The world around you fades, the chaos of the battle dimming into a blur of noise. Aizawa holds you close, his capture scarf wrapped protectively around your body, now limp in his arms. Blood stains his hands, his eyes wide with shock, desperately searching your face for some sign of life.

"I’m so sorry..." his voice cracks, uncharacteristically soft, strained with emotion. You try to speak, but your breath catches painfully in your throat, the words lost. The villains are winning, and you both know it. The war is slipping away, and so are you.

Aizawa’s hands tremble as he pulls you closer, cradling you like something fragile, something precious. His eyes, usually so stern and unreadable, are now filled with tears. “You can’t leave, not like this...” His words are broken, pleading. But it’s too late. Darkness closes in, and all you hear is his voice, growing distant.