Enough

Aizawa sat at his desk, his gaze fixed on the empty classroom, the silence amplifying his growing frustration. The dull ticking of the clock was a constant, almost mocking reminder of the time passing as he stewed in his thoughts. But no matter how hard he tried to focus on the passing minutes, the words that had come from Hawks' mouth earlier that evening continued to echo in his mind.

“I rented us a hotel room for the night.”

The sheer audacity of it made Aizawa’s teeth clench in irritation. He told himself that it wasn’t his business. Y/N was an adult, capable of making her own decisions. It wasn’t like he had any claim on her decisions or her life outside of class. But no matter how much he tried to convince himself that he had no right to be upset, the unease gnawing at him refused to dissipate.

He leaned back in his chair, rubbing his face with a sigh that carried all the frustration he had been trying to suppress. "What the hell was that birdbrain thinking?" he muttered to himself, his fingers tapping rhythmically against the surface of the desk. His thoughts were jumbled, unable to settle on any one coherent idea.

His mind drifted, and for a moment, the irritation seemed to settle as he thought about Y/N. She had clearly been uncomfortable when Hawks had barged into the classroom with that ridiculous announcement. But what bothered him more was the way she hadn’t reacted as strongly as he had expected. She’d tried to deny it, but there had been hesitation in her voice, uncertainty in her movements. Aizawa frowned, his thoughts turning darker. She hadn’t protested enough. If anything, she seemed more embarrassed than anything else. 

His eyes narrowed as he thought about the bandages that still covered her body. He had noticed them during class, visible beneath the sleeves of her shirt. The burns, the decay marks—she was still healing from injuries that were far too severe for someone her age to endure. He remembered the way she winced when she moved, the subtle signs of lingering pain. He couldn’t ignore it. 

Aizawa’s jaw tightened. She hadn’t fully recovered, and the fact that Hawks had taken it upon himself to "help" her, to take her to a hotel, to... whatever else he had planned, gnawed at him. 

His eyes widened as a chilling realization struck him like a freight train. She can't change those bandages on her own.

Aizawa froze. His mind raced. If she needed help with something as simple as changing bandages, who else could she rely on but Hawks? The thought of Hawks, that irrepressible and reckless idiot, being the one to handle her wounds, to be so close to her vulnerable body—something inside Aizawa snapped.

His stomach churned at the image of Hawks hovering over her, his hands anywhere near her already fragile form. The thought alone was enough to send a pulse of anger coursing through his veins. Aizawa’s fist clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. What if Hawks, for all his so-called good intentions, crossed a line? What if he took advantage of her vulnerability? Aizawa’s mind spiraled into darker territory. What if Hawks didn’t understand the implications of getting so close, of offering help where none was needed? 

He shook his head sharply, trying to force the thought away, but it wouldn’t leave him. The more he tried to push it down, the more it festered. He knew Hawks. The man was a hero, sure, but he was reckless, with a tendency to cross boundaries without realizing it. Aizawa had seen it before, his flippant attitude putting people in uncomfortable situations without a second thought. It wasn’t that Hawks was malicious—no, Aizawa didn’t believe that for a second. But the man was naïve in his own way, and his casual demeanor could easily lead to trouble. 

“No,” Aizawa muttered under his breath, standing up abruptly from his desk. He grabbed his scarf and wrapped it around his neck, the familiar weight of it settling around his shoulders, comforting him in a way. His mind was made up now. He wasn’t going to let this go. He wasn’t going to leave Y/N to deal with this on her own.

His footsteps were sharp as he made his way toward the door, the urgency of his movements at odds with the calm exterior he usually maintained. His thoughts were a chaotic mess now, each step heavy with the weight of his decision. He had always told himself that as a teacher, it was his responsibility to look out for his students, to ensure their well-being. But this was different. This wasn’t just about protecting Y/N as his student. Deep down, Aizawa couldn’t deny the personal anger that surged in him. The idea of someone taking advantage of Y/N’s vulnerability—especially someone like Hawks—felt like a violation, like an intrusion into something that should have been sacred. 

He had seen enough to know that Y/N wasn’t the type to ask for help easily. She’d always been independent, self-reliant, and not one to show weakness. The thought of her being put in a situation where she felt obligated to rely on someone, especially someone like Hawks, made Aizawa’s blood boil.

His footsteps quickened as he reached the hallways of U.A. The school was quiet at this hour, the only sound the faint echo of his footsteps against the cold floor. The quiet was unsettling, amplifying his frustration. He muttered under his breath, his irritation spilling out in a string of curses as he made his way toward the exit. 

