Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Izuku comes to, he’s lying in a puddle and missing a shoe.

The sun’s out. Part of the sky’s obscured by uniform metal lines, like a colourful ladder suspended above his head. Monkey bars, he thinks sluggishly. He rubs his head and sits up. This isn’t downtown Tokyo, he’s pretty sure. It isn’t downtown anywhere. He’d been in the middle of stopping an armed bank robbery when one of them had hit him with a beam of light, and now he’s sore and bleary-eyed in a vaguely familiar playground. In civvies, he realises abruptly. His one visible sock has a dog face printed on the toes.

“Good job, dummy,” snorts someone behind him. “Can you go five minutes without almost knocking yourself out?”

Izuku turns. It’s a little blond boy with red eyes and a smirk Izuku definitely remembers. “Kacchan?”

“What, did you hit your head?” Kacchan says. His lackeys titter. Two of them, the ones Izuku never really got the names of. “You should have stayed in the sandbox like I told you to. Serves you right for trying to keep up with me.”

Slowly, Izuku stands. The back of his shirt clings to him unpleasantly, water dripping into the waistband of his shorts and down his calves. Everything’s big. Disconcertingly so, and Izuku, on instinct, looks down to inspect his hands. They’re soft and unscarred. Frowning, he checks his reflection in the puddle he just fell into. He’s met with big eyes and unruly green hair. “Holy shit,” he says quietly. “I’m tiny.”

Kacchan continues trying to loom despite now being at eye level. “What?”

“Nothing,” Izuku says, touching his own face. It’s chubby. Young, for some reason, not even pre-pubescent. They hadn’t had any information about the villains going in. He should have been more careful. The last one must have hit him with an age-regression quirk. Except, Kacchan hadn’t been on the mission, and he’s here too and just as small. Time travel? Maybe. Or Izuku could be locked in an old memory, something buried deep in his brain. Or this is an alternate universe. A different timeline. Or he’s just hallucinating and the villains are already getting away.

Dirty water splashes over his feet and ruins his poor sock. Izuku takes a step back. “Hey!”

“Stop ignoring me,” Kacchan says. “And quit it with the creepy mumbling.”

Izuku makes a face and shakes his foot like a displeased cat. “I forgot how unpleasant you were at this age.”

Kacchan threatens to kick more water at him. “What did you say? And what do you mean, this age?”

“Can you chill, Kacchan, god.” His shoe’s bounced into the grass somewhere. Grumbling, Izuku hops over to put it back on. There’s no sign of the villain anywhere, or the bank. It seems he’s been transported all the way back to Mustafu although nobody else has noticed. “What year is it?”

“You dumb or something?”

He should have taken his wet sock off first. It squelches inside Izuku’s sneaker, and he grimaces. “You know that’s not nice. Really, where did we go wrong with you? I doubt your parents taught you to be a bully, god knows I’ve seen you and Mitsuki-san argue about your attitude.”

“Shut up, quirkless.”

“I can’t help being quirkless, can I?” Izuku says absently. Maybe if he finds Eraserhead in this timeline, he can negate the effects of whatever’s going on. “You know in this society that’s kind of like being disabled, right? Is that the reputation you want? Picking on the disabled kid?”

Kacchan scoffs. “You’re not disabled.”

“I’m missing an ability that most of the population has, due to a physical defect. Imagine if I was blind or something. Would you pick on me then?”

“Of course not!”

Izuku wiggles his wet toes. “Right. Not least because it would really negatively impact your reputation as a hero. Can you imagine? You make it all the way to UA, win the first year sports festival, and all anyone can talk about is how you had to be tied to a pole because you wouldn’t take your medal. And then you get kidnapped by a villain group to join their ranks even though you don’t want to, but they think you’d fit in. All because you decided to bully the poor kid with no quirk. Really, Kacchan. I expected better from you.”

Kacchan turns quite a lovely shade of red. “That’s not – what are you even talking about?”

The lackeys glance at each other. “You can’t make fun of disabled people, man,” one of them says.

“He’s not disabled – ”

“By most definitions, I am,” Izuku says gravely. “All because of my toe. Who can I turn to, if even the heroes shun me for being different? If not having a quirk grants me less respect than someone just like me who happens to be in a wheelchair? Or hard of hearing?”

Kacchan looks stricken. “You’re not in a wheelchair and you’re not deaf.”

“No, but I could be. Speaking of which, and this is only tangentially related, you might want to look into getting modified earplugs for your quirk. I know it’s not much of an issue now, but all those explosions next to your face are gonna add up when you’re older. Add them to your mask or something. You’ll thank me when you’re twenty.”

“Is ‘quirkless’ a slur? Like the R-word?” says the other lackey.

Kacchan opens his mouth, and then gives up. Izuku tries not to laugh. “Whatever. I’m out of here. You suck, Deku. Not because you’re disab–  quirkless. You’re just lame. Which is a character flaw, not a physical one.”

“Absolutely,” Izuku says. “Bye, Kacchan. Tell your parents I say hi.”

Kacchan blows him a raspberry. The lackeys watch him go, and then turn to Izuku expectantly. “He’s not actually gonna get kidnapped by villains, right?” says the taller one.

Izuku shrugs. “Ask me again in ten years.”

“He probably won’t be a villain,” says the other one. “With a quirk like that he could be a hero, easy.”

“Will it really make him go deaf, though?”

“If he’s not careful, yeah,” says Izuku. “It’s not that much of an issue, since hearing aids aren’t hard to use, but you know.”

 “Huh. I’m a little less jealous of his quirk now,” says the short one.

“It’s still really cool,” Izuku says. “Did you know glycerine smells and tastes like burnt sugar?”

They consider this. “So if we licked him, he’d taste like caramel?”

Izuku smiles. “Why don’t you try it?”

“Hold on,” says the taller one. “If he’s gonna go deaf eventually, does that make it more ethical for him to be mean to a disabled person? Given he’s gonna be part of the community sooner or later?”

“I don’t know if it can ever be ethical to pick on a minority just for being themselves,” says the other. “Although, if you’re already familiar with the struggle, maybe that’s just another form of self-deprecation.”

“Or internalised self-hatred. You know, like those women who think femininity is bad.”

“Surely rejecting gender norms isn’t a bad thing.”

“It isn’t, but I think the problem comes from when you assume femininity is inherently bad just because it’s feminine. Not because you resent being forced into a role, but because you think being a girl is somehow inferior. Then it’s just internalised misogyny, y’know?”

“Oh, for sure. Although, that then raises the question of how, if at all, you can draw the line between embracing femininity for the sake of empowerment, and falling right back into societal expectations. What do you think, Deku?” the short one says.

Izuku claps them both on the shoulder. “I think you’re gonna be fine,” he says, and goes home.

“Mom,” he says when he gets back, twenty minutes late because he’d forgotten the way home from the playground.

Inko waves at him from the kitchen. Izuku’s momentarily stunned by how young she looks, and how tall. He outgrew her fifteen years ago. “Hi, honey. Why are you all wet?”

“I fell in a puddle,” Izuku says, gingerly peeling off his socks and shoes. “You didn’t happen to hear anything about a villain with a time-travelling quirk robbing a bank in downtown Tokyo, did you?”

“Not recently, no.”

“Rats,” Izuku says, coming over to see what she’s doing. He debates telling her outright that he’s not from this timeline, but decides he’s put the poor woman through enough stress already. Or he will, anyway, once he gets older. “How are you, Mom? Are you well?”

“I am, baby,” she says and ruffles his hair. “Why don’t you go shower and change into something dry before you catch a cold? You can help me wash the rice when you’re done.”

“Alright,” Izuku says and then brightens. “Say, can we have katsudon? I’ve never managed to make it quite the way you do.”

“Well, I should hope not. You’re eight.”

Twenty years back in the past, good god. “What’s the date?”

“May 15th.”

Exactly twenty years, then. “Okay. I’m gonna go take a shower.”

He doesn’t take a shower. Not immediately, anyway; instead he snoops around his room for the shoebox hidden under the bed, the one he’s had since he was four where he keeps all the little things he wants to remember. “Lighter than I’m used to,” he mutters as he sits back on his haunches and empties it out on the bed. Here’s the picture of him and Kacchan on a fishing trip. His second birthday, where he threw up on his dad. The time a butterfly landed in his hair and he’d managed not to cry until after his mother snapped a photo.

They’re all familiar. All the big events he can remember are accounted for and then some. “So this version of Izuku has had more or less the same life that I have,” he says, chewing his cheek. “Does that mean this is a parallel version of myself, or have I just been sent back through my own life?”

His room seems identical. Kacchan had looked exactly like he remembers, too, still small and soft and a little less nasty. “So there are three options,” he muses. “Either I find that villain and make her send me back to my own time, I wait for someone in my time to drag me back through, or I wait it out.”

There’s not much he can do to influence option two. Option three will happen whether he does anything or not. Option one is a long shot, but it’s probably worth trying until someone either rescues him or he manages to live his life all over again. Unless he makes it all the way until the bank heist and history repeats itself and he gets sent back in time again, which would be an absolute nightmare.

He has no leads. No quirk, currently, and no contacts. He’ll check the news later to see if the villain’s anywhere to be seen, but if she isn’t, Izuku needs a backup plan. He needs help.

Well. There is one person who’s always there when Izuku needs him.

“Smash,” he says, and skips off to have a bath.

May 17^th. That’s the date All Might took down a rampaging mothman in north Tokyo. It’s also a Saturday. Izuku had told his mother he was going to Kacchan’s house. She seemed so happy that he’d felt bad for lying, but there’s no way she would have allowed him to buy a bus ticket and travel alone if she knew. The city’s about the same as he remembers it, which is to say it’s crowded and noisy. People keep bumping into him. Izuku hangs onto his backpack and hurries along the sidewalk to hang out at a cafe and wait.

The fight’s fantastic. Messy, sure, and his vantage point from up the street isn’t the best, but Izuku’s not reckless enough to get close enough to watch the action even though he kind of really wants to. As it is he gets some great photos on his Polaroid. People cheer as the villain of the week is taken away in a cop car. All Might, head sticking out from the crowd like a blond coconut tree among shrubs, poses for photos and smiles.

Izuku slides off his chair. They’re twenty years in the past. From what Izuku knows about him, All Might always goes for the least crowded place after a fight, darting through alleyways to get away from the legions of fans who want to stay and chat. Izuku consulted a map before coming here. By his estimate, All Might will soon end up in the dinky little street behind the closed-down florist, not to be seen by the public until his next appearance on the thirtieth. “And Kacchan always said my All Might notes were stalkery,” Izuku says, hopping over a crack in the pavement. “Hah. It’s useful now, so suck it.”

He only has to wait ten minutes. All Might comes jogging around a corner, checking furtively over his shoulder for witnesses. Izuku pops out from behind a trash can.

“Hi,” he says brightly.

If All Might’s startled, he doesn’t show it. “Oh! Why, hello, little man. Could you be looking for an autograph?”

“No thank– ah, sure, why not,” Izuku says, digging around in his bag for his camera. “Can we take a photo?”

“Of course,” All Might says and kneels. He’s huge up close. Izuku had kind of missed this, feeling dwarfed and safe around this friendly giant of a man. It’s even more intense than it was the first time they met. Now Izuku only reaches up to All Might’s waist.

“You take it, your arms are longer.” He presses his cheek to All Might’s and smiles as wide as he can. Probably hugs him a little too hard, but sue him. He’s eight. “Thanks! Oh, actually, sorry, can I get one of just you? I have a friend who would really like an autograph from you too.”

“Sure,” All Might says amicably, digging a marker pen out of some mysterious pocket as they wait for the first polaroid to develop. Izuku inspects him discretely. He’s definitely a little more energetic than he was when Izuku was fourteen, although his eyes are the same. “What’s your name?”

“Midoriya Izuku. Could you make the second one out to my friend Kacchan?”

“Alright. Are you all alone out here? Where are your parents?”

“I can take care of myself,” he says, carefully slipping the first signed photo into the notebook in his bag.

“How old are you?”

“Twenty-eight. I just have a growth problem.”

All Might laughs. “Still. Your mother must be wondering where you are.”

“Never mind that,” Izuku says, accepting the second photo with thanks. “Listen. I’d like to ask for your help with something, if you don’t mind. You see, I’m kind of chronologically challenged at the moment. I’m from the future and I need to get back.”

“Is that so,” All Might says faux-seriously. “Could it be a villain that sent you here?”

“It was, actually. I’m a hero. Codename Deku. Don’t ask about the name, it’s a long story.”

“And how far in the future are you from?”

“Far enough to know you must have just finished your fight with All for One and your quirk’s beginning to fail you.”

The iconic smile falters. Discreetly, All Might glances around the make sure they’re alone. “That’s, uh. Where did you hear that?”

“From you,” Izuku says. “You told me when we met.”

All Might swallows. “Who are you?”

“I told you. Midoriya Izuku,” he says with a smile. “Ninth successor of One for All, at your service.”

“So, you’re actually from the future and this isn’t some elaborate eight-year-old game of pretend,” says All Might.

“No, I’m telling the truth.” Izuku sips his milkshake. They’re in a little café somewhere off the main street, tucked away into a booth near the back. The waiter who took their order hadn’t batted an eye when All Might walked in. Izuku supposes a few years in customer service tend to suck the joy out of meeting a living legend. “I really should have been a little more cautious, though. Gran Torino’s going to kill me if I make it out of here alive.”

“You work with him?”

“Yes, why?”

“No reason, he’s a great mentor,” All Might hums. “I just assumed you’d be under me, considering you’re meant to be my successor.”

“Oh, no, I was, but things got a little awkward after we broke up.”

“What?”

“Yeah, we dated a whole twelve years. You’re the reason I have such a thing for blonds.”

“Twelve yea- didn’t you say you were only twenty-eight?”

Izuku blinks innocently. “Yes. You left me for a younger man. I was devastated.”

“Oh god.” All Might actually looks a little green. Izuku snorts into his drink and pats the poor man on the arm.

“Relax, I’m only kidding. I promise any affection I have for you is completely platonic and appropriate to our adopted father-son dynamic.”

All Might takes a deep breath and glances around as though someone might be eavesdropping. Izuku doesn’t know why he bothers. The only other person here is a drunk man eating waffles and ketchup. “You’re gonna give me a heart attack, kid. You’re sure that was just a joke?”

“Yep.” Aside from the thing about blonds, anyway. “Oh, hey, try posing with the milkshake. And sign it with an ice cream pun. Like, ice to meet you or something.”

“Why are you taking so many photos of me?”

“Because they’re going to fetch a lot of money and I get a hundred yen a day as an allowance. Be sure to sign them, please.”

All Might sighs but smiles for the picture dutifully. Izuku’s already got four more safe in his backpack. “I don’t know anyone with a time travelling quirk. I suppose I could ask Sir Nighteye if he’s got any insight as to what you should do. If he’ll speak to me, anyway.”

Izuku winces. “Oh, yeah, you just had that big argument, didn’t you. Sorry about that. If it makes you feel any better, he still cares about you a lot. He had your merch plastered all over his office when I interned with him. Some really rare limited edition stuff, too.”

All Might seems rather happier at that. “So, what’s the real reason you don’t work with me in the future?”

“You retired. You live in the countryside and grow begonias.”

“Really?”

“No. You teach in UA and work with the police. You do grow begonias, though.”

“I always thought I was more of a daisy man,” says All Might pensively. “So, alright, you’re looking for a way to return to the future. What are you going to do until then?”

“Worry my mother, probably,” says Izuku, rooting around for his notebook. “Now, here’s the thing. There are, naturally, several things that are likely to happen in the next few years that you might like to know about.”

All Might sips his iced coffee monstrosity. “I feel as though every movie I’ve seen has warned me against this specifically.”

“Yeah, I was wondering about that. I might mess up the timelines. If I tell you the future I might end up rewriting the course of history and who knows where we’ll end up.”

“You could potentially save a lot of people. I mean, I’m assuming these special events are dangerous ones, else you wouldn’t be so concerned.”

“They are. So, anyway, there’s a kind named Shimura Tenko who you need to rescue from All for One before he becomes a deranged, all-powerful psychopath who literally destroys anything he touches.”

All Might blinks. “Wait. What about the timeline?”

Izuku pauses in flipping through his notebook to pat All Might on the hand. He looks up at him earnestly, squeezing the man’s fingers in his chubby eight-year-old hand. “I worry about you,” he says gently. “If it means your safety, I say fuck the timeline, so listen up.”

