Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

In hindsight, it was definitely Izuku’s fault. But to be fair, the experience taught him that many things were his fault: products of small decisions over time that conglomerate into his relationships, his self-image, his future…

Endeavor was surprisingly overseas for a few days, so his internship was put on hold for a little while. He’d gotten permission to see his mom over the weekend, which was surprising and very refreshing if it weren’t for the fact that his childhood friend had coincidentally done the same. The aspiring hero realized this on Saturday morning when he accidentally passed the explosive classmate during his morning jog.

“F***ing h***,” Katsuki Bakugo greeted him. “Stop following me, a**wipe.”

“Hi, Kacchan,” Izuku replied, who suddenly decided that he didn’t want to work out in this neighborhood anymore. Perhaps there was an isolated park nearby? Or maybe an empty parking lot in the next town over? “Are you also visiting your family?” he asked.

“...Yeah. Blame the old hag.”

“That’s nice!” 

“She heard you were coming back and sent me death threats over the phone,” he muttered. “What a pain.”

They continued in silence for a while, matching each other’s pace, but somehow, Izuku had the feeling that they were slowly running faster… and faster… He silently wondered how their friendship (if it could even be called one) had gotten to this point, where their competitive natures fostered—oh, Izuku hadn’t realized it, but they were almost at a sprint, now. It was just a little annoying.

“AHHHHH!”

The high-pitched scream broke his train of thought. 

It came from a street in front of them. Kacchan immediately broke into flight, spinning himself forward with concentrated bursts of energy. Izuku immediately followed with a fifteen-percent, Full Cowl sprint.

The victim was a young girl—four-years-old, at most—at the local park, crying in the presence of a Villain with pointy rocks for hair and a jagged, toothy smile.

Izuku immediately snatched the girl off her feet, moving her ten meters away from Kacchan, who was already beating up the poor man with powerful explosions. (They were going to wake up the neighbors again, he knew it.) “Are you okay?” he asked the girl, who nodded.

(“DIE!” Bakugo screamed. “DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE!”)

“Don’t worry,” Izuku said, giving the child a soft smile. “We’re here. What’s your name?”

“H-Hana.”

He’d practiced these words many times during class. They were drilled into his head by Mr. Aizawa and Thirteen. “Well, Hana, the police will be here soon,” he said. 

By the time the cops pulled into the driveway, the villain was unconscious, the girl’s mom had arrived, and Kacchan was fuming.

“Dumba** s***hat ruined my jog,” he grumbled. Izuku didn’t know who he was talking about—himself or the villain—but wisely decided not to ask.

The man’s Quirk had been Earth Quaker, and, combined with Explosion, had made a mess of the once green grass and yellow wildflowers that sprinkled the area. Hana’s mom apologized for the inconvenience, the police were annoyed, and Izuku flashed his provisional license promptly when asked.

“You two are UA students, right?” Mrs. Kararete asked. “Thank you so much. We are forever grateful.”

“No problem,” Izuku replied. “We’re glad Hana’s safe!”

Kacchan scoffed, almost inaudibly.

“It was fortunate that you two were around,” the officer said. “But I’ll need you all to come with me to the station, though.”

“Understood,” Izuku replied. He’d have to text him mom and put his homework on hold, but the trip shouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience.

“I ain’t doing no f***ing paperwork,” Kacchan grumbled. Izuku noted how his classmate didn’t leave, though.

The little girl rushed up to Izuku with tears in her eyes and a shaky smile on her face. “T-thank you for saving me,” Hana said.

Izuku bent down to meet her gaze. “No problem, that’s what heroes do!” he replied.

Hana reached over and gave him a big hug, even though his tracksuit was terribly sweaty and smelled of gym socks and burnt things. She was sniffling.

“Are you okay?” Izuku asked. 

“My head hurts,” Hana said.

Then everything became bright, and Izuku found himself falling.

When he came to, Izuku was in a prickly bush on the side of the street. He immediately climbed out, taking mental note of the sharp branches that dug at his scarred skin. Kacchan and the police officer were gone.

Hana’s quirk, maybe? Four-year-olds were dangerous.

The time was five-thirty, according to his phone. He knew he should call Kacchan, but his mom would be worrying at this time, and Izuku really needed a shower. It’s not like he particularly wanted to talk with his classmate, either.

So he jogged back home, taking in the afternoon sun. It was a beautiful, quiet day. Traffic was light, and a group of kids wandered past him, pretending to be a hero exploration raid team (whatever that meant).

His apartment wasn’t far, but Izuku was exhausted for some reason, so he powered up to three percent and hopped up the apartment stairs, five steps at a time, until he reached his door.

“Izuku, baby! You’re back already?” a familiar voice called out from the kitchen.

“Yes, mom!” he called back. “Sorry for making you worry. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

He stumbled into his room, unaware of his surroundings—it was a mess, but he’d deal with that later, when he wasn’t deadbeat exhausted—and collapsed in his bed, falling asleep.

An hour later, Inko heard the front door open for the second time that afternoon. Her son walked into the kitchen, dropping his backpack on a chair.

“Hi, mom. Sorry I’m late. You need help with dinner?”

Inko shot a shaky look at her son. “I-if you’re here, who’s the person i-in your room?” she asked.

Izuku Midoriya frowned. “I’ll c-call the police?”

His mom replied with a frantic nod.

Chapter Text

Izuku woke up with a sore neck and back in a jail cell, chained in cuffs that would have been trivially easy to break if it weren’t for the fact that he was being stared down by Eraserhead (and Detective Tsukauchi).

“Uh,” he said. 

They stared at each other for a minute or so. The glass-like material in front of him reflected back Izuku’s panicked expression.

“Mr. Aizawa? Detective?”

Eraserhead raised an eyebrow.

Tsukauchi crossed his arms.  “Who are you?” the detective questioned.

Was this a training exercise? “Izuku… Midoriya?” he answered.

“Is the name ‘Jin Bubaigawara’ familiar to you?” Aizawa asked.

“Bubai— what?”

Tsukauchi sat down. “Are you?”

“No.”

The detective sighed. “Where were you this morning?”

“I was on my morning jog with Kacchan—”

“Kacchan?” his homeroom teacher asked as if the Pro Hero hadn’t stopped pairing his two problem students against each other for the sake of the training grounds and his own sanity, and as if he didn’t hear Izuku’s anguished screams ("WAHHH! KACCHAN, NO!") every other week during training or before homeroom.

“Katsuki Bakugo,” Izuku replied. “We happened to see each other this morning. Of course, we both got permission to come home, and…” He turned to his homeroom teacher. “Uh, sir, is this a test?”

Eraserhead shrugged.

“Well, if it is,” Tsukauchi spoke up, jotting down notes on a screen, “you’d be passing.” The man stood up and showed him a file. “You were found in the Midoriya household at approximately six in the evening, yesterday. Apparently, your mother thought you were an imposter and called the police on you.”

“Well, I’m not…?” Izuku replied. Aizawa brought out his phone, looking away from the hero student for just a second.

“I’m going to read out your information,” Tsukauchi said, “and I want you to tell me if any of this sounds unfamiliar to you.”

Izuku tugged at his cuffs. Eraserhead wasn’t using his Quirk, anymore, so if Izuku really felt like it, he could've escaped. “Alright."

“You’re Izuku Midoriya, age sixteen. Son of Inko and Hisashi Midoriya. Quirkless. Attends Aldera Senior High… what?”

Izuku frowned. His narrowed eyes shifted to his interrogators. “I don’t attend Aldera High,” he said. “I’m a first-year at UA. Class 1-A.”

“Right,” Tsukauchi spoke up, running a few fingers through his hair absentmindedly. “That matches the school ID and provisional license we found on your person.”

Izuku suddenly realized that his phone, wallet, and keys were missing from his tracksuit pockets. 

Aizawa sighed. He’d been looking at the phone. “Nezu just texted. ‘Parallel universe,’ is what he says.” He turned to Izuku. “You said you were on a morning run with Katsuki Bakugo?”

“Yes,” Izuku replied, fidgeting in his seat. “We were interrupted by a Villain with an earth-bending Quirk targeting a young girl. Kacchan and I helped prevent her kidnapping. But I think she accidentally manifested her Quirk afterward, which would make just a little bit of sense.”

Aizawa looked a little amused for some reason. “Her name?”

“Hana Kararete.”

Eraserhead shared a look with the detective. “The girl you speak of has been missing since this morning,” he said.

Tsukauchi agreed. “We received a call from her mother at around seven.” To his partner, he shrugged. “Parallel universe, huh.”

“Nezu wants to see him,” Eraserhead grumbled, standing up to leave. "And I have a headache."

The detective followed. “Well, we can’t keep him locked up for too long. If he’s a UA student, we better send him to UA.”

“That’s what he said, too.”

“Huh.”

Eraserhead was almost out the door. “But I don’t understand how he ended up in my class. I’m not stupid enough to lead a Quirkless kid to his death.” 

Tsukauchi froze. (Izuku did, too.) “Go ahead, Eraser,” he slowly said. “I’ll catch up with you in a little.”

“Okay.” With that, his homeroom teacher left. The metal door shut behind him with a loud thud.

“Midoriya,” the detective said, his voice barely above a whisper, “do you have a Quirk?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What is it?”

Izuku could hardly breathe. “Uh, it’s listed as Super-Power i-in the records.”

“Is that your Quirk?”

“Y-yes. It’s simple strength augmentation.”

Tsukauchi frowned. That was the first lie the kid had uttered all evening. “Say,” he said, following the detective instincts he’d honed over the years, “do you happen to be close with All Might?”

Izuku blinked. “What?”

Jackpot. “Do you know All Might?”

The boy’s eyes widened in understanding. A smile tugged at his lips. “Yes, detective. He’s like… a mentor to me.”

Tsukauchi was grinning underneath his poker face. “I understand. You know, he happens to be a close friend of mine as well.”

Once the detective was gone, Izuku promptly freaked out.

(It was during this time that he accidentally broke the metal cuffs and didn’t know what to do about it, so he resolved to weld them together with his own hands but effectively shattered the links.)

(The cops decided not to give him new ones when he asked.)

He was kept in the compound for the rest of the day for one reason or another. Izuku used this time to envision himself opening his mental barriers. It was something All Might had recommended that he do, months ago. He sat on the chilly concrete ground for hours, dust clinging to his joggers, and envisioned himself unlocking a new power. 

Izuku imagined flying.

They brought him to UA in Present Mic’s sleek car, which Izuku would’ve found to be pretty cool if he wasn’t being watched like a murder suspect. Mic blasted music from the radio and Aizawa pretended to sleep through it.

The familiar campus brought a much-needed sense of peace to Izuku. The roofs of the dorms were visible in the distance while the main building edged closer. The forest, where he once trained with All Might, swayed gently in the chilly evening breeze. Spring would be here soon, he idly realized.

“We’re here!” Present Mic announced, shaking his friend awake.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Eraserhead muttered.

“But we are!”

“We know.”

Izuku watched the banter silently. He was just a little terrified.

“You’ll be staying at Heights Alliance with 1-A,” Aizawa said, turning to face the back of the car. “I’m sure you know where that is.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Good. Now, get yourself to the principal’s office.”

Nezu looked at Izuku as one would look at an ugly integral: with absolute fascination and a twinge of madness. 

“Uh, sir?”

“Welcome to UA!” the principal said. “Although, in your case, it would be more of a ‘welcome back,’ don’t you think?” He cackled politely behind his teacup.

When Izuku didn’t reply, he continued, gently placing down the glass cup. “I told Aizawa that, since you’re part of class 1-A, you better not miss any class! Much better than the alternatives.”

Izuku agreed silently.

“I have a few theories on your case. But either way, the matter will probably be resolved in a couple of days.”

“I understand, sir.” Izuku caught the double meaning in the principal’s words. Either the Quirk will wear off in a few days—according to Tsukauchi, Mrs. Kararete’s Quirk, Lost and Found, caused things to disappear for at most a week—or he’d find himself in prison or a mental hospital among many alternatives. 

“Don’t be so down. It causes wrinkles in your fur,” Nezu said. “Now hurry along: your teacher’s prepared a room for you at the dorms. I trust that you know the way?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Brilliant!”

As the door to his office was gently closed, Nezu parsed through the file attached to his temporary student’s school ID. It was very long for a first year.

A paw reached for his phone, absentmindedly pressing a few buttons he knew by heart.

“Hello?” All Might’s electronic voice groggily asked.

“Will you come to my office as soon as you can? We have much to discuss.”

Chapter Text

It was past nine once Izuku finally reached the dorms. The late winter (or was it early spring? It was kinda hard to tell…) breeze ruffled the forest trees during the five-minute woodland walk, finally giving the young hero student some time to himself. (It was a bit chilly.) This Principal Nezu counterpart seemed to trust him—or maybe this was all a tactic to make him lower his guard; you never knew—and that made him just a bit more anxious than he already was. He huddled in his tracksuit against the elements, breaking into a light jog along the well-lit path.

An alternate universe, huh? He wondered how Hana’s Quirk worked: it was probably instigated by touch… maybe based on duration? How long did it last? Izuku definitely subscribed to the Quirk Singularity Doomsday Theory (for obvious reasons) and was starting to believe that kids were terrifying.

On the bright side, he probably didn’t have to see Kacchan until the morning (if he existed here, that is). Thank All Might for his classmate’s early bedtimes. 

“He calls me the nerd,” he muttered, “but goes to bed by 8:30. What an idiot.”

Aizawa was waiting for him at the front. Now that he was looking closer, Izuku noticed that there was no scar under his teacher’s eye. He looked… more alive. Less tired. Less angry than he usually was, if that was possible.

“You’ll be staying in the empty room on the second floor,” Aizawa said. “It’s already unlocked.”

He was promptly shoved through the door, where fifteen-or-so teenagers stared back at him. Katsuki Bakugo was notably missing.

Aizawa came in behind him. “This is Izuku Midoriya. He’ll be in this class for the next few days. He’s from an alternate universe or something. Please behave.”

With that, the teacher promptly left.

Izuku was jumped by a familiar pink face. “Hi, I’m Mina Ashido!” The girl grabbed his hands and shook furiously. Izuku winced: he’d strained them the other day.

