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Shinsou Hitoshi, age 27, played a “catch the kittens” game on his phone while lounging at the gates to UA. He had been there for a decent time; Nedzu had definitely noticed him by now.
“Yo,” he said to the speakers that had to be hidden around here somewhere. He didn’t look up from his game. “For the last time, I’m from the future and I need to talk to Nedzu or whatever.”
Nothing happened. Hitoshi shrugged, half-smiling as he netted another kitten.
It took another five levels for anything to happen, but at last, the gates swung open to reveal Nedzu, All Might, and Midnight. “Your persistence speaks to your—“ Nedzu started.
Hitoshi held up one hand. “Just a sec. I’m in a kitten rush challenge.”
Nedzu paused. All Might coughed.
The silence was awkward, broken only by the tinny music of the game.
“And—there,” Hitoshi said, pocketing his phone. “Twenty seven kittens. Not bad. Hey, Nedzu.”
“Young man,” All Might started. “If you are to believed, your behavior does not speak well of—“
“Unprofessional conduct, uh huh,” Hitoshi said, prying himself off the pavement. “But consider: kittens.”
“He’s worse than Shouta,” Midnight murmured, a little awed.
Nedzu gave Hitoshi a long, apprising look. “Come to my office,” he said at length. Hitoshi shrugged and followed his escort through the gated walls.
Upon arriving at Nedzu’s office, Hitoshi promptly claimed the closest chair and spun a quick circle in it.
“It’s the little things,” he explained to his audience.
“Right.” Midnight watched him with bemused curiosity.
“You claim you are from the future,” Nedzu said, hopping onto his desk. “Do you have anything to prove this?”
Hitoshi fished around in his pocket. “Here’s my hero license,” he said, holding it up.
Nedzu opened his mouth, but Hitoshi kept right on going, producing a handful of odds and ends from his pocket. “Also a movie ticket, some dryer lint, some, uh, didn’t know I still had this but it’s old gum—“
That was when Aizawa walked in, capture weapon floating around him. “What’s the emergency?” he asked, clipped, as he kicked open the door.
“—and the left arm of a Deku plushie,” Hitoshi finished, unruffled. “My cat ate the rest.”
Aizawa assessed Hitoshi with a grunt. “Who’s this?”
“He claims he is a first year student of ours from the future,” Nedzu said. “May I see your license?”
Hitoshi tossed it onto Nedzu’s desk. “Sure.”
Nedzu leaned over the card. “This is dated ten years in the future.”
“Yeah,” Hitoshi said, grimacing. “It’s technically expired, but don’t tell anyone that.”
All Might clapped a hand over his mouth to contain the blood-powered cough.
“But it’s only by, like, three weeks,” Hitoshi defended himself. “I was actually going to get it renewed when I wound up here.”
“How did you get here?” Nedzu asked, holding the card up to the light.
Hitoshi looked skyward. “Let’s say it was a dramatic battle to the death.”
Aizawa glared at Hitoshi. “Was it?”
“No, but I wish it was,” Hitoshi grumbled. “I knocked a dude over chasing Bakugo. Next thing I know, I’m here.”
“Why were you chasing Bakugo?” Midnight asked, voice despairing.
“He said my ringtone was stupid, okay?” Hitoshi snapped.
Without prompting, he pulled up his phone and tapped a few buttons.
Sound blared. IT’S A LOGICAL RUSE echoed through the room. It was vocoded.
“So now I’m here,” Hitoshi said. “Anyways, figured I should warn you that this year is going to be hell.”
Nedzu set down Hitoshi’s hero license. “What information can you give us?”
“Mm. Do you want, like, everything that goes wrong or just the main headings, ‘cuz there is a lot— “
“Any information is valuable,” Nedzu said, pulling up a laptop. “Is there anything we should be aware of in the next month?”
Hitoshi shrugged. “Villains are gonna attack the USJ in about a day.”
Aizawa stiffened. “How many? What is their aim?”
“Beats me, and to kill All Might. Or Midoriya? No, wait, they didn’t hate Midoriya yet since they hadn’t met yet. Right? Yeah, to kill All Might.”
Nedzu’s tail twitched. “Any information on their capabilities would be invaluable.”
“Dunno.” Shinsou shrugged again. “I hadn’t transferred into 1A yet, and nobody talks about it. I mean, they do but I just sort of tune them out? We’ve had much more exciting attacks then the USJ.”
“So their threat level is minimal?” Nedzu pressed.
“Nah, I think a few people almost died? But no one did,” he added hurriedly, seeing the look on Aizawa’s face. “Like, you got a cool scar under your eye, though.” He traced a line on his face. “Like that.”
“Alright,” Nedzu said tightly, typing in a few notes. “Is there anything else you can tell us about that day?”
Hitoshi thought about it. “I had katsudon for lunch,” he offered. “It was pretty good.”
“Anything relevant ,” Midnight snapped.
“I mean, it was relevant to me. I skipped breakfast that day, so it was a pretty big deal.” Hitoshi did another spin on his chair. “I like to think I eat a well-balanced diet, but that was a straight up lie in high school.”
“What other major headings of what goes wrong can you give us?” Nedzu said.
“I mean, All Might—mmm. Should I say this? It could mess up the timeline and stuff.”
“We’ve already broken the timeline with knowing about the USJ,” Nedzu pointed out. “Now all we can do is prepare for it as best we can.”
“Okay!” Hitoshi clapped his hands together. “So All Might had this big fight with—what’s his name? I keep forgetting. His name wasn’t released to the public, and I have access to it as a hero, but I honestly didn’t look it up more than once. I think it had to do with candy? Anyways, they fought. All Might had to retire afterward.” He glanced over at All Might. “You can go Small Might if you want. It’s not really a surprise to me.”
“Small Might?” Midnight sounded like she was ascending.
“That’s what the group chat calls him,” Hitoshi confirmed. “But yeah. Kamino’s big.”
“Why was I fighting this villain?” All Might said, gripping the edge of the table so hard that cracks formed in the wood. “There are very few people that can take me on in a full-out fight.”
“Ah, Kaminari called it ‘the world’s most epic grudge match.’ Like, you had fought before and stuff?”
All Might went white, exchanging a loaded glance with Nedzu. “Was the villain’s name All for One?”
Hitoshi snapped his fingers. “Yep, that was it! All for One And One for All, like—“ He faltered under All Might’s full attention. “—like the three musketeers? The candy bar?”
Aizawa looked like he wanted to strangle Hitoshi. This was a common expression, so Hitoshi wasn’t overly affected. “It’s good candy,” he finished in a mumble.
“I imagine All Might’s retirement caused some societal chaos,” Nedzu prompted.
“Yeah, I guess,” Hitoshi said.
“ You guess ?” Midnight echoed.
At the same time, All Might said “Did I defeat All for One?”
Hitoshi made a face. “He wound up in Tartarus—“ He took a good long look at All Might and decided to say no more.
Then, he spun his chair to face Midnight. “Look, society could have collapsed and I wouldn’t have really noticed. I was training to transfer into 1A, which meant I got, like, no free time. For months . But yeah, everyone says things started to get bad once All Might retired.”
The grim silence in the room was profound.
“Someone made a remix of Kamino Ward footage and posted it,” Hitoshi added thoughtfully. “It’s a bop.”
“Did anything else happen this year?” Aizawa said, dragging a hand over his face.
“Ah, pretty sure this is the year everyone started calling Shouto ‘candy cane,’ which, may I add, is better than his actual hero name.”
Hitoshi paused as his stomach started to tingle uncomfortably. This had happened before, right when the time travel had started up the first time.
“Anyways, I got to go,” he said, doing a final spin on his chair. “Great to see you all again, and all that jazz, but I’ve got a hero license to renew, and a cat cafe to visit, so—“
“Do you do anything useful, ever?” Aizawa exploded, scarf rising dangerously high above his head.
And that, Hitoshi couldn’t let slide. “You shouldn’t say that to your son,” he said, mock pouting, and let the time warp envelop him to the glorious sight of every person in the room turning to Aizawa, eyes wide.
And Aizawa wouldn’t even know if Hitoshi was telling the truth until he reached Hitoshi’s time. Hitoshi cackled as he was spat back into the alley he had been chasing Bakugo through hours before.
It was then that he realized he had left his hero license with Nedzu.
“Blast,” he mumbled, fishing his phone out of his pocket. On screen, kittens danced to the victory tune piping out of the game.
He dialed Nedzu, who answered on the second ring.
“Shinsou Hitoshi,” Nedzu said, sounding exasperated. “I have been waiting twelve years to tell you that you gave the most singularly unhelpful intelligence briefing of my entire life.”
“Well,” Shinsou said, considering, “you don’t have to be so mean about it.”
Nedzu sighed. “Come pick up your license from my office. We will be having words.”
Shinsou wished, badly, that hero license renewals didn’t require the old license to fill out the paperwork.
“Okay,” he said, and hung up.
Then, because it had been a half hour and his lives were therefore recharged, he pulled out his kitten game and played it, humming along, on the long walk back to UA.