Mha oc

Small talk- Aizawa perspective.

The room was quiet, too quiet, but I wasn't completely gone. I couldn't move or speak, but I could hear him—my son. His voice broke through the haze, a soft, trembling sound that anchored me when everything else felt distant and heavy. 

"Hey, Dad." 

His voice was familiar, but there was something raw about it now, something that cut through the fog in my mind. I wanted to respond, wanted to let him know I was still here, but my body wouldn't obey. 

I felt him settle into the chair beside me, his presence warm even in the sterile cold of the room. 

"I brought you a rose," he said, his voice shaking. "Thought you might like it. It's... simple, like you." 

That almost made me smile, or it would have if I could. Simple. Yeah, that sounded about right. But there was a weight to his words, like he was trying to hold himself together with small talk, trying to stay steady when everything inside him was falling apart. 

He started talking about his day, about his classmates, his voice uneven but constant. I held onto it, letting the sound ground me. 

"But... it's not fine, Dad," he whispered, and I felt it—the shift in his tone, the crack in his resolve. 

He kept going, his words tumbling out in a mix of guilt and frustration, and I hated it. I hated that he was carrying this weight, this blame, as if he could have stopped what happened. 

"You're the strongest person I know," he said, and the words stabbed at something deep in my chest. 

I wanted to tell him he was wrong, that I wasn't strong. That I had weaknesses, that I wasn't invincible. But more than anything, I wanted to tell him how proud I was. Proud of the way he'd stood up, the way he'd protected me and everyone else, even when it scared him. 

He broke down then, his voice cracking as he apologized, and I felt helpless. I couldn't reach out, couldn't comfort him, couldn't tell him he didn't need to be sorry. 

He kept talking, filling the silence with memories and half-laughs, and I listened to every word. 

"I miss you," he said softly, and something inside me twisted. 

I wanted to reach out, to brush his hair back the way I used to when he was little and afraid of the world outside. I wanted to tell him I was still here, that I'd always be here. But all I could do was lie there, trapped in my own body, and hope that he knew. 

Ryo's voice faded into the quiet, and for a long moment, the only sound was the steady rhythm of the machines around us. 

If I could have moved, I would have placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezed it the way I always did when words weren't enough. I wanted him to know he wasn't alone. 

And maybe, just maybe, he could feel it anyway.