“I’m Denki Kaminari! Nice to meet you!”

“Welcome!” Kirishima suddenly had him in a headlock. “I’m Eijiro Kirishima. What did Sensei mean by ‘alternate universe?’”

"Are you a fellow comrade of darkness, Midoriya?" Tokoyami questioned.

“I’m Momo Yaoyorozu, the class president. I hope your stay with us will be very fulfilling!”

Izuku frowned. “Uh, isn’t Iida the class president?” he asked.

The silence that permeated the common room was deafening. Izuku felt like he’d just said something wrong.

“How do you know that name?” Uraraka asked quietly. She was sitting on the couch at the back of the room. Todoroki, leaning against the other side of the furniture, was on his phone but raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“I-I…” Izuku was confused. “In my world, I was hit by a Quirk and it sent me here. I was best friends with him at UA. Iida, that is. Wait, what happened ?”

No one gave him an answer.

“Does anyone want cookies?” Sato asked from the kitchen, unaware of the tension in the room.

“Okay!” Hagakure exclaimed. Everyone cheered, following the invisible girl away. Yaoyorozu gave him a solemn look and followed.

Uraraka met him at the door. “I’m Ochaco Uraraka,” she introduced herself, “although you probably already knew that.”

“Nice to meet you, Uraraka. What happened to Iida?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s a sore subject for the class. The Hero Killer attacked him during his internship at the beginning of the year, and…” she trailed off.

Stain, Izuku’s mind helpfully supplied. He wasn’t a UA student in this world—someone who was close enough to Iida to see him slowly withdraw into himself after the Sports Festival—so no one showed up to save him…

“I understand,” he replied.

“None of us were that close to him. It was too early in the year for that, y’know?”

Wait, if Izuku was never in the class, Iida wouldn’t have…

“Uraraka, was Iida ever class president?”

“Uh, no? It was always Yaoyorozu and Todoroki. Why?”

In this world, Izuku never gave up his position as class president because he was never class president. 

“Ah, nothing.”

Koda let him hold his bunny. It was very cute. Sato’s cookies were heavenly. Ojiro asked him about their alternate selves. Todoroki went to bed.

“For someone who has only been here for an hour, you fit right in,” Asui said. “I’m Tsuyu Asui.”

“N-nice to meet you, Asui.”

There was no, ‘Call me Tsuyu,’ Izuku realized.

By the time everyone was getting ready to sleep, Izuku had started to dread the morning.

“You look like you’re gonna explode,” Uraraka remarked, covering a huge yawn with the palm of her hand. She had no idea how accurate she was.

“Yeah, yeah!” Mineta agreed. “What happened?”

“I’m going to die tomorrow,” he said, firmly believing his own words.

“Why?”

“Kacchan.”

“Who?” Kirishima asked.

“Ah, I’m childhood…” Izuku almost said ‘friends.’ While that may be true now (it probably wasn’t, if he was being honest), it certainly hadn’t been the case in a long time. “Katsuki Bakugo and I grew up together. We’ve known each other since we were, uh, toddlers.”

“You call… Mr. Lord Explosion Murder, ‘ Kacchan ?’” Kaminari exclaimed, doubling over in a fit of laughter. 

“He k-kinda hates me.”

“Aw, he hates everyone, though~!” Ashido giggled. “Don’t take it too personally.”

“No, he really hates me.”

Once he reached his room—it was the same, he realized, as the room he usually slept in—Aoyama tried to offer him some cheese. Izuku politely declined (he’d already brushed his teeth) but promised to try some tomorrow. Aoyama was delighted.

Izuku got up at five for a morning workout. He’d already missed a day of physical activity from sitting in a jail cell, so he wanted to make it up. 

The commons were empty, which was a bit strange. Todoroki was a very early riser. Yaoyorozu studied there in the morning. Kacchan tried to murder him every time their jogging paths crossed, and Kirishima always had to hold his explosive classmate back. Uraraka and Iida would join… oh.

He left the dorm in a somber mood and took a longer route than usual. Halfway through his run, he stopped in the woods and focused his efforts on learning and practicing Float. He was distracted, so he didn’t get very far.

Some third-years accompanied him in silence. Izuku found himself having a light conversation with one.

“Class 1-A, huh? They’ve been involved in some trouble this year, but nothing as bad as 3-B, y’know. They got into a big fight with this woman with a chameleon Quirk the other day. But those kids are practically pros, though, so they’re doing okay, I think.” The girl shrugged, tapping her claws against her phone screen. “I’m in 3-A, so what do I know?”

Sero engaged in an animated conversation with him over breakfast, which would have been appreciated, but they’d had the same conversation a month ago and Izuku didn’t know how to react.

Kacchan, Todoroki, Yaoyorozu, and some of the others had already gone to class, but it seemed that most of 1-A were running late—Sero couldn’t find his favorite pair of socks and had recruited Shoji and Kaminari to help—which definitely wouldn’t have happened if Iida was class president.

“Run, run, run!” Ashido exclaimed. Kaminari whooped in agreement. Jirou muttered something under her breath. Izuku fast-walked behind her, idly remembering that running in the hallways was an unsafe practice and also very disrespectful to those who’ve walked through them in the past.

"A mad banquet of darkness," Tokoyami muttered, and Izuku agreed.

They made it to class with two minutes to spare. Izuku walked through the giant door (Yaoyorozu once mentioned that it was to accommodate larger students) when—

“What the f*** are you doing here, s***ty Deku?”

Izuku hadn’t, for a single moment, forgotten about his explosive classmate. But Kacchan’s voice was different. It wasn’t his usual murderous voice. It was something he hadn’t heard in a long time: that teasing tone he’d used in middle school. It was also scratchier than he remembered it to be.

“Hey, be nice!” Ashido remarked, putting her hands on her hips. “He’s a guest!”

“SHUT UP, RACCOON EYES!”

“That’s not very manly of you!” Kirishima exclaimed. Wait, what?

“YOU TOO, S***TY HAIR!”

“Hi, Kacchan,” Izuku spoke up, giving his classmate’s counterpart a cheerful wave. “I’m just visiting for the week.”

Katsuki Bakugo stood up, carrying that winning smirk Izuku hadn’t seen in such a long time (now that he thought about it, he hadn’t seen Kacchan so happy and relaxed in a while), and everyone in the room went silent. Izuku suddenly really wanted to go back home. 

Kacchan’s eyes wandered to the barely-hidden compression sleeve and the deep scars on his arm. “Oh, yeah? What does the Quirkless loser think he can do here at UA? Leave, dreamer .”

As much as he really wanted to go back to his world, Izuku needed his classmate to shut up before people started asking questions. “I’m not—”

“Stop wasting time,” Mr. Aizawa said, opening the door, and everyone immediately clamored into their seats. Izuku stood awkwardly next to Mineta’s chair.

Aizawa sighed. “As you all know, Midoriya is staying with us for a few days. He’s a student in this class from an alternate universe. Mineta, move back a seat.”

Izuku turned toward the back of the room. Yaoyorozu had already taken the last desk in the row as if she’d anticipated the entire situation (which was probably the case). No wonder she was the smartest student in the class.

“In light of the recent villain attacks on Class 3-B,” Eraserhead said, “the school is pushing for the first-years to get their provisional hero licenses for your safety. Thus, you will continue working on your super moves, and…” the Pro Hero narrowed his eyes. “Is something the matter, Midoriya?”

“No, sir.”

“As I was saying,” Aizawa continued, “we will work on our super moves. Cementoss will be supervising you all this afternoon.”

Izuku idly wondered why his classmates hadn’t taken the provisional license exam.

First period was English with Present Mic, and besides the surprised looks everyone gave him when he raised his hand and pointed out the incorrect sentence, Izuku didn’t feel blatantly out of place. He took notes in a fresh journal with borrowed stationary from Yaoyorozu. Ectoplasm was pleasantly surprised when he was able to compute the ‘bonus problem’ integral on the board. Kacchan told him to shut up twice. 

Before Izuku could go to lunch, Aizawa pulled him aside. Kacchan glared at him. Everyone else was really bad at hiding their interest in the conversation. 

Eraserhead shut the door behind the students, leaving the two of them in the room alone. “You have your provisional license, don’t you?” he questioned.

“Yes, sir. My class took the test months ago.”

“I assume you already have developed a few super moves?”

Izuku smiled. “Yes, sir!”

Eraserhead nodded, and suddenly there was a weird look in his eyes that Izuku didn’t really understand, despite knowing his teacher for months. “You’ll be coming with me in the afternoon, then. And after classes are over, All Might wants to talk to you. He’ll get you for dinner.”

Izuku was surprised. “All Might teaches here?”

Aizawa raised an eyebrow. “Does he not, for you?”

“Well, yes!” Izuku answered, waving his arms as Iida would. “But he usually teaches the first years, especially this class.”

“Huh.”

“I do have one question,” Eraserhead spoke up as Izuku turned to leave. “Who in the class failed the exam?”

“Todoroki and Kacchan,” the hero student replied easily, “but they have their licenses by now, too, sir.”

Aizawa returned a tired sigh as if the thought of his two classmates with hero licenses greatly disturbed him.

Chapter Text

“Come sit here, Midoriya!” Ashido exclaimed at lunch. 

“Yeah!” Kirishima chimed in. 

Izuku, who was used to sitting with Todoroki, Iida (he was trying desperately not to think about his best friend but it was really difficult), Uraraka, Tsuyu, Tokoyami, and Aoyama (only sometimes, though: the kid could be sporadic), was very confused, but happily accepted their offer. Something inside him screamed that it was a bad idea, but he was too polite to decline. 

Their table was missing someone, and it took a few minutes of pleasant chatter that nagged at the back of his head for Izuku to understand his own unease.

“Where’s Kacchan?” he asked. “Doesn’t he usually sit with you all?”

Jiro raised an eyebrow. “Mr. King Explosion Murder? No thanks.”

“ Lord Explosion Murder, you mean,” Sero snickered.

“Yeah,” Kaminari agreed. “The guy prefers to be alone, and we’re all perfectly okay with that.”

“You too, Kirishima?” Izuku asked, confused.

The redhead crossed his arms. “What? I mean, we got along in the Sports Festival alright, and he’s a friend, but we’re not close. Why? Are we bros in your world?”

“Well, yeah.” Izuku really needed to thank his hot-blooded friend at home for all the times his cheerful presence has saved his life, especially from a tragic death by Lord Explosion Murder.

Now that he thought about it, Kacchan and Kirishima only became close after the attack at USJ, which never happened. 

“Are you Quirkless, kero?” Asui asked.

Izuku shook his head. “No. I-I guess my counterpart h-here is, though.” 

Everyone at the table shot him various looks of pity, even though everyone knew they were consoling the wrong person. (Or, right person, wrong counterpart.) Izuku hadn’t been on the receiving end of those expressions in months. He had hoped to never see them on his friends’ faces.

“You’re all taking this situation very well,” he said.

“Well, to us, you’re just like a transfer student or something!” Hagakure remarked, and Izuku could hear the grin in her voice. “It’s not like we’ve met before.”

Kaminari agreed. “Yeah, only Kacchan ,” he tried out the name on his tongue, grinning maniacally, “seems to be bothered by it.” Izuku foresaw many explosions in that particular classmate’s future dorm life.

“It seems like every difference between our worlds is pretty small,” Asui said in a very Tsuyu-like manner, “like Kirishima being friends with Bakugo. Your Quirk is the only difference that isn’t an event, kero.”

“Yeah!” Hagakure agreed. “Maybe it’s like a butterfly effect!”

“W-What about Iida?” Izuku asked. “Isn’t h-he—”

“Aizawa expelled him after he got into an incident in Hosu during our work studies,” Sero explained a little too quickly. “It’s not that big of a deal, even though he was pretty hurt.”

“Oh.” Izuku couldn’t tell whether his classmate was lying but didn’t press into it. If he could get access to the library computers, later, he’d figure out the truth himself.

They talked about mundane things, afterward, like the weather, Present Mic’s class, the upcoming provisional license exam, and All Might, mostly because his classmates asked about his favorite Hero. He went on a five-minute tangent about his idol’s battles and costume changes.

Lunch Rush’s cooking was amazing as always. As he picked at his meal, Izuku idly wondered if the difference between the two worlds was as minuscule as how Asui had described it. It wasn’t like Sero suddenly had a rubber band Quirk and Ashido had a water Quirk (as far as he knew). The only major difference he’d seen so far had been his presence in Class 1-A.

“Midoriya! You still here?” Kirishima asked, tapping him on the shoulder.

Izuku had been muttering to himself. “Ah, sorry!” he apologized, “I tend to think aloud a lot.”

“No worries!” Ashido said, grinning from ear to ear. Kirishima agreed with a thumbs up.

The day was bright and a bit cloudy, and everyone around him was in a good mood. Izuku felt his classmate’s carefree moods influence him just a bit.

Aizawa led him to a large, empty training room, one that he’d reserved many times in the past, mostly to spar with Kacchan, Iida, or Uraraka. Shinsou was there, dressed in his gym uniform.

“Shinsou, this is Izuku Midoriya,” Aizawa said. “He’ll be joining us today. Midoriya, you should know Hitoshi Shinsou.”

“Hi, Shinsou!” Izuku greeted with a cheery wave.

“Are you another hero-hopeful?” Shinsou questioned, staring straight into his eyes. “Never seen you before.”

“Ah, no! Well, yes! I-I’m visiting UA for a few days.”

“Stop wasting time,” Aizawa said, although there was no bite in his words because Izuku had already started stretching. “We’ll start with a few basic drills.”

Izuku really enjoyed his training session with Shinsou. Aizawa demonstrated some basic attacks with the capture weapon, and he was excited about seeing his teacher’s technical-based fighting style. Then they practiced a few basic punches and kicks. 

Shinsou sparred with him a few times, Quirkless, and although Izuku won almost immediately each round (he had the experience advantage), his future classmate’s determination was nothing to laugh at. Even Aizawa seemed pleased, even though his expression was hidden behind his scarf.

They also sparred against Eraserhead himself, which Izuku had done, like, only twice before despite seeing his teacher in action countless times. 

