Aizawa could feel everything so clearly now—the rain pattering against his knotted black hair, the dampening capture weapon wrapped around his neck, the fatigue from the last few days seeping into his tired skin—but most of all, the absolute agony of watching his beloved students bloodied and battered.

Because he had been so exhausted from a recent mission, Aizawa had decided to skip his class training today, leaving a few other, non-pro hero teachers to keep an eye on his students. That was a mistake he would never make again.

He stood there, his mouth agape as he watched you, his beloved star student, covered in blood, fighting tooth and nail against a black nomu. The rest of class 1-A had managed to take out three grey nomu’s, but they were all lying scattered across the field half-dead as a result. You were there, fighting on your own.

How could he let this happen?