“If that birdbrain so much as thinks about crossing a line, I’ll make sure he regrets it,” Aizawa growled, his voice low and dangerous. His grip tightened around the door handle as he stepped outside into the cold night air. He could feel the chill against his skin, but it did nothing to cool the fire in his chest.

The hotel. That’s where Hawks had taken her. Aizawa’s mind raced, thinking of all the ways this could go wrong. He didn’t know exactly what was going to happen when he arrived, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. If Hawks thought for one second that he could get away with this, he was sorely mistaken.

Aizawa quickened his pace, his scarf trailing behind him as he headed toward the hotel that Hawks had mentioned. The city lights blurred past him, the streets empty and quiet at this time of night. His thoughts were a whirlwind—he couldn’t focus on anything but the image of Y/N, alone with Hawks, far from the safety of U.A.

The more he thought about it, the more he realized that this was more than just a matter of protecting his student. There was something personal about it. Maybe it was the way Y/N trusted him, how she relied on him to keep her safe in this world full of danger. Maybe it was the way she’d always been there for him, even when she didn’t have to be. Whatever it was, Aizawa couldn’t shake the feeling that this was his responsibility—his duty—to make sure she was okay, to make sure no one took advantage of her in her vulnerable state.

As the hotel came into view, Aizawa’s thoughts hardened. He wasn’t sure what he would find when he got inside, but he knew one thing for sure: if Hawks so much as thought about crossing a line with Y/N, he was going to make sure that the man would regret it.

Y/N sat motionless, her gaze locked on the screen in front of her. The footage before her was grotesque, an image of her own desperation. Her actions—eating the organs in a futile attempt to heal the decay marks that marred her skin—felt like they belonged to someone else, someone she didn’t recognize. But the memory was etched into her mind, a permanent scar she couldn’t erase, no matter how much time passed. Her hands trembled slightly, the tremors a subtle reminder of how far she had gone to fix herself, even though nothing had worked.

Across from her, Hawks watched silently. His eyes never left her, and Y/N could feel the weight of his gaze. It was a strange mixture of understanding and something she couldn’t quite place. He knew. She didn’t need him to speak—it was there in the quiet tension between them, in the unspoken acknowledgment of the depths of her desperation. Hawks had seen it all. 

She tightened her grip on her jacket, her fingers digging into the fabric. She wanted to hide, to retreat back into the walls she had built around herself. But she knew she couldn’t. Not now. Not with him sitting there, knowing what she had done, and the part of her that was still clinging to the hope that maybe, just maybe, she could make it through this.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N reached up, her fingers brushing over the layers of bandages wrapped tightly around her body. The tension in the room thickened as she slowly began to unwrap them. Each layer came off in silence, revealing the remnants of the damage she had inflicted on herself. Bruises, scars, the remains of burns that had once covered her skin—but the decay marks? They were still there. Still pulsing faintly, as if mocking her, reminding her of everything she had failed to fix.

Her neck and face were marred by jagged, dark fingerprints, remnants of a struggle that hadn’t healed, no matter how many times she had tried. The rest of her skin had healed, but the marks from her self-inflicted wounds remained, stubborn and persistent, like a cruel joke. 

Y/N swallowed hard, the lump in her throat making it difficult to speak. She didn’t want to meet his gaze—couldn’t bear it—but she knew she had to. Slowly, her eyes met Hawks’, and the silence between them felt like a physical weight pressing down on her. She felt exposed in a way she hadn’t in years, as though every secret she’d hidden was laid bare for him to see. 

He didn’t say anything at first, but she could feel his eyes on her, steady and unwavering. His silence was suffocating, and she had to break it, had to say something—anything—to cut through the tension.

“Can I…” her voice cracked, barely a whisper, “Can I call my brother? Just to say goodbye… before you arrest me?”

The words were out before she could stop them, and they hung in the air like a confession. She didn’t know why she asked—maybe it was the final, desperate attempt to reach out, to grasp onto some thread of normalcy before everything collapsed. Or maybe it was just a way to hold on to the tiny sliver of hope that things could be different, even for just a moment.

