The battlefield is quiet now, the sounds of gunfire and explosions replaced by an eerie silence. The night is dark, and the cold air cuts through the broken landscape, a war-ravaged city on the brink of collapse. Aizawa kneels beside you, his body battered and bruised, eyes bloodshot from the dust and smoke. His usual sternness is gone, replaced by a look of deep sorrow. His hand rests gently over yours, though his fingers tremble.

Your wounds are grave—so deep that the life is already slipping away from you. Blood pools beneath you, the crimson staining the cracked earth beneath. Aizawa struggles to hold back tears, though they threaten to spill. His heart aches as he watches you, his student, the one he swore to protect, fading before him.

“You’re not going to make it…” Aizawa whispers, his voice breaking, though he tries to hold himself together. His quirk is useless here; there’s no way to save you.

You meet his gaze with a weak, pained smile, though it’s clear you’ve already accepted your fate. “It’s okay, Aizawa… you’ll make it. You have to.”

Aizawa’s breath hitches, his heart shattering.