~Trade Mistakes~ (EraserMic)

Emergency Contact

"Excuse me, Mr....Aizawa?"

The scruffy, raven haired man jolted awake at his name, startling Hitoshi, who had been sleeping beside him, curled up into one of the uncomfortable plastic chairs in the studio white hospital lobby, bloodshot black and startled indigo-blue pupils locking on a young, uncertain looking nurse in the doorway, a clip board help in her anxious hands as Aizawa shot to his feet and dashed over, his fluffy haired nephew behind.

"Is he okay?! Is it serious?! God Damnit, if I had only been there in time....please tell me he's okay!!" He rasped,  the sleep deprived desperation in his voice startling the nurse as he gripped her shoulders, the panicked expression on his face chasing away the ever present exhaustion.

"P-please, Aizawa-San, w-we're doing everything we can...!"

"Uncle Shota, maybe if you let go of her she can tell you if Yamada-sensei will be okay." Hitoshi advised urgently, gripping the sleeve of his hysterical uncle's black jumpsuit and giving it a hard tug, trying to calm him down. Aizawa fell silent, exhaling quietly as he relaxed his grip on the nurse, releasing her with a stiff bow of his head.

"Forgive me....I'm just....r-really worried...."

There was so much blood...

The nurse gave the tired hero a shakey smile nodding her head with a sympathetic expression.

"It's quite alright, Aizawa-San. I understand your concern for Present Mic, or...ah, Yamada-San I should say... but I assure you he's in good hands here at Tokyo General. We're doing everything we can to help."

"C-can I see him...?" Aizawa asked in quiet desperation, his bloodshot black eyes darting back and forth between the nurse and the door to the hospital's inner functions, pleading almost. The nurse gave him a sympathetic look, shaking her head with a sigh as she checked her clip board.

"I'm very sorry, Aizawa-San, but Yamada-San is still unconscious." She told him quietly, trying to keep the nearly hysterical hero calm. "He sustained a lot of damage, particularly to his chest and throat. These things take time, and healing quirks can only do so much."

"H-how....how bad is the damage....?"

Aizawa didn't realize he was holding his breath as he listened to the nurse go quiet, her eyes darting between the midnight hero and her clipboard, as if trying to decide how to break news of a catastrophic caliber, finally sighing quietly, her voice level in am attempt to keep the man calm.

"We've treated for his broken ribs and the bullet wounds have been healed for the most part. He'll have severe bruising across his back, shoulders and chest, but other than that he should be okay, b-but...." The nurse stopped, taking a deep breath with an uneasy expression, and Aizawa felt his stomach flip.

He knew that expression all too well.

"I'm sorry, Aizawa-San, but Yamada-San's vocal cords have been crushed. Almost severe beyond repair."

There were no words to describe the utter shock and devastation that had displayed itself across the exhausted hero's worn features as those words reached his ears, standing frozen to the spot before the nurse, his heart seeming to stop as his knees threatened to give out beneath him, completely stunned speechless, unable to and unwilling to except what he had just heard.

I'll never get to hear his voice again...?

No more listening to Hizashi's singing as he graded english papers after school, the wide range of notes drifting down the hallway and filling his empty classroom.

No more listening to him laugh on 'Put Your Hands Up Radio' as he answered questions over the phone and blasted everything from Old School to Pop Hits through every sterio, radio and music player in Japan on Friday nights.