“We have to use our numbers against him,” he told Shinsou once their teacher made his way to the other side of the gym’s padded mat. “He’ll try to keep both of us in his line of vision at all times. Once he loses sight of me, I’ll act quickly with my Quirk. Keep his attention on you by trying to provoke him.”

“And what exactly is your Quirk?” Shinsou questioned him, wiping sweat from his forehead.

“The best way I can explain it is ‘stockpiled power.’ It’s… really complicated,” was all Izuku could say. 

“Okay.”

They didn’t end up winning—Aizawa was their teacher for a reason—but once his teacher inevitably blinked, Izuku fired up a 5% Full Cowl and rushed to the opposite side of the Pro Hero’s line of vision before firing Black Whip at Eraserhead’s feet. (If he had his gloves, Air Force would’ve been a good move, too.) Aizawa was light on his feet and evaded out of pure instinct, but suddenly his back was to Shinsou, who was able to rush in and attempt to throw the heavier man over his shoulder with a move he’d learned a few minutes ago. It inevitably didn’t work, but their teacher commended them for their good effort, waiting for his students to rise from being kicked in the side—Shinsou—or being tied up on the ground—Midoriya.

No hero was a one-trick pony, and both students were able to show a slight bit of competence in uncomfortable situations. The Midoriya kid’s moves were surprisingly mature for a first-year, as if he’d had plenty of field experience. Aizawa found himself envisioning a classroom with the two alongside his current class 1-A.

It wouldn’t be a bad class, he realized.

“Thank you for the training session, sir!” Izuku said once they were headed back to the locker rooms. “I learned a lot!” (He didn’t actually learn much—just practiced what he’d already been taught—but it was always polite to please others.)

“As did I,” Shinsou said before hiding a yawn behind a hand. They were both exhausted.

“You wanna come to 1-A’s dorm room for dinner?” Izuku asked, forgetting for a moment that 1-A's dorm technically wasn't his.

“No. I need a nap.”

“Ah, okay.” He was only a little disappointed: the heroics student usually didn’t have the opportunity to see Shinsou much outside of class.

Shinsou and Izuku had the changing room to themselves. Izuku fiddled with his uniform sleeves: they had been a bit tight for some reason and it had been bothering him a little.

“With such a flashy Quirk like yours,” Shinsou spoke up, “and with your fighting skills, how are you not in the heroics department here?”

“Huh?”

“You heard what I said.”

Izuku didn’t deny it. “It’s a long story,” he replied. “I don’t know if I’m allowed to tell you everything, but…” he paused, rubbing the scars on his right arm. “I am. Kinda. You should ask Aizawa-sensei about it.”

“Hmph.”

“I was a late bloomer,” Izuku admitted. He probably wouldn’t have shared this secret to anyone from his own world, but this Shinsou would never have the burden of being close to a wielder of One for All (assuming Izuku was able to go back home). “My Quirk came in when I was fifteen.”

The other student spared him a curious look. “That’s unheard of.”

“Yeah.” Izuku smiled. “I’m very fortunate to be at UA. And you are too.” He folded up his borrowed gym clothes. “You’re transferring into the hero department next semester, right?”

Shinsou narrowed his eyes. “I am?” 

“Well, it’s not like you’re training with Aizawa for no reason. Didn’t you have this joint training session with class A and B sometime in the past? Like, to test you into the heroics department?”

“We’re having it on Friday,” Shinsou replied. His mouth dropped in horrific realization. "Wait, it's my TEST?! It's only in—what— four days?!" (If Shinsou could scream, he would've done it right there.)

“Oh.” Izuku shot him a nervous smile. He could feel the stress emanating from his friend’s horrid expression. “Good luck, then! Do your best!”

Five minutes later, he realized that All Might was meeting him for dinner, so he wouldn’t have been able to spend much time with Shinsou, anyway. 

Uraraka asked him where he’d been once they met up after class and everyone headed straight for the showers. She called him ‘Midoriya,’ and Izuku did not want to correct her for fear that he’d have to tell another very long, embarrassing story.

“Ah,” he said, “Mr. Aizawa wanted me to do some combat training with him.”

“Oooh, how was it?”

“Bulls***,” Kacchan grumbled as he stormed past them, which wasn’t very nice of him. Izuku noted that his voice had a familiar hard edge to it, even if it was scratchier than he remembered it to be.

“It was very intense,” Izuku replied. “I got tied up at the end.”

“Really?”

“Yeah! I held my own for a little while but his capture weapon makes it harder to predict his movements. It’s really flexible, so he threw it around the training mat and kicked at me until I stepped in the wrong place. He kept me on my toes the entire time!”

The smell of hard work and sweat filled the common area as students haphazardly dropped their bags on the couches (Iida would’ve yelled at everyone for being disrespectful) or took the elevator up to their rooms. 

“Let’s watch a movie tonight!” Ashido announced.

“Don’t we have a quiz, tomorrow?” Ojiro asked. He had a stack of textbooks in his arms. “Yaoyorozu’s tutoring session is about to begin.”

“You’re going to fail if you don’t study, kero,” Asui said.

Kirishima hung his sweaty arm around Izuku’s shoulders, which would’ve been a friendly gesture if his classmate didn’t look and smell slightly charred. “What are you going to do, Midoriya?”

“I’ll study, too,” he decided. “We haven’t reached this unit back at home.” It seemed that the lack of incidents concerning his class allowed the teachers to cover more material. 

Izuku also wanted to do some mental training with unlocking quirks, but he was probably going to have to leave that for the evening.

“Very manly. I approve!” Kirishima gave him a thumbs up. “Can you tutor me? That problem you solved today—the one with the triple integral cylinder thing—was intense! I could barely keep up with Ectoplasm’s explanation.”

But that’s Kacchan’s job, Izuku thought. “Sure,” he replied, “if you don’t mind. Math is one of my better subjects.”

All Might was in his muscle form when he knocked on the door of Heights Alliance. As everyone in the commons gawked, and as Kirishima shouted something like: “I got it! Thanks, Midoriya!”, Izuku politely excused himself and scampered out of the dorm.

All Might still had One for All, he instantly realized.

“You’re…” All Might said. “You’re that crazy fan,” His smile didn’t leave his face, but Izuku recognized his mentor’s nervous hesitation hidden behind the seemingly unfaltering facade. 

(Also, he hadn’t thought about that embarrassing moment for many, many months and was not glad to have that memory—of him clutching his idol’s leg like his life depended on it—resurface.)

“I am,” he replied.

They walked side by side to the main building awkwardly, and even though something inside of him recognized the previous wielder of his Quirk as someone safe and familiar, Izuku was a little wary of the man next to him. As the sun set behind them, shadows fell over the older man’s face, and Izuku couldn’t see his expression, but he felt something like guilt or frustration from the current Symbol of Peace.

Chapter Text

Izuku was steadily led to the room where they frequently had their secret meetings. The musty air felt quiet and almost empty without Kacchan’s nagging shouts. All Might had ordered take-out for the two of them, dropping it gently on the coffee table, where twin cups of tea were waiting.

Izuku took a seat on the couch across from his hero, attempting to keep his nervous thoughts to himself. 

It was All Might who spoke first, deflating as he did so. “So you’re my successor in this parallel world.” 

“Yes,” Izuku replied. He couldn’t help but feel like he was being scrutinized carefully, as if his every movement was being recorded. “I am.”

“Young Midoriya…” All Might said, and Izuku felt that strange guilt linger in the air, palpable and tense. “What kind of hero do you want to become?”

The high school student steeled his nerves and stared at his mentor’s look-alike in the eye, and a soft smile graced his face. He’s been asked this many times, and the answer kept evolving… 

“I want to be strong enough to stand on my own: to always win and always save. To live up to the hopes of those who supported me, and to show them a bright future.”

But one thing stayed the same.

“I want to be the greatest hero.” Izuku Midoriya said, confident and proud in such a different way, and All Might saw a glimpse of who the young man would one day become. 

The greatest hero, huh? Toshinori could envision it.

But he didn’t see why an alternate version of himself chose this child: the boy was nothing special. A maybe good choice, in hindsight, but Izuku Midoriya wasn’t—

“It’s Togata-senpai, isn’t it?” the boy asked. His voice was low—almost a whisper. “He’s the ninth.” 

Toshinori wanted to say, ‘No, you are.’ He wanted to voice his never-ending doubts and frustrations—should he have chosen differently? But why?—but he held his tongue. Toshinori knew that the boy couldn’t stay forever and fix all the mistakes he’d made in this world.

Instead, he said, “Yes.”

Unlike the enthusiastic Togata, Midoriya was more reserved. Less experienced. Toshinori found himself comparing the two unwillingly. If young Togata could fill his alternate self’s part in society—All Might’s—with broad shoulders and an unfaltering smile, Izuku Midoriya reminded him more of Toshinori Yagi, the Quirkless middle schooler with a dream to save lives and put people at ease. 

“So you teach the third-years, here?” the boy asked, reaching over to pick up one of two untouched cups of tea.

“I do,” Toshinori replied, smiling fondly. “Young Togata’s in 3-B, of course, and I have to keep watch over him. It’s difficult, though! That class is like a villain magnet! You wouldn’t believe how many times they’ve been attacked this year.”

The boy grinned. It reminded Toshinori of his master.

‘Why did I choose you, Izuku Midoriya?’ was left unasked.

Izuku felt very confused as he walked back toward his dorm. He also had the feeling that someone was following him.

All Might spoke of his battle with All for One and how he chose his successor after accepting a teaching position at UA. Currently, he could only hold his muscle form for an hour a day. One for All was slowly leaving him. He shared stories of training Togata, who immediately mastered the strength—as someone with more than two years of training their own body—but had trouble with fine-tuning his power. He would take a step and accidentally form craters on Dagobah Beach. (But it was okay because after mastering Permeation, One for All was relatively easy.) 

Izuku was a little flustered: why was he the only one with so many issues with One for All?

He asked All Might about the Quirks of the predecessors, but the older man just shrugged and told him about Nana Shimura (Izuku had heard that particular story already, but he listened anyway). 

In this universe, All Might and Nighteye had made up right after the beginning of the school year. Togata had been interning under the former sidekick’s agency at the time. The battle of Kamino between All Might and All for One never happened because Kacchan was never kidnapped, which was because the League attacked 3-B, and experienced third-years could fight off villains way better than first-years at their first training camp. 

What Asui and Hagakure said earlier that day stuck in his mind. Something about the butterfly effect? 

Izuku didn’t think he would be able to handle a conversation with his alternate self: it’d be very weird. He didn’t want to face that possible reality: the one where he never had the opportunity to be a hero. What would he have done, anyway? Izuku had already given up on that dream by the time All Might offered him his power. Maybe he would have joined the police, as All Might had suggested. Or maybe he would have dedicated his life to researching Quirks. But as much as that was a cool hobby, it had been mentally unhealthy for his past Quirkless self to do that. 

For some reason, he was reminded of the Gentle Criminal. 

It was a surprisingly warm evening with little-to-no wind, but Izuku still felt chills slithering up and down his spine. He self-consciously hugged his windbreaker against himself and turned around. Someone was definitely following him, and he had blond hair that stuck out at the front. 

“Togata-senpai?” Izuku asked the foliage. His voice came out a little shaky.

The student in question popped his head out from behind a tree. “Wow, he noticed me!” he exclaimed. “What a cool guy! Hahaha!”

“What are you doing here?” Izuku wondered aloud. “Aren’t the third-year dorms in, uh…” He pointed behind him.
“Can we talk?” the third-year asked, “as fellow successors?”

Izuku didn’t have the heart to say no.

They found a bench to sit on under the light of a nearby lamppost and the crescent moon. Togata looked troubled, as if he had been crumbling under the weight of the world. Izuku realized that he’d never seen his friend and mentor with such an unhappy expression, before, besides maybe when Sir passed away.

“I lost One for All,” Lemillion admitted. There was no smile on his face.

“Wh-what?! How?” Izuku asked, but he already knew. 

“It was a Yakuza hideout raid. I was hit with a Quirk-erasing bullet,” the third-year said. “And then I lost my mentor.”

“Sir Nighteye?”

“Yes.”

Izuku felt tears prickling at the back of his eyes, threatening to fall. “I-is Eri—”

“She’s safe. We’re teaching her how to use her Quirk right now, and Eraserhead tells me that it's possible for her to use it on me in the future.”

“Oh. Thank goodness…”

Togata stared at his clasped hands, leaning over his seat. He didn’t once look at Izuku. “Are you disappointed? If it had been you— ”

His words sounded very familiar. “Don’t say that!” he interrupted. “It’s not true.”

“One for All is gone, and it’s my fault,” Lemillion lamented, dropping his head into his palms. “Maybe if only Permeation was erased, I wouldn’t be so upset, but One for All is different, y’know? There’s a duty behind it. All Might says that he’s proud of me, but we all know I’m a failure of a successor, letting his power go so easily.”

That also sounded familiar. 

“I try not to think about it,” the third-year continued, “but I’ve honestly always been in a hurry to master this power and take All Might’s spot as the Symbol of Peace. And I know I’m pushing myself, but it’s necessary. I need to take up the mantle soon because I’m graduating this spring, and the villains are gaining in power. But I’m… I’m not worthy. There are better candidates out there. There’s you .”

Now that , Izuku whispered to himself during late nights filled with suffocating self-doubt. “I—”

“If only he’d chosen you…”

Mirio Togata wasn’t supposed to be worried, Izuku thought. If felt fundamentally wrong. Lemillion was supposed to be the hero comforting others, putting underclassmen at ease with that contagious smile of his. He was supposed to be unstoppable, unwavering, undefeatable. The burden of One for All had changed him.

“I… I understand how you feel,” Izuku said, wiping at his eyes. “Honestly, in my world, I almost gave One for All to you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Sir definitely didn’t think I was worthy, at first. He only accepted me as an intern to show me how much better of a successor you would’ve been. And then, when you lost your Quirk, I asked, and you declined.”

Togata smiled at that. “Still, you’re the perfect successor.”

“Senpai, that’s not true. You’re a million times more worthy than I am.”

“No, I’m not!”

“It’s true!” Izuku protested. “ You don’t break your own bones with your Quirk!” He showed the third-year the collection of scars on his right arm.

They grinned at each other from opposite sides of that bench. Togata held his hand out and Izuku shook it.

