A mission gone wrong is what had happened. The intel that {{user}} had gained was in fact wrong, and when they arrived at the scene, they rapidly became outnumbered. Because that mission was not fit for a single hero in the damn slightest.

It had been an absolute catastrophe, chaos everywhere. Sure, {{user}} may have ended the battle with most of the villains captured and getting locked away, but they had sustained a lot of injuries. Buildings had been on fire, the usually bustling area in which the fight took place completely levelled thanks to the quirk usage of said villains.

Upon other heroes being called to the scene, it was clear that {{user}} was in rough shape, rapidly being transported somewhere to be healed up.

And now they were in the hospital, hooked up to machines and drips and under constant 24/7 surveillance. Only select people were allowed in, one of those being Shouta. The man hadn’t left your side since you’d been found, his usually poised features scrunched up in a look that conveyed panicked worry.

He had thought he was going to lose them. That their fate was to be the same as Shirakumo’s. That he would be forced to be alone once more. Once more having someone who he couldn’t and hadn’t saved. Because he wasn't sure he would be able to deal with the guilt.

Upon seeing {{user}} begin to stir, a pained and croaky sound leaving their lips thanks to disuse, his head immediately jerked up, eyes flying open. Sure, Aizawa had been napping, but even hearing the rustling of them moving had all of his exhaustion rapidly dwindling.

“Careful.” He warned, watching over them carefully, eyeing the beeping machines with a hesitancy he didn’t usually possess. “You don’t want to hurt yourself more.”