It takes eleven weeks for All Might to catch Doctor Ujiko and find the lab full of baby Nomu.

“He had something growing in his underground laboratory,” All Might says, sitting in a café with Izuku to get out of the summer sun. He’s in his emaciated form, hence the lack of swarming fans to interrupt their weekly meetings. “The police have launched an investigation into exactly what it is he was doing. Won’t be long before the truth comes out.”

“Oh, good. Those things were a serious pain to deal with. I think we’ve sped things up quite considerably, assuming All for One doesn’t just decide to find another crazy scientist to carry out his human experimentation again.”

All Might leans closer. Most of the other kids are at the playground enjoying the last of their break, but as always Izuku had told his mother he’d be at the library studying his English. He’s not technically lying. He’d learnt to speak English from All Might, in the other timeline, and they’re using it right now so there’s less chance of being overheard. “You know,” All Might mutters. “This really seems like a perversion of justice. I arrested the man while he was just out on a walk with his grandson. The boy tripped over a rock. Bit of a stretch to take Ujiko in on suspicion of child endangerment.”

“You wouldn’t have been able to secure a search warrant otherwise,” Izuku points out. “And you need to take advantage of your opportunities while you have them. You know Tsukauchi takes over after Tsurugamae retires, right? He’s way less trusting. Imagine trying to tell him you needed to arrest this seemingly respectable doctor on a hunch. Tsukauchi would have hit you over the head with his clipboard.”

“I still wish I’d had some actual proof before sending him to prison.”

“You’ll get your proof eventually,” Izuku says and pats his hand soothingly. “And think of the lives you’ve saved. All you had to do was do a little light stalking and be slightly over-enthusiastic over exercising your authority. The ends justify the means, I’d say.”

All Might shudders. “You will never understand how disconcerting it is to have an eight-year-old quote Machiavelli at you.”

“Nine soon. And it’s possible I might have lost a little idealism after a few years in the hero business,” Izuku admits. “And from fighting a war I shouldn’t have had any part of. But that’s neither here nor there. I think this is a great reason to celebrate. Want some ice cream? It’s on me.”

All Might frowns. “You said you barely got any allowance.”

“Your photos have been selling shockingly well at school.”

“You know I could sue you for using my branding without permission.”

“I’ll give you a cut.”

“Fifty percent.”

“Ten.”

“Sixty.”

“Two ice creams and a bottle of soda.”

All Might pats his head. “I’m not actually in charge of the company, I have to say. The lawyers are a lot more serious about the trademark than I am. You might find yourself facing a lawsuit if your little side business catches their attention.”

“Yeah, I figured. At least it won me some points with Kacchan. He put your autographed photo up above his bed.”

“Cheer up. You did say we’ve saved a lot of lives.”

Izuku sighs. “That may be the case, but I’m still broke.”

He continues to be broke because Japan's labour laws are annoying and he gets laughed out of every part-time job interview he applies for. The nearby cafe manager gravely tells him to enjoy his childhood and the 7-Eleven lady pats him on the head and offers to call child protective services. Izuku resigns himself to a few more years of small change. It’s sort of nice, though, not having to go to work every day, and Izuku goes back to school without the dread that surrounds the other students like a cloud. He’s used to almost dying every week, after all. Exams just don’t seem like that big a deal in comparison. “Hey, Kacchan,” he says amicably on the first day of third grade. “You like the signed keychain I got you?”

“No,” Kacchan says automatically even though Izuku can clearly see the thing hanging on his backpack. “I bet you’re real proud of yourself for coming first in the year.”

“I’m really not. Given that I’m pushing thirty and I wouldn’t be able to show my face in public if I couldn’t do simple arithmetic or spelling. Did your tonsillitis heal up okay?”

“How did you know about my – whatever. Don’t get full of yourself. You might be smart but you’re still quirkless.”

“Kacchan, what did we say about the implications of making fun of me for my disability?” Izuku asks. Kacchan grumbles. Izuku follows him through the school gates despite Kacchan obviously walking faster to get rid of him. “Anyway, it turns out I have a quirk. It’s just not going to manifest until I turn fifteen.”

“You’re full of shit.”

“No, really. It’s super-strength. And black whip and a bunch of other stuff but honestly some of them aren’t super useful. Did you consider what I said about putting earplugs in your mask?”

“I’m not about to go deaf, Deku. Now leave me alone. I don’t want anyone to see us talking in public.”

Izuku suffers through the school year with good grace, even when he starts getting a reputation for being a prodigy. He tries not to listen to the whispers. Elementary school isn’t exactly a huge challenge for a fully-grown adult. At least he can take some comfort in having finally beaten Kacchan in every subject, and it only took a twenty-year head start. 

He continues secretly meeting All Might whenever the man has a spare moment, but they don’t get much further with the time-travel thing beyond yeah, you’re probably stuck here, sorry. The routine is boring as all hell, though. Izuku ends up enrolling himself in Muay Thai, Tae Kwon Do, and calligraphy lessons to pass the time. At least he gets more time with his mother and to bother Kacchan. He’s taken to following the boy home and inviting himself over for dinner. “Do you think your dad could be convinced to make Mexican food sometime? I miss fajitas.”

Kacchan grips the straps of his backpack, shoulders hunched around his ears so he looks like a pointy blond turtle. “Why do you keep talking to me?”

“Because I'm adorable but you somehow don’t like me.”

“So get lost!”

“I’m sorry, Kacchan. I physically can’t be intimidated by you. You’re ten.”

Kacchan tries to hit him. Izuku dodges and keeps talking. “Anyway, I wanted your mom’s opinion on the stock market. I’m pretty sure I remember a big hike in Nissan coming soon but I want to know if I should invest now or wait to see if the share prices trend down first. Hi, Aunty Mitsuki! You're looking delightful as always. I'd say purple is your colour but I've seen you look fabulous in all of them.”

“Hello, Izuku! I do hope you're staying for dinner tonight."

Kacchan frowns. "What, no hello for me?"

"Yeah, sure, hey Kazumi-" 

"Kazumi?" 

"How was your day, Izuku, honey?" she beams and lets them in. “I found those old copies of The Economist you wanted. Do you want to look at them now or after dessert?”

“You can’t read magazines now!” Kacchan says, outraged. “You haven’t even started your homework! Mom, he hasn’t done any homework since school started!”

Izuku shrugs. “I’m pretty sure the point of homework is to help us remember what we’ve been taught. I’m not about to forget long division anytime soon, I think, so I’m not going to spend time doing practice I don’t need.”

Kacchan huffs. “It’s not like I’m gonna forget either. Why should I do it, then?”

“Because I’ll throttle you if you don’t,” Mitsuki says cheerfully. “Now go upstairs and study or something. Izuku and I are going to have some coffee and gossip.”

Izuku fills notebook after notebook of theories on how he can go back to his own timeline, but all they really accomplish is to frustrate him since none of them work. He even considers engineering a near-death experience on the off-chance that’s what triggered the time jump the first time. He decides against it at the last minute, though. His mother already seems distressed enough by him on a day-to-day basis. The best he can do is try to keep himself sane and wait this nightmare out. 

Unfortunately that means Inko shares the nightmare with him. “Izuku,” she says, watching him try and fail to light an ice cube on fire. “Your teacher called to tell me you didn’t do your assignments again. Should I be worried about you? And where on earth did you get your hands on a blowtorch?”

“It’s only a little one,” he says reassuringly. “The fire extinguisher is right there. I’m just trying to see if there’s a way to marry fire and ice into one attack. Because if you had both it’d be great to use them at the same time – never mind, it’ll make sense one day. Did you change your hair?”

She touches her bangs absently. “I just got it trimmed.”

“Looks nice. Could I go over to Kacchan’s place tomorrow after dinner?”

“I really should punish you for skipping schoolwork.”

Izuku puts down the blowtorch and comes over to pat his mother’s hand. “Mom. Inko. My dear, sweet guardian, the only parental figure I could always count on in my early childhood. Are you genuinely worried about me falling behind as a student?”

Inko falters. “I suppose not. You always do exceptionally in your exams.”

“And lucky for us, our school system is almost entirely exam-based,” Izuku says and squeezes her fingers. “So really the only thing I need to worry about is getting yelled at. And I can handle a bit of yelling. I promise I’ve dealt with far worse.”

“Like what?”

“Kacchan. He’s kind of a gremlin, isn’t he?”

“Then why are you going to his house?”

“It’s a hobby. Irritating him is the highlight of my day.”

She smiles, obviously charmed even though she’s trying her best to sound exasperated. “Oh, alright, Izuku. But promise me you won’t disrespect your teachers too badly, okay? I’d hate to have to come talk to your principal again.”

He doesn't go to Kacchan's house, obviously. Instead he takes a train to catch a first row seat to watch Mount Lady's fight against the mutant gorilla. Then he wanders around to look at the lights, since he doesn't often get a chance to hang out in the city. 

He bumps into someone while he's busy oggling a skyscraper. A head of red and white hair pulls away from him, blinking eyes far bigger than he remembers them. Izuku gasps and bounces on his heels. "Oh my god, hi! What are you doing here?" 

Shouto blinks. It's a testament to how used he is to the press that he doesn't even seem surprised Izuku knows him. "I have piano class around here." 

He's so small. His cheeks haven't lost their baby fat yet, and his scar looks like it takes up half his face. Izuku peers at him. "You seem exhausted. Are you… okay?" 

"Shouto, who is this?" says someone right behind them. Even without his fiery beard Enji looks huge from the eyes of a kid. Izuku imagines being in a house with this man, forced to duel every day. 

Izuku smiles that darling, disarming smile he used to sweet-talk his mother into letting him get a bank account. "Hello, sir. I'm just considering enrolling in piano classes. I saw your son come out of the building and thought I might ask him if he enjoyed the lessons." 

Enji eyes him, evidently waiting for Izuku to slip up and ask for an autograph or turn out to be a villain or something. "Are you stalking my son?" 

"I just bumped into him."

"Hm. You aren't from the press, are you?" 

"Press? Why? Are you famous?" 

Enji scowls. "I'm only the best pro hero in Japan, boy." 

"All Might?" 

"Endeavour. Don't pretend you've never seen me." 

"Doesn't ring a bell." 

"I saved Tokyo from a rampaging kaiju last weekend. I'm literally on the Pepsi billboard right behind you." 

Izuku turns to ponder it. "Oh. I thought they just made up a character. Like Long Long Man or something. But congratulations on your sponsorship. Do you shoot Pepsi out of your hands?" 

Enji's lip twitches. "I make fire, child. I'm a pyromancer." 

"With a stove? Like my mom?" 

"With my quirk." 

"I can do that too. I have a blowtorch. It's pretty cool." 

"I do not need such paltry things as a blowtorch." 

"Can you not afford one?” Izuku asks sympathetically. “Is that why you had to work for Pepsi?" 

Enji visibly grits his teeth as Shouto makes a delicate little sound that falls halfway between a laugh and a cough. Izuku's saccharine smile grows wider. "Oh, gosh, am I being rude? Mom always says I'm running my mouth. I'm very sorry, Mister Eczema. I don't mean any harm." 

The laugh turns into a strangled wheeze. Enji's hands are curled into fists, presumably so he doesn't wrap them around Izuku's frail neck. "My name," he says slowly, "is Endeavour. I will not have you disrespect me any longer. Get out of my sight." 

Izuku blinks, cherubic and innocent. "I'm sorry. Don't get mad. I mean, you wouldn't hit a child, would you? I don’t know what kind of terrible person would raise their hand to a child." 

Shouto's grinning now. Enji takes a very deep breath. "What is your name, boy?"

"Bakugou Katsuki." 

Izuku can physically see him straining not to flambé a little kid in public. "Charmed," he says instead, face completely plastic. "Now if you will excuse me, my son and I must be leaving. Shouto, come along. The chauffeur will be here soon." 

"Yes, father," Shouto says, managing to keep his face somewhat neutral. "May we stop at a 7 Eleven on the way? I must admit this conversation has made me crave cola, I can’t imagine why." 

Enji grinds his teeth so hard Izuku sees sparks. He turns and stalks off to the BMW slowing down near them, not bothering to check if Shouto's actually following. Izuku grabs Shouto's hand on impulse. "Hey. Shouto, listen." 

"What?" 

"I have two quirks," Izuku says meaningfully. "They're my quirks. Both of them." 

"Okay?" 

"So if you also have two quirks," Izuku says, looking him in the eye. "You choose what to do with them. No matter where they came from, that power is yours." 

Shouto blinks. He looks like a sad little owl with his smooth hair and big eyes. The BMW pulls up by the sidewalk. Enji barks over his shoulder. "Shouto! Don't keep your father waiting!" 

Shouto runs off. Izuku stands there and watches the car drive away. Neither of them says goodbye, but Izuku's pretty sure he sees the grey-and-blue eyes watching him through the rear window. 

More days pass. Izuku goes to class and does his exams and tries his best to ignore the cease and desist letter that All Might's merchandising people keep sending him, playing the stock market and mentally steeling himself for a second puberty. It's not the worst life. No chances to go back (or forward) in time present themselves, but Izuku's a positive person and he's smart enough to appreciate the second chance at childhood. It's better this time around. Fewer worries and no bullying. Partly because he gets three black belts pretty quickly, but mostly because he's found out how easy Kacchan is to wind up and has no qualms about using this knowledge for evil. Izuku might be the tormentor now, come to think of it. He tries not to focus on this too hard, because Kacchan's a pretty cute kid and chatting with Mitsuki over coffee is honestly a great way to pass time. 

Life goes on. Izuku enjoys himself for the most part and buys a new calendar to pin to the wall. 

He marks off the days in bright red marker. One by one, moment by moment, and then he'll finally get back to UA. 

Chapter Text

"Hi," says Izuku. “My name’s Izuku. I’m a big fan.”

Aizawa glances around. He looks much the same as Izuku remembers, albeit with shallower eye bags and less obvious stubble. His hair’s a little shorter and looks oddly well-cared for. "Hello. Are you lost?" 

Izuku smiles. It's the second day of the school year and he's at the gates of his old alma mater, having skipped his own afternoon classes to catch the train on a whim. He's been looking forward to fourth grade. Eraserhead has just turned 24 and has finally started teaching at UA. "Has anyone ever mentioned how wonderfully convenient it is to have so many good heroes gathered under one roof?" 

"For the press, maybe. Are you waiting for someone?" 

"Yes. You, actually. Could you use your quirk on me?" 

Aizawa blinks slowly. He seems bewildered, which makes Izuku smile wider. In a few years he'll lose all this innocent surprise and become a force to be reckoned with, but for now Izuku enjoys the clear confusion of a man who is obviously new to dealing with children. "My quirk?"

"I've been de-aged. Or, well, chronologically sabotaged, technically, but the semantics probably don't matter. It was a villain. I'm from the future and she sent me back in time. I was wondering if you'd be able to reverse it."

Aizawa scratches the back of his neck. Students are starting to file out of the building and more than a few offer them curious glances. Aizawa begins to look slightly concerned about the attention. "Listen, kid, where's your mom? Why aren't you in school?" 

"She's at home, like she should be. And I am in a school. It's a very good one." 

"But it's not yours." 

"You don't know that." 

"I think I would have noticed if we started teaching elementary students," Aizawa says and holds out a hand expectantly. "Come on. I'll take you up to the office so we can call your mother to pick you up." 

Izuku takes the offered hand and shakes it politely. "That won't be necessary. I don't intend to take up much of your time. Really, you just need to blast me with the Eraserhead glare a little bit. I just want to see if it'll work. You'd be doing me a huge favour." 

"I'm not using my quirk on a civilian for no reason, much less a child."

"Why?"

"Because it's immoral. And also incredibly illegal." 

Rats. He's right. They're surprisingly strict about that; Izuku had playfully picked up a fan's car once, when he was twenty, and the Hero Association had slapped him with a fine not two days later. "What if I sweetened the pot?" 

"With what?" 

"I have," Izuku says and sticks a hand in his pocket, "500 yen and a bus pass. And some shares with Nissan and Sumitomo Realty, but it'll take me a few days to liquidate those. Interested?" 

"No. Go home and apologise to your parents for skipping school." 