“Don’t put yourself down, Midoriya,” the third-year said, pumping a fist in the air. “Just keep moving forward! Plus Ultra, right?”

“Plus Ultra,” Izuku repeated. He was crying.

“Yes, let’s do our best!” Lemillion shouted, and the upperclassman’s smile suddenly reminded him of All Might’s.

Later, Izuku told Togata about the Quirks of the predecessors and the dreams he’d been having about the vestiges. He showed off Black Whip and attempted (key word: attempted ) to float but couldn’t stabilize himself. His friend and mentor laughed whenever Izuku fell into the bushes, encouraging him the entire time. 

“F*** this,” Katsuki said. “S***ty f***munch Deku f***ing dies and leaves all the heada** paperwork FOR ME. DEKU, YOU SLACKER, GET YOUR LAZY A** BACK—”

“Stop being immature, Bakugo,” Aizawa interrupted. What a downer.

They were at the local police station, and Hana was crying in a corner. It was obnoxious. Her mother was explaining her weak-a** Quirk to the plain-faced detective, who was sending weird looks at Aizawa-sensei. 

He’d been called from his internship for his testimony again —it’s already been a day, what’s the point—so he was clad in his hero costume, annoyed because that coward IcyHot Todoroki was getting stronger without him. In his lap was the nerd’s suitcase, because the slacker had just gotten the stupid thing repaired and apparently it was his job to bring it back to Endeavor’s office in his absence.

“Ma’am, you say you’re a teacher?” the detective questioned. He had a recording device turned on.

“Yes. I teach at a local high school.”

“And your Quirk?”

“It’s called ‘Lost and Found,’” Hana’s mom said. “I can make anything I touch with all ten fingers disappear. The items usually come back on their own in a week.”

“And it only works on non-living things?” Tsukauchi asked. He was really angry for some reason.

“Anything you could fit in your average handbag,” she explained. “I get wild mood swings with anything bigger, and it’s really inconvenient. Large things take longer to disappear, too.”

And her father’s Quirk?” Eraserhead asked.

“He can explore the multiverse in his dreams,” Mrs. Kararete said.

Katsuki scoffed. He knew where this was headed. 

Something pressed against his knee. Katsuki looked down and saw Hana, who was desperately clinging to his pant leg and wiping her tears on his hero costume. 

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice low.

“I… t-thank you for trying to h-helping me, sir,” she muttered, spreading kid snot all over his uniform. “But p-please, stay a—”

Katsuki was falling.

“S***!” he screamed into the unknown.

Chapter Text

The next morning was uneventful but full of high spirits for Izuku. Ectoplasm seemed invigorated by his presence and challenged 1-A to an even harder integral than the one he'd given in yesterday’s class. Izuku tried his hardest, but Yaoyorozu solved it first, this time, shooting her hand up with such vigor and intensity that everyone was really surprised. 

Izuku could see the pride in her eyes as their math teacher applauded her hard work. He was impressed too, as always. She was really smart.

Then, at lunch, Yaoyorozu offered to tutor everyone over the weekend and was met with elated cheers.

“What kind of tea are you all privy to?” she asked, barely containing her excitement. “Mother sends me different flavors every week! But… do we have enough teacups for everyone?”

Izuku was really glad to see his classmate enjoying herself.

“Oooh, would everyone like to go shopping on Friday?” Hagakure exclaimed. “I need new shoes!”

“My socks have holes in them from training,” Kirishima admitted. “I’ll join you!”

“I need a new scarf,” Shoji said, sitting down next to Hagakure and Uraraka at the table, which had expanded to include most of Class 1-A. Izuku beamed at the familiar sight.

“I’ve been running out of shampoo, recently,” Ojiro spoke up. “I use a special kind, too…”

Uraraka grinned. “It’s a class shopping trip!”

Everyone cheered once more, even Izuku.

Heroics was overlooked by Cementoss and Midnight that afternoon at Ground Beta. Izuku was wearing one of the spare gym uniforms he was given, but he couldn’t help but miss his Air Force gloves and iron-clad shoes. He felt a little out of place among his classmates, whose hero costumes were really cool-looking. There were some differences though: Todoroki’s was white. Uraraka’s still had that bulky astronaut helmet.

“Each match will be a 2v2,” Eraserhead explained, openly fighting the urge to take a nap. “A side wins when both members of the other team are handcuffed, and each team gets two handcuffs.” He held up the familiar hexagonal metal, his monotone expression and tired eyes betraying a flicker of interest in Izuku’s direction. “Don’t lose them and don’t kill each other.” He spared a flat look at Kacchan.

Midnight began listing off the teams. “Sato and Tokoyami against Sero and Asui. Jiro and Kaminari against Kirishima and Ashido. Koda and Shoji against Hagakure and Ojiro. Todoroki and Mineta against Midoriya and…” Midnight pursed her lips. Izuku prayed really hard that he didn’t have to work with Kacchan. 

“Midoriya and Aoyama,” she continued, and Izuku breathed a sigh of relief. Aoyama was really enthusiastic and had this eccentric air to him that made Izuku smile, even in tough times. He was a great hero and a great friend.

“Bakugo, Uraraka, and Yaoyorozu will have a three-way brawl,” Midnight finished.

Izuku really wanted to mention that she forgot about Iida but remembered and kept silent. Instead, he turned to Aoyama, who was positively shuddering.

“Let’s do our best!” he exclaimed. “Plus Ultra, right?”

“Oui,” Aoyama replied, less enthused but still twinkling.

“We have to plan,” Izuku said, his voice oozing with excitement. “Mineta is tricky because his balls are so sticky, so he can trap us easily if we’re not careful. You can fire your laser through them, right? That’s a direct counter! Ice can partially reflect lasers, and since we’re dealing with Todoroki, putting you against him would be very unpredictable. I don’t think we should take that risk at the beginning. But if use that to our advantage, we could potentially surprise him—”

“Then w-what will you do, mon ami ?” Aoyama asked. He seemed a bit nervous for some reason.

“Our best bet is to separate Todoroki and Mineta,” Izuku explained, only slightly aware that he had begun muttering again, “and since we can’t let Todoroki control the battlefield, I’ll go against him. He’s not the best at hand-to-hand combat, but he might try to counter with his fire if I get too close—”

“Todoroki doesn’t use his fire much,” Aoyama interrupted him.

Izuku paused his train of thought. “He… doesn’t?” he asked. Suddenly, a few things started to make sense. The son of the number one—number two , in this world—hadn’t spoken a single word all day, and it had been unsettling. He hadn’t sat with them at lunch, either.

“ Non !” his teammate answered, posing dramatically in such a way that Izuku couldn’t help but crack a grin. “He’s only used it only once, against Sensei during the final exams!”

Later, Yuuga Aoyama would realize that he forgot to ask his partner about his Quirk. The situation weighed on him as he traversed through Ground Beta alone. A slight breeze billowed through the ghost town, its empty streets watching him with silent eyes.

But it was okay, he thought. There was something inspiring about Midoriya, and it made Yuuga trust his teammate’s optimistic words and careful planning. The boy’s confidence was rubbing off of him, somehow.

Anyway, it was time for Yuuga to shine.

Ochako was worried: Todoroki’s ice was ruthless.

The screens (U.A. was so rich!) revealed that Todoroki and Mineta had separated from the beginning. Aoyama and Midoriya had stuck together, walking through the main street before separating at an intersection. Mineta was bawling, frantically running through the empty city and screaming at the top of his lungs, and Aoyama was sparkling, as always, skipping in the direction of his opponent’s voice. Green lightning crackled around Midoriya’s ankles before spreading up his body, and the hero student shot off in a flash of lightning toward the huge glacier that suddenly towered over Ground Beta. 

Ochaco was surprised. What a flashy Quirk! It looked powerful.

Now that she was looking a little more carefully, Uraraka saw Mineta had set a trap in an alleyway and Aoyama was sauntering toward it in his sparkly glory. Midoriya was maneuvering straight toward an icy road block near the middle of the city. In the center of it all, Todoroki let out a frosty breath.

“Todoroki always begins his fights with that move,” Yaoyorozu helpfully supplied.

“It’s effective, though,” Uraraka remarked. “Hard to counter.”

“And Bakugo always throws a right hook to begin,” the class president continued. “Would you like to team up against him?”

The ground shook. Midoriya flicked his fingers, spinning his momentum into a well-placed kick, and the glacier collapsed. Uraraka’s jaw dropped.

“Yeah, I’d love to,” she replied, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Behind her, Kaminari tried unsuccessfully to form a coherent sentence. Tokoyami muttered his approval. 

“WOAH!” Ashido yelped. Uraraka couldn’t help but agree.

They were yelling at each other, now—Todoroki and Midoriya—but the screens offered no audio. Far away, Uraraka heard the crack of a building collapse. Smoke billowed into the air. 

Ground Beta was a mess. Ice covered every surface within a large perimeter. 

Midoriya looked frustrated. Todoroki seemed furious—his eyes were icy cold, staring down the new student with a rare expression of hate—and Uraraka was immediately reminded of her classmate’s father. Frost had formed on his right side, and he was shaking (whether it was out of cold or spite, Uraraka would never know). 

Aoyama winked at a camera. 

Suddenly, fire engulfed Ground Beta in an orange blaze. Buildings crumbled and black smoke rose from the city. A water tower crashed into a glacier (was that Aoyama?!), tearing apart and flooding streets in a current of cold water. Sticky balls were carried downstream in the torrent.

Uraraka turned around. Her classmates had fallen into a silent stupor of amazement. Bakugo looked utterly devastated. She’d never seen that expression on his face, before.

“We should stop them.” Cementoss’s deep voice brought Uraraka out of her thoughts. “Come, Midnight.”

Sensei’s wide-eyed expression was obvious: he was developing a bad migraine.

Mineta had averted his attention to the unstable buildings, using them as a means of retreat while stabilizing the concrete. Uraraka was slightly impressed. Who knew Mineta could be… heroic? (She felt bad about thinking that, afterward.)

Then the screens went black.

Izuku opened his eyes and wiped at the sweat on his forehead. His legs were, in fact, not burned off, so he must’ve…

He was floating six feet off the ground. 

As soon as he realized this, he began to fall, but the little victory lit a happy smile in him. He was making progress!

“You liar,” Todoroki spat, grinning maniacally. “Told me I couldn’t make it to the top with half my power. But you’re holding back !”

Izuku surveyed his surroundings. He was trapped in an arena of thick ice, and this time, Todoroki had taken the time to make sure it could withstand his unrefined finger flicks at twenty-five percent.

(He was starting to really miss his hero costume. The precision of those Air-Force gloves he loved so much would've easily broken through the area.)

The ice towered above him like a castle’s walls. His opponent’s left side was burning brilliantly. Todoroki himself raised his arm, ready to strike.

Tendrils of black shot from Izuku’s palms, grabbing hold of spikes in the glacier and propelling him out of the way of a full-powered flamethrower. He kicked into the ice, using it as an impromptu foothold to twist himself out of the encasement. Todoroki followed on a sheet of ice, freezing streets in his tracks. 

At some point, Izuku had stepped on one of Mineta’s balls to dodge Todoroki’s incessant attacks, which were now littered all over the streets. He winced at the sight of his classmate’s blood.

“Come at me, Midoriya!” Todoroki shouted, preparing a fire attack reminiscent of Endeavor’s Flashfire. Izuku knew it all too well. 

He raised an arm, Black Whip dancing across his palm. It festered and grew, bolstered by Izuku’s raging emotions and filling the air with uncontrollable energy. He kicked off his trapped shoe, determined eyes never leaving Todoroki’s wild grin.

This wasn’t the Todoroki he raced through crowded cities after Kacchan and Endeavor, Izuku realized. His fire wasn’t expertly honed like his friend’s had been under months of Endeavor’s tutelage at their work-study together. He relied on his Quirk too much and his attacks were predictable. 

This Todoroki was slow and unrefined. Beating him would be easy in comparison to a spar against his old friend, the one who'd awakened his fire months ago.

Then why did he hesitate?

“Come at me with your full power, hypocrite !” Todoroki bellowed, sounding somewhat like his father, who yelled at Izuku and the other interns on almost a daily basis. “Stop holding back!”

Fine, if that was the way he wanted to play… 

Izuku was back at the Sports Festival, facing Todoroki in front of millions. All Might and Endeavor were watching. The world was watching. He prepared a 100% Detroit Smash, raised his right fist, and—

A click brought him out of his memories.

“Midoriya, you’re SCARY!” Mineta exclaimed. His scalp was bloody, his eyes were teary, and in his hands… were the handcuffs. One link was wrapped securely around his own wrist, and the other… ah, Izuku had completely forgotten about the exercise.

“But Midoriya,” the other boy continued in a bit of a trance (as if he was realizing something for the first time in his life), “has anyone ever told you that you’re really really cool?” 

Todoroki didn’t seem to realize that Izuku had been captured. His left side lit up in an inferno, melting the pavement and spreading in waves of intense heat.

A familiar laser fired from behind, and Todoroki dodged with a quick spin, but he’d used up so much stamina from chasing Izuku all over the city that he tripped, falling onto the purple balls that littered the frozen streets. He was immediately handcuffed.

“Plus Ultra, Midoriya!” Aoyama announced, posing dramatically in a way only Aoyama could. “I am here!”

(Seriously, did Izuku just lose to Mineta , of all people?!)

Aoyama ended up winning the match for them, but the field was very destroyed. Cementoss and Midnight reached them a second later, chastising everyone for being reckless. All four students were immediately carted off to Recovery Girl, who shot him an exasperated look when she examined his arms then offered him a gummy. 

Afterward, Aoyama thanked him for being a great teammate during the invigorating match with exotic cheese and promised him that he’d always twinkle. Izuku didn’t really understand—he’d been anything but a teammate during the exercise—but accepted the cheese, anyway. 

His friend was in high spirits. That match against Todoroki and Mineta must’ve given him a nice boost in confidence.

Izuku was glad that he didn’t break any bones this time, but what Todoroki had said earlier stuck with him. Was he really that much of a hypocrite?

Later, after class had been dismissed, and as everyone headed back to Heights Alliance, Izuku stayed behind and recommended that his teacher re-enroll Iida into his class.