Hawks didn’t respond immediately. The silence stretched on, and for a brief second, Y/N thought he might turn her down, might just walk away and leave her to face whatever came next. But then he shifted, leaning forward slightly, his expression unreadable. His jaw clenched, but his voice was quieter than usual when he spoke.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” he said softly, the words landing like a gentle reassurance. There was a pause, and then he added, his tone steady, “But you don’t have to say goodbye yet. Not like this.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat. She wanted to believe him. Wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, she wasn’t completely alone in this. That there was still time, still a chance for something different. But the reality of her situation was always there, just beneath the surface. She couldn’t shake the feeling that no matter how many promises were made, there was no real way out. No real escape from the trap she had found herself in.

Her fingers curled tightly around the fabric of her jacket again, as if it could provide some kind of protection from the vulnerability she felt. But it didn’t. Nothing could shield her from the truth that was closing in on her, a truth she couldn’t avoid.

For just a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to believe the words Hawks had spoken. That there was still time. That maybe, just maybe, everything wasn’t as final as it seemed. But deep down, a part of her knew better. The trap had already been set. And now, with every passing second, it was closing in around her, tightening its grip.

She forced herself to look at Hawks again, her eyes lingering on his face. For all his bravado, for all his playful demeanor, there was something in his eyes now that she hadn’t expected to see: concern, a flicker of something genuine. 

But it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to erase the years of isolation, of fighting battles she couldn’t win, of hiding pieces of herself away in order to survive.

In the end, Y/N knew that nothing could save her from the path she had already walked down. There was no turning back.

Y/N sat in the dimly lit room, wrapped in a robe she’d found earlier, her body still recovering from the ordeal that had almost shattered her. The cold breeze from the open window tousled her hair as she stared out at the city, lost in thought. Hawks sat across from her, his usual relaxed demeanor replaced by a rare seriousness. His eyes, soft yet intent, watched her with an unspoken question.

“You don’t have to tell me,” Hawks said quietly, his voice gentle but carrying an unmistakable weight.

Y/N met his gaze and shook her head. “I want to,” she replied, her voice steady but tinged with pain. “You deserve to know.”

Her fingers tightened around the edges of the robe as her eyes drifted back to the view outside. The city lights flickered, distant and indifferent to the turmoil inside her. “It started a long time ago... when I was seven,” she murmured, her voice distant as memories, some buried, some too painful to face, began to resurface. She took a deep breath, her heart heavy with the weight of the story she was about to share. 

The silence between them deepened, but Hawks didn’t press. He just waited, giving her the space she needed to begin the tale of a past that had shaped her, for better or worse.

The hospital room felt cold and sterile, like a place that had forgotten what warmth felt like. The fluorescent lights overhead flickered faintly, casting a harsh, unfeeling glow over everything. The sterile scent of antiseptic hung thick in the air, clinging to every corner of the room. Y/N sat on the edge of the hospital bed, her small legs swinging just above the floor, too short to reach it. A tray of untouched food sat beside her, but the sight of it only made her stomach turn.

She had tried to eat, really. She had taken a few small bites of the bland, hospital-issued meal, but each one seemed to sit in her stomach like a heavy stone. The pain came quickly, a sharp cramping that doubled her over. She tried to breathe through it, but the pressure only grew worse. Her stomach twisted and churned as though the food was fighting its way back up, and in the end, she couldn’t keep it down.

Tears welled up in her eyes, the frustration and helplessness too much to contain. Her small hands clutched at her stomach, but nothing seemed to help. It hurt so much, and yet she knew she had to eat—she had to stay strong, whatever that meant. But the more she tried, the more everything seemed to fall apart. Her body wasn’t cooperating, and no one was around to tell her what was wrong or offer any comfort.

Her pops had gone to work hours ago, leaving her alone in this stark, lifeless room. The nurses had come and gone, busy with other patients, leaving her to face the pain by herself. They checked in on her occasionally, but it wasn’t the same. She couldn’t explain to them how awful it felt, how the food didn’t just make her sick—it made her feel like she was failing, like there was something wrong with her.

Y/N curled her body inwards, trying to find some kind of comfort in her small, trembling frame. She tucked her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around them as if the tight hold could somehow hold the pain at bay. Her stomach ached with hunger, but the thought of food only made it worse. 

Her mind raced with questions, ones that no one had ever been able to answer. Why couldn’t she eat like other kids? Why did food make her feel worse instead of better? Why didn’t anyone understand what she was going through? She was too young to express it, but the confusion and frustration weighed heavily on her heart.

She buried her face against her knees, hiding the tears that flowed freely now. She sobbed quietly, the sound muffled by her arms and legs. The only comfort she could find was in the small, rhythmic motion of rocking herself back and forth. It didn’t ease the pain, but it helped ground her in the silence of the room.

