a second. A quick blink and he realizes the shift in his surroundings; no longer is he strapped to the table, restraints wrapped around his arms and legs.

No longer is Izuku alone with the man identified as All For One.

    He blinks rapidly, taking his time to study his whereabouts. Wary, Izuku takes a step towards the door behind him before a monotonous voice stops him dead in his tracks.

    “I wouldn’t wander too far, Midoriya.”

    The hero-in-training flinches at the agonizingly familiar scorn in that voice. But, for once, the scorn is absent and Izuku is almost able to sense… sympathy? Pity, was it? He was never good at reading Aizawa’s undertones—really, he wasn’t very good at reading anyone.

    “M-Mr. Aizawa,” Izuku breathes out shakily, his shoulders slumping when he turns, met with the (somehow reassuring, in the moment) chilling figure of his teacher. “Wh… what happened? Where am I? I-I—this isn’t… was I-”

    Aizawa hushes him with a narrow of his eyes. It takes Izuku a moment before he clamps his mouth shut, eyes widening when he notices the bright red glow in the pupils of his teacher’s eyes.

    “Y-your quirk,” Izuku states, vocalizing his thoughts. He’s unable to follow his teacher’s demands, mind whirring a mile a minute with his realizations. “You’re using your quirk, Mr. Aizawa. Why?”

    “There is not much time for this conversation, Midoriya,” Aizawa sighs, feeling dryness chipping at the corners of his scleras. “And I assume you have a lot of questions. A lot of emotions. Feelings.”

    Izuku is unable to comprehend what Aizawa was trying to bring to his attention. He blinks once more, a feat that grows more tempting to the U.A. teacher with each passing second. “I-I have a lot of memories, but they’re foggy. I remember a lot of pain. A lot of… emptiness. Wh… what happened to me, Mr. Aizawa?”

    He’s able to notice the awkward shift in posture his teacher takes, almost as though he wants to avert his stare. Aizawa refuses to break his eye-contact with his student, wishing he could keep the effects of his quirk activated without the lingering stare.

    I’m sorry, Midoriya. I’ve failed you.

    “Mr. Aizawa…?”

    “I am sorry, Midoriya.” Aizawa’s voice is threateningly close to breaking, and Izuku’s green eyes shrink with fear at the weakness he exploits. “I… truly am sorry for what has happened.”

    Izuku opens his mouth to ask what he it is he’s apologizing for, but then it all comes back to him in a flash.

    The Nomu. The torture. The pain.

    Tears immediately form in his eyes and before Izuku knows it, he’s wrapped himself around his teacher. He longs for the embrace of someone while he can still comprehend the flurry of emotion it brings. He clings tightly, almost shocking Aizawa into blinking.

    “P-please,” Izuku’s voice has broken, the twist on vulnerability stunning the Pro Hero for a second. He shudders as he takes in a breath, practically trembling while his arms were wrapped around Aizawa’s waist.

    “I remember everything. Please, Mr. Aizawa, please… please don’t blink. I-I don’t know what I’ll do. I don’t want to go back. Y-you can’t do this to me… please…”

    His words shatter Aizawa’s heart. The dark-haired hero grits his teeth tightly in order to refrain from both blinking or crying.

His eyes sting from the dryness. Their time is running out.

Aizawa opens his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Izuku’s muffled sobbing.

“I can’t be lost inside of my own mind anymore! Y-you can’t just abandon me! D-d-don’t leave me, Mr. Aizawa, please…” Izuku’s voice breaks and the only thing muffling the silence of the room is his hiccups between the crying.

“I don’t want to go back. I-I can’t go back. Don’t leave me.”

Aizawa sucks in a breath—the first noise he’s made for the last few seconds. His eyes are practically half-shut by now, but he finds the willpower to keep them open. He feels the tears prickling at his already-dry eyes, and Aizawa can’t even react when they begin rolling down his cheeks.

Fuck—Aizawa never cries.

But this… this was heart-wrenching.

Aizawa places his hand behind Izuku’s head gently but firmly, pressing the boy into the cloth of his shirt as he bawls his eyes out. He feels the moisture of his shirt pressing against his skin, though Aizawa doesn’t shift uncomfortably. He wraps his other hand around Izuku’s shoulders, offering a weak attempt at consolation.

“Midoriya.” Aizawa’s sudden calling—and the firmness he has in his voice—shocks Izuku into a temporary silence. His tears are still running and seeping into Aizawa’s shirt, but the sobs stifle. “...I’m going to need you to do me a favor. It’ll be easy, I promise.”

Izuku sniffles in response, clinging tighter to his teacher.

“I won’t leave you, Midoriya. Nobody will leave you… I promise. But please, do this for me. One more act of heroism. Show me that strength, boy. I know you have it in you.”

Through the trembling, Aizawa can identify the faint nod of Izuku’s head. Despite the tears that have stained his cheeks and the pain of his strained eyes, Aizawa speaks in his normal, monotonous voice.

“Close your eyes, Midoriya. Close them, and do not open them until I tell you to.”

Aizawa cradles the boy closer to his chest, feeling his constant trembling. The mere sight of his student, the confident influencer of Class 1-A, reduced to this…

Aizawa felt like he’d failed.

He’s about to continue, ask if his eyes were closed like he’d asked, but he hears something. Mumbling—Izuku’s strange habit of it, in fact. He hears the brokenness of his voice in his pitch, barely able to make out the wisps of words he uttered.

“Please don’t blink. Please don’t blink. Please. Don’t. Blink.”

Izuku murmured these words to himself like a prayer.

While they seemed to be an earnest last request to his teacher, it was also his only beacon of hope. Izuku’s last moment of coherency; his final words that he’d have the ability to control. His comfort in hoping that Aizawa would save him, as heroes are meant to do.

“Midoriya… are your eyes closed?” Aizawa chokes out after another moment, his eyes eerily close to squinting. “Don’t be afraid. Close your eyes, please.”

Silence. Then a hiccup, and a whisper of a response from Izuku:

“Please… don’t forget about me while I’m gone.”

And that’s when Aizawa loses it. His composure, the endurance he has in using his quirk. A simple blink of his eyes and he feels Izuku go limp in his grasp, face still wet with tears but eyes devoid of feeling.

He doesn’t need to look at the student to know that vacant expression is there.

Aizawa wraps his arms around Izuku tighter, screwing his eyes shut as his hair falls back onto his shoulders. Tears stream freely down his face and the hero contemplates using his quirk once more—if only to grant his student release from the torture he was subject to.

But he doesn’t.

And it completely shatters Aizawa to refrain from doing so. He felt as though he denied the pledge he’d made as a hero to save anyone. Although, doing that would only bring Midoriya more pain. More suffering. Another moment of consciousness to lament over his loss.

Instead, Aizawa sucks in a deep breath and doesn’t let go of Midoriya. He apologizes countless times, hoping to earn some sort of response from the Nomu-turned-student. And countless times, Aizawa is met with a tormenting silence.

“We won’t forget you, Midoriya. We will never forget you.”