“Why do you say that?” Aizawa asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“He keeps me…” he paused, “I mean, us , out of a lot of trouble. I… I probably would be dead without him,” he admitted, remembering Kamino Ward.

Eraserhead grunted. “During the Hosu incident months ago, Tenya Iida was paralyzed from the waist down by the Hero Killer, just like his brother. Don’t talk about things you don’t understand.”

On the bright side, apparently Kacchan won his match, and Izuku remembered why he'd held back against Todoroki.

After dinner, Todoroki came downstairs to meet him in the commons, which was apparently a rarity.

“I’ve been thinking about a costume redesign,” he told Izuku, sitting down next to him on the couch. The hero student pulled out a sheet of notebook paper from his pocket, which was littered with sketches and small notes in neat handwriting. “Do you think this navy blue is a good color?”

Izuku took a good look at the boy’s sketch. It looked just like his Todoroki’s current costume. “I really like it!” he exclaimed. “What do you think, Ii… ah,” he caught his mistake, “Uraraka?” 

(Iida hadn’t gotten the opportunity to be good friends with Todoroki in this world.)

“It’s interesting!” his friend agreed. “I like the temperature regulator idea. And the ‘T’ is a good design! Does it stand for ‘Todoroki?’”

“What do the wrist guards do?” Yaoyorozu asked, leaning over the couch.

Suddenly Shoji had joined the conversation, too, wondering about the design of his boots. Koda sat down next to his classmates with a shy smile.

Todoroki smiled, and Izuku beamed. Someone else might have approached the match differently, but he’d won in his own way. Save to win, indeed.

"It needs more black," Tokoyami suggested.

"Very manly," Kirishima said, giving his classmate a thumbs up. "I approve!"

Jiro scoffed, twirling a jack around an index finger. "You think everything is manly."

In the midst of the lighthearted commotion, Kacchan walked by, grabbing Izuku’s arm with a harsh tug. “Meet me outside in ten,” he growled. "We need to talk."

Chapter Text

“We need to talk.”

The last time Kacchan had said something like that, Izuku had gotten house arrest and was forced to miss three days of class as punishment. “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he replied.

“Shut up. Follow me.”

After Izuku politely excused himself from the rest of his classmates—they looked a little worried for him (for good reason)—he walked with ginger steps behind Katsuki Bakugo’s brooding figure, silently taking in the familiar atmosphere. Seeing that black tank blend into the night a second time made Izuku a little frustrated with himself: he had been chasing his childhood friend’s back for far too long, focused on surpassing his rival. It had started to become annoying.

They didn’t go to Ground Beta—the place was completely ruined and Cementoss hadn’t repaired it yet—but to a training room Kacchan had reserved earlier that day. Izuku was slightly surprised, but then again, it was only a little past eight in the evening, and all the indoor facilities were still open to training students.

“Fight me,” Kacchan growled, slamming the gym door behind them, and Izuku knew he was in trouble. 

He didn’t move.

“What are you doing?!” Kacchan yelled. “FIGHT ME!”

“I really don’t think—” An explosion blew a hole in the training mat where Izuku had stood a second ago. He landed in a crouch, slowly rising before ducking once more as Kacchan threw another punch.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Airborne barrel roll. Left hook. Roundhouse kick. “FIGHT!” He broke into a series of coughs, choking on stale gym air as if his life depended on it.

“Kacchan…” Izuku ducked with a slight spin, the question: ‘Are you okay?’ at the tip of his tongue.

The room lit up with the blast of another explosion. 

Kacchan liked to begin his fights with a strong, straightforward punch with his right—not that he always did it anymore—but this version of his childhood friend was predictable, Izuku realized. While it was true that, out of everyone in Class 1-A, he knew Kacchan’s fighting style the best (they’ve fought very, very often in the recent few months or so), his childhood friend would usually throw new moves on him during each early-morning training session, just to keep him on his toes.

Izuku was suddenly curious. “Where did you have your training camp over the summer?” he wondered aloud, finally gathering the courage to kick his classmate onto the hard training mat with a satisfying thud. 

“Why do you wanna know, stalker?!” the other boy growled, picking himself up and launching into the air. “It’s the stupid one the first-years go to every year!”

Izuku had to remind himself: this was not a Katsuki Bakugo motivated by the sudden retirement of All Might. The person fighting him never confessed his guilt to Izuku one fateful night after the provisional license exam and never shared the secret of One for All. He hadn’t been kidnapped, hadn’t saved Jiro during Joint Training that other day, hadn’t conquered winter at Endeavor’s…

While Izuku had been distracted, Kacchan grabbed his wrist, gaining momentum with his miniature explosions and slamming him to the padded ground. “You’re looking down on me, aren’t you?” he huffs. “You and your dumb, flashy Quirk.”

Izuku pulled him off with a burst of Black Whip, punting his childhood friend into the opposite wall. He really didn’t want to have this conversation again, to start screaming ugly insults at his classmate like he did when he got too riled up, too focused on victory. “Did you win during the Sports Festival?” Izuku asked instead, twisting away from another explosion at a ten-percent Full Cowl.

“Yeah,” Kacchan replied, spitting on the ground. He lifted himself up again with his explosions, like he usually would—Kacchan liked fighting in the air, where he had a good area of mobility. “Did you ?”

“No. You did.” Izuku lept up to meet him. That’s funny, his version of Kacchan—the one probably screaming something like: “LEFT ME TO DO THE PAPERWORK, HUH, DEKU?! YOU. ARE. DEAD.” or something similar—would’ve yelled profanities at him and cursed the Todoroki household.

His childhood friend lost a lot, he realized, for someone who Izuku saw as his ‘symbol of victory.’ He was behind Iida and Yaoyorozu in grades and was always competing against Izuku and Todoroki for third place. He lost to Izuku that one time at Ground Beta, then again when they had been running for class president. He failed his provisional license exam.

He’d lost against the Sludge Villain, too.

Kacchan readied a right hook. Probably a feint. “Hah. Loser.”

Izuku rolled into a tight flip midair and aimed a pressurized blast of air at the ground, redirecting his momentum and dodging another blast. “I’m not looking down on you,” he said. “You inspire me every day.” Even with all the bad parts.

“Shut up, you liar.” 

Izuku pushed down his frustration, locking it away at the back of his mind. “I’m serious. We’ve had this conversation before.” This was the third time he’d been called that in a day, and Izuku was starting to get irritated. 

Kacchan sprung off a wall. A small grin crossed his features. “Your fighting style is so similar to mine, it’s f***ing annoying.”

Izuku grabbed his classmate’s arm and swung it at the ground. “Well, I learn a lot from you.”

Kacchan ducked into a roll and sprang up, directing a blast at his face. “We fight that often?”

“Yeah.” Izuku threw an eight-percent punch. “You kinda hate me.” 

Katsuki Bakugo was many things to him—a rival, a secret-keeper, a past tormentor—and it got to the point where he didn’t know how to act around his classmate for the longest time—but recently, he’d been someone to push Izuku’s limits, even if it meant getting punted off a roof every morning. He seemed to really enjoy doing that.

Kacchan scoffed, grabbing Izuku’s arm midair. “I do. You’re annoying and full of your stupid-nerd self.” He blasted at Izuku again, maneuvering in teasing circles around him. “You hate me too, don’t you?”

Did he?

“...You’re annoying, too,” Izuku admitted, “but I don’t hate you. At least, n-not anymore.” Even though Izuku still despised all of his negative qualities, he admired his rival’s ferocious strength and unyielding approach and drive for victory. And recently, Kacchan’s strengths had begun to shine even more when he developed that ‘win to save, save to win’ mentality All Might had inspired them both with. 

“Call me Bakugo,” he spat. “It’s clear that I’m not your Kacchan.”

Izuku twisted and kicked him into the ground. “Yeah, you yell less,” he muttered. 

“And you’re not a useless ‘Deku,’” he continued, springing up into an intricate aerial maneuver Izuku hadn’t seen before. “I knew from the moment I first saw you.”

Izuku frowned, readying his fist. “I’m not useless. But I—”

Kacc— Bakugo broke into a choking fit, collapsing on the floor and gasping for precious breath. Suddenly, the fight was over.

“Are you…” Bad choice of words. “What happened?” Izuku asked, dropping to the floor next to him. 

“Shut up,” Bakugo hacked out, struggling to even his breathing. “You sound like the rest of those 1-A extras.”

Izuku narrowed his eyes. “What?”

“You’re always looking down on me like that, especially when I’m… like this , like I’m f***ing fragile or something. And the looks of pity everyone throws around before class? Makes me sick .”

“You really think that?” Izuku asked, although he already knew the answer. “Well, you’re wrong.”

“No, you all are f***ing right. I am weak. I’m weak as that crap stewing in sewage that dumba** Dunce Face says I am.” 

“You’re wrong , idiot!” Izuku shouted, raising his voice for the first time that evening. “Did you hear anything I said?! If it weren’t for you, I would have never become a hero!”

 Ka—Bakugo opened his mouth to retaliate but ended in another string of uncontrollable coughs. Izuku didn’t know what to say, so he kept silent, waiting for his classmate to finish.

“It was the stupid Sludge Villain.” Bakugo revealed. “Dunno if it happened in your universe, but my throat hasn’t been the same since then.”

“What—”

“The b****** almost suffocated me to death,” he interrupted, refusing to meet Izuku’s eyes. “The heroes stood around and watched it happen. There were at least five, and all of them were useless extras.”

Izuku remembered. There had been Kamui Woods, Backdraft, and Mount Lady among many others.

“I lost consciousness for a bit, I think, but I woke up. The craphat hadn’t been expecting it.”

Wait, that was different.

“I screamed at all of them for being pathetic, and then stupid All Might saved me.”

“Why don’t you go to Recovery Girl?” Izuku questioned him, dusting at the burnt marks on his borrowed pants. “She can fix your throat for you.”

For a moment, the two sat in silence, accompanied only by the steady hum of the gym overhead lights.

“It’s a reminder of how I got into UA,” his classmate finally replied, looking up and glaring into Izuku’s eyes like he’d done many times before. But his voice and expression were softer. “I’ll get it fixed when I get my license and become a real hero.”

Izuku remembered that this Kacchan— Bakugo— hadn’t yelled at him as much for the past few days. This version of his childhood friend and rival was quieter, opting not to talk to fellow classmates when it wasn’t necessary. Was this the reason?

“Kamui Woods noticed I was in middle school and got me in on recommendation,” Bakugo continued, scoffing. He looked up. “What’s with that face? Did it not happen for you?”

The realization hit Izuku like an eighteen-wheeler. It was one of many possibilities, but somehow, it felt right. “You… I never rushed in, did I?”

“ Hah ?”

The reason Iida had ended up—paralyzed and alone—in an alley in Hosu, the reason the League of Villains had attacked 3-B (Togata-senpai’s class, he idly remembered) instead of 1-A, the reason Todoroki didn’t use his left, and the reason All Might still had power in him was that Izuku hadn’t been accepted to UA that year. But he only got into UA because of One for All, Uraraka, and the time spent training at Dagobah beach, which only happened because of the Sludge Villain incident. This timeline, Izuku realized, was a possible outcome of what would have happened if he hadn’t rushed in that afternoon, Quirkless and afraid, to save his childhood bully and tormentor.

In his own universe, his feet moved before he had a chance to think. But in this one…

Before his feet moved, he had a chance to think.

Chapter Text

Katsuki Bakugo woke up in a tangle of bushes, cursing his heart out and feeling like complete s***. He found himself right outside the empty park where he’d blown up that villain f***stain the other day. The ground wasn’t scorched like he remembered it to be. The old, dirty playground was still in one piece, and the whole place stunk like someone had died there. Katsuki was sure he’d showered that morning.

The stupid nerd’s suitcase fell on his head, and Katsuki screamed bloody murder, scaring off the middle-aged man with drill hands who had been loitering around the park. He pissed him off for some reason.

Katsuki was exhausted but beat the weakness out of himself. It was morning. 

The first thing he did was to head to the Midoriya apartment in search of the slacker.

Auntie Midoriya seemed a little more than worried when she opened the door to Lord Explosion Murder in full winter costume.

“Uh, hello?” she asked, looking lost in her own home. 

Katsuki scrunched up his nose, fighting the urge to yell. “Is De—” he said, “Izuku in the house?”

“No, he’s at school.” The woman looked nervous. “At A-Aldera Senior High.”

Katsuki frowned. Alternate universe, his mind helpfully supplied because he was a genius. 

So the s***tard went to school. Figures.

“Thanks, auntie,” he said, turning away from the door. It bothered him just a little, but Mrs. Midoriya looked like she had seen a villain.

The nerd’s high school was run-down and a thirty-minute walk from the house. What a f***ing loser.

It was a cloudy, humid day, and that made Katsuki really mad for no particular reason. He adjusted his gauntlets, grabbed the nerd’s suitcase, and marched all the way up to the gates of the no-name school in a terrible mood. 

The weak-a** man with rocks for hair at the gates cowered when Katsuki shoved his hero license in his face, then confiscated Deku’s lame costume because it looked suspicious. What a loser.

Katsuki thought back to the crying kid who’d been responsible for all the dried-up snot on his costume. What had been her deal? Anyway, he had a Deku to find.

He stomped up and down the halls of the school, grumbling to himself the entire time. Crybaby McSnotface had been acting weirdly, and since Katsuki wasn’t an idiot, he knew something s***ty was up. The detective wasn’t very pleased with the stupid mother. Aizawa hadn’t been, either. 

After a whole f***ing thirty minutes of stomping up and down stairs and corridors, Katsuki was eventually able to find the nerd’s classroom. It was on the second floor and smelled like mildew and extras. 

Katsuki slammed open the door, and twenty-one eyes turned to him, all frozen in various expressions of surprise and fear. 

“Oi, is that Katsuki ?” Extra #1—from his s***ty-a** middle school—asked. 

“He looks so cool!” Extra #2 exclaimed. Seriously, both of them ended up at this no-name school? What losers. Then again, Deku somehow did, too. 

“That’s Katsuki Bakugo!” someone whispered as if Katsuki was deaf. “He got first place at the Sports Festival this year!”

“He was the one who fought off the Sludge Villain in middle school!” another person said.