Izuku huffs and gives up. He hadn't really expected Aizawa to agree right away but it had been worth a shot. He trudges back to the bus stop and heads home, stopping on the way to pick up some flowers because his mother's doubtless heard about his truancy by now. They don't help. She grounds him and he accepts this punishment gravely, then waits until nightfall and climbs out the window to meet up with All Might as planned. 

"It was worth a shot," All Might agrees, unwrapping the toy from Izuku's Happy Meal for him. It's a Ponponpurin. "I could try speaking to him for you, maybe. Tell him you have my vote of confidence."

"He's a bit suspicious of you," Izuku says, apologetic. "He thinks you're flashy. He's wrong, of course, but I'm not sure he'd acquiesce." 

All Might sadly eats a fry. "Did you tell him about the bank robbery and the villain?" 

Izuku steals a pickle off his cheeseburger when he's not looking. "He didn’t believe me. This time I didn't have any incriminating secrets about him to convince him." 

All Might hums. "It would be more convincing if I came with you, though. Maybe I can arrange a meeting with the principal when I have the time. It'll have to be after my mission in Serbia, but before the awards ceremony in - what are you doing? Does your mother not feed you, you thief?"

He reaches over and pulls the rest of his burger out of Izuku's hands. Izuku chews faster. "I'm sorry! It's all the activity. I've been hungry all the time since I started training. Speaking of which, why don't you give me your quirk? My body should be ready for it, this time." 

"Absolutely not. You're still too small and fragile." 

"But it'll make Kacchan so jealous." 

"You'll get it before the UA exam and not a day sooner," All Might tells him. "Now stop pinching my food and tell me about this Redestro character. I brought my notes." 

Izuku waits another week before skipping school to visit UA again. This time he's slightly more prepared - he'd called in sick, which his homeroom teacher had readily accepted so she wouldn't have to deal with him. He takes the bus and his Iron Man backpack, humming all the way down the sidewalk as he waits for the bell to ring. "Hi, Eraserhead," he says when the man steps out of the main gate. "Have you given any thought to my proposal?" 

Aizawa sighs, looking exasperated but too bemused to be properly annoyed. "There was no proposal. You just asked me to do something illegal and I said no. Why are you back here, Izuku?" 

"You remembered my name," Izuku beams, falling into step next to him. "And I have permission to be here this time so you can't yell at me. What if I told you I was All Might's protégé?" 

"Sure. And I'm the real Miss Midnight." 

Izuku spares a brief thought for Aizawa in the leotard and manages not to laugh. "You'd look very fetching. Seriously, it's for the greater good. I won't tell anyone, cross my heart." 

"Go home." 

"But I'm under the effects of a quirk!" Izuku says, wondering if it's worth kicking up a fuss to make Aizawa take him seriously. He decides against it. He doesn't want to push the man away too soon. "Isn't it your duty to help civilians in need? I'm telling you I'm in trouble. It's frankly irresponsible for you not to believe me." 

"Because you're a hundred year old time traveller with powerful enemies." 

"I'm thirty. And my enemies aren't much more powerful than the next hero's, I think." 

Aizawa sighs but refuses to say another word, letting Izuku dog his steps for a good few minutes before suddenly darting a hand out to grab him by the back of the shirt like he’s scruffing a kitten. Izuku dangles there, outraged. “Unhand me immediately! I wasn’t done talking!”

“Yes, you are,” Aizawa says, forcibly turning Izuku around. “Stop kicking. If you lose a shoe I’m not picking it up.”

They’ve made a circuit all the way back to the opposite bus stop. Izuku gasps. He hadn't even noticed where Aizawa was leading him. "Put me down! I’m not a piece of fruit to be rearranged on a supermarket shelf!”

“Nobody puts fruits on shelves, are you insane? They’d go mouldy.”

“I'm not getting on, you know," Izuku says snippily. "You can’t do this to me. You can lead a horse to water but you can't make it ride the bus." 

This turns out to be untrue. The bus rolls up and Izuku rapidly discovers that a quirkless ten year old is entirely helpless against a trained hero, especially when Aizawa bodily picks him up and tosses him in a seat near the front. "Stay," he instructs as though Izuku is a naughty puppy. "Go straight home and stop talking to strangers, for God's sake. I won't tell you again." 

The driver snickers and makes sure to shut the doors behind him. Izuku's too slow to escape and watches UA zoom into the distance. "This is an obstruction of justice," he tells the driver, outraged. "If I had my license I'd get you arrested! Nobody ferries me across the country like a piece of old luggage! You’ll see!" 

It becomes a personal feud, then. Izuku comes back every day that week and lies in wait, perched on the edge of a flowerbox with his feet dangling a little off the ground. He has many faults but a lack of tenacity is not one of them. He'll irritate Aizawa into giving in or he'll make sure one of them dies trying. Aizawa doesn't come out. The bell rings and people leave but nobody comes to tell Izuku off, so Izuku sits and fumes and wonders how far he’ll get if he tries to break into the teachers’ lounge and plant himself under Aizawa’s desk.

By the next Friday Izuku’s certain Aizawa’s avoiding him. He haunts the entrance and glares at the pavement, watching ants march past with the last of his ice cream melting in his hand. A shadow falls over his little corner. Izuku looks up, face falling when he sees no white scarf or messy hair. 

Ectoplasm falters. "Hello," he says hesitantly. He's standing some distance away as though trying not to spook him. Understandable, if sad. He's not popular with little kids. "I’ve seen you here before. Do you need help?" 

Izuku softens. Ectoplasm's always been a gentle soul despite how he looks. "Hi. I'm looking for Eraserhead. Do you know where he is?" 

"He had a meeting with the principal about taking over as a homeroom teacher, I think. He might be a while."

"Oh. Yeah, okay. I hear Mr Nedzu can be chatty." 

"Sometimes, yeah," Ectoplasm smiles. "Is Mr Aizawa a friend of yours, then? You’ve been waiting for him every day lately." 

Izuku pauses for a second, and then smiles very, very sweetly. "Eraserhead is my father." 

Ectoplasm, to his credit, doesn’t gasp too loudly. "Oh. Wow. That's - Eraserhead never mentioned having a son." 

"Yeah, he doesn’t like to talk about it. Sometimes I think he’d rather forget." 

"Wait, how old are you? How old was he -" 

"Too young," Izuku says sadly. "But he cares for me, I know he does. He’s just having trouble adjusting to the idea of fatherhood. It's alright. He did warn me about the meeting, actually, I remember now. I'll just head home.”

Ectoplasm seems distressed. “Are you sure? I can get him for you. Just give me a minute.”

“I can’t force a familial relationship,” Izuku sighs. He shakes the man's hand gravely, ice cream still melting in the other. “But if you could just tell him I miss him, that would mean a lot. Thank you, sir. You’ve just made my day so much better.”

"You," Aizawa thunders, stalking out the front doors looking murderous. Students part for him like a uniform-clad sea, scrambling over themselves to get out of his imminent destructive path. "What did you do? Can you explain to me why I've had children whispering right in front of me about my supposedly illegitimate, green-eyed lovechild?" 

Izuku waves at him from the sidewalk. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean, mister. What's a lovechild?" 

Aizawa shuts his eyes and counts to ten, nostrils flaring. "I won't murder a boy in broad daylight. Not in front of the students. I won’t. I won't do it." 

"I'd personally enjoy not being murdered," Izuku offers. "You know if you just used your quirk on me like I asked, I'd be happy to go away." 

“I’m not giving in to the whims of a ten-year-old,” Aizawa says through a clenched jaw. “No matter how aggravating, or how gossipy. I am a professional. I am in control of myself and this situation. Go home.”

Izuku shrugs and goes home. This is fine. He has nowhere to be, in general, and his fourth grade teachers seem happy enough to let him play truant semi-regularly. He can come back whenever. He knows where Aizawa works and nobody’s going to stop him. There’s no escaping him, really, unless Aizawa actually quits. Izuku can wait this out. 

It turns into kind of a hobby. When he’s not busy bothering Kacchan or All Might, Izuku stops by UA and tells lies while Aizawa thinks up increasingly clever ways to dodge him. Sometimes Izuku catches him swinging through trees like Tarzan, which is cool. Another time he sneaks out a top-floor window, and once Izuku even tracks him through the sewers before the smell gets too bad and they both have to give up. It’s good hero practice, really. The tracking part, not the lying part, although the lying part’s fun. By the end of the school year Izuku has convinced UA in turns that Aizawa’s his dad, a cyborg, and a secret lover of sweets and poetry. Valentine’s Day is hilariously brutal. Something about regularly being seen with a small child has boosted Aizawa’s popularity, and now a lot of the older students have decided he’s their celebrity crush. The shower of roses and chocolate is shocking. Aizawa hurtles outside looking hunted, trailing petals from his scarf that Izuku helpfully doesn’t point out. 

“Hi, Eraserhead,” he calls from the tree he’s been hiding in. “I think I heard a few girls looking for you a second ago. Should I give them a shout?”

He doesn’t see the capture weapon coming. Aizawa has him dangling like a fly in a web before Izuku can blink, and for a second Izuku idly wonders if he’s changed the timeline so much that he’ll end up dying today instead. “You,” Aizawa hisses. "It's always you." 

"Me," Izuku agrees. "How bad was it?" 

“Take a guess. Do you know how many words rhyme with Eraserhead?"

"None-"

"None. Absolutely zero, but that hasn’t stopped them from trying.”

Izuku beams, inordinately pleased with himself despite the blood rushing to his head. “It’s not too late to accept my offer.”

Aizawa lets go. He actually looks like he’s been beaten up, and Izuku feels briefly sorry for him before he realises Aizawa’s dropped him right in a muddy patch. “You’re a hobgoblin. You’re the actual devil and I’m the only one who sees it.”

“So is that a yes?”

He puts his face in his hands. “Christ. Stay still.”

His hair starts floating. Izuku feels the familiar tingle of Erasure for a moment but nothing interesting happens. He doesn’t suddenly age by twenty years. The past doesn’t dematerialise him and send him back to the bank, and Aizawa doesn’t straighten up with the sudden memory of who Izuku’s supposed to be. He's still stuck here. In a tiny body rolling around in the mud and without a backup plan. “Shit. Well, that’s a shame. I thought it might at least help a little bit.”

“Brat.” Blinking away dryness, Aizawa rolls him out of the scarf like he’s airing out a long blanket. “I don’t know what you expected. There’s nothing wrong with you besides whatever loose screws you have in your head. I can’t cancel what’s not there.”

Izuku picks a leaf out of his hair. “It was the last solid lead I had. Now I’m out of ideas.”

“I don’t care. I did what you asked, you little monster.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“So?” Aizawa says desperately. “Are we done here? Will I be free of you at last?”

Kindly, Izuku pats him on the hand. “Of course not. We’re friends now, Mr Aizawa. I’ll see you next week.”

The day before Izuku turns eleven is the last time he sees All Might for a long time.

“I’m going to take down Redestro,” All Might tells him in a sun-light playground. “All for One has been MIA for years so the police force will continue looking for Shigaraki without me. In the meantime we’ve decided to tackle the problem we can see. The business empire will be hard to knock down but we’re working on a long-term undercover operation to defeat the hydra from the inside. I’ve organised the information you’ve given me so far. Take a look and see if I’ve missed anything out.”

Izuku flips through the proposed action plan, fascinated. Somehow, that after all this time, the man still finds way to blow Izuku’s mind. Not that Izuku would ever not be impressed by All Might, probably. But in this moment the skinny, emaciated person walking next to him looks like he could fight giants. “Will I get to see you anymore?”

“It might be a while,” All Might says apologetically. “I’ll take the job in UA when they offer it to me, of course, but don’t count on regular meetings until then.”

Izuku tries his best not to sound disappointed. “I understand. Best of luck.”

Someone falls off the swing set. Their parent runs towards them, arms outstretched. All Might’s bright blue gaze doesn’t leave Izuku’s face. “I have a gift for you. I think you’re ready for it.”

“Tell me it’s your silver-age cape.”

“It’s not a cape,” All Might smiles. Slowly, he plucks a golden hair from his head and holds it in front of Izuku’s face. “I imagine you already know what to do with this.”

Izuku’s heart skips a beat. It almost feels too early, but the thought of a quirk, his quirk, is irresistible. He stares at it, longing. “Are you sure?”

“You’re a lot better trained now than I think you were the first time around. And, well. It’s been yours for a while now, hasn’t it? It almost feels silly not to let you have it back.”

Izuku hugs him. “I’ll make you proud. But, and I do beg your pardon, the feeling of swallowing a human hair has haunted my nightmares for fifteen years. Can we do something else?”

“Like what?”

“I just have to consume your DNA, right? Saliva should work. So you know we could always just, like, make out -”

All Might stuffs the hair into his mouth. Izuku chokes but manages to swallow, feeling like a cat with a stubborn hairball. He coughs. “That was mean.”

All Might ignores him. “How do you feel?”

Like he’s stuck his finger in an electrical socket. And simultaneously like he’s slipped on and old pair of shoes after a long day. Experimentally, Izuku conjures up the mental image of an egg  in a microwave and jumps.

He springs clear over All Might’s head, laughing. All Might catches him before he hits the ground. “You’re okay, then?” he asks, looking Izuku over for broken bones. “All good? No side effects?”

Izuku dangles happily. “All good. I feel like myself again, minus the growth spurt.”

“Good.” Gently, All Might sets him down. “I don’t need to tell you to use it wisely, do I?”

“No, sir! I’ll be good. Scout’s honour.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” All Might says and tugs him close for another hug. “I will miss you. But you’ll be alright. You don’t need me anymore, young Midoriya.”

“I’ll always need you,” Izuku tells him. “That’s never going to change. But the world needs you more, I think. I’ll be waiting. Get home safe.”

The lack of All Might leaves Izuku with not much to do. He divides his time between his mother, Aizawa and Kacchan. He thinks, if he’s generous, he and Kacchan might be considered friends now. Kacchan still denies that, obviously, but at least he’s stopped trying to push Izuku into lockers when their teacher’s back is turned. Granted, Izuku’s now significantly better at defending himself than a pre-teen has any right to be, but for the most part Kacchan’s accepted Izuku’s presence in his house without much more than cursory complaint. It helps that Mitsuki likes him. She’s the only adult Izuku knows who doesn’t seem to notice he’s a kid - they have coffee and do their nails every Thursday, when their busy schedules permit.

“I want you to know that I hate you,” Kacchan says tonelessly, watching Izuku dab glitter on his mother’s pinky. “From the bottom of my heart. I wish I’d never been born.”

Izuku frowns at a smudge. “Who are you talking to?”

“Either of you. Both. I don’t care.”

“Stop being ridiculous,” Mitsuki tells him. “Come here a second, would you? This orange would look good on you.”

“What the fuck? I’m not letting you paint my nails.”

Izuku gives him sad eyes. “But I bought this special for you.”

“Jesus Christ, why?”

“You keep complaining I’m stealing your mom. I thought you felt left out.”

“Honey,” says Masaru from the kitchen doorway. He’s stirring a mug of hot cocoa. “Be honest with me. You don’t like Izuku better than us, do you?”

“Of course not,” she says, not looking up. “Its just nice having someone my own age to talk to once in a while.”

“Dad’s your age,” Kacchan says. “And deku’s eleven, what the hell?”

“I’m thirty-one,” says Izuku.

“You don’t look it,” Mitsuki assures him.

“I’ll have to get you in touch with my mother,” Izuku says. “You have lots in common. And I know she’d be lonely if, say, I was someday forced to move out at fifteen into a hastily-constructed boarding school for my own protection.”

Kacchan looks hopeful. “Boarding school? Are you leaving?”

“I can promise you one thing, Kacchan. If ever I do have to leave, you’ll be coming with me.”

“The hell I will. I’ll be in UA fighting bad guys.”

“So will I.”

“How? You’re a quirkless loser, remember?”

Izuku sighs. Kacchan’s been a lot better about the superiority complex, given that Izuku’s now physically resistant to bullying, but sometimes he says things that remind Izuku how annoying he used to be as a kid. Mitsuki looks like she’s gearing up to shout at him. Izuku holds up a hand, puts down the nail polish, and stands up. “No, I’ll handle it. Kacchan, come outside with me.”

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Kacchan says but follows Izuku anyway. “You better be about to go home.”

“I am not. I didn’t want to do this in front of other people, because it would be mean and immature of me, although you’d frankly deserve the ego blow,” Izuku says sternly. He brings them to a stop under a copse of cherry trees in the back yard. “I’m going to tell you this for the last time. Stop it with the bullying. You aren’t better than anyone. You’re just being an ass.”

