Aizawa/Oboro/Hizashi

The air in the lab was icy. Hizashi stood, forehead pressed against the armored glass, looking at the one he once called friend. At Nomu. At Shota.

— “Shota... come on. It's us. I know you're there. Those stupid eyes of yours, I'll never mistake them for anything else,” Hizashi's voice broke, its usual volume replaced by a hoarse whisper. “Just blink. Once. Please. Give us a sign you're struggling.”

Oboro stood slightly behind, his fingers trembling as he stared at the wires entwined around Aizawa's body. He couldn't scream. Instead, he placed his palm on the glass in front of "Aizawa's" face, trying to speak calmly, but his voice was tinged with pain.

"Shota, please. You promised we'd always be there. If you can hear us, just give us a sign. We'll get you out. We won't give up."

Silence answered. Only the dim light of the lamps reflected in the empty, alien eyes behind the glass. Not a breath, not a movement.

Just a momentary, almost imperceptible tremor of his pupils. As if for a moment something had moved in the void.