That pissed him off. He made an effort not to look in the direction of the student body so he wouldn’t get the urge to murder anyone (besides Deku). Instead, he turned to the teacher, who was coincidentally McSnotface’s s***ty mother, and flashed his provisional license, f***ing tired of all this bulls***. “Stay here,” he instructed, keeping his voice low.

The woman looked alarmed but said nothing.

Katsuki scanned the sea of extras until his eyes landed on green hair. He took a deep breath. 

“What’re you doing, staring at me like that, ya s***ty nerd?!” he yelled, unable to hold his mouth. “You know what I had to do? I did your F***ING PAPERWORK. That’s right, for that dumb fight with Rock-Head. And then I picked up your lame-a** rabbit costume from the stuck-up’s office; you better be grateful, or I’m gonna murder you. Don’t give me that look, Deku, I know you’ve been training without me—stop being such a stupid tryhard—but if you wanna beat me, DON’T LOSE TO A CRYBABY FOUR-YEAR-OLD, YOU CRYBABY—” Katsuki took a better look at the person he was yelling at.

Izuku Midoriya stared back, trembling and wide-eyed.

“You’re not Deku,” Katsuki realized, feeling like a fool. “You’re just an extra.”

“I don’t know whether that was a compliment or an insult,” Extra #1 said.

“SHUT UP, EXTRA #1!” he shot back, angry because he’d lost his only lead on finding the nerd. 

“But I’m Extra #2 , remember?!”

“I DON’T CARE!” he screamed. Then, he threw an explosion at the fake a** teacher at the front of the room.

Students screamed and clamored away from him. 

“Oooh, clever boy,” the teacher said, grinning. Her chameleon-based Quirk wore off, but that sadistic grin she carried remained. “How did you know I was a fake?”

“I don’t have to explain anything to you, villain ,” Katsuki growled. “And the rest of you,” he addressed the sea of extras, “if you wanna die, go somewhere else. I’m busy.”

The students didn’t listen to him and instead brought out their phones, chattering excitedly like idiots they were. Katsuki was tempted to murder them all, but instead, he dodged Scale-Face’s tail and blocked a swing of her knife with a well-timed explosion as the ground began to shake. Cracks began to form in the run-down building’s weak walls, and he remembered Rock Hair’s earth-shaking Quirk. He also remembered giving the nerd’s suitcase to him. 

F***. 

An accomplice, huh? Katsuki couldn’t use his Quirk to the fullest of his ability if he was stuck in a room for fear of a building collapse. Explosion and Earth Quaker were a bad combination for under-funded school buildings. For now, it was best to stall and wait for back-up.

“Hey, extras!” he growled. “CALL THE POLICE, YA DUMBA**ES!”

Googly-Eyes sliced at him with a knife, and he held her back with a Zero Distance Stun Grenade, but the woman’s scales protected her from damage and she’d thrown a chair at Katsuki’s face to block. He cursed at the bad match-up.

“How did you know I was a fake?” she questioned.

“I met your pretend kid,” Katsuki replied, throwing a table at the villain. He hated tight spaces with little room for mobility. 

The woman ducked, and the table was sent flying out of the window, breaking the glass into a million shards. “The brat?” she asked with a surprised scoff and a sadistic grin. “But I left her dead in a bush. Outside that playground down the street, if you really wanted to know.”

Katsuki really didn’t. 

The ground shook again, and he almost lost his footing, but he wasn’t a wimp so he didn’t. (All the other wimps in the room did, though, and Katsuki almost laughed.) 

More subtle cracks appeared in the walls. The building was going to collapse if no other heroes were going to show up. 

“I am the Chameleon!” the villain shouted. “I will not be thwarted by an upstart!”

Wow, Dunce Face was right: you know they’re bats*** crazy when they name themselves.

The Chameleon lunged at an extra who was recording the fight, and Katsuki pushed the idiot out of the way before tumbling into the desks as the earth trembled beneath him. The girl screamed and moved to the back of the room where she belonged. 

But now the woman’s eyes were on his exposed form, wedged between desks. The concrete floor had broken and the building was falling apart. Someone was crying. The Chameleon raised her knife, and Katsuki could blast away, but the floor would probably give way and the extras might be injured. He raised a gauntlet, ready to sacrifice his forearm. 

Then Deku flew through the open window, crouching in a frontflip and slamming Googly-Eyes into a pile of empty desks with a powerful kick. He turned around and held out his hand. “Kacchan! Are you oka—”

“F*** OFF, YA SLACKER!” Katsuki spat, voice laced with venom and pure murderous intent. The nerd was in full costume—probably picked it up from the front gate—grinning like he’d saved a thousand lives. 

“I’ll do my best!” Deku replied like the sunshine face he was. Katsuki resisted the urge to punch him.

“SHUT UP, NERD!”

“Okay!”

The slacker spotted the villain’s movements first. His eyes darted to the window, and Katsuki wordlessly flung himself through it, understanding the nerd’s stupid plan. Then Deku caught the villain and threw her out behind him, and Katsuki let a venomous grin cross his face. Out in the open, with room for flight and explosions, he was ready to murder someone. 

Izuku was playing cards with his temporary classmates at Heights Alliance when Present Mic picked him up. Apparently, there had been sightings of Kacchan at Aldera Senior High and the Midoriya apartment, even though Katsuki Bakugo was sulking on the couch, cursing at everyone for playing stupid moves and threatening to murder Sero whenever he threw down another Draw Four.

(“It’s rare for you to join us, Bakugo,” Uraraka had remarked. “You make everything a little more lively!”)

(For some reason no one could understand, Todoroki kept winning.)

Once they’d reached the school, though, they heard explosions and saw a villain outside. Present Mic rushed in but had to abstain from using his Quirk because the school building was unstable. Bits of concrete fell from it.

“You have your provisional license, right?” his teacher had asked. “Go see what’s up on that second floor. The window’s broken.”

Then, he’d found his hero costume at the front gate—how did that get there?!—and rushed to save Kacchan. 

(Later, he tried to convince himself that he prioritized his uniform over his friend because he knew Kacchan would never lose to a villain and not because he desperately missed his Air Force gloves. Thankfully, all of Endeavor’s interns were used to changing in the blink of an eye.)

Once the explosions were safely away from the students inside, Izuku scanned the civilians, who stared at him like he’d returned from the dead. “Are you all alright?” he asked. 

No one replied. 

“Sorry about Kacchan, he’s a bit…” Izuku’s eyes met his former bullies. “Oh! Uh, hi. Please evacuate the building orderly and go out the back entrance. Move carefully and do not run, because the building may collapse at any moment.”

No one moved.

Izuku pointed at the door. “Hurry, go!”

“Wait! C-Can I ask you a question?” a familiar, timid voice asked. Izuku turned around and faced himself—his dimensional counterpart—with a stunned gaze he immediately tried to hide.

This could have been him. (But what was he doing at such a small school?) His counterpart was skinnier and a little shorter, lacking the muscle mass that Izuku had been consistently building for over a year. There were dark bags under his eyes, and while Izuku had recently learned to stand tall and confident: to face fear with willpower and determination, the boy in front of him slouched, meek and afraid. 

Most of the students had evacuated, but a few lingered, curious about the new hero student. The building continued to crumble.

“Another time,” he promised, almost unable to meet himself in the eye. “I’m sure we’ll meet again.”

Then Izuku jumped out the window, calling upon the power of One for All, to defeat the second accomplice that had shown up—a man with drill hands—kicking the villain’s side into the school gate and knocking him out with a whip to the face.

The three villains were tied up quickly. 

As the heroes waited for the police to arrive, Izuku found himself listening to—and mostly ignoring—Kacchan shouting insults and death threats at him. Izuku felt kinda guilty for silently wanting to gut his childhood friend (it wasn’t a very heroic thought), and Present Mic looked more than a little concerned.

In the end, Hana Kararete’s case was closed. Izuku did all the paperwork this time as an apology for leaving Kacchan behind.

“Her Quirk must send things to her alternate self, like a pen pal,” he realized, sitting in the back seat of Present Mic’s slick car as they drove back to UA. “And since this version of Hana was dead in the bushes outside the playground, we were transported there.”

“Shut up, nerd,” Kacchan said. He’d called shotgun earlier, and Izuku hadn’t been in the mood to argue with him. “Stop stating the obvious.”

“It’s not obvious, though!”

Kacchan twisted his body around to meet his eyes. “FIGHT ME.”

“Okay!” Izuku replied, raising his hands in surrender. “Tomorrow at six! We can go to that gym we always use.” He sighed. It would be the second fight he’s had with Kacchan in two days, not like that wasn’t a common occurrence.

Present Mic looked like he didn’t want the two students in his expensive-looking car, and Izuku couldn’t blame the poor man. 

It was past Kacchan’s bedtime by the time they arrived at Height’s Alliance after another meeting with the principal.

“Wow, he looks exactly the same!” Kirishima exclaimed. 

“Uh,” Izuku tried to introduce his rival, “this is Kacchan, from my world.”

Aizawa looked like he was developing a bad migraine. Izuku felt really bad for him: this one was louder.

“SHUT UP, KIRISHIMA!” Kacchan shouted.

“Woah! This Bakugo knows our names!” Sero exclaimed.

“ OF COURSE I KNOW YOUR NAMES, SOY SAUCE FACE!”

Their homeroom teacher muttered something like, “I’m calling in sick tomorrow,” and stumbled out of the front door.

“Hi, Bakugo 2.0!” Hagakure called out. “I’m—”

“Who are you calling, ‘2.0’?!” Kacchan growled.

“A mad banquet of darkness,” Tokoyami said, mostly to himself.

“Sorry,” Izuku spoke up, his voice a little more timid than usual. “He gets crankier if he doesn’t go to sleep by eight-thi—”

“SHUT UP, STUPID DEKU, I’LL KILL YOU!”

Kirishima made no move to drag Lord Explosion Murder to his temporary room, so Izuku did it himself. He hated every moment of it and made a mental note to buy his Kirishima manly-looking flowers or something as a thank-you-for-saving-my-life-many-times gift. 

Chapter Text

Izuku sparred with Kacchan early that morning. He had been the only other member of Class 1-A who was awake. 

“Are all the slackers slacking this morning?” he asked as they walked back from the gym, sweaty and ready for a shower. “It’s pissing me off.”

Izuku shook his head, pushing aside unwanted negative thoughts. He had a couple of new bruises. “There are a few small differences between this world and ours. We get up earlier.”

“Huh. What about Four-Eyes? He usually races you.”

“Uh… Sensei expelled him.” And he’s paralyzed from the waist down and can’t be a hero anymore, can't live up to his brother's legacy.

Kacchan frowned. “Hard to imagine. Iida’s almost as annoying as you are.”

Izuku didn’t know whether that was a compliment or an insult.

“You saw the extras, too, didn’t you?” Kacchan asked. “At the s***ty middle school.”

Izuku decided not to comment that, no, you can’t go around calling your childhood friends ‘extras.’ “Yeah. What about them?”

They reached the dorms, and Kacchan shoved the door open, marching into the commons. “One of them brought up the Sports Festival and another mentioned the Sludge Villain, but no one mentioned Kamino or our internship with Endeavor.”

“W-what about it?” Izuku asked. His back was sore from the way he fell on it weirdly that morning. 

“My counterpart must be pretty pathetic,” Kacchan replied, looking away from him. 

Izuku frowned. He didn’t like the implications of that sentence. “Don’t say that. You haven’t even met him.”

Kirishima chose that moment to enter the kitchen. His hair hadn’t been styled, yet, so it hung at his neck, pulled back by an orange headband. “Wow,” he remarked. “Sorry for overhearing your conversation but… no wonder ‘Other Me’ is bros with you! You’re as manly as it gets! You never told me you were the Sludge Villain kid, Bakugo!”

“Shut up,” Kacchan growled. He opened the stove and took out a dirty pan.

“Would you like anything specific for breakfast, Kirishima?” Izuku asked, distracting his classmate and effectively preventing an explosive crisis.

“Stop acting like an idiot, Deku,” Kacchan said, letting the pan hit the stove with a loud clang. “I’m making sausage and that’s it .”

“I-I’ll get the ingredients!” Izuku volunteered a little too eagerly.

“How did you know I like…?” Kirishima trailed off. “Oh, right. We’re bros. Hey, let me help you!”

That morning, most everyone went to class in high spirits.

While the rest of 1-A went to class, Izuku and Kacchan were called to the principal’s office.

“So All for One is alive,” All Might repeated, his voice laced with disbelief. He unconsciously clutched his stomach wound, letting the fabric of his suit bunch up at his side.

“Yes,” Izuku replied. His posture was rigid, back barely touching the wooden frame of his chair.

“Interesting,” Nezu said. Izuku had never seen his principal so serious.

Kacchan said little, opting to lean back in his chair and prop his feet up, subtly kicking Izuku’s chair whenever he felt like it.

“We have All Might,” Nezuk continued, “so we’re prepared, but…” The principal trailed off, swiveling his seat to face the Symbol of Peace. He took a sip from his teacup. “You only have an hour a day.”

“Correct,” All Might answered. His baggy clothes sagged off his frail form, and Izuku realized how dire their situation was.

“What about your successor?” Kacchan growled, crossing his arms. 

Izuku suddenly felt really bad for Togata-senpai. His childhood friend had always been weirdly invested in One for All. 

“He’s…” All Might shared a look with Nezu. 

“Not ready,” the principal finished, pulling away from the Symbol’s guilty gaze. “He’s not ready.”

Kacchan scoffed. “Seems about right.” He kicked Izuku’s chair again.

They continued the conversation for a while, even after homeroom began. Detective Tsukauchi joined them halfway through, greeting the teenagers with a cordial smile before bringing out an old-fashioned notebook. Izuku had been recounting his experience under Endeavor’s tutelage while his rival made snarky comments. 

“And then Hawks gave us all those books,” he said, straining his mind for information, “and talked with Endeavor a little bit before flying off. He said he was doing missionary work.”

“No, you were the one to call it missionary work,” Kacchan corrected him. “The cocky b****** just agreed with you.”

All Might narrowed his eyes, clasping his hands together in a contemplative measure. The chair creaked under his weight. “Missionary work?” he asked. “Interesting.”

