Aizawa flinched, his legs weakening momentarily before he turned and elbowed the man behind him in the temple.

Aizawa felt something crack.

The soldier's head hit the wall so hard that it shook.

Blood - Aizawa's blood - dripped from the metal cone that served as his forearm.

Aizawa's eyes flashed red.

Aizawa raised his gun to fire, but someone - coming from the back door - slammed into him shoulder-first and tackled him.

Aizawa was knocked to the ground, and a searing pain shot up from his spine.

The man straddled him, his thighs blocking Aizawa's access to the weapons on his belt. He pressed down on his stomach as if squeezing a sponge, drawing more blood, making Aizawa groan.

The man punched him in the jaw.

Aizawa's head hit the ground and bounced two more times.

Black spots danced in his vision. Acid bile crawled up his throat.

The soldier raised his fist to strike again.

Aizawa lifted his torso as if to welcome the blow then threw up in his eyes.

The soldier let go of Aizawa to wipe his eyes.

Aizawa's vision suddenly cleared.

Ignoring his own vomit dripping down his neck, ignoring the sour smell burning his nostrils, he grabbed a ring of his capture scarf with both hands, pulled it around the soldier's neck, interlaced the bands and squeezed.

The soldier, still blinded, put his hands on his throat, tried to tear apart the tape, grabbed Aizawa's forearms and then punched the hollow of his elbow to make him let go.

Aizawa, his arms burning, a vicious gleam in his eyes, squeezed harder.

The soldier punched Aizawa more desperately, his soles slipping on the ground as he tried to get up but was constantly pulled forward by Aizawa's weight.

His nails clawed at Aizawa's jaw and neck, hitting his torso, sliding down until he found the wound in his stomach.

He stuck three fingers in and pulled the flesh out.

A sudden burst of rage gripped Aizawa.

He yanked the scarf and broke the soldier's neck.

The soldier collapsed on top of him and Aizawa, heart pounding, threw him aside as he rose to his feet.

His stomach felt like it had been torn in two.

A tsunami of pain hit Aizawa and he feared he would pass out.

Half bent over, one hand on his stomach, Aizawa blinked and staggered in search of his weapons.

His knife had cut the corner of his mouth when he fell.

They were at the foot of the first soldier, still slumped against the wall, shaking his head as if trying to wake up, his muscles rigid as if he'd been paralysed.

The back door opened again ; Aizawa drew the pistol at his waist and fired at two more soldiers.

The first shot missed, wasted, hitting the door frame, and the soldiers ducked their heads into their shoulders.

Aizawa, eyes blazing, hit one in the throat and the other in the cheekbone.

They collapsed in a heap, leaving the door open behind them.

Aizawa's muscles spasmed. He felt dizzy and weak.

With heavy steps, Aizawa reached the one still sprawled in the middle of the corridor.

He put the cold barrel to his temple to avoid missing and shot.

*

Rain and wind were against them, whipping their skin and blowing their hair back.

But it wasn't enough to stop their respective Hell Flames.

They flew across the city so fast they looked like meteors ripping through the dark sky.

The storm rolled and roared like waves above them, lightning flashes intermittently illuminating the city.

Shoto had an idea as to why All for One had come out of his lair, and he hoped more than anything else that it was just his paranoia playing tricks to him once again.

Blood sprayed diagonally across a flower painting.

The body collapsed on the commode.

Foggy minded, Aizawa searched the body until he found his gun, clipped it to his belt, then retrieved his own weapons.

Aizawa inhaled three times to clear his mind.

His clothes, soaked with cold rain, blood and vomit, scratched his skin and chilled him to the bone.

He tightened the grip on his knife with his left hand - his fingers were trembling - and took three deep breaths without making a sound.

Aizawa ran to the door on the other side of the corridor and kicked it open, his red eyes glowing in the dim light of the room.

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A sweating soldier was waist-deep in the floor, a vortex of blue light swirling around him.

The moment Aizawa caught sight of him, the man let out a howl and tried to hide his face with his forearms.

