Teachers pet (COMPLETE)

Chapter 82: Aftermath

Aizawa’s POV

The battlefield has fallen silent, but the weight of everything is still crushing down on me. The chaos, the destruction... it’s all around, but I can’t focus on any of it.

All I can focus on is her.

Mailin is limp in my arms, her body completely spent from the power she unleashed. Her breathing is shallow, too shallow, and her skin is pale—so pale it terrifies me. I cradle her close, my mind racing as I try to process the damage she’s taken.

She’s alive. But she’s not okay. Not even close.

I grit my teeth, fighting back the surge of panic rising in my chest. I’ve seen people on the brink of death before. I’ve dealt with injuries, trauma... but this? This feels different. This is Mailin.

She gave everything. And now she’s hanging by a thread.

I look around at the others, but I don’t have time for their questions, their fears. I can see them watching us—Ryukyu, Endeavor, the rest of Class 1-A—but their faces blur into the background. They’re all just shadows in the periphery.

Mailin is my priority. She’s all that matters right now.

I push myself to stand, ignoring the pain that radiates through my leg—what’s left of it. The world tilts for a second, and I have to steady myself, but I won’t let go of her. I can’t.

"Get Recovery Girl!" I bark, my voice harsher than intended. I don’t care. We don’t have time to waste. Mailin’s life is slipping away with every second, and I won’t lose her. I won’t.

The pro heroes spring into action. Ryukyu’s eyes flick to Mailin, the concern clear on her face, but even she doesn’t dare approach. Not right now. Not with me like this. Endeavor steps forward, barking orders at the remaining heroes to secure Shigaraki and the battlefield, but I barely hear him.

All I can think about is getting her out of here.

Deku and Bakugou approach. They’re hesitant, their faces a mix of fear and uncertainty. I can see the questions in their eyes, the disbelief at what they just witnessed. But I don’t have time to explain anything to them. Not now.

“She’s not waking up...” Deku’s voice is quiet, almost broken as he watches Mailin’s still form.

I grit my teeth, forcing myself to stay calm. “She will,” I say, more to myself than to him. “She has to.”

Recovery Girl arrives moments later, rushing to my side as fast as her legs will carry her. Her face falls the second she sees Mailin, and I can tell from her expression that the situation is worse than I thought.

“She overdid it,” Recovery Girl mutters, her hands moving quickly over Mailin’s body, checking her vitals. “Her body’s been pushed to its limits.”

I swallow the knot in my throat. I know. I saw it happen. I watched as Mailin gave everything, as her power tore through the battlefield, unstoppable and devastating.

And now... she’s paying the price.

Recovery Girl pulls out her equipment, moving with precision, but her expression is grim. “She’s stable for now, but we need to get her to a hospital. My quirk won’t be enough to fully heal her from this. She’s exhausted, and the strain on her body is... severe.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. Severe. It’s worse than I thought. I look down at Mailin, her face pale, her body so still. I’ve never seen her like this. So fragile. So... close to death.

I can barely breathe.

I can’t lose her. Not like this.

The others are working to secure the battlefield, but I’m only half aware of what’s happening around me. My focus is on Mailin, on keeping her alive. I gently shift her in my arms, her head resting against my chest, and for a moment, it feels like everything else disappears.

“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper, even though I’m not sure I believe it. “You’re going to be okay.”

But the silence from her... it’s deafening.

Endeavor approaches, his voice low. “We have to get Shigaraki secured and out of here before anything else happens. Can you move?”

I shoot him a glare. “I’m not leaving her.”

He raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push the issue. He knows better. “I’ll handle Shigaraki,” he says, turning to oversee the transport. The battlefield is in chaos, but they’re securing things. Moving forward. And I’m stuck here, in this moment, with Mailin’s fragile form in my arms.

The others keep their distance, but I can feel their eyes on us. They all saw what happened. They all witnessed the sheer destructive power Mailin unleashed. And now... now they’re scared. Not of Shigaraki. Not of the villains.

They’re scared of her.

Ryukyu approaches again, her voice cautious. “You should get her to the hospital, Aizawa. She’s strong, but even she has her limits.”

I nod, already moving. I don’t need to be told twice. With Recovery Girl by my side, we make our way to the evac point, and I can feel the weight of Mailin’s life hanging in the balance.

She’s always been strong. But right now, she’s teetering on the edge.

---

At the hospital, time blurs. Everything moves too quickly and too slowly all at once. Doctors and nurses swarm around Mailin, working to stabilize her, but I can’t do anything. I’m stuck in the waiting room, my mind spinning with every worst-case scenario.

I pace the floor, my leg protesting with every step, but I can’t sit still. I can’t just... wait.

Every time a doctor comes out, my heart leaps into my throat. But no one has any news yet. No updates. Nothing.

Hours pass, and all I can do is wait. The others have arrived at the hospital—Ryukyu, Deku, Bakugou, the rest of Class 1-A—but I barely register their presence. My thoughts are with Mailin. My thoughts are with her as she fights to come back.

Finally, a doctor approaches. He looks exhausted, but his expression isn’t grim. “She’s stable. We’ve done everything we can for now. It’s up to her to recover.”

The relief hits me so hard I almost collapse. She’s alive. She’s going to make it.

I thank the doctor, though the words feel hollow. She’s not out of the woods yet, but at least she’s still here. At least there’s hope.

I’m allowed to see her, and as I step into the room, the sight of her hooked up to machines makes my chest tighten. Her face is pale, her body still too still. But she’s breathing. She’s here.

I sit beside her, taking her hand in mine, and for the first time in hours, I let myself breathe.

“We’re going to figure this out,” I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. “You’re going to be okay.”

But as I sit there, watching the steady rise and fall of her chest, I can’t shake the fear that we’re not done with this. Not by a long shot.

The battle may be over, but the fight to save her has just begun.