Kacchan snorts and folds his arms. “I’m not better than anyone? Come on, Deku. I’m amazing. You’ve said so yourself. You used to worship me.”

Izuku parses this. “Are you acting out because you’re upset I don’t endlessly praise you anymore?”

“What?”

“I am way too old for this. I don’t care what your reasoning is. Heroes don’t act like this. Fix your behaviour.”

“Fuck you, you’re not my mom.”

Calmly, deliberately, Izuku punches a tree. Its trunk snaps with a crack like a gunshot and splits completely in half. The tree slowly falls over, sending up a cloud of leaves that flutter all the way across the yard. Izuku doesn’t break eye contact. “Fix your fucking behaviour.”

Kacchan stares at the decapitated trunk. “Holy shit. You have a quirk.”

“Do we understand each other, Kacchan?”

Kacchan doesn’t answer. Izuku takes the open mouth as a yes and goes back inside. Mitsuki’s by the window, one hand held awkwardly to stop her wet nails getting ruined. “Izuku? What was that noise? Did that tree just fall over? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” He considers apologising, for a second, but privately decides this can be the Bakugous’ penance for allowing Kacchan to be the way he is for so long. Instead he sits down and smiles. “Kacchan and I are good now, I think. Now, would you happen to have any more of that cocoa?”

The months turn into years without Izuku noticing. News of Izuku’s sudden quirk acquisition spreads - Kacchan’s arrogance calms down, Izuku’s mother frets, and this time nobody’s surprised when Izuku announces he’ll be trying for UA. He’s not sure how to feel about this. “I thought this would be more dramatic,” he complains, carefully buttoning up a shirt. “I thought for sure I’d suddenly get all popular from my shiny new quirk. I was all ready to be righteously angry about how fickle society could be.”

Kacchan sighs but doesn’t put down his textbook. “Your quirk isn’t new, Deku. You got it when you were eleven.”

“I didn’t get popular then either. Sakura-sensei still avoids me.”

“You made an acid bomb in her science lab. We were supposed to be studying electrolysis.”

“I was researching. I just wanted to see if someone with an acid quirk could artificially delay a reaction time with common chemicals,” Izuku says, inspecting a blue t-shirt. “Anyway, that was years ago. I didn’t do anything to deserve detention yesterday.”

“You broke a sliding door because you thought it said ‘pull’*,” Kacchan says. “Is that - have you been putting on all my clothes, you asshole? I just washed those.”

Izuku, wearing seventeen of Kacchan’s shirts and roughly the same shape as a bowling ball, smiles. “I’m Fatgum.”

“You’re an idiot is what you are. Take those off and fold them before you stretch them out.”

“The point is,” Izuku barrels on. “The story’s always the same. Quirkless kid gets a quirk and then suddenly everyone loves him. What gives?”

“You haven’t been ‘the quirkless kid’ for years, moron. You’re ‘that fucking crazy person with the death wish who only came to class to argue with teachers and cause property damage’. Nobody cares where you go. They just want to get rid of you.”

Izuku pouts. “Bet they’ll be nicer to me in UA.”

“Who knows. I won’t be around to find out. I’m going to Shiketsu.”

“Shiketsu? Since when? The plan was always UA.”

“Yes, but UA will have you in it,” Kacchan points out. “I’ll take a second-rate school if it means I get a few years’ peace.”

“What! Kacchan, no! You can’t leave me alone like that!”

“Watch me.”

“But we’re best friends.”

“No we are not. I hate you.”

“If you go to Shiketsu I’ll tell everyone I saved you from the slime villain last week.”

Kacchan squeezes his eyes shut. Izuku had followed him home that day knowing full well what would happen. He’d punched the slime creature before Kacchan could even properly scream - it’s still sitting in an empty cola bottle on Izuku’s desk. He’d put a lampshade on it. “Fine,” Kacchan says through gritted teeth. “But not a word about that until one of us dies.”

“Cross my heart.”

“And take my fucking clothes off already, will you?”

Izuku wiggles his eyebrows. “Why, Kacchan, I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Kacchan throws his textbook at Izuku’s head. “Get out.”

Izuku gets out. UA will have you in it, Kacchan had said. Not a shred of doubt. Izuku smiles as he goes home; they’ll be good friends for a long time, he thinks.

“Principal Nedzu!” Izuku cries. “I haven’t seen you in - I mean, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Nedzue invites himself inside. Inko’s not home, which might be for the best - Izuku doesn’t much fancy having to explain the well-dressed talking rat man perched on their sofa. “Midoriya Izuku,” he says pleasantly. “It’s wonderful to meet you. All Might’s told me all about you.”

“Gosh, really?” Izuku flutters around the kitchen making tea. “How is he? I never hear from him anymore.”

“His mission is going according to plan, never you worry. I’m not here on his behalf, though. I’ve come to deliver a message.”

Izuku puts out some of the castella cake he knows his mother hides in the back of the fridge. “I’m listening.”

“UA would like to offer you a full scholarship.”

Izuku drops his fork. “What? Hold on. That’s not - I thought that was only for people from established hero families.”

“Usually, yes. But some exceptional individuals have gained our attention in the past. Your general performance at Aldera tells me you’re intellectually far beyond your peers, although your truancy must be remedied. And All Might has been vocal about your merits.”

Izuku plops himself on the opposite couch, stunned. “Woah. Kacchan’s going to hate this.”

“I don’t pretend to know what a Kacchan is,” Nedzu says cheerfully. “But considering All Might tells me you were instrumental in the arrest of Doctor Ujiko, and in his current assignment, I rather imagine pitting you against the other applicants would be unfair. You’ve clearly got an edge.”

“Well, maybe,” Izuku says bashfully. “I guess it would feel a bit like cheating.”

“Quite. Besides, you’ve already passed once before. Doing the test again seems rather pointless to me.”

“Uh,” says Izuku.

“Oh, All Might didn’t tell me,” Nedzu says, sipping his tea. “Although I assume you must have told him you’ve come from a different time stream. That is what happened, is it not? You don’t act your age, and I’m fully aware you’ve been breaking into UA since you were eight years old.”

“Uh,” says Izuku again.

“Eraserhead simply believes you’re precocious, of course. I haven’t told anyone your secret.”

Izuku squirms, feeling oddly caught out. “I might be. Just precocious, I mean.”

“You might,” Nedzu agrees. “Although there is a person called SmallMight32 who has, for the past few years, predicted the outcome of recent hero battles with startling accuracy. They’re a regular among Japan’s online betting forums. They’ve never been wrong. Which makes me think they’re either prescient, or they’re a time-traveller with a good memory for hero trivia. I imagine they’ve made a tidy sum of money. Hopefully they’re not a minor, of course, considering gambling is entirely illegal for anyone under twenty years of age. That’s a nice watch. Rolex?”

“So I’m going to UA for certain, then?” Izuku asks, attempting to hide his arm behind his back. “May I come to the entrance exam anyway, just to watch - I mean, as a spectator?”

“Of course. I need your mother to sign some paperwork, as well. You may drop it off on one of your visits to Aizawa. Thank you very much for the tea. I must be off to the Yaoyorozu household next. Ah, and Midoriya?”

“Yes?”

Nedzu smiles. He’s an adorable little critter, now that Izuku’s thirty-four and not deathly afraid of authority. “A second chance should not be squandered. You have strength and wisdom that belies your age. Your peers will need you. Don’t be afraid to help.”

“Kacchan,” says Izuku on the morning of the entrance exam. “When the whistles goes, keep an eye on the giant robot. It’ll work out well for you.”

Kacchan pauses in his warm up and looks up. “Why aren’t you getting ready?”

Izuku tries to decide if the inevitable rage from finding out about the scholarship will help Kacchan or hinder him. “Never mind that. Listen. It’s obviously a ruse. They’re not going to judge you just based on how many robots you kill. You know what being a hero’s all about, right? It’s about helping. They know that.”

Kacchan grunts through a stretch. “So you want me to do what, exactly?”

“Do what you’d normally do,” Izuku says meaningfully. “But I just need you to remember that saving people comes first. That robot’s going to try to target the examinees. Not enough to kill them, but someone’s going to get trapped underfoot and get seriously hurt. Nobody else will have the foresight to look out for that. If you see someone in trouble, step in. They’ll reward you for it, I promise.”

“Okay,” Kacchan says slowly. He squints at Izuku but doesn’t ask any more questions. Present Mic calls for this batch of applicants to gather at the start point. “Seriously Deku, when’s your turn? I didn’t see your name on the roster. Don’t tell me you failed the written exam?”

“I didn’t,” Izuku promises. “But I’ll explain later. Go kick some ass for me. I’ll be here when you’re done.”

Kacchan does spectacularly, as expected. He ends up in the slot Izuku was meant to have, which means he saves Uraraka (without two broken arms, which makes Izuku slightly jealous). The other students look at him with awe. Kacchan crows about this to Izuku immediately. Izuku takes him out for expensive ice cream, which slightly reduces the shouting when he finally mentions the scholarship. “You always do this,” Kacchan glowers around his spoon. “You do something insane to show me up and then act all shy about it like an asshole.”

“Kacchan, no,” Izuku says. Kacchan has a sprinkle on his cheek. Izuku doesn’t point it out. “I just got lucky thanks to All Might.”

“All Might,” Kacchan hollers. Izuku shushes him. “Don’t tell me to be quiet. You know what this is? Nepotism. I refuse to fucking believe you know the guy.”

“Where do you think I kept getting those autographs when we were young? And how are you accusing me of nepotism and not knowing All Might in the same breath?”

“Buy me more ice cream,” Kacchan demands. “No, hotpot. We’re getting hotpot. Sichuan-style. Get moving.”

Izuku treats him again, skillfully dodging questions about why he has so many credit cards. Honestly he feels like celebrating too. The dull part’s over. The rest of his life starts soon, and it’ll be better than last time. He’ll make sure of it.

“Kacchan,” he says apropos nothing outside the arcade. “You’ve grown up. With the attitude change you’re honestly super fun to be around.”

Kacchan pauses in cussing out the claw machine. “The hell are you talking about?”

“Nothing,” Izuku laughs. “I’m just happy. I think UA will be fun.”

He’s right. It’s a blast.

Izuku looks around at his old classmates on the first day of school, instantly overcome with delight. He forgot how cute they all used to be. Iida still has some round edges, not yet doomed to fend off modelling agencies constantly after his ridiculously chiselled bone structure. Jirou has no tattoos. Kirishima hasn’t even hit his growth spurt - he’s shorter than Kacchan, which is going to make Kacchan absolutely livid when third year hits and Kirishima starts looking like a crimson version of Hound Dog. Stepping into the classroom is a breath of fresh air. Izuku bounces on his heels, both hands on the straps of his brand new yellow backpack.

A red and white head whips around. He stands up in the middle of talking to Yaomomo and makes a beeline for Kacchan. Izuku, sensing a good time, scuttles away to his desk to watch. “Bakugou Katsuki,” Shouto says. He looks different. Less resentful, this time, and less like someone with the personality of a rice cracker. “That’s you, isn’t it? I saw your name at the entrance exam.”

Kacchan blinks, instantly suspicious. “Yeah, that’s me.”

Shouto, without prompting, grabs Kacchan’s hand and shakes. “This is wonderful luck. I’m very grateful to meet you again.”

“Huh?”

The chatter slowly stops. Their classmates are all clearly listening in but Shouto doesn’t notice. “My name’s Todoroki Shouto. We met once when we were about nine. It was a formative experience for me. You’re blonder than I remember. Do you bleach your hair?”

Kacchan snatches his hand back, bewildered. “What the hell? I don’t know you.”

“How many quirks do you have?”

“Two?”

“I knew it. That’s exactly what you told me. That they were your quirks.”

“What?”

“I never got to thank you for what you did.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“Don’t be modest. You insulted my father terribly. You’re the first and only person who ever did. I told all my siblings what you said. It got us through some dark times.”

“Wh - wasn’t your dad some hero?”

Shouto’s eyes sparkle, although his serious expression doesn’t actually change. “You don’t even remember him? Perfect. He hates you. I told him you’d applied to UA and he incinerated a curtain. I designed my hero costume with you in mind. It’s dark blue. Like the Pepsi logo, you see? What with my hair. It brings back good memories.”

Next to Izuku, Sero leans over to whisper to Kirishima. “That’s the guy who took down the zero-pointer, right? What do you think he did to piss off Endeavour?”

Kacchan’s eyes drift to Izuku, instinctively knowing this is somehow his fault. “Do you have the right person? Look at that little green bastard over there and tell me if he doesn’t look familiar.”

“He can’t have met me,” says Izuku innocently. “I don’t have two quirks, remember? I’ve just got the one.”

“Exactly,” says Shouto. “You introduced yourself by name. I’ll never forget that.”

“I genuinely have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about,” Kacchan says flatly. “Whatever you think happened, didn’t. I am going to sit down. Leave me alone.”

Shouto follows him. “I’d like to be your friend.”

“What the hell? No.”

“Come to my house. You can use my VR set. My father will have a meltdown when he sees you, it’ll be great.”

“Stop talking to me!”

“Be my friend!”

The door slides open. Aizawa steps inside, blissfully calm before his eyes go wide with dismay. “No, he says, looking straight at Izuku. “Not you. I specifically requested they didn’t put you in my class.”

Izuku waves. “Hiya, sensei!”

Kacchan squints at him. “What the hell? How do you seem to know literally every hero in Japan?”

“You just have to put yourself out there, Kacchan. Networking can start at any age.”

“I quit,” mutters Aizawa. “Nedzu can’t do this to me. I’m retiring.”

“I heard Aizawa has a kid in this class,” whispers Kirishima. “I bet it’s the green one, right?”

Izuku smiles. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, sensei. But it’s nice to see you again. I, for one, am looking forward to a wonderful year.”

Chapter Text

“Oh my god,” says Izuku. “I forgot all about the USJ attack.”

Aizawa squints at him. They’re already at the USJ building, which means it’s probably a little too late to ask him to turn the bus around and head back to school. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Aizawa asks. “You’re not planning some kind of prank, are you?”

Izuku salutes. “No, sir. Can I be excused real quick?”

“No.”

“But I need to pee.”

“Hold it in.”

“Sir, I will pee my pants right here and that is a threat.”

Aizawa wrinkles his nose and shoos him away with an imperious wave of the hand. The rest of his classmates are still getting off of the bus, chattering amongst themselves; Kirishima, Sero and Kaminari are teasing Kacchan. Jirou’s teasing Kaminari. Shouto, bless him, doesn’t seem to quite understand the joke but is trying to defend Kacchan regardless. Izuku slinks past them with his phone in his hand. All Might picks up on the third ring, sounding tinny and far-away while Izuku hides in the restrooms right by the entrance.

“Hello, young Midoriya. Homesick already?”

“You need to gather the teachers and come to USJ right away,” Izuku says without preamble. “Today’s the day we run into the League of Villains for the first time. Are you eating something?”

There’s an embarrassed swallow. “It’s just a sandwich. I thought I’d have an early lunch.”

Izuku makes an offended noise. “In the staff room? Without me?” He loves his silly little All Might luncheons. Izuku’s having a blast being part of 1A again, obviously, but it’s a blessing to hang out with people his own age for an hour every school day. The fact that Aizawa keeps shooting him dirty looks is a bonus. “That’s so hurtful. You can’t eat without me, that’s our thing.”

“You were going to be out all day. What do you want me to do, starve? And what’s this about an attack?”

“Shigaraki’s going to show up and pick a fight with us. I forgot that was meant to happen today.”

“ How do you just forget you’re going to get attacked?”

“It’s been twenty years! Do you know how many people have tried to kill me in twenty years?”

“That is extremely alarming, young man.”

“Shit. The Nomu are out of commission, thanks to you, but what if they have something else planned instead? You have to come. I don’t know if Eraserhead and I will be able to look after the whole class alone.”

There’s another hasty swallowing sound. “Do you know where the villains will be coming from? Which block?”

Izuku glances at the USJ building behind him. “I don’t know. There are blocks?”

“Do you not remember what the USJ looks like? Or where everyone will be?”

“Honestly, no. Like, a billion things have happened since then and I really don’t feel like checking the wiki right now.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it. Just, please will you gather some teachers and come save us?”

“And how exactly am I supposed to convince everyone to do that?”

“You can do it! I believe in you! Okay thanks you’re the best see you soon bye!”

He hangs up in the middle of All Might’s indignant spluttering. Then he sidles up to Aizawa, who is clearly trying very hard not to notice him. “I have an idea,” Izuku announces. “Actually, it was Kacchan’s idea.”

Kacchan, who unfortunately has hearing like a bat in this timeline because he took Izuku’s advice about the earplugs, clears his throat. “Whatever it was, no it was not.”

“It’s nice out, isn’t it?” Izuku barrels on. “Be a shame to spend a nice day like indoors. I think we should all hang out here and have a picnic instead.”

Aizawa shuts his eyes and audibly counts to ten. “We are not having a picnic today. We are going to be having hero training. For heroes. Which Principal Nedzu, for reasons I cannot bring myself to understand, seems to believe you, Izuku, will someday be.”

Kacchan raises a hand. “I don’t believe in him, if that helps at all.”

“Noted,” Izuku says nervously. “Okay, then let’s train outside. How about super-powered hide-and-seek? Bet Hagakure would be, like, crazy good.”

Aizawa pinches the bridge of his nose. “Get into the building and stop wasting my time, Midoriya.”

“But-”

“Go.”

Izuku goes. Aizawa runs through the drills they’ll be doing while Izuku listens with half an ear and watches the glass ceiling. They’re sent to their respective training locations. Izuku tromps glumly to his assigned block, and then jumps when someone throws a pebble at him. It hits him in the butt, which hurts more than it has any right to. “Ow, Kacchan, what gives?”

“You’re planning something,” Kacchan says, hands on his hips. “You didn’t want to come here for some reason. Something’s happening.”

Damn it. “I really just wanted to spend a nice day outside with our friends.”

“Right, because you’re crazy about all those pretty clouds.”

“They are pretty,” offers Shouto, wandering up behind him. “I think that one looks like a dog.”

Kacchan sighs. “How long are you going to keep following me?”

“Until you promise to be my friend.”

Izuku frowns. “You aren’t even supposed to be here. You’re with Kirishima for this part or something.”

“I ditched.”

“Why?” Izuku says, and then beams. “Could it be because you can’t bear to be separated from your bestest friend in the whole world?”

“No,” says Kacchan.

“Yes,” says Shouto.

Kacchan ignores him. “I’m here because you’ve got that look you get whenever you’re about to do something insane.”

Izuku scoffs. “I can’t believe you would say something like that to me. When has anything unusual and/or strange ever happened in my vicinity?”

“Well,” Shouto says, looking up. “The bomb on the roof might count.”

It beeps. Izuku catches both Kacchan and Shouto around the waist to throw them to the ground just before the explosion. The roof shatters, pelting them with shards of glass and letting in a plume of smoke and cackling villains. Kacchan coughs. “I knew it. I fucking knew it. There’s always some kind of dramatic bullshit following you around. I can’t leave you alone for a second, can I?”

Izuku stands up. He’s… he’s angry, he realises. Angry at the battalion of two-bit criminals hanging up on a class of innocent children. He got through this the first time on a heady cocktail of adrenaline and adventure, but now he looks around and just sees petty thugs looking for an easy win. One of them turns towards him. He has knives for hands, and he catches Izuku’s eyes and smiles.

Izuku’s fists tingle. And then Ochako punches Knife-Hands in the face, and Izuku blinks.

“Hi, Deku-kun!” she chirps, bouncing over to smash her helmeted head into another man’s nose. “You’re all green and sparkly. Is that your quirk?”

“Yeah, it does that.” Izuku slowly puts his fists down. “Are you… doing okay?”

“Sure.” She gives him a thumbs up. “Good thing we didn’t have a picnic, huh? This is so much more fun!”

She dances away humming. Izuku abruptly decides he’ll be more useful elsewhere. If he remembers correctly, the most dangerous members of the League will be in the main building. That means Shigaraki will be there, which means Izuku may be able to catch him before he can become an actual threat. “Okay,” he calls out to no one in particular. “I’m gonna go check on Aizawa-sensei. Y’all have fun, don’t get hurt.”

A hand grabs his uniform. “Don’t you dare,” says Kacchan. “You always end up where the action is. I’m coming with you.”

“Me too,” Shouto says, ducking under what looks worryingly like a grenade. It hits Sero, who shrieks. “There’s a villain with some kind of pollen quirk and it’s making my nose itch.”

Izuku doesn’t argue. He heads to the main building, which is already in ruins despite only being occupied by twenty or so people. The more powerful villains are right where Izuku remembers, ganging up on Aizawa. A part of Izuku objects that this is unfair of them, but the larger and more embarrassing part notices how cool Aizawa looks all surrounded by danger with his scarf billowing in the wind. “Hi, sensei! You good?”

Aizawa doesn’t even turn around. “Get out of here, Midoriya. Get your classmates somewhere safe.”

“Nah. They’re doing okay without the Nomu around to tank damage.”

“What the hell is a Nomu?” Kacchan asks.

Izuku opens his mouth. He needn’t bother; someone tackles Kacchan, which predictably has Shouto running after him to help. Aizawa wields his capture weapon like a whip. Moves like a panther, that man. Izuku watches him, idly reconsidering his preference for blonds, before he remembers he came here to help. “Have you seen a creepy guy covered in hands?” he shouts. “Grey hair, sorta scrawny-looking?”

Aizawa blocks a punch. “I am a little busy, Midoriya.”

“Oh. Right, yeah, sorry. I’ll go look for him myself.”

He wanders around, dodging dodging detritus and stray projectiles until he finds a figure in the middle of the violence. Shigaraki’s the only person standing still, watching the madness with his hands on his hips like some kind of dictator. Izuku waves. Shigaraki raises a hand back, although Izuku can’t tell if it’s in warning or greeting. He’s saying something, Izuku thinks, but whatever it is immediately gets lost in the ruckus.

“What?” Izuku cups a hand to his ear and yells back. “I can’t hear you. Take that hand off your face, dude, you look like some kind of pervert.”

Shigaraki does not remove the hand. He does, however, use his own hand to point. Izuku turns. There’s a fireball coming for him. He rears back and falls on his ass. Just fast enough not to die, but unfortunately not fast enough to keep his eyebrows intact.

“What the hell,” he splutters, batting sparks off his uniform. “I was in the middle of a conversation. That’s so goddamned rude. ”

A face hovers above him. It’s half-burned and glints with jewellery. There’s dark hair, and cigarette smoke, and a voice that drawls. “Oh, good. I’d hate for you to think me polite.”

Izuku knows that voice. He knows that accent, too, almost deliberately un-posh. “Woah. Touya? Why are you here? I thought you only showed up later.”

Somewhere behind them, Shouto’s head whips around. Dabi blinks. “What did you call me?”

Izuku cringes. “Nothing. I just meant, you know, like the guy from Card Captor. You look a lot like him.”

“He really doesn’t,” Shigaraki says. “Touya’s not as greasy.”

Izuku jumps. He’s not sure when Shigaraki got here, but he scrambles backwards like a panicked spider and wobbles to his feet. Shouto’s striding across the battlefield towards them. Izuku wonders if he’s already fucked this whole thing up. “Right. Sorry. Won’t say it again, To— Dabi.”

“I never told you my name was Dabi either.” If Izuku didn’t know any better he’d say the poor guy seemed a bit freaked out. He seems intent on not making eye contact with Shouto, who is now jogging in their direction. “Who the hell are you?”

Izuku considers this. “Bakugou Katsuki.”

“Well, fuck you, Bakugou Katsuki,” Dabi says. He glances at Shouto and then immediately spins around. “And fuck this. I’m out.”

Shigaraki gasps. “Wait, what the fuck. We’re in the middle of a heist. You can’t just leave.”

“I left the oven on.”

“We don’t have an oven.”

“Then I have to go check what it is I left on,” Dabi says. “Later, peace out.”

He hurries away with his hands in his pockets. Shigaraki looks at him, and then at Izuku. “Dude.”

“Sorry,” says Izuku. A missile whizzes above his head and explodes into a wall. A villain comes flying after it. “And sorry about your heist. I think it’s kinda doomed.”

Shigaraki looks around. A crowd of teachers is pouring in through the new hole in the wall. At the front of it is All Might, who has, Izuku is delighted to see, brought him a bento. “Midoriya!” he bellows. “I am here! And I felt bad for eating without you so I got you lunch!”

Izuku waves. Shigaraki puts his hands on his hips and sighs. “Damn. I thought you guys were supposed to have been alone.”

Izuku shrugs sheepishly. “Yeah, some plans changed at the last minute.”

“Huh. I guess I didn’t really think this one through.”

“Izuku,” Shouto says, jogging up to them. “Who was that man with all the piercings? Is he your friend?”

“No, we just met.”

“But you looked like you knew him. Him and the hand guy. Who’s dissolving, by the way.”

Izuku looks over his shoulder. Shigaraki is indeed melting into a swirling portal, which closes just before Izuku can make a grab for him. He’s not the only one; portals are opening all over the atrium, swallowing anyone who might have been of particular interest. Izuku chews his knuckle. “Hell. Oh, All Might’s gonna be so mad at me.”

“Midoriya.” A warm hand clutches his arm. Shouto’s eyes look almost as big and sad as they did when Izuku met him six years ago. “You called him Touya.”

Izuku feels terrible for him. “Slip of the tongue,” he says kindly, squeezing his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, Todoroki. I thought he was someone else. But if I ever see him again, I’ll tell him you want to meet him. I promise.”

Shigaraki gets away. All Might reproaches Izuku for this during the ride home, which Izuku probably deserves. “If it helps, he seems like much less of a threat,” Izuku points out. “I don’t think All For One ever really figured out how to replace his Nomu.”

“Still,” All Might says. “He was right there. You would have caught him if you hadn’t decided to stop for chat.”

“Don’t put that on him,” Aizawa says, looking over the back of his bus seat. He’s nursing a black eye but seems otherwise unharmed. “He’s a kid. An annoying kid, sure, but he has no business going near a villain. We’re the ones at fault, not him.”

Izuku is immediately endeared. He’s even more endeared when Aizawa becomes slightly over-protective over his class, drilling them every morning about how to look out for suspicious activity. “I wish he’d give it a rest,” says Kacchan during lunch the next week. “That Shigaraki guy was covered in human hands. It’s not like you wouldn’t notice him walking down the street.”

Izuku chides him. “Be nice. He’s just worried about us.”

“I don’t see why.”

“We got attacked by villains and you don’t see why you should be concerned?”

Kacchan shrugs. “It’s not like you ever take anything seriously. Why should I?”

Shouto removes the tomato from his burger with surgical precision. Then he dissects it, removing the mushy seeds which he for some reason eats separately. “That’s true. You also seemed to know what was happening from the outset. I thought at first it was some kind of surprise training.”

“If it was meant to be a surprise, how would I know about it?” Izuku asks.

“Isn’t Aizawa-sensei your father?”

Izuku sips his chocolate milk guiltily. Some of the 1A girls are whispering among themselves from the next table over. Theynods at each other, and then Ochako slides off her seat and shuffles over. “Hello,” she says shyly, stepping right up to their table. “Bakugou Katsuki, right? You saved me from that zero pointer during the entrance exam.”

“Uh huh,” Kacchan says with his mouth full. “Whaddya want?”

She holds out a hand. “I never got to properly thank you for that. I’d like to be friends.”

Izuku brightens. “Sure. You can sit with us.”

“No she can’t,” Kacchan says. “I don’t even know why you’re sitting with me.”

“Because we’re besties.”

“I don’t even like you.”

“Are we besties?” asks Shouto.

“I barely know who you are,” says Kacchan.

Ochako sits, gamely brushing aside the unreciprocated handshake. “Cool! So, how about the whole USJ thing, huh? That was crazy!”

The rest of the girls seem to take this as blanket permission to join their table, which Izuku encourages with glee. “It’s not that crazy,” Ashido says. “The whole thing barely lasted thirty minutes. I bet it was some kind of surprise training thing that just got a little out of hand.”

“Same. I mean, why else were all the teachers conveniently close by?” asks an empty school uniform which most likely has Hagakure in it. “I bet it was a demonstration. Something to show us what real battle would look like, you know? I bet all those ‘villains’ were actors.”

“A bunch of them got arrested, though,” Yaomomo points out.

Kacchan, squashed between her and Jirou, scowls. “Can you people go away?”

Jirou steals a fry from him. “Bet the arrests were fake news. Or, like, maybe they were villains, but this was some kind of community service.”

Kacchan swipes at her hand like a displeased cat. “Get your own fucking lunch!”

Todoroki offers Kacchan a fry of his own. “That makes sense. If I had to choose between cleaning the highway or having a fake fight, I’d choose the fight. It’s a lot more fun.”

Izuku doesn’t weigh in. Time passes and the gossip surrounding the incident dies down before it can really start. Izuku’s happy to let it. He’s got more important things to do; schoolwork is getting to the point where he actually has to study to maintain his grades, which is refreshing. He’s both disappointed and impressed to find out that he still can’t beat Yaomomo even with a twenty-year head start.

Kacchan, damn him, seems to find this funny. “Now you know how your cohort feels.”

“I wish you wouldn’t call our classmates a cohort,” Izuku says snippily. “You make me feel like an old-timey mad scientist with an army of Igors.”

“Igor is a name, not an occupation. Imagine saying you had an army of Kevins.”

Izuku considers this. “Well, I wouldn’t mind one. I think it might take a while to assemble, though. I’m not sure Kevin is a common name in Japan.”

A blond head pokes itself through the door. Izuku struggles to place it until it opens its mouth. “I hope you all know you’re going to get your asses kicked at the Sports Festival,” Monoma says. “You deserve to get knocked down a peg.”

“Dude,” says Kirishima.

“No, he has a point,” Izuku admits. “It occurred to me a while ago that the teachers here really play favourites.”

“See?” Monoma crows. “I can’t believe you guys got a surprise training with real villains and we got an obstacle course in the school field.”

“You’re not that different,” floats a lofty voice behind him. “All the hero classes in this stupid school are the same. Egotistical. Self-important. Spoiled.”

“Dude,” says Monoma.

Izuku cranes his neck, and then brightens when he spots a scornful, flyaway purple head. “Hey, Shinsou!”

The malice in Shinsou’s eyes falters somewhat. “You know my name?”

“Sure! Your quirk is really cool. Have you ever thought about pursuing a career in mental health?”

“Huh?”

“Your quirk,” Izuku says, pointing at his own throat. “I bet you’d have, like, a hundred percent success rate with hypnosis therapy if you figured out how to use your quirk in small doses. Or as an emergency hotline operator, you know? It’d be hard to panic with a voice like yours telling me everything’s gonna be okay.”

Shinsou pauses. He doesn’t outwardly smile, but he does go all wide-eyed before spinning around and stalking off without a word. Izuku watches him go and wonders if he should have kept his mouth shut. “Anyway,” says Monoma. “I wrote a letter of complaint to Principal Nedzu about the discrepancy in our training. I said it was only fair we got to try out a crisis situation too, but he said he didn’t have any spare villains lying around. Can you imagine?”

“I might have one,” Izuku says. “I caught this slime guy a while ago. I wasn’t sure what to do with him so he’s just been sitting in a Coke bottle on my desk. Would you like to borrow him?”

Monoma brightens. “Yes, please. You’re not using him?”

“Nah, knock yourselves out.”

Izuku delivers the slime guy the next day as promised. That afternoon itself he sees the 1B kids chasing him across the field, which just warms the cockles of his heart. “I love motivated young go-getters,” he sighs at them from the window as he’s packing his bag to go home. “Oh, look at that! Kendou’s got such good aim!”

Kacchan nudges him, lowering his voice so they won’t be overheard by the last few people leaving. “What should I expect from the Sports Festival?”

Izuku feigns surprise. “Why are you asking me?”

“You seem to know everything that goes on in this hell hole. So, what’s it gonna be? Sparring? Capture the flag?”

“There’s some variance,” Izuku admits. “Teamwork will be important for one round in particular. That’s about all I should tell you, I think.”

“Come on, that’s bullshit. What else?”

“Kacchan, I really can’t remember. It’s been, like, twenty years.”

“What?”

“Figure of speech,” Izuku says and edges around him. “I don’t know anything, Kacchan, seriously. I wouldn’t tell you even if I did.”

Kacchan makes a face like he’s very put-upon indeed. “Even though we’re best friends?” he tries.

Izuku grins. “I’m never going to let you forget you said that. But no, Kacchan, not even then.”

He refuses to budge, despite Kacchan’s displeasure. Izuku doesn’t bother preparing for the sports festival. He doesn’t try very hard during it, either, considering he’s thirty-five and the idea of seriously competing against a gaggle of kids seems excessive even for him. Plus, All Might’s already asked Gran Torino to handle the internship Izuku doesn’t need. He’s happy just to be here, soaking up the vibes while his classmates rip each other apart.

It’s a nice day out so Izuku coasts through the first round at a comfortable jog, making sure to come out somewhere in the middle of the top twenty, just to stay in the running. The cavalry battle afterwards is fun. Kacchan resolutely refuses to join him, declaring he’ll die before he lets Izuku ride on his shoulders.

“I can be the horse,” Izuku says. “I promise not to drop you.”

“No,” Kacchan says, tying his bandana around his head. He’s in first place, but he doesn’t seem too worried about the enormous target on his back. “I don’t want your dumb ass on my team.”

“Can my dumb ass be on your team?” asks Shouto.

Kacchan sighs. “Yeah, whatever. You better not make us lose.”

They don’t lose. They come in first place, in fact, which Izuku congratulates them on sincerely. “Why do you look so stressed?” he asks during their lunch break, handing Shouto and Kacchan some of his store-bought onigiri as they hang out in a quiet section of the bleachers. Izuku demanded they eat outside, instead of in one of the waiting rooms full of grim-faced entrants for the final round. “I bet the third round won’t be as scary as you’re thinking it will be.”

Kacchan inspects the packaging of his teriyaki chicken onigiri. “When did you have time to stop by Family Mart?”

“Hm? Oh, just this morning.”

“Deku, what the hell. I woke up at five to prepare for today and you went konbini shopping?”

“I got you a chocolate mousse. And I got you a pudding, Shouto. Want it now or later?”

“Now, please. I wonder if All Might and Aizawa are married,” Shouto muses.

Izuku chokes on his sandwich. He remembers Shouto having a thing for conspiracy theories, but that’s a new one. “Why would you think that?”

“Because everyone says you’re Aizawa’s love-child,” Shouto says, popping the top off his pudding placidly. Dessert before lunch, Izuku notes approvingly. “But your quirk is a lot like All Might’s. I just wondered if they were both your dads.”

Izuku bites the inside of his cheek very hard to keep from smiling. “Secret hero husbands with their secret hero son?”

Kacchan, bless him, can’t decide if he wants to be offended or baffled. “They’re both men, dude. How are two men supposed to make a biological baby?”

Shouto shrugs. “Love finds a way.”

“The hell it does,” Kacchan demands. “Also, Deku has a mom. I’ve met his mom.”

“Polygamy exists,” says Shouto.

Izuku squeezes his eyes shut. If he laughs with a sandwich in his mouth, he will choke. “Aizawa’s not my dad, Todoroki.”

“So, you’re saying your mom and All Might had you,” Shouto insists. “And then they broke up, so All Might got with Aizawa instead, and you wanted to meet him, which is why everyone says you showed up at UA one day looking for him…”

Kacchan works himself steadily into a rage the more Shouto builds his conspiracy theory, which is dangerous for Shouto but has the fortunate side effect of erasing any nerves Izuku’s friends might have had. He’s terribly fond of them, really. He’s proud, too, even though he knows he’s going to have to throw the third round so they have a real chance at winning.

“They’re all so idealistic,” he sighs, perched on a bench in Observation Room Three while Ochako and Kacchan duke it out in the arena below. “So motivated even though none of this is going to matter in a few years. Ah, the nostalgia makes my heart hurt.”

“Do you realise this room is meant for teachers?” asks Aizawa.

Izuku sips his chocolate milk. “But the combatants’ room is boring. Everyone’s angsting all over the place and no one wants to play Uno with me.”

“Neither do I, Midoriya.”

“Bet All Might would play Uno with me.”

“He isn’t here,” Aizawa grumbles, and then frowns. “And neither is Miss Midnight.”

“They’re fine,” Izuku says, waving a hand flippantly. He knows this for a fact because All Might texted him ten minutes ago to say he caught Stain exactly where Izuku said he would be. A scary villain he may be, that Stain, but it’s hard to steal hero blood when a face full of Miss Midnight’s knock-out gas sneaks up on you. “Do you prefer checkers? I think I have that in my bag somewhere.”

Aizawa shuts his eyes. “I do not, Midoriya. Get out of here and go prepare for your own battle before I expel you.”

Izuku goes with bad grace. He doesn’t fall for Shinsou’s quirk, thanks to a far more highly developed One For All, which seems to break poor Shinsou’s heart until Izuku gives him a friendly pat on the shoulder and tells him to keep his chin up. “Quirk immunity’s not uncommon,” he says kindly. “It’s like how Hagakure and Tokoyami are immune to Aizawa, right? You did great. I bet you’ll see internship offers pouring in tomorrow.”

Shinsou brightens somewhat. “You really think so?”

“I really do. Being a hero’s not the most important thing in the world. But if it’s what you want, you have what it takes.”

Izuku puts in effort for his next battle, kind of, but he loses to Shouto pretty quickly. Shouto, now long-familiar with both fire and ice quirks, trounces Kacchan pretty quickly after that too. Kacchan accepts this with surprising serenity. He gets huffy, obviously, but at least they don’t have to tie him to a pole to make him accept his medal. Izuku hopes this means that the Kamino incident never has to happen at all.

It does mean, though, that Shouto may present a new target. “He is frighteningly powerful,” he tells All Might later. “I hope Shigaraki doesn’t decide to go for him instead. If I were him I might try to lure Shouto in with Dabi.”

“Why Dabi?”

“Shouto has an inkling that Dabi may be his long-lost brother.”

“And how would he know that?”

“The power of family?”

All Might, chewing through the last of Izuku’s konbini haul, sighs. “I’ll convince Principal Nedzu to cancel our forest training altogether. Let’s not give them any opportunity to target us at all.”

Izuku snorts. “He’s not going to do that. Do you know how happy Nedzu is to put us all in harm’s way?”

“That’s uncharitable of you.”

“I am speaking from experience,” Izuku says, patting All Might’s arm. “That man has one fault. It’s hubris. And possibly sociopathy. He spends a long time thinking this villain thing is a game.”

“I’ll talk to him anyway,” All Might insists. “I don’t want you giving up before we’ve even tried. Did I bring you up to be so cynical, young man?”

There’s a quiet gasp from outside the observation room door. “I knew it,” whispers Shouto distantly.

All Might frowns. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” Izuku, delighted with life, only giggles. “Okay, sure, try talking to Principal Nedzu. But if that doesn’t work, which it won’t, then you’re just going to have to help me keep an eye on my friends.”

Izuku’s as good as his word. Nedzu refuses to cancel training, as expected, so Izuku takes to following both Kacchan and Shouto around camp looking for any sign of errant villainy. Kacchan is predictably annoyed by this and shouts at Izuku to stop getting underfoot. Shouto, rather more charitably, decides the proximity just means that Izuku wants to be his friend.

“So then he married my mom,” Shouto says. “It’s called a quirk marriage. He was trying to make a fire-ice hybrid. He never let me play with any of my siblings. All I did was train.”

Kacchan grunts. He’s swinging Kouta around by the arms, which Kouta seems to enjoy. “I still don’t understand why you’re telling us your tragic backstory.”

“Because we’re friends.”

“No, we are not.”

“My parents died,” Kouta offers helpfully. “They got killed by villains. It sucked.”

It’s just before midnight. Izuku managed to convince his class not to wander around in the woods this time around. They’re all gathered in front of the cabin, roasting marshmallows and telling scary stories. Much less vulnerable to a surprise attack, but eventually Kouta got a little overstimulated by all the people and noise. Kacchan offered to take him a little distance away the cabin, where it’s calm, which obviously meant Izuku came too, and Shouto got roped in because Kacchan “didn’t trust him not to do something moronic while left unsupervised.” He needn’t have bothered. Shouto would have tagged along anyway, which suits Izuku fine. He has all vulnerable parties within eyesight, while All Might watches the mountains for activity and Aizawa keeps an eye on the rest of the kids.

Speaking of kids. “You’re a surprisingly good babysitter,” Izuku tells Kacchan, impressed. “Do you have younger cousins or something, then?”

Kacchan snorts. “No, Deku. But if I can babysit you, I can babysit anyone.”

Izuku gasps. “I do not need to be babysat.”

“You are consistently a danger to yourself and every person you meet. I’ve been attacked by villains twice in my life and you’re still the person who gives me the most stress.”

Shouto, who is sitting on the ground next to Izuku and roasting a pack of his own marshmallows with his quirk, offers one to Kouta. “Do you need a dad, Kouta? You can have mine. I don’t want him anymore.”

Kouta opens his mouth to be fed. “No thanks.”

“Or one of Midoriya’s,” Shouto adds. “He has two dads and a mom.”

This unfortunately does very little to endear Izuku to Kouta, who had, as expected, kicked Izuku between the legs when they first met. He gives Izuku an impressive stink face even while his mouth is full. “Selfish.”

“His dads are heroes, anyway,” Kacchan says, swinging Kouta around in a circle. “You don’t like heroes. You’re better off sharing Todoroki’s mom. She’s pretty nice.”

Izuku eyes him. “When did you meet Todoroki’s mom?”

“A month ago, maybe,” Shouto says innocently. “I visit her in the hospital every Sunday.”

“He said we were going to McDonalds and then ambushed me with his family instead,” grumbles Kacchan.

“I like McDonalds,” says Kouta. “I like the Happy Meals. Why is your mom in the hospital? Is she sick?”

“Well,” Shouto says, digging around in his marshmallow bag. “It all started when I was four years old—”

Izuku shushes him. Something’s rustling in the trees, barely audible over the chatter from the other students. No sign of All Might. Slowly, Izuku stands, straining his eyes to make out shapes in the darkness. There’s no way the villains will be bold enough to ambush them again when they’re all together. There’s no way. Unless they’ve changed plans entirely and only needed Shouto and Kacchan on their own.

“Stay behind me,” he murmurs to his friends. “Take Kouta back to the teachers and stay there.”

Slowly, Kacchan brings Kouta’s swinging to a stop. “Deku, what’s going on?”

“Don’t worry. It’ll be okay,” Izuku hisses. “Now please just trust me, Kacchan, and go. Both of you. I’ll be right behind you.”

Kacchan glances at Izuku, then at Kouta clinging to his pants. “Okay. Come on, kid. We’re out of here.”

Shouto puts his marshmallows down and stands up. “I’ll stay with Midoriya.”

A portal opens. It swirls right in front of Izuku’s face. He steps back. “No. Do not split up.”

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want either of you to get kidnapped!”

“That’s nice of you,” Shigaraki says, leaning out of it like he’s looking through a drive-thru window. “Hey, bla bla bla we meet again.”

Kacchan’s already running. He has Kouta thrown over his shoulder, shouting for Aizawa. Izuku puts an arm out to shield Shouto. “I’m not letting you take my friends.”

“Relax,” Shigaraki says. Another portal opens at Izuku’s feet. “Don’t worry about them, dude. This time I’m just here for you.”

“What the fuck,” is the first thing Izuku says when he wakes up.

They’re in a bar. It’s not as nice as Izuku remembers, sort of dingy and faded, with no customers even though Kurogiri faithfully polishes glasses behind the counter. Someone’s tied him to a chair. They’ve also put him in quirk-cancelling handcuffs so he can’t just break himself free. Izuku tries anyway, but all it does it make his wrists sore.

“What the fuck,” he repeats, slightly louder. “Why did you kidnap me?”

“Join the League,” Shigaraki says, popping into Izuku’s field of vision from somewhere behind him. “Come be a baddie with us.”

“Jesus Christ, why?”

“Lots of reasons,” Shigaraki shrugs. He does a good shrug. He puts his whole body into it, which makes it look very expressive and sort of spidery. “General insanity. Disruptive behaviour. History of property damage. And you gave me someone else’s name when I asked who you were, which I only found out when I saw your sports festival on TV. Pretty cold, throwing your buddy under the bus like that.”

Izuku blanches. “I wasn’t— that’s just sort of a force of habit.”

“Also, you really pissed off Dabi,” Shigaraki adds. “Which was pretty funny, so I want you to do it again.”

“Where is Dabi?”

“Sulking, probably. He heard you were coming and went outside to smoke, like, fifteen cigarettes. Hate that. He always smells like shit after. Wanna play Zelda?”

“Sure,” Izuku says automatically before he remembers where he is. “Wait, no. I’m not joining your league, you weirdo. I’m a hero. What do you think I’m in UA for?”

Another shrug. “My sources tell me you’re a little vague about that yourself.”

“How dare you?” Izuku wonders if this is how Kacchan felt when it happened to him. “And why is this place so shabby? I would have thought a villain hideout would be swankier than this.”

“We don’t get very many customers,” Kurogiri says apologetically. “Can I get you anything, though? Tea? Juice?”

Izuku eyes him. “Mojito might be nice.”

“You’re not old enough to drink.”

“Oh, so kidnapping me is fine but under-aged drinking is where you draw the line?”

“Being a villain beats going to school any day,” Shigaraki says, physically turning Izuku’s head so he can look at the rest of the room. “We make all our own rules. No gods, no masters.”

“Besides All For One.”

“How’d you know that?” asks Kurogiri.

“We have a lizard guy,” Shigaraki adds, pointing at Spinner, who waves. “And this freak called Moonfish, and whatever the hell Twice is, and also a girl.”

“Hi,” says Toga.

“You’re an agent of chaos. I’m an agent of chaos,” Shigaraki says, gesturing at Izuku, then himself. “Come on, let’s team up. It’ll be hilarious. You can have Dabi’s room, that one has electricity, like, all the time. You hungry? We saved up for hotpot. We got the little stove thing and everything. It took ages to make.”

“Yeah, we worked really hard on it. I’m so ready for something that isn’t instant noodles,” sighs Spinner from the damaged sofa.

“I like instant noodles,” says Toga. “I used to make ‘em myself out of grass and pond water back when I was living in the woods.”

“I used to do that,” says Twice, whom Izuku realises is lying on the floor at Spinner’s feet. “Sometimes I’d add a couple wild mushrooms as a treat. Those made me feel really good.”

“So anyway, you should join us,” says Shigaraki.

Izuku frowns, unsure whether he wants to be revolted or feel sorry for them. Shigaraki’s wrists (the ones actually attached to him) look like Izuku could snap them with one hand. “When was the last time any of you had a decent meal? Or a shower?”

“Dunno. Couple weeks, maybe.”

“For the meal or the shower?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh my god, you really live like this,” Izuku says, taking in the holes in the walls and the mouldy carpet. All For One’s either broke in this timeline or he’s stopped giving a shit about his protege. No wonder they’re all pissed off at society, honestly. Izuku would be too if he had bedbugs and no prospects. “Look, you’re, what, twenty? You should be in university and stressing about your love life, not eating dirt and fighting rats for floor space.”

“I went to university,” offers Spinner, chin in hand. “I was going to be an beautician.”

“What happened?” asks Toga.

Spinner sighs again. “Well, it turns out I’m only really good at beautifying other lizards.”

“Oh,” says Twice. “You ever put eyelash extensions on a gecko?”

“All the time.”

“Look,” Izuku says, deciding that he is better off not imagining eyelash extensions on a gecko. “What do I have to do to make you people let me go home?”

Shigaraki snorts. “You’re not going home. Your options are to join us or die.”

“I’ll give you three hundred thousand yen if you let me leave right now.”

“Five hundred thousand,” Shigaraki says immediately. “And your watch.”

“What? No way, I like my watch.”

“It’s a Rolex,” says Kurogiri helpfully. “Those are one of the only watches that increase in value over time.”

Izuku sighs. “Fine, whatever, take the Rolex. But I don’t have that much money on me right now. I’m going to have to do a bank transfer or something.”

Shigaraki pauses. “I don’t have a bank account.”

“What, like, at all? Where do you keep your savings?”

“Look around this place and tell me I look like the kind of person who has savings.”

“Do you want me to help you set one up?”

“You think I trust financial institutions? Spinner, get the van. We’re taking him to an ATM.”

Izuku is surprised that they have a van. He’s less surprised when Spinner tells him it’s stolen, following a mad scramble for the front seat that leaves Izuku in between a sulky Twice and sulkier Shigaraki. They take him to an ATM in the middle of nowhere, where Izuku does his best to shield the screen so they won’t see exactly how little of a dent they’re making in his finances. Betting on hero fights is an easy thing when you’ve witnessed most of them first-hand, after all. “I feel like I’m getting mugged,” he complains under his breath. “Stop looking over my shoulder, will you? I’m not giving you my PIN number.”

“I don’t need your PIN number. I have your Rolex,” Shigaraki grins.

Izuku makes a face. “You really don’t have to rub it in.”

Shigaraki snatches the wad of cash out of the machine before Izuku has a chance to take it. He flips through it with his thumb, seemingly less to count it and more to enjoy the feel of such a fat stack. He waves it at Toga, who has her face pressed against the window of the front seat. “Sushi!” she cries, sticking her head out. “Shigaraki, I wanna get sushi!”

“Hell yeah, we can get sushi. Fancy stuff, not the conveyor belt shit.”

The resounding cheer is so loud that it rocks the minivan. Izuku, despite the financial loss, feels sort of happy for them. “What about your hotpot?”

“We can save it for tomorrow. You getting sushi with us, Midoriya?”

“No thanks. Can I get a ride home, though?”

“Yeah, whatever. We gotta swing back around for the others anyway.”

Spinner, who is a surprisingly responsible driver, starts the van. “No problem. Where am I heading? Back to UA, or to the train station?”

“UA, please. I should tell my teachers that I’m still alive and not to invade you.”

“What?”

“Don’t worry about it. But,” Izuku says, as Shigaraki opens the door. “There is one more thing. Please?”

Shigaraki turns, one foot already through the door. “What?”

“When you see Dabi,” Izuku smiles. “Just tell him his baby brother misses him, okay?”

Chapter Text

“I’ll miss you,” sniffs Mitsuki. “I’m proud of you for standing up to those villains. You are so brave.”

"I'll miss you too," Izuku says, throat tight. "Things just won’t be the same without you.”

“My baby is growing up and going to boarding school.” Mitsuki delicately dabs her eyes with a hanky. "I just want you to know, Izuku... if I had kids, I would've been honoured to see them grow up like you." 

Kacchan, with surprising serenity, detonates a rosebush. Masaru pats his wife on the back. "Mistuki," he says, not unkindly. "You do have a kid. His name's Katsuki. He’s the blond one.”

“Also,” says Inko, who had come to the Bakugou household to see Izuku and Kacchan off. “Izuku’s my son, actually. You can tell because he looks like me.”

Mitsuki hides her face in her husband’s shoulder and sobs. Kacchan turns to Inko. “I’m an orphan,” he tells her conversationally. “Not many people know this, but I was born from a giant peach.”

She pats his arm. “I’ll miss you too, sweetheart. Can I trust you to look after Izuku?”

Gently, tenderly, Kacchan squeezes her hands. “Ma’am,” he says. “Absolutely the fuck not.”

They catch the train at nine, during which Izuku bravely holds back tears and Kacchan bravely holds back the urge to punch Izuku in the face. Izuku takes this in stride. He’s more concerned with the thought he’s leaving his mother again, although this time he’d make sure to get her in touch with Mitsuki early on so she won’t be alone. “I hope they’ll keep the Thursday tradition alive,” he says ruefully. “Manicures and coffee and ice cream… ah, man, I’m homesick already.”

Kacchan continues the deep breathing exercises he’s been doing daily since he was ten. “You’re homesick for my home?”

“Look. Listen. When you get older you’re going to appreciate how good your mother looks for her age—”

"Deku," says Kacchan, quietly but sincerely. "I'm going to kill you in your sleep." 

Izuku decides now would be a bad time to mention his thing for blondes. Ah, well. Mitsuki’s married, anyway. "I’m just saying I hope they don't forget me." 

"And I," Kacchan mutters, "only wish I didn't know you." 

It’s sort of nice, stepping into their (nostalgic, familiar) new home. The dorms are still sparkly and pristine. A couple of years of being occupied by teenagers will eventually leave the place begging to be put out of its misery, but for now Izuku enjoys decorating his room and manages not to feel too self-conscious when his classmates make fun of it. It’s more balanced this time around, anyway. Every available surface is still plastered with All Might, but now there’s a fair amount of Eraserhead merch too.

“I didn’t know he had merch,” Ochako says, inspecting a poster of Aizawa. It’s a good one. Very heavy on the biceps. “He always said this kind of stuff was a waste of time.”

Izuku smiles. She’s absolutely right. Aizawa would despise being treated like some kind of celebrity, which is why Izuku’s had all this stuff custom-made en masse. “I have a lot of extras,” he says, opening his cupboard to show them a cardboard box full of stuff. “Help yourselves. The Eraserhead stationery set’s pretty good.”

There’s a mad scramble for the merch pile. Todoroki toys with a hairclip that has Aizawa’s face on it, albeit badly cut out so he looks like an angry egg. “Makes sense you’d be a fan,” Todoroki muses. “Since he and All Might are your dads.”

Izuku smiles wider. “Do you have Endeavour merch, Todoroki?”

"Kind of. I have a dartboard with his face on it.”

“Really? Why?”

“Gives me something to do in the evenings. We can play together sometime, if you like.”

School is fun. Izuku tries to drum up the enthusiasm to study, but honestly most of his time is spent trying to build an Eraserhead fanclub and watching Aizawa’s blood pressure rise. On Thursdays he has manicures with the girls (and Aoyama) in honour of Mitsuki. Sometimes he wanders into the Gen Ed building when he’s bored, alarming several students with his repeated questions about Shinsou.

“Is this bullying?” Shinsou demands one day as Izuku’s having lunch with him against his will. “I’m trying to be a loner and you’re ruining it. Go away.”

Izuku spears an octopus weenie on the end of his chopstick. “You’re not listening to me. So the plot twist, right, is that there’s more than one killer, but that means Sergeant Angel doesn’t know who to trust anymore, and then—”

Shinsou puts his face in his hands and sighs. “Don’t you have friends to hang out with, Midoriya?”

Izuku wonders absently how Shinsou made his voice that deep. Izuku’s voice never got below a tenor. “Eh, they wear me out sometimes. They started sparring halfway through lunch and I’m getting too old to keep up with that.”

“Sparring,” Shinsou grumbles. “Of course. Hero stuff.”

“I know. Honestly I think people forget other students come here too. The favouritism this school shows sometimes is shocking.”

“Tell me about it. I heard Class 1-B gets to keep a slime villain as a pet.”

“Oh. No, that one was my fault. He was a gift.”

Shinsou eyes him. “Is that a joke?”

“It’s a long story. And he’s more a mascot than a pet.”

“Okay,” Shinsou says and points to his right. “Okay, sure, but why are they here?”

“I didn’t wanna spar either,” says Kacchan.

“I came with Bakugou,” says Todoroki.

Izuku swallows his hot dog. “Anyway, so then, Angel tells his partner, right, but then he tries to confront the killers, and then it turns out the dad—”

“Do you know what Aizawa told me?” Shinsou says, staring into the depths of his sandwich. “He said he understood what I was going through. He said he’d train me, and I thought he meant as a hero. But do you know what I think, Midoriya?”

“That he wants to train you to deal with m—”

“Yes,” Shinsou says, more passionately than Izuku’s ever heard him. “Yes, Midoriya, I’m beginning to think he wants to train me to deal with you.”

Everyone in 1A is nervous for their first internship. For Izuku, who's used to Gran Torino, it feels like a weekend trip to visit his grandpa. 

He tries to rope Kacchan and Todoroki in too, but Kacchan had laughed in Izuku’s face at the idea of spending more time around him than he absolutely had to. Which, okay, rude. It's fine, though. All Might tells Gran Torino all about the time travel, so all they end up doing is playing mahjong and complaining about Today's Youth. Gran Torino, the legend, slips Izuku sake. All Might finds out about this and shouts at them, but he does let Izuku have a beer during their goodbye dinner, so Izuku counts this as a win.

The second internship, though. For that one, Izuku needs a plan. 

Seeing Nighteye again is... it's a lot. Izuku's last memory wasn't even of him; they gave him a hero's send-off, with flowers and accolades carved into his gravestone. Izuku sits through the introductions, watching Nighteye's hands move as he talks. A man he never really got to know, even though All Might’s merch in his office tells Izuku more than he'd known. Back then Izuku hadn't even thought Nighteye was much to look at. But now, with an adult's eye and All Might's stilted confessions, he knows what to look for. Nighteye is elegant. Long fingers and a grace to his movements. He’s frowning something fierce, sure, but Izuku finds it easy to picture the guy with a smile.

Nighteye catches him staring. “Am I boring you?” he drawls.

He's alive. Warm and breathing. He obviously hates Izuku’s guts. So Izuku, who has no problem being a pain in the ass, says, “you’re even handsomer than All Might said!”

Nighteye’s whole face twitches. “That,” he chokes, “is not appropriate.”

“I’ve been wanting to meet you for ages!” Izuku gushes. “Gosh, I’m starstruck. Do you know your office looks just like I imagined? All Might said you were always super neat at work, but secretly kind of messy in private. He also said you always have your first coffee black and your second one with milk but no sugar, and you like to fall asleep in front of the TV, and you have a bad habit of forgetting to finish your food which he said he thought was just the cutest thing—”

“Midoriya Izuku.”

“Sorry!” Izuku leans forward in his seat. Nighteye automatically leans away, which Izuku’s delighted to note. “It’s just, you know, All Might talks about you all the time.”

There’s a brief silence. Izuku doesn’t need to turn around to know the other sidekicks are eavesdropping on them. Nighteye bumbles with his glasses, then the button on his cuff, then clears his throat. “He,” says Nighteye stiffly. “He told you all that did he? When?”

On quiet nights scattered over the years since Nighteye’s funeral, mostly. Izuku bats his eyes. “Oh, he’s been saying stuff like that since I was a kid. I don’t think he means to. It just sorta slips out.”

Nighteye smoothes down his hair, which is already gelled half to death. He clears his throat again. “I see. And what else has he said?”

“That he misses you. That you're still his best friend." 

“I see.”

“And that he wishes he’d taken you to France like he promised, and he talks a lot about your hands for some reas—”

“Alright,” Nighteye says, perhaps a little sharply. Someone in the office giggles. “Am I going to regret allowing you to intern here, young man?”

“Probably, yeah.”

“Get out.” Nighteye rubs his temples with one hand. Izuku notices his eyes drift to his phone, which is lying face-up on the table. His other hand drums nervously against the desktop. “Go make yourself useful somewhere. And if you say one more inappropriate thing, I’m sending you back to UA.”

Izuku gets out. He doesn’t need much instruction, anyway, so he hangs out with the sidekicks and breezes through his patrols for the day. At five he clocks out. Nighteye’s still in the office, hunched over his desk. In his hand is his phone.

Izuku clears his throat. “Hey, sir?”

Nighteye sighs deeply. “What.”

“He hasn’t changed his phone number,” Izuku says, and then escapes before Nighteye can throw a stapler at his head.

“You look a little young to be a dad,” says Izuku.

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” says Chisaki Kai.

Izuku considers informing the guy that he knows exactly what he's doing to Eri. He also considers just punching him. All Might would lecture him, though, and give him that I’m disappointed in you face Izuku’s sure he learnt from Inko.

Chisaki can’t be arrested. All Might’s been trying for a decade. The cops got rid of those Liberation Army assholes three years ago and that scared the yakuza deeper underground, which means this Chisaki Kai tried his damnest to cover his tracks. He's clean. An upstanding citizen and single father, as far as the law is concerned. Izuku hates it. He'd be happy to fabricate something incriminating if such a thing weren't generally frowned upon. Also, then all Might would have to arrest Izuku as well, and Izuku would never survive the combined guilt trip from All Might and his mother.

So he just... stands there. Completely useless. Eri’s eyes are so very big and helpless as Chisaki leads her away.

He complains about it to All Might. All Might feeds him shortbread, and then gently beats him up when Izuku suggests they abuse their powers as heroes. “We’re not dictators,” All Might reminds him. “Have I taught you nothing? Why do you think you get to be above the law?”

Izuku angrily eats his shortbread. It's late and they're chatting in the courtyard under a copse of plum trees. A flagrant violation of curfew, of course, but it's the only way to stop Izuku's gaggle of busybodies from clamouring to come. “Nowhere in the law does it say I shouldn’t beat up a child-slave-owning piece of shit." 

“That is objectively not true.” Somewhat confusingly, All Might hands him another shortbread. "Do you know what the difference is between you and a villain, Midoriya?" 

Izuku thinks of Shigaraki. "A loving family. Better nutrition. Health insurance—" 

"We follow the rules. The rules are what stop us from acting like a bunch of thugs in spandex. We can’t go arresting anyone without even a shred of evidence. Chisaki Kai, unfortunately, hasn’t given us that yet.”

Izuku wrinkles his nose. “I should’ve grabbed Eri when I had the chance.”

“And have to explain to the grown-ups why you kidnapped a seemingly innocent man’s child?”

“I’m a grown-up.”

“Debatable.”

“Don’t you trust me?”

“With my life. But if I catch you turning into another All For One, young man, I will put an end to you myself.”

Izuku huffs. “If you catch me.”

Calmly, gently, All Might’s hand squashes Izuku’s face. “Midoriya Izuku,” he hisses. “Don’t you dare do something you regret.”

“I won’t!” Izuku promises. And he means it. He’s not, like, a monster.

He is, however, a man with PTSD, very little patience, and a lot of money to burn. 

“Hi,” says Izuku.

“For fuck’s sake,” says Dabi.

“There’s no need to be like that,” Izuku pouts.

Then he ducks. A knife embeds itself in the wall right where his head would have been. Another one glints in Toga's hand before she realises who the intruder is. "Oh. It's just you."

Izuku clambers in through the window. The bar is still standing, since the Kamino ambush never happened, but somehow it looks even shoddier than Izuku remembers. A light’s blown out. The other one flickers like it’s in the world’s saddest disco. “How’ve you been? Is Shigaraki around?”

Toga goes back to what she was doing. There’s an iguana in her lap. Spinner is, with extreme care, painting its nails. “Shigaraki,” she shouts. “Deku-kun's here to join the League." 

Shigaraki comes bounding out of whatever hole he was hiding in. Izuku'd found that smile creepy as shit the first time around. Now Shigaraki just reminds him of a gangly, nervous spider. "Deku!” he oozes. “I knew you'd come around. Hey, you know, we're, like, super out of cash—" 

Izuku flops onto a creaky couch. "Do you know a man named Chisaki Kai?" 

Dabi stands up to leave. Or tries to, anyway, until Shigaraki hooks an arm around his neck. He drags Dabi bodily back into the lounge. Dabi’s feet make a soft skidding noise as he goes. “I might know Chisaki,” Shigaraki says. “But that information won’t come for free.”

Izuku lifts the plastic bag looped around his wrist. “I brought pizza.”

“I will tell you anything you want to know.”

When he came here Izuku’d thought six large pizzas would be overkill. They disappear in ten minutes. So do the fried chicken and ice cream, which Izuku ends up ordering because errant League members kept materialising out of dark corners to give him sad eyes. Even Dabi’s hatred of Izuku is outweighed by his love of free food. Misfits mill around the lounge until the place starts to feel crowded. It’s sort of nice. It’s less nice watching Moonfish unhinge his jaw to eat a chicken leg, bones and all, but on the plus side Spinner does let Izuku hold the iguana.

The iguana is sadly named Handbag. Izuku cuddles it waits until everyone’s mostly done eating, because he’s polite. “All For One wants you to get Chisaki on your side,” Izuku says, scratching Handbag under the chin. “You’re set to meet him in a couple of weeks or so, right?”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to know this,” says Kurogiri.

“We’re gonna get him to join the League,” says Shigaraki with his mouth full. “Boss says he’ll be real useful for our Big Master Plan.”

“Which is?”

Shigaraki flips him off. “Not telling.”

“I’d be offended you’re doing that,” Izuku says mildly. “But I’m impressed you’re managing it with a hand that isn’t yours.”

“They’re all his,” Twice says helpfully. “He owns them. He said so when I asked if I could have one.”

“Sorry. One that isn’t attached to him, I mean.”

