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It’s dark out; quiet.
The moon is hidden behind a quilt of clouds, smothering the sky in gray. Behind every noise there is an echo of something deep and sinister. This forest isn’t very dense, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t dangerous.
He was chasing someone, someone very fast. The pursuit started at the edge of the campus, then moved into the woods. He called for backup right away, but his radio went silent before he heard a confirmation.
The whooping laughter of the villain is fading, leaving only the chirping of crickets and the rustling of the underbrush.
Did the villain lead him out here on purpose…? He waited so long to show his face, and when he did, it was clear he was in no way concerned about the pro hero on his trail.
Move, Shouta screams, but the sound doesn’t leave his own head. He’s sprawled uselessly on the dirt, sluggishly bleeding from the large spike in his abdomen. His muscles refuse to respond no matter how hard he urges them to. Perhaps the worst part of this is that his eyes were open when the villain struck, and they haven’t closed since. They’ve burned before, but never like this.
Only moments after the villain’s retreat does he hear the pounding of approaching footsteps. He can only stare up at the thick canopy, waiting for whoever is approaching to step into his field of vision.
“Sh-Shou…?”
Fuck.
Fuck.
“Shit,” Hizashi says, glancing in the direction of the recently departed villain, then back at Shouta. He growls under his breath, and pulls out his radio. “Midnight, he’s headed West through the forest. Get Hound Dog on him, and send a medical team to the East edge.”
Hound Dog will sniff him out in an instant, Shouta thinks. This’ll be over quick, then.
He’s expecting Hizashi to simply wait with him for the paramedics. It’s when he presses two fingers to Shouta’s wrist that the collapsed hero realizes how slowly he’s been breathing, and the way his eyes are opened, pointed at the sky... So concerned with his inability to move, he hadn’t really noticed how his breathing had slowed and quieted.
Perhaps to Hizashi, it looks like…
“No,” he gasps, and Shouta wants to slap him. “No, please-!”
Hizashi repositions him so that he’s flat on his back and immediately begins compressions. All the while, he sobs, tears flowing freely down his face while he tries to save Shouta’s life.
Commendable, really. Or, it would be, if Shouta were actually dead.
He can’t even scream in pain when Hizashi breaks his ribs with the force of his compressions. He just lies there, eyes staring straight up, abdomen leaking blood.
“Come on,” Hizashi’s voice cracks. “Come on, Shouta, not you too!”
Shouta wills himself to move, and yet he does not.
This goes on for nearly ten minutes, Hizashi’s tears growing in intensity and his compressions slowly decreasing in force. He’s going to have to stop soon, and Shouta knows this will crush him.
“Please,” he whimpers. “Shouta, please, just wake up…”
I want to, he thinks, shouts within his mind. Hizashi, I promise, I’m not leaving you!
There’s more footsteps rapidly approaching, and then Hizashi’s face hardens, and his compressions increase in force again. “We’re over here,” he yells, and the footsteps grow both faster and louder.
“What’s the situation here?”
“I’ve been trying compressions for about fifteen minutes with no response. He needs to be resuscitated immediately.”
“We’ll get him in the ambulance first. Tell Dr. Shizuka to be ready for us in ten.”
Gone is the pain, the desperation, the abject terror in Hizashi’s voice. He doesn’t wipe away his tears, and nobody comments on them as they lift Shouta onto a stretcher.
He climbs into the ambulance after the stretcher and paramedics, and grasps Shouta’s hand as they begin to rip his bloodied hero costume from his chest. Someone brushes his eyelids closed, and it is relief beyone heaven.
“Whoever did this to you,” Hizashi mutters, “will pay.”
Shouta cannot say anything in response. Even if he could, he wouldn’t. Because he has no doubt in his mind that Hizashi will make it happen, even when it is proven that Shouta is alive, is well, is safe. He and Hizashi are all each other have.
He cannot scream when they shock him with the defibrillator. He cannot scream when they do it again. He cannot scream when they wheel him into the hospital, try a mess of quirks and medical procedures to revive him and none of them work.
Hizashi stays by his side for as long as they allow him to, and then some.
They pronounce him dead. Hizashi squeezes his hand one last time. They take him to the morgue, where he is naked to the cold.
He wants nothing more than to take a deep breath, or open his eyes, or even just move his fingers. Anything. He will take anything.
Until then, all is dark; all is quiet.