Nezu looked out his window, and Izuku could almost see the current flowing through the circuitry in his head. 

“You two are only students,” the principal spoke up, gingerly tapping his paws against his wooden table. “While you both have many stories, we adults are surely working behind the scenes to keep you safe. And if our worlds are as similar as you make them out to be… I need to deduce my counterpart’s intentions based on the actions of your school board throughout the year. And from the interactions of pro heroes, I need to decipher the Safety Commission’s plans regarding the League. Therefore, it would be wise for you to leave out no detail.”

“We understand,” Izuku spoke for them both. He was pretty sure the principal was secretly recording the conversation.

Kacchan grunted, crossing his arms. “All the first-years are at work-studies, now. There’s definitely something s***ty going on.”

Izuku nodded in agreement. “Endeavor’s the number one now, too.”

“I see. With whatever happens,” Nezu said, “it seems that we’re not the only ones who need preparation. Now, what was the name of that book again?”

Izuku walked to lunch in a slump. Kacchan stuck to his side, pretending to be unaffected by his somber mood. They continued down the hallway in stoic silence, stopping only once for Izuku to wave at Shinsou strolling by in the opposite direction.

“Stop it,” Kacchan suddenly barked, jabbing a finger at Izuku’s head. “You’re being annoying.”

“Huh?” Izuku asked. “I didn’t say anything.”

“Exactly. It’s pissing me off.”

They took a detour, stopping by the restrooms to continue their conversation. 

“Is this about your stupid Quirk?” Kacchan asked, leaning against the doorframe of the men’s bathroom entrance. “If so, you’ll have to wait. The walls have ears and all that crap.”

“No, it’s different,” Izuku said.

“But it’s about your Quirk,” Kacchan insisted. If he wasn’t angry before, he was, now.

“Kinda,” he replied, letting out a deep sigh, unable to fool his childhood friend. “Yeah, you’re right.”

“Hmph. I’m always right.”

Izuku looked away from Kacchan, but not before catching his friend’s victorious smirk. “It’s nothing important.”

“Bulls***.”

“Kacchan…”

“If it’s about your Quirk, it’s f***ing important.”

“Kacchan!” Izuku exclaimed. His gaze dropped to his worn-out, red shoes. “It’s just, I figured out the difference between our worlds, and it’s… my fault.”

“Eh?”

“When I first met All Might in this world, he recognized me from an interaction right before the Sludge Villain got to you,” he explained. “And then when I talked to people—Shinsou, All Might, Togata-senpai, Aizawa-sensei, Todoroki, and everyone else in the class—and concluded that the only notable difference was me. Here, instead of going to UA, I attend some random high school near our neighborhood.”

“Yea, with Extra #1 and Extra #2,” Kacchan recounted. “I didn’t think you’d end up with them , though, with your nerd grades.”

Izuku was going to comment that their old classmates have names and it was rude not to refer to them as such, but he decided against the notion. “The differences began at the Sludge Villain. And the fact that you got caught up in it in the first place… that proves it. Here, I didn’t rush in to save you.”

“So I’m dead.”

“No, you’re alive,” Izuku corrected him, recognizing his rival’s attempt to make him talk, “and you know it. You just… your throat’s all messed up.” 

“I must be a real heada**, then,” his childhood friend said. “Wonder how I survived.” A rare understanding and acknowledgment laced his tone. 

“No, not really…? Kacchan, when I ran in to save you, I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t make the choice. My feet moved on their own.”

“Well, thank goodness you’re a true f***ing hero, then.”

Izuku tried to hide his smile, as if Kacchan hadn’t just directly complimented him. (Had he done that before?) It was probably an insult, anyway.

“F***. Forget what I said, Deku.”

Izuku’s smile grew, against his will.

Kacchan threw up his hands in pure exasperation. “For f***’s sake, SHUT UP!”

The bathroom door swung open. The other Katsuki Bakugo walked out, shaking his damp hands in the air. He looked between the childhood friends, scoffed, and walked away.

“He heard us,” Kacchan said, narrowing his eyes. 

“How—”

“I do that a lot,” he continued, marching in the direction of the dining hall. “Stick my s***ty a** where it doesn’t belong.”

Izuku started walking after him. “Wha—”

“He came out fully knowing that I’d know he heard our conversation.”

“Kacchan, wait!”

His childhood friend had taken off in a sprint, leaving Izuku to desperately chase after him. There was so much more he wanted to talk about (if Kacchan would even listen, that is): his short conversation with his alternate-timeline counterpart, how the look in his eyes reminded himself of his own from a mere two years ago, the question left unasked (‘Can someone without a Quirk become a hero like you?!’). Kacchan would have an answer, he believed; whether it was good or not was another story, but his friend and rival would know how Izuku could face his Quirkless counterpart and say something like, ‘I’m sorry, but for you, that opportunity is gone.’

Togata-senpai was very worthy, after all.

 Katsuki Bakugo marched up to 1-A’s dining table with a scowl etched on his face. “Alright, you s***stains, where the f*** did the other me go?”

Kirishima instantly brightened up. “Bro!” he exclaimed. Ashido looked confused.

Izuku caught up to his friend. “Shouldn’t we sit down and eat? Lunch is halfway over, and we’re going to see him during the afternoon classes, anyway.”

Kacchan stared him in the eye. “Fine.” He turned back to the class. “You all better have saved me a spot,” he said, pointing an accusing finger at Kirishima—who saluted back—before walking away.

Izuku let out a breath of relief he didn’t know he’d been holding in.

“Midoriya, are you okay?” Uraraka asked, and Izuku jumped a little. He hadn’t expected the use of his last name.

“I’m alright,” he replied. “Kacchan’s… high maintenance.” He winced. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

Lunch was, again, uneventful, but it was relaxing and reminded him of his own Class 1-A. Izuku sat between Todoroki and Uraraka, who shared about Midnight’s very informative history class. Todoroki silently listened, poking at his cold soba, and Asui commented about the extra desk that had been in the classroom that day, unused. Shoji asked if everyone was up for a board game night. Hagakure offered to do Jiro’s nails.  Mineta complained about the height of his desk. Kaminari was doing some last-minute homework, and Kacchan had gotten so annoyed that he’d started tutoring him, to the surprise of his classmates. 

“How the heck do you forget the f***ing quadratic formula ?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Math isn’t my strong point!” Kaminari defended himself. “And I remember it! It’s just… what do I do if there’s a negative under the—”

Katsuki Bakugo picked up one of his classmate’s pencils, snapping it in half under his grip. “I swear to All Might, I am going to murder you.”

Kaminari grinned. “Thanks, Kacchan~!”

Chapter Text

Heroics was taught by Ectoplasm and accompanied by Midnight that day. Izuku silently wondered where Aizawa-sensei was. He hadn’t seen his homeroom teacher all day.

“Where the f*** is All Might?!” Kacchan demanded.

“Kacchan, he doesn’t teach the first-years in this world.”

“Why not?!”

“Kacchan…” Izuku shot him a knowing look.

“Shut up!”

Kirishima gawked. “You… You two get taught by All Might ?!” he exclaimed, waving his arms in the air. 

“That’s a cool hero costume, Midoriya,” Ojiro said.

“Today’s exercise will focus on teamwork,” Ectoplasm announced to the class, ignoring the students’ side conversations. “You will split into groups of six and protect twenty civilian dummies from villains.”

“There are twenty of us, though,” Sero remarked.

Midnight cackled, brandishing her whip like it was a harmless baton. “Exactly! That’s why our guests will be playing the villains for today! If they manage to destroy even one of the dummies in the hour-long exercise, you lose!”

“The principal requested to see today’s training clips afterward,” Ectoplasm added, “so please do your best.”

Midnight pulled out a clipboard. “Let’s see… Team 1 will be Aoyama, Ashido, Asui, Uraraka, Ojiro, and Kaminari! Team 2 is Kirishima, Kouda, Satou, Shouji, Jiro, and Sero! And lastly, we have Tokoyami, Todoroki, Hagakure, Bakugo, Mineta, and Yaoyorozu on Team 3!”

“That’s just alphabetical!” Ashido exclaimed.

“Was any thought put into that?!” Sato echoed her sentiment.

Izuku felt a bit of dread loom over him. Recently, in his own world, their teachers had been trying to help mend his strange relationship with Kacchan by frequently pairing the two together in exercises, as if proximity and the fear of failing practicals would cause them to make up and be friends. Izuku really appreciated their effort, but their efforts just made their rivalry worse. In his humble opinion, some distance would have done their relationship some good, but the childhood friends had the unfortunate luck of being neighbors and classmates for as long as Izuku could remember. 

“I’ll murder Uraraka, first,” Kacchan said. “And then I’ll kill Raccoon Eyes, and then I’ll blow up the rest of ‘em. Just stay behind and do whatever.”

“But Kaminari and Aoyama have the most range!” Izuku argued back, waving his arms around frantically. “It’d make more sense to go after—”

“I don’t care! Just follow me!”

“I can’t follow you if we don’t have a strategy!”

“SHUT UP, DUMB LOSER TRASH!”

Izuku was getting a little desperate. “Kacchan! I’m serious!”

“They’re really bad at teamwork, huh,” Sero remarked. “Can’t say I’m surprised.”

Asui held a finger to her lips. “Do they realize we can hear them?”

“Yeah,” Ojiro agreed. “They’re pretty loud.”

Denki Kaminari and Mashirao Ojiro stood guard in front of the training dummies, wincing as loud explosions could be heard in the background, inching closer as time passed. They had moved all of the dummies to a well-hidden spot on the edge of Ground Gamma. 

“I’ve been thinking,” Kaminari said.

Mashirao firmly believed that the idea of his classmate thinking was more than a little scary. “What is it?” he asked.

“We’re against Bakugo and Midoriya, right? At first glance, they are at a disadvantage due to their lesser numbers. But we don’t know Midoriya’s power very well. And I overheard that they’ve already gotten their provisional licenses, too.”

“They’re also taught by All Might,” Mashirao added. “Are you saying that they’re ahead in the curriculum?”

“Kirishima told me they were both interning under Endeavor,” Kaminari continued. “They must be ahead!”

Then, an explosion rocked the building they were in, and Bakugo shot through the closed window, sending a million glass shards flying in all directions and instantaneously incinerating all twenty dummy civilians.

They’d underestimated the villain duo, who’d won the exercise in under ten minutes.

“Great job, Kacchan!” Midoriya’s voice called out from a distance.

“You’re slow!” Bakugo yelled back. “Get better!”

“I’ll still surpass you!”

“DON’T PATRONIZE ME!”

The second round went slightly better, in Shota Aizawa’s eyes. Weary of Shouji and Jiro’s tracking abilities, Midoriya had dragged his childhood friend back and spent a whopping twenty minutes arguing with his villain partner about why battling Kirishima head-on was a bad idea.

Bakugo still did, colliding with the other student in a bout of fists and giant explosions, screaming things like, “Hah, I thought you were unbreakable! If you say you’re f***ing unbreakable, DON’T F***ING BREAK , YOU PATHETIC B******!”

(They still won.)

Katsuki Bakugo was f***ing tired of Deku. The nerd had gotten to the dummies before he had in the last round and it tore a hole in his already fragile ego.

(He should be arresting villains around Tokyo with Endeavor, not beating up a bunch of weaklings that happened to look like his classmates.)

The last group was Tokoyami, Todoroki, Hagakure, Other Him, Mineta, and Yaoyorozu. He could handle Bird Brain with little problem, given the fortunate nature of their Quirks. It’d be best to knock him out before he could try to stall the nerd, though. Hagakure was useless if he and Deku kept moving at high speeds, so they could ignore her if they made their movements unpredictable enough. Yaoyorozu… Ponytail could be deceptive. It pissed him off. Icy Hot was best taken out quickly. And Other Him…

“We’ll bait their heavy-hitters into the open. You take out Tokoyami first,” Deku said, leisurely stretching as they stood in front of the training ground. “I’ll go for Todoroki.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Katsuki barked back. “It’s a stupid plan, anyway.”

“Huh?” the nerd had the guts to ask, turning his upper body to face him.

“Come up with something else. I already thought of that.”

“Hagakure is probably the scout,” Deku muttered in that annoying voice of his, pressing his mouth against a relaxed fist. “Todoroki would go out on his own, and Yaoyorozu would stay back and develop artillery, and Tokoyami, who has good long-ranged abilities, would patrol the perimeter, probably with Mineta, who’d set up traps. You’d probably come looking for me or yourself. Probably you.”

Katsuki scoffed. The hero team’s fifteen minutes of preparation time were almost up. “I know.”

“Let’s keep your counterpart in the game until the end,” the nerd suggested. “His explosions would mask your own, and it might be confusing for their scouts.”

Katsuki glared at the timer. One minute left. “Ponytail would expect that. I would, too. She’d avoid confrontation or stall.”

“She doesn’t know me, though.”

“Still a stupid plan. She’ll realize it five minutes in.”

Ten seconds left. 

“I’ll take the right side,” Deku said. “You take the left. We’ll work separately.”

It was the stupidest plan Katsuki had ever heard from the nerd’s mouth, but more importantly, it would confuse Yaoyorozu and drive his dimensional counterpart mad. The plan wasn’t half-bad: they were a team of only two and worked really well alone, had excellent mobility and firepower, could search through large areas in a short period of time, and trusted their partner to do their f***ing job. Four months ago, he believed, Deku wouldn’t have respected him enough to come up with the plan.

There was a flaw: if one of them was caught, stalled for too long, or negligent in their searching, they would lose. Thankfully, Katsuki and the trash nerd weren’t losers and 1-A’s performance had been really s***ty, today.

The starting bell chimed, and the s***head raced off to the right, leaping onto high ledges and swinging from his whips to gain height and momentum. Katsuki took to the air, eager to get away from his teammate.

Three minutes in, he saw a glacier peeking out in the middle of the right side. So the nerd found Todoroki. Katsuki was just a little disappointed: he wanted to beat up Half ’n’ Half. 

Five minutes in, he began to see the pervert’s sticky balls set up around the edges. Glaciers had stopped sprouting off in the distance, so he assumed that the nerd had taken care of IcyHot. 