An armed hand shot out of the glowing hole, followed by a body as the vortex visibly shrank.

At the same time, the front door was kicked in.

Aizawa glanced at the living room then at the relentlessly shrinking vortex.

He could end his torment, but that would mean losing another bullet.

'The greatest good for the greatest number'.

There were sounds of running.

Aizawa ran to the only window in the room, past the soldier trapped in his own tunnel.

The floating curtains swayed like shimmering waves.

Leaning on the ledge with his knife-holding hand, Aizawa jumped out with both feet.

The soldier's screams in the vortex became hysterical as his own domain closed in on him, crushing his ribs and tearing him in two.

Blood and guts splattered the walls up to the ceiling.

Aizawa landed bent over on the floor.

Someone grabbed his left shoulder. Aizawa freed himself by stabbing him in the solar plexus.

A soldier slapped his right wrist to make him drop his weapon, and Aizawa stabbed him in the throat.

The drops of blood that splashed onto his lips were the same color as his angry eyes.

A gleaming blade flashed across the edge of his sight, and Aizawa threw his head back.

The blow sliced his right bicep and Aizawa suddenly stumbled.

He pressed his gun against the soldier's stomach and fired at close range.

He saw two bodies fall on top of each other.

Aizawa shook his head to clear his mind, head painfully aching.

He covered his face with the hand that held his knife and swept the street with his gun, movements slow and pasty.

The falling rain prevented him from seeing well.

Aizawa lowered his weapon.

His breathing was fast and shallow, his skin icy.

He had lost - was still losing - too much blood.

Aizawa moved forward, stumbling over a body, clutching the wall with the hand that held the gun.

His nails scratched the rough, cold surface.

His left arm tingled.

He felt dizzy.

He froze momentarily against the wall, the rain pushed by the wind whipping his skin.

His shoulder had left a trail of blood on the stones, rain making it look like watercolors.

Aizawa, shoulders hunched, dragged himself heavily and slumped against the wall.

He could no longer feel his left hand.

Aizawa blinked.

The rain was an indistinguishable fog, choking him.

Aizawa dragged himself forward.

He left a trail of blood-soaked soles behind him, soon erased by the storm.

Aizawa kept going.

A gradual chill spread from the ends of his limbs to his chest, running up his arms like an icy ripple. Palpitations shook his heart, making it pound painfully in his chest.

Aizawa kept going.

His eyelids grew heavy, his eyelashes fluttered more slowly, his vision dimming.

He stopped.

A blurred silhouette stood in the rain.

Aizawa lifted his chin to get a better look.

The rain that hit the ground was like bullets in his ears. The world was gray and cold - hostile.

Aizawa, in agony, his head pressed against the wall, raised his gun with a heavy hand and put the barrel in his mouth.

"Don't do it"

The figure appeared before Aizawa. She didn't have to use the slightest force to make him lower it.

Aizawa's arm fell back against his body. His hand was shaking so much that he failed to bend his fingers to pull the trigger.

His gun slipped from his palm and fell into a puddle, water splashing his ankles.

He hadn't even realized how long it was since he'd lost his knife.

"Your stubbornness is admirable"

Aizawa's head rolled back against the wall, his throat exposed to the sky.

His eyes flickered slowly. The sky was gray, the storm raging.

A yellow lightning struck the clouds.

The rain trickled down his cheeks like tears.

He was so, so tired.

"Be proud of what you've accomplished"

Cold hands gently touched his face.

Aizawa continued to stare at the sky, his red eyes blazing like two lush fires on his pale skin.

"From now on, let me take over"

Fingers moved delicately up his face, stopping at his eyelids.

They pulled as if they wanted to nail his skin to his eyebrows.

Aizawa's eyes began to sting. The rain was like a needle salvo.

He stared at the sky as long as he could.

"It's time to rest, Eraserhead"

Aizawa's eyes rolled back in their sockets.

All for One, his hand illuminated by a reddish halo, gently stroked his cheekbone.

Then he dug his fingers into his corneas and gouged out his eyes.

*

A/N : If you want to read ahead of schedule, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG