บท 171: Chapter 170
All for One looked surprised.
Aizawa fired three times at close range, once in the head and twice in the heart.
All for One staggered backwards a few steps, the force of the impact pushing him back slightly.
He looked up at Aizawa.
Aizawa had already slipped into his guard, a short-bladed knife in his right hand.
He struck All for One's rib ; the blade went through his jacket and shattered against his skin with a deafening screech of metal.
The three bullets, reduced to smoking cylinders, fell to the ground with a clatter.
The one between his eyebrows had barely reddened his skin.
Aizawa, jaw clenched, dropped the knife and stepped back.
All for One's tried to grab him, his fingers' tips brushed against his flowing hair.
Aizawa leaned back so much that his torso and shoulders were parallel to the floor.
All for One's hand followed him dangerously.
Aizawa saw it hovering over his face, the long, thick fingers opening like pincers.
Above, the sky was black, yellowish lightning flashing around the edges and then running from cloud to cloud like fluorescent stripes.
Rain fell into Aizawa's eyes, stinging and blurring his vision.
Thunder rumbled : a flash of white light lit up the street, illuminating the surroundings as if it were dawn.
Aizawa shot the outstretched palm above his head : the hand jerked and tensed.
Aizawa stood up as it retreated ; he aimed his gun at the armpit of All for One's outstretched arm and fired.
All for One recoiled in shock.
Aizawa fired twice into his right knee and once into his left ankle, his red eyes wide open.
All for One recoiled from the impact, but none of the shots pierced his flesh.
Aizawa's Quirk could undo anything except mutations.
He shot All for One once in the throat and twice in the crotch, sending him staggering backwards.
Aizawa ran to the other end of the street, expertly removed his magazine, threw it to the ground and replaced it with another from his belt.
Nezu had once told Aizawa that people would eventually come because of his Quirk and that he had to be prepared for any eventuality - that day had come.
"There's no point in running, Eraserhead !", All for One shouted.
All for One made no move to catch up with him.
As Aizawa rounded the corner, a hand with a reddish halo of light shot up at face level.
Aizawa, carried by his momentum, fell to his knees and skidded across the grey cobblestones.
He slid into a puddle, spraying water around him like a car in rain.
Three soldiers - behind the one with the outstretched arm - lowered their heads towards him as he reached the centre of their diamond formation.
Aizawa shot the first in the ankle - the one he had just passed - and the feet of numbers two and three.
He saw the blood explode like fireworks at the periphery of his vision and heard them scream before they collapsed to the ground, dropping their weapons.
Aizawa raised his weapon to Number Four's knee.
The man kicked Aizawa in the wrist to make him drop it.
The gun fell and the soldier kicked it behind him.
Aizawa stood up and the man kicked him in the chest.
The air was violently expelled from his lungs.
Aizawa spat out saliva.
The shoe lifted off his torso and Aizawa's fingers wrapped around the soldier's ankle.
As the man brought his leg towards him, Aizawa was dragged along.
Barely on his feet, Aizawa took the opportunity to push the soldier's leg away from him, throwing him off balance.
The soldier staggered backwards and almost fell.
Aizawa slipped into his open guard and unleashed a right hook.
The man parried, slipping his forearm between Aizawa's fist and his face at the last second, the blow deflecting away from his face.
Rather than lose the advantage, Aizawa grabbed the soldier's collar with his right fist and pulled him forward, causing him to stumble and rip his clothes.
Aizawa grabbed the soldier's neck with his left hand and then headbutted him in the nose.
He heard the cartilage crack.
Head ringing and dizzy, Aizawa stepped back as the man held his bloody nose in one hand.
The soldier raised his right hand towards Aizawa but nothing came.
Aizawa, his eyes red with blood, jammed his right foot into the soldier's knee like a torpedo.
The soldier's leg twisted into a 'V', the tip of which was his knee that sank down to the damp ground.
A bone - probably his tibia - tore through his flesh and trousers with the sound of flesh being ground to a pulp.
The man collapsed, screaming, and Aizawa stepped over him, forcing himself not to look.
He grabbed his weapon left in the middle of the street, turned to the soldier and shot his other foot, incapacitating him.
Aizawa ran.
The drumming of the rain - and with it the impossibility to hear if All for One was getting closer - made him nervous.
He knew he couldn't be far away, but losing sight of All f-
- Era-ser-head
A warm breath blossomed on Aizawa's neck as he passed an alley.
A shiver of terror ran through his body like an electric shock. Every hair on his skin stood on end.
Aizawa barely had time to turn his head before a huge hand closed over his face.
Simultaneously, something pulled him violently backwards, dragging him by the throat and choking him painfully.
Fingers closed beside his face, icy skin grazing his jaw.
Aizawa fell backwards and rolled several times.
His head hit the ground and he froze in the middle of the street, slightly stunned, trying to see the man who had saved him.
His scarf had tangled on a protruding stone from the wall, turning the remaining part of the scarf around his neck into a hangman's noose.
Aizawa, on his knees, blinked slowly, rain trickling down his face.
A beginner's mistake had just saved his life.
Rising to his feet, he tore off the tangled piece of scarf with his left hand, tearing it to shreds as he raised his gun towards All for One, who was calmly watching him from the corner of the street, two meters away.
His index finger grazed the trigger; a muddy boot crushed his right wrist, a jolt of pain shooting up to his shoulder.
The gunshot went to the left, away from All for One. His weapon slammed into the wall and fell with a clatter.
The soldier - who had literally fallen from the sky - landed with a crunch on the wet ground, legs bent.
Aizawa, his wrist burning, barely had time to move his head back to avoid the stab.
With a hissing sound, the blade sliced through the air, slicing vertically across Aizawa's throat and chin.
The soldier reversed his grip, moved the blade horizontally and tried to slit Aizawa's throat three times in a row without losing his rhythm.
Aizawa stepped back, narrowly dodging each time. His throbbing right hand fumbled on the belt at his waist, looking for his second knife.
His fingers were numb and unresponsive.
Blood trickled from a shallow cut on his neck.
The soldier stood still for a split second as he realised his blow had landed. His muscles temporarily relaxed.
Most people tended to pause briefly when they see that one of their blows had landed. Aizawa seized the opportunity, grabbed his knife with his still trembling right hand and struck the soldier in the stomach.
The blade tore through his uniform and sank into his stomach up to the hilt.
The man dropped his own knife and collapsed on top of Aizawa who caught him and laid him gently on the ground.
Hopefully he didn't hit any vital organs.
Out of the corner of his eye, Aizawa saw a shadow leap down from the roof in front of him.
There was a rush of quick steps and splashes.
Aizawa's capture scarf wrapped around the soldier's ankles, trapping him like prey.
Aizawa pulled sharply.
The man, arms flailing behind him as if they were lifeless, crashed in the street like a broken doll.
Aizawa grunted, pulling his victim towards him as if he were pulling a lariat back.
Aizawa shifted aside at the last second and the soldier crashed into the two men who had crept up behind Aizawa.
Aizawa tore off that part of his scarf, leaving the soldier pinned down. Then he threw another tape at his gun, which had been left against the wall, and pulled it back to him with a flick of his wrist.
The icy, dripping weapon returned to his right hand.
Aizawa turned to face the two downed soldiers who, swept away like bowling pins, were getting back up on their feet.
Lightning illuminated the street in a white flash.
Aizawa caught the silhouette of a person projected onto the cobblestones in front of him.
He turned fluidly, his shoes squeaking on the ground, Quirk activated.
The man, hands cupped around his mouth, was barely a meter above Aizawa.
The shimmering steam that had spewed from his lip vanished at once.
Aizawa shot him in the shin.
The man fell from the sky like a bird whose wings had just been plucked.
A knife pierced Aizawa at the junction of his neck and shoulder.
Aizawa faltered, his knees weakening as his attacker pressed down on his shoulder with all his weight.
The second soldier appeared to his left, his weapon aimed at Aizawa's torso.
Aizawa let go and fell to the ground.
The shot rang out.
The air whistled in his ears, the curls stuck to his jaw flew wildly.
The first soldier - the one who had stabbed him - had let go.
Aizawa caught himself on his hands, heart hammering in his chest, breath short. His head turned to the left.
He saw a leg and didn't think ; his hand lifted up the trousers and his teeth sank in the ankle.
The echo of the shot still reverberated in the street as he tore at the flesh with all his might.
A jet of lukewarm blood splashed diagonally across his face and over his nose. Aizawa spat out the piece of flesh and forced himself to ignore the blood he swallowed in his next gulp.
Scream.
Blood splashed into his right eye : he closed it.
He heard a gun fall somewhere behind him.
Aizawa didn't run for it; too obvious.
He pushed off on his toes and crawled forward, grabbing the knife that had fallen from the soldier he'd gutted.
The man, one hand on his stomach, lay in a pool of his own blood half a meter away.
Still on the ground, Aizawa rolled onto his back, knife in hand, and turned to face the man who had stabbed him.
A flash of pain shot through from his shoulder to his neck like a searing burn.
The knife slipped through his fingers ; he caught it at the last second.
It was he who had been shot.
The soldier's head turned in shock towards his ankle-torn comrade, nervously reaching for the weapon at his waist.
Aizawa flexed his wrist and threw the knife at his throat.
Blood spurted out like a fountain.
Not even having time to put his hands to his throat, the man made a gurgling sound - as if choking on bubbles - and fell face first on the ground.
The knife plunged deeper and tore through his throat to the back of his neck.
A wave of guilt washed over Aizawa : he forced himself to ignore it, crawled to the corpse, flipped him on his back and grabbed the gun from its holster.
He wasn't even dead yet.
Aizawa rose to his feet, arms hot and aching, sore and exhausted, thighs trembling with fatigue.
He wiped the blood from his right eyelid with two fingers and brushed away the sticky hair from his forehead with the hand that wasn't holding his weapon.
His own gun had slipped somewhere, and it was impossible for him to know where.
Aizawa raised his head and saw All for One standing on the roof across from him, hands clasped behind his back, watching him in silence.
He stood back to the black sky and the thunderstorm, the wind swelling and blowing a long black cloak in his wake like a ship's sail in a storm.
Aizawa spat a mixture of saliva and blood on the ground without taking his eyes off him.
The sky had become shower, soaking Aizawa's clothes until they clung to his skin, washing away the blood off his clothes until it diluted in puddles.
Aizawa stood in a sea of pink puddles.
"Surrender, Eraserhead"
Soldiers poured in waves from rooftops and surrounding alleyways, trapping him in the middle of their formation.
"You can't escape us"
Aizawa's Quirk was a matter of national security.
No one else in the world had ever been born with the power to erase those of others.
If All for One succeeded in capturing him - turning him into a Nomu, or worse - no one would be able to stand in his way.
"Don't make things unnecessarily difficult"
Aizawa's red eyes flashed over all the soldiers who surrounded him but stood at a safe distance, wary.
Twenty-eight.
Every single drop of rain hit on the ground with the intensity of thunderclap turning the earth upside down
Aizawa exhaled loudly, calmly lowering his yellow goggles over his eyes.
His blood pounded in his ears, warming his muscles and electrifying his body.
He spread his legs shoulder-width apart, tightened his grip on his weapons - knife in reverse grip in his left hand, pistol in his right - rolled his shoulders then locked his stance, posture aggressive, jaw clenched and gaze determined.
He already knew what Nezu and the Commission's top brass would say to him in such circumstances : order to kill.
"Bring it on"
*
A/N : If you want to read ahead of schedule, go check the story's P@treon, Nar_cisseENG
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