It was a particularly sunny day for the season, so Katsuki was in prime condition, especially since he’d worn his winter costume to this alternate dimension. He threw around a few explosions, lured Purple Balls out of his hiding spot, blew him up, and tied him up in less than a minute, grinning at the boy’s terrified expression the entire time.

Then he took to the air again, looping in a circle—just in case Ponytail was monitoring him—before continuing his search for the dummies. He occasionally checked a particularly suspicious building but hadn’t found anything, yet. If his suspicions were correct, Yaoyorozu would’ve hidden the dummies somewhere Katsuki couldn’t fire huge explosions. A basement or the fake sewer system beneath Ground Gamma would be good places to search. And if she felt like being particularly annoying, she would have started to move the dummies from place to place already, which would be particularly easy with Dark Shadow. 

He found Invisible Girl, next, by accidentally flying into her. 

Heroics exercises against her were always weird. He tied her up awkwardly and moved on. 

Katsuki touched down in an alleyway, freezing in his tracks. He couldn’t hear any footsteps, but faint explosions were just barely perceptible from his right. Whether the source was his alternate self or Yaoyorozu was a good question, but Katsuki had a feeling that it wasn’t the class president, who was less inclined to seek out a fight. He leapt up to the roof’s building, not bothering with stealth—he could kick Other Him’s s***ty a** without a surprise attack, anyway—and found the f***er seconds later, glaring at him in his own winter costume.

Other Him didn’t stop to talk, instead preferring to fling himself at Katsuki with that demonic grin of his (wow, so that’s what it feels like to be on the other side of that). 

For some reason, Katsuki found that he could perceive his alternate self’s intended movements: the incoming right hook, the midair spin, the many openings that he himself had fixed up months ago by sparring with Kirishima and Deku early in the morning… 

Other Him was slow.

Katsuki sidestepped and blocked the poor excuse for a punch with a large explosion to his counterpart’s exposed arm. “Hey. You didn’t hear anything today by the bathrooms. Got it?!”

“Is Midoriya really the only difference?” Other Him asked, his voice lowering to a growl as he dropped into a sweeping kick.

Katsuki hated the way the nerd’s real name sounded in his own voice. “Whether it is or not, that’s the s***head’s problem, not yours,” he replied, propelling forward with his Quirk to land a satisfying punch on his opponent’s face. He didn't like how he was much stronger than his alternate universe counterpart because of the nerd, but for some reason, a part of him was surprisingly... okay with it.

“Was he always this f***ing powerful?”

Backspin. Elbow thrust. Barrel roll. Uppercut. Man, his counterpart was unbearably predictable, and it was becoming borderline painful to watch. Never in his life had Katsuki felt such a powerful urge to blow himself up.

“No. The stupid nerd trained himself to death,” Katsuki replied, “fought off villains, and learned from his experiences. Just like me.” He wasn’t in the mood for revealing the nerd’s secrets.

“So he had a f***ing Quirk the entire time.”

Katsuki tucked into a low roundkick and slammed his opponent’s face into the roof. “If he f***ing did, it’s none of your f***ing business.”

Other Him growled. “So he also let you torment him like he was a s***ty Quirkless loser.”

He was a Quirkless loser, Katsuki wanted to reply. Fate just rewarded him for being a decent person.

Instead, he threw an explosive punch and grabbed his counterpart’s wrist with gloved hands, redirecting one of his opponent’s new super moves into another building. “He was supposed to be a pebble in my path,” he replied. “Instead, he’s f***ing annoying.”

“Don’t you hate him?”

“Depends on the day.”

“But you two are friends,” Other Him said, choking on his own pathetic air as he fell back.

“We are  f***ing friends,” Katsuki echoed. 

“Why?”

Katsuki remembered a certain conversation at the Todoroki household. The taste of ruined mapo tofu left his mouth bitter, but the experience had been slightly worthwhile because he’d gotten to hear Deku’s advice for IcyHot. “The nerd’s an incredibly f***ing kind person. He’s probably forgiven me already.”

“The h***?!”

“S***ty Deku’s words, not mine,” Katsuki said, hearing the sound of cannons going off behind him.

Other Him frowned. “Then why do you call him ‘Deku?’ He’s not useless.”

Katsuki had enough. 

“You,” he barked, jabbing a finger at his opponent, “know absolutely nothing , you F***ING EXTRA.” Then he lunged forward, pulling Other Him in and flipping him over his shoulder like how Deku had done to him months ago. He lept into the air, using all his momentum to throw the extra to the roof with a satisfying thud before wrapping up the a**head extra tightly with capture tape.

The horn sounded. Apparently Deku had found the dummies.

Katsuki let a smirk cross his face.

Then Mineta slammed into him in last-minute retribution, knocking him into his dimensional counterpart. Their heads collided, and suddenly, Katsuki was falling yet again.

Chapter Text

Because Kacchan had disappeared at the end of their training exercise, the teachers decided to cut the second lesson of the afternoon and send all the students back to the dorm, where most of 1-A congregated.

“I’m sorry!” Mineta wailed, throwing himself over a couch. “I’m sorry I’m sorry I—”

“On the bright side,” Sero spoke up, “we know how to get you home now, Midoriya.”

Izuku nodded. “I just need to touch my counterpart, right? Seems pretty simple.”

Ashido pouted. “Aww! I’ll miss you!”

“Oui!” Aoyama agreed with a twirl and a wink, patting Izuku on the back as he headed for the kitchen. 

“I feel like I’ve known you for months,” Shouji said, taking a seat on the couch right next to Mineta. “Somehow, it’s strange to know that you are leaving.”

Hagakure waved around her uniform sleeves. “Me too!” 

“I dunno how to put it,” Ojiro chimed in, leaning over the furniture’s frame, “but 1-A has always felt a little incomplete, you know, with eighteen people. You liven up the place.”

“What happened to the other student?” Izuku asked. “The one that isn’t Iida.”

“Oh, he was expelled on the first day,” Yaoyorozu answered curtly before turning away, following Aoyama into the kitchen. “Does anyone want tea?”

Uraraka nodded. “He placed last on that test we had during the opening ceremony.”

Kaminari held up a pack of cards, practically skipping into the commons. “Hey!” he shouted. “Who wants to play Uno?”

“You have to finish your history paper,” Jiro remarked, pointing a jack at his face. “I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“I-I’d like some tea!” Koda whispered, joining his classmates in the kitchen.

“Isn’t that due tomorrow?” Todoroki questioned, looking up from his phone.

“I’ll play Uno!” Kirishima exclaimed, pulling his hair up with a headband. “Just give me a moment! Midoriya, can I talk to you for a sec?”

“I’ll make some desserts for the occasion,” Sato volunteered.

“I refuse to play such a cursed game,” Tokoyami said, leaving for his room.

Izuku followed Kirishima out of the commons.

Kirishima led him to the boy’s laundry room, which smelled worse than Izuku remembered it to be. Someone had left their clothes in the washing machine overnight, and it stunk. Piles of lost laundry—clean and dirty— had been dumped in a giant, blue plastic bucket in the corner of the room. Someone had attempted to lighten up the smell with an odor eliminator, but the watermelon-flavored spray sitting on a dryer seemed to make everything worse. 

In other words, it was the bane of Iida’s very square existence.

“Alright, I gotta be honest with you, man,” Kirishima spoke up, leaning against a fold-up table covered with dirty socks and underwear. “Does your Bakugo hate me or something?”

“Huh?” Izuku asked, confused. “Of course not! Why would you ever think that?!”

The redhead frowned, clenching his fists. “In the exercise today, he called me out for being weak, and… I dunno, it really struck me.”

“Kirishima.” Izuku moved toward the alternate version of his friend, sitting on the table next to him (and apologizing to Iida in his thoughts). “He did that because he cares. You’re his best friend, you know? It’s because he knows he can’t break through your ‘Unbreakable’ form anymore at home without pushing past his limits: he knows you can do better. In fact, you’re one of the strongest members of our class!” 

“Really?” his classmate asked, a surprised tone lacing his words. “I am?”

Izuku nodded, smiling fondly. “Yep! And one of the bravest, too! We went on a mission together months ago to save this little girl: it was a team-up raid on the yakuza. I heard all about your fight!”

“What happened?”

“You tried to save Aizawa-sensei and ended up separated from my group. But then, when Fatgum—the hero you interned under—was on his last stand, you jumped in to protect him! It was so cool!”

Izuku continued the story, recounting all that he knew. “You were covered from head to toe in bandages when I next saw you, at the hospital. They said you were unconscious for hours!”

Kirishima let out an emotionless chuckle. “But that other Kirishima… he’s not me. I’m not brave like he is. When push comes to shove, my feet don’t move.”

“But he is !” Izuku insisted. “The two of you are like, exactly the same! And when it really matters, Kirishima, I’m sure your feet will move. Just,” he chuckled a little, “don’t think too much about it, okay?”

“Midoriya,” Kirishima said, wiping his eyes and throwing an arm around his shoulder, “I’ll do my best!” He was tearing up, and Izuku was, too.

Uno consisted of Kaminari, Asui, Uraraka, Todoroki, Kirishima, and Bakugo, who the red-head had dragged to the coffee table. Everyone else had skipped the game for Yaoyorozu’s study session for that history test tomorrow that no one wanted to fail in addition to that paper Kaminari had yet to start working on. Izuku had joined upon Uraraka’s request—he would be leaving soon, anyway, so what was the harm?—sitting between her and Kirishima. 

Todoroki placed down a blue eight with care. “Uno,” he said, his voice monotone as ever. Izuku wondered why he joined the game in the first place: the poor kid looked almost dead on his feet. 

Similarly, Bakugo moved like a drunk zombie. “Go to h***, Icyhot,” he growled, snatching a card from the pile in the middle.

“Are you cheating or something?!” Kaminari whined, staring at the singular card in his classmate’s hand. 

“I’m not cheating,” Todoroki answered. 

“Todoroki’s just good at the game!” Kirishima remarked, throwing down his own card with a fiery spirit. 

Izuku placed down a blue zero. “I’m not sure there’s much strategy that goes into Uno,” he said.

“He’s just very lucky!” Uraraka surmised, dropping down a blue nine. “Someone change the color!” 

“Todoroki doesn’t have a red,” Asui said, placing her own blue nine on the table. “He drew a card last time we were on reds.”

Izuku nodded. “I remember that!”

“Unfortunately, I didn’t have a red nine, and now it’s Todoroki’s turn again.”

Kaminari looked like he was about to short-circuit. “How are you so good ?” he wondered aloud.

Todoroki placed down his draw four with extra care. “I do my best,” he replied.

Bakugo screamed.

That night, Aizawa-sensei pulled him aside in an empty hallway to inform him that he’d be going home the next day. Izuku was really grateful: he missed Iida and his friends very much. 

“Class was very… lively with your presence,” his teacher drawled, leaning against the wall.

Was that a compliment? Izuku really didn’t know. “Thank you, sir!” he replied, bowing. 

Aizawa scoffed, crossing his arms. A strange, fond expression grew on his face. “I get the feeling that you cause my alternate self a lot of trouble.”

“Y-Yeah…”

“Oh really?”

Izuku turned away in embarrassment. He was sure Aizawa-sensei was staring at the scars on his hand with either an expression of revulsion or hidden concern or maybe both. “You’ve a-almost expelled me many times, sir,” he admitted, looking down at his feet. “We keep getting into villain fights, after all, and I keep getting caught in them. Somehow.”

The incredulous expression on the pro hero’s face made Izuku nervous.

“O-On the first day of school, I came in last on the Quirk Apprehension Test,” he continued. “But I’m doing better now, especially from getting experience at Sir Nighteyes’ and Endeavor’s offices!”

His teacher’s lips quirked up. “Internships, I see. Are you top of the class?”

Izuku shook his head and managed a smile on his face. “No,” he replied, fidgeting with his fingers, “Yaoyorozu is first in grades, after all, and Iida’s the fastest. Uraraka’s really good at rescue and Kirishima has the most endurance. And I’m still working hard to catch up to Kacchan—”

“You’ll make a fine hero, Midoriya,” Aizawa interrupted him. “Just stay alive to see it happen, okay?”

With that, his teacher turned around and began to leave.

“I will!” Izuku promised.

That night, his sleep was very peaceful. 

Izuku was on his morning jog again at five-thirty in the morning, taking a more scenic route than usual. Halfway through, he met a second-year who was more than happy to train with him. He never got her name, but her snowball Quirk had been interesting to spar against.

On the way back to the dorms, he found Bakugo and Kirishima sparring in the woods. Ojiro was swinging from tree to tree with his tail, perspiring heavily and leaping with every ounce of effort he could muster. Tokoyami was on the roof of their dorm, meditating. Uraraka spun slowly in the air, weightless. 

The doors to the building were open, allowing the morning breeze to seep in. Izuku smelled pancakes.

Sato was in the kitchen, whistling a cheery tune. He shot Izuku a thumbs up and a very Sato-like grin. Hagakure was making coffee.

In the commons, Yaoyorozu had a stack of notebooks laid out on the coffee table, tutoring Jiro and Ashido. Kaminari had joined, plugging himself into the nearest outlet for a morning brain boost.

Todoroki walked through the main entrance looking like he’d finished a marathon. “Excuse me, Midoriya,” he said, moving past him and toward the boy’s elevator.

Izuku took in the familiar sight. This was what Class 1-A was supposed to be like in the mornings.

“Ah, Midoriya!” Ashido’s loud voice surprised him.

“A-Ashido?!”

His classmate swung her arms onto her hips. “We know we won’t be seeing you for much longer, so we decided to hold a breakfast party! To celebrate our time together!” She put a finger to her lip, her eyes shooting up in excitement. “Hey, maybe if we meet this other Midoriya one day, we can invite him over! What do you think?”

“Haha, maybe,” Izuku agreed. He wasn’t so sure it was a good idea, but then again, maybe all his counterpart needed were some good friends who believed in him.

Instead of going to class, Izuku was driven to the worn-down educational institution that was Aldera Senior High School—currently in the middle of taxpayer-funded repairs—by Present Mic, who still looked a little wary of letting Izuku into his car, hero costume in tow.

“You’re a big problem child, y’know?” the UA teacher asked him as they pulled through the gates of the school. “You’ve got Eraser running