No one came for a while, and Y/N was left with nothing but the hollow ache in her stomach and the loneliness that filled the room. All she could do was wait, but it felt like a lifetime before anyone would be there to help, to explain why she was so different from the other kids.

The memory seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and Y/N’s voice wavered as she spoke again. “I didn’t understand what was wrong with me back then. I thought maybe I was just sick... something I’d grow out of. But it only got worse.” 

Her fingers clenched at her sides, and she looked away, trying to avoid the overwhelming weight of her own words. The fear of not knowing what she was became a constant companion, and it still haunted her. 

Hawks stayed silent, his gaze steady, watching her but not pushing her to say more. His expression was unreadable, but she could see the slight tension in his jaw. His hand twitched as though he wanted to comfort her but was unsure of how to reach out without making things worse.

The silence stretched between them, and Y/N could feel it closing in, like the walls of the room were pressing down on her. She wasn’t sure why she was telling him this, why she had let herself open up in the first place. It felt raw, vulnerable—but at the same time, she couldn’t hold it in any longer. She had carried it for too long.

“I thought I was just a freak,” she murmured, her voice barely audible. “I didn’t understand... why I was like this.”

The streets around Y/N were unfamiliar, the dim light from the streetlamps casting long, eerie shadows that stretched across the cracked pavement. She clutched the crumpled shopping list her pops had given her, a simple task: go to the convenience store and pick up a few things. It was supposed to be a small step toward building her independence, but as she walked through the maze of streets, everything blurred together, and she realized she had no idea where she was.

Her stomach growled loudly, the hunger inside her more intense than it had ever been. It gnawed at her insides, an insistent ache that made it hard to focus. She had been trying to ignore it, telling herself it wasn’t a big deal, but it only grew worse the longer she walked. Her legs felt heavy, and her thoughts seemed distant as the hunger began to consume her.

Desperate for some relief, Y/N turned down a narrow alley, hoping it would be a shortcut to get her back on track. But as she ventured deeper into the alley, her foot caught on something, and she stopped abruptly. Her eyes locked onto a sight that froze her in place.

A man lay slumped against the wall, his body unnaturally still. His skin was pale, almost ashen, and there was a small handgun lying at his side. The faint, metallic scent of blood hung thick in the air, and the sight of him—the helplessness of it—stirred something deep inside her.

For a moment, she stood there, unmoving, her heart hammering in her chest. The hunger in her stomach seemed to grow louder, more insistent, drowning out any sense of caution. She should turn around, get away from this. But something inside her pushed her forward, and before she could even think to stop herself, she found herself kneeling beside the man’s body. Her hands shook as she reached out, her fingers brushing against his cold skin. Her mind screamed at her to stop, to get up and run, but the hunger was overpowering. 

She could feel it—an overwhelming, gnawing emptiness deep within her—and the urge to fill it consumed her, blurring her thoughts. Without thinking, without fully understanding what she was doing, she leaned forward and took a bite. 

The taste was strange, foreign, and revolting in a way she couldn’t fully process. It was wrong, so wrong, but it was also something. It was something that eased the gnawing ache in her stomach, something that filled the deep, dark emptiness that had been growing for so long. She bit again, each movement automatic, driven by the insatiable hunger that overtook her.

When she finally came to her senses, the world around her seemed to spin. She pulled back, her breath coming in short, shaky gasps. Her hands and mouth were stained with red—too much red. Her stomach no longer hurt. The void inside her had been filled, but at what cost? 

Tears welled up in her eyes as the weight of what she had done crashed down on her. The horror of it. The sickness. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t process the reality of the situation. Her body shook as she stumbled backward, trying to stand, trying to make sense of it all.

The alley spun around her, and she couldn’t get away fast enough. She ran, her feet pounding against the ground, her breath ragged, as she fled from what she had just done. But no matter how fast she moved, the shame followed her, the realization of her actions weighing on her like a stone in her chest. She couldn’t escape it. She couldn’t escape what she had become.

“I didn’t know what I was doing,” Y/N whispered, her voice trembling with the weight of the confession. Her hands fidgeted in her lap, twisting the fabric of her jacket as if it could somehow ground her. “I didn’t understand why... why I felt better after... after that. I hated myself for it, but I couldn’t stop.” 

Her gaze dropped to the floor, and she swallowed hard, trying to choke down the burning shame rising in her chest. She didn’t want to say it out loud. The thought of what she had done—the person she had become—felt like a betrayal of everything she had once held dear. But the hunger, the overwhelming need to survive, had taken over, clouding everything else.