Shigaraki picks up a doughnut. He eats it in pieces, ripping bite-sized bits off with surprising daintiness. “If you’re not joining the League, then why are you here?”

“Your boss said to recruit Chisaki into the League.”

“Yeah.”

“Well.” Izuku smiles. His new Rolex glints in the low light. “I’m here to make you a counter-offer, my friend.”

"Why," All Might bellows two weeks later. "Why did the police find Chisaki Kai with both arms disintegrated?" 

He puts Izuku in a headlock. Izuku, knowing he deserves this, lets it happen. "I had nothing to do with anything," he wheezes, scrambling to get free like a dog over a tiled floor. "This is just as much of a surprise to me as it is to you!" 

"Bullshit!" 

"I have an alibi! I've been in UA the whole time! I can't breathe!" 

The death grip around his windpipe lets up, but only a little. "You did something. I know you did." 

Kacchan steps outside the dorm in his jogging gear, catches sight of them, and then wordlessly goes back indoors. Izuku whines after him. "What could I possibly have done? I can’t disintegrate a man’s arms." 

All Might growls but sets Izuku on the ground without murdering him. He doesn't let up on the headlock. Izuku considers making some offhand comment about how nice the guy smells (woodsy cologne and butterscotch), and then abruptly decides he'd better not push his luck. “I don’t even know what you’re accusing me of.”

"I’m damn well accusing you of something. You expect me to believe this was a coincidence?” All Might demands. “After our last conversation? What did I tell you about following the rules?" 

"I did! I've been on campus the whole time!" 

"So if I check the security cameras—" 

"You won't find anything, promise." Because Izuku figured out where those were ages ago and made sure to dodge them on his way to Kamino. It was laughably easy. As tight as UA's security is, it was never designed to keep people in. "Why don't you believe me?" 

"Young man, you have been quoting Machiavelli at me since you were eight." 

“Look, I didn’t do anything illegal.”

The boa constrictor grip around his throat tightens again. “You think I didn’t hear you stressing the I?” All Might growls in his ear. “If you’re hiding something from me—"

“Nighteye dies,” Izuku gasps. “Nighteye dies in my timeline.”

The campus lights come on. The last rays of the sun give up for the day to slink below the horizon. Someone in another dorm laughs as the UA cicadas start their nightly racket, and the arm strangling Izuku slowly falls away. All Might spins him around. His hands are huge and almost cover Izuku’s shoulders. His voice is quiet and flat. “What did you say.”

It’s a demand, not a question. Izuku clutches his mentor’s elbows. “Overhaul kills him. And someone named Magne, and six police officers, and thirteen civilians.”

“Are you sure—"

“So if you knew,” Izuku barrels on. "If you knew you could help, wouldn't you? Because I would. I'd use whatever underhanded means I could think of if it meant innocent people didn’t have to die." 

All Might looks stricken. The poor man suddenly seems his age, tall and gaunt and tired. “I can’t condone this,” he mutters. “I can’t in good faith condone you abusing your authority.”

"I didn't," Izuku says. "I didn't. If I abused anything, it was all me. Just me." 

All Might shuts his eyes. "I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think you should tell me the details.”

“I wouldn’t do that to you. What about Eri? Where is she?”

“They couldn't find her. Chisaki confessed everything and the police are looking into the whole operation. He was a gibbering mess when they found him, but Eri was gone." 

Hm. Okay. Izuku has an idea where she might be. "Are we still friends or do you think I’m a villain now?" 

His mentor sighs. "I don’t think you’re a villain, Midoriya. I do think you’re reckless and amoral at times. But please, just... I want to trust you. I want you to be good." 

"I'm trying to," Izuku says, a little wounded. "I give you my word, my status as a hero had nothing to do with any of this. I’m not breaking the rules." 

"You’re not," All Might mutters. He tugs his elbows out of Izuku's grasp, albeit gently. "Did Nighteye… In your timeline, did he and I..?”

Izuku smiles sadly. “No.”

All Might nods. He steps away, but hesitates before leaving. "Midoriya?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Don't make me regret giving you my quirk." 

"I won't." 

He puts a hand on Izuku's shoulder. In his breast pocket, Izuku sees his phone. His lock screen is a picture of Nighteye. "If you're sure of yourself," All Might says. “If you’re going to fight dirty… whatever you do, Midoriya, don't you dare get caught." 

Izuku ends up buying Shigaraki a Playstation.

He buys a lot of other things too, once he notices the rest of the League’s shocked, betrayed faces. Everyone ends up with a gift. Toga and Spinner want beauty things and Twice wants food. Dabi demands cash and Kurogi wants a gift certificate to a bookstore, while Compress gets some hard-to-find DVDs and Moonfish asks for... something Izuku refuses to think about.

He delivers the bribes with bad grace a couple of weeks after Chisaki’s arrest, feeling like some teenaged Santa Claus. He shows a little more grace when they force him to stick around for hotpot even though it’s the middle of the night. “You didn’t get any the last time,” Kurogiri says. They’re in the lounge again, because that’s the only part of the building big enough for Muscular. “And I know it’s summer, but we may as well get somne use out of the stove.”

Izuku deliberates between sukiyaki and miso. He has been given the seat of honour, which is the one patch of floor that still has carpet on it. “Why don’t you just use—”

“My quirk is not for cooking,” snaps Dabi.

Shigaraki grins. He’s practically in Dabi’s lap. Izuku suspects that’s mostly just to stop the man leaving, because Shigaraki seems delighted by how much Izuku’s existence pisses Dabi off. Shigaraki would love Kacchan. And Aizawa, probably. “He burns everything, anyway,” Shigaraki says. “Last time we used him for yakitori, we ended up with charcoal.

Dabi tries to push Shigaraki off. Shigaraki pats his face, one pinky lifted in warning. Dabi bites it. “Eat, Deku,” says Muscular, acting as though he cannot see any of this happening. “You need meat. Reedy little guy like you. I could snap you like a twig.”

“I could punch a hole in your chest,” Izuku says, cheerfully clicking his chopsticks. “Also, don’t lie to me. You’re going to spend the money I gave you on steroids, are you not?”

“Do eat anyway,” Kurogiri says, offering Izuku the dipping sauce. “It’s the least we could do after you’ve been so generous.”

“Presents for everyone,” Izuku says and smiles to his left. “For everyone except you, huh?”

Eri, hiding behind Magne, shyly chews her baby spoon, which was probably stolen. “Maybe a toy?” she whispers. “If that’s okay.”

Izuku leans down a little to talk to her. “What kind of toy?”

“I’unno. Never had one.”

Izuku’s heart breaks for her. “Why don’t you come to the store with me, Eri?” he smiles. “Then you can help me pick some stuff out. You can even get more than one if you want.”

Shigaraki gasps. “Why don’t I—"

“You are not six years old.”

“Sure acts like it,” mutters Dabi.

Shigaraki huffs and scoots off Dabi’s lap, which must be a relief considering the guy’s butt is all bones. Toga reaches across the hotpot to put a leek in Eri’s bowl. Magne pats her head, and Twice gives her the fifth piece of candy Izuku’s seen her with today. He sighs. “You can’t feed her junk and nothing else,” he says, remembering abruptly that he might be the oldest person in the room. “She needs a balanced diet. And school, and friends her age. Have you thought about finding her a home?”

There’s a collective gasp. “We’re her home,” Magne says, outraged. “We rescued her, she’s ours.”

“She’s gonna be my baby sister,” Toga adds. “I’ve never had one, so shut up.”

“Is that realistic?” Izuku asks, extremely gently. “I know you all mean well, but you barely have enough money to feed yourselves. And what happens if some of you get arrested? What if she gets sick? Do you know how to go about home-schooling her? Have you really thought this through?”

The room deflates. “But my little sister,” Toga says plaintively.

“You’re villains.”

“You’re the villain,” Twice mutters. “You’re mean and I hate you. I don’t mean that, I wanna be friends.”

Izuku sighs and puts his food down, feeling guilty. “Hey, I never said she couldn’t visit. Wouldn’t it make you happy to know she was in a safe, stable environment? I know someone who’d be a great parent to her. He’d give her everything she needed.”

“Who?” snaps Shigaraki. “You?”

“Eraserhead.”

“A hero?”

“You like Eraserhead,” Kurogiri points out.

“Yeah, sure, I like spiders, but that doesn’t mean I want Eri to live with one.”

Eri blinks at him, then at Izuku. Izuku reaches past Magne to pat the poor girl’s hair. She’s so small. Probably smaller than any six-year-old should be. “Just… consider it, okay?” he says. “Everyone deserves a good dad.”

Silently, Dabi stands up and walks out of the room. Several heads turn to watch him go. Izuku does too. Then he sighs, stands, and follows him outside.

A fireball almost singes his eyebrows off again. Izuku ducks just in time. “Dude,” he says, patting his hair frantically. “You have got to stop doing that.”

“Go the fuck away.”

“If I went away whenever someone told me to, I’d never get anything done.”

The outside of the bar looks like any other building, albeit in an abandoned part of town. You’d never think it was a villainous squatter house. Dabi kicks a rock. It goes skittering into the darkness, away from the meagre glow of street lights seem to only be on as an afterthought. Izuku wonders what it must be like, living in a bubble. Probably freeing. Probably lonely, too, although the League seems to wear that like a badge of honour.

Dabi flops onto a half-broken part of what used to be the sidewalk. “Man, who even are you?”

“Baku—"

“Do not say Bakugou Katsuki.”

Izuku winces. “Sorry. Force of habit.” He sits next to Dabi, who seems to give off no body heat. Izuku doesn’t know why he’s surprised. “I’m just me. I’m not here to fight.”

Dabit scowls at the ground. “Then what the hell do you want?”

“I think,” Izuku says slowly, “that you and I need to talk.”

“Before you beat me up please listen,” Izuku says in a rush.

Aizawa shuts his eyes. He seems to do that reflexively whenever Izuku shows up, which Izuku would be offended by if it didn’t also make him feel special. Also, it’s the same thing Kacchan does, and Izuku likes to time it so they can do it at the same time. Feels good, feels organic. “How did you get into my apartment,” sighs Aizawa.

Right. Yes. Izuku shouldn’t technically be here, but he’d made sad eyes at Ectoplasm and said some vague stuff about familial bonds until the poor man let him into the teachers’ wing. “Sir, you remember you’re training us in espionage, right? If I couldn’t break in here I think you’d have to fail me.”

“Get out.”

Izuku invites himself in. The apartment’s nice, if empty; Aizawa keeps it mostly neat, besides the empty takeout boxes and half-graded papers he clearly has yet to sort through. A blank canvas, ready to be turned into a six-year-old’s dream. “I just wanna chat. This shouldn’t take long.”

“Whatever it is, I don’t want to hear—"

“Would you like to be rid of me?”

“I’m listening.”

Izuku sits by the living room table and tries not to feel put out. “You remember those rumours about having an illegitimate son that have been following you around for almost a decade and may or may not have been started by me?”

Aizawa’s jaw twitches. He sits opposite Izuku at the table. “I am literally reminded of them every day.”

“Well,” Izuku says, chewing his cheek. “How about an adopted daughter instead?”

The chat doesn’t take long, after all. Aizawa doesn’t say much but Izuku leaves him looking thoughtful, with tentative plans to bring Eri over sometime next week. It’s a weight off Izuku’s shoulders. All Might’s been busy lately too, although he doesn’t seem in any way overworked; he’s in a great mood, which means he and Nighteye must be friends again. Izuku’s glad for him. He’s less glad All Might sometimes blows him off for lunch, but Izuku supposes he can be a grown up about it just this once.

“I’m so bored,” he whines at Kacchan, bursting into his room after school. “I don’t feel like studying. And I already worked out today and All Might’s ignoring me.”

Kacchan shuts his eyes. He’s lying on his stomach in bed, reading a book about mastering inner peace. The book seems to have very worn pages. “You know,” he says, “it’s bad enough I have to babysit Todoroki.”

“I’m not used to having all this free time,” Izuku says, immediately pawing through Kacchan’s desk with rude curiosity. Kacchan throws a pillow at him. “The days feel too long without anyone trying to kill me.”

“Give it ten minutes.”

Izuku ignores him. “Do you wanna sneak out and get food? My treat. I might as well, since I’ve already been bribing the entire—"

Todoroki barges in. Kacchan sighs and snaps his book shut. Todoroki makes a beeline for him. “My dartboard is gone.”

Izuku shuts the door for Todoroki. “The one with your dad’s photo on it?”

“Yes. It’s gone. Did someone take it?”

“Not us,” says Kacchan. “Why’re you so freaked out?”

Todoroki holds out his hand. In it is a tiny stuffed cat, worse for wear, badly stitched, with stuffing leaking out of its belly. “Whoever took it left this,” he says. “My kitten. I— I thought I lost this when I was four."

Kacchan takes a closer look at Todoroki’s face, then sighs and sits up in bed. He pats the spot next to him, which Todoroki takes gratefully. “You definitely didn’t bring it to UA with you?”

“No. I know someone made this for me when I was a baby. I just wish I could remember who.”

He looks so lost. Izuku feels for him, having so much to say and no way to express it. In his own timeline it took years before Todoroki learned how to open up; even in their thirties the poor guy still oscillated between oversharing and saying nothing at all.

Kacchan, surprisingly, touches Todoroki on the arm. “Okay. Start from the beginning. Explain how you’re feeling. Take your time.”

Todoroki starts haltingly to talk. He clutches his kitten in one hand and Kacchan’s sleeve with the other.

Izuku, knowing he’s not needed here, quietly lets himself out.

“I’m angry at my father,” says Todoroki a few weeks later.

“What’s new,” snorts Kacchan.

Izuku shushes him. They’re having lunch in the lobby today. Izuku had tried to ask Shinsou along, but Shinsou had caught sight of him and escaped out of his classroom window. Izuku’s sure this is an anti-Izuku move he learnt from Aizawa. Izuku could have caught up with him, obviously, but it wouldn’t do to squash poor Shinsou’s enthusiasm when he’s so close to joining the hero course.

So they’re here, just the three of them, eating yakisoba pan. Besides Todoroki, who has a cup of instant ramen. Izuku waves his hand encouragingly. “Is it to do with your pink cat?”

“Why are you eating instant ramen again?” Kacchan demands. “That’s all I’ve seen you eat this week. You’re gonna give yourself a heart attack.”

“Someone keeps leaving it in my room and it tastes good,” Torodoki says, slurping loudly. “And I’ve never had it before. I like this one, it’s yuzu.”

“That’s it,” Kacchan says, putting down his lunch. “You stay right there. I am getting you a salad and you are going to eat it.”

He stomps back to the buffet line. “Your father,” Izuku prompts Todoroki once Kacchan is gone.

“Oh. It’s nothing to do with the cat. Did you know he’s officially set to be the number one hero in Japan?”

As one man, they grimace. “Well,” Izuku says reluctantly. “I guess All Might does want to retire, even though I keep begging him not to.”

“Endeavour won’t retire, even though I keep begging him to follow All Might’s example. And now he wants me to intern with him,” Todoroki slurps angrily. “The audacity. First he usurps my favourite hero, now this.”

“Who do you want to intern with?” asks Izuku.

“Anyone but my father. He ignored me when I said he should have left the number one spot blank out of respect for All Might. I’m going to get back at him. I think I’ll intern with someone he hates."

Izuku stops chewing. He glances over; Kacchan’s busy piling a plate high with leafy greens. “You know,” Izuku says, leaning closer to Todoroki. “If you wanna get back at your dad, I might have an idea.”

Todoroki drops his voice automatically. “I’m listening.”

“It is your dad’s agency. I bet no one would stop you from just walking in. You could, theoretically, tamper with the internship paperwork.”

Todoroki’s eyes narrow. His mechanical chewing slows. “What do you have in mind?”

“I think you should intern with him. And I think you should surprise him by bringing along his least favourite person on earth.”

“Natsuo?”

“No, Todoroki. I’m saying it might be time to reintroduce him to Bakugou Katsuki.”

“Oh.” Todoroki blinks. He always does it slowly, like a cat. “I don’t know if Bakugou would want that.”

“I bet he’ll come around once he hears he’d be interning with Japan’s number one.”

“What if my dad decides to be a jerk?”

“He might.” Behind them, Kacchan dithers over dressings. Izuku smiles very sweetly. “But that doesn’t matter, Todoroki, because you’ll also be introducing him to me.”