She could still remember the taste, the way it had filled the empty void inside her. For just a moment, it had felt like relief. But then the guilt had hit, and she had run, not knowing what else to do.

Hawks didn’t speak right away. He simply watched her, his expression unreadable. He had seen the desperation in her eyes, the fear she carried. But this wasn’t the time for judgment—she had already done enough of that to herself.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he spoke quietly, his voice gentle. “It’s not your fault,” he said. “You didn’t choose this.” 

Y/N’s chest tightened at his words, but she couldn’t bring herself to look up just yet.

The streets were eerily quiet, the kind of silence that felt oppressive under the pale glow of the moon. Y/N walked through the empty streets, her bare feet grazing the cracked pavement. Her stomach churned with a familiar, aching emptiness, gnawing at her insides like a relentless, untamable beast. She hadn’t eaten in days, and the hunger had become all-consuming, louder than any other thought in her mind.

Her pops was away on a trip. It was the kind of hunger that clouded everything, turning her thoughts into a haze of instinctual need. She wandered through the alleyways, seeking out anything that might offer even the smallest relief. But the city was unforgiving, and there was nothing to be found.

As she rounded a corner, a low growl stopped her in her tracks. It was followed by a frightened whimper—a sound of terror that made her stomach twist in something other than hunger. Her instincts kicked in, and she moved closer, silently slipping between shadows until she could peer around the corner. There, in the dim light, she saw a boy with silver hair backed into a wall, trembling. He was facing down a villain, a menacing figure with a twisted smile that made Y/N’s blood run cold. 

The boy’s hands were raised defensively, but his trembling stance made it clear he was scared. He was no match for the villain looming over him.

“Get away from me,” the boy hissed, his voice cracking in fear.

The villain’s sneer only deepened as he advanced, and in that moment, Y/N’s body moved on its own. She didn’t think. She didn’t plan. Her mind was too clouded by hunger and panic, and all that mattered was the threat in front of her.

Before she could stop herself, her kagune erupted from her back.

It was a terrifying, grotesque thing—crimson, serpentine, and alien. The pain of its sudden emergence nearly knocked her off her feet, but the hunger inside her drove her to action. The sight of the villain’s twisted form made her lash out. She wasn’t in control. Her kagune moved of its own accord, the red tendrils crashing into the villain’s body with a force she couldn’t understand.

The villain’s body crumpled against the wall, lifeless, as if his very essence had been shattered by the sheer force of her strike. Her heart raced in her chest, and the scent of blood filled the air, thick and overwhelming. Y/N stood frozen for a moment, her kagune twitching and rippling behind her, the grotesque appendage still pulsing with the aftermath of the attack.

Her mind screamed, trying to process what had just happened. She had… killed him? Her body had acted on its own, driven by something deep inside her that she hadn’t even known existed. The kagune—this monstrous thing—had come from her, and it felt both horrifying and terrifying. She had no idea she was capable of that, no idea she even had such power.

Her eyes darted to the boy, who was staring at her in wide-eyed shock. His mouth hung open, but no words came out. The fear in his gaze made her heart drop into her stomach. She hadn’t meant to scare him. She hadn’t meant to do any of this.

The realization hit her all at once—she had no control over what she’d just done. She had crossed a line she didn’t understand, and now the consequences of her actions were staring her in the face.

Panic surged through her, and before she could stop herself, she turned and ran. She didn’t know where she was going, only that she needed to escape. The sounds of her footsteps echoed in the empty street as she fled from the scene, from the boy, and from the horrible thing she had become. Her mind was a whirlwind of fear, guilt, and confusion. What had she done? What was she capable of?

And most terrifying of all—what if she couldn’t control it again?

“I was terrified,” Y/N admitted, her voice breaking. “I didn’t even know what I was. I didn’t know why I could do those things or why I felt like... like I had to.”

Her hands gripped the edges of the robe tightly, her knuckles white. “That boy... I think he was the first person I saved. But I don’t think he saw it that way.”

Hawks exhaled slowly, leaning forward. “You’ve been through hell,” he said quietly. “But you’re still here. That means something.”

Y/N shook her head, her eyes glassy. “I’m not sure it does. I’ve done things, Hawks. Things I can’t undo.”

Hawks met her gaze, his voice firm. “You’re still standing. That’s what matters. And as long as you’re standing, you have a chance to make things right.”

The breeze from the window stirred her hair, and for the first time in a long while, Y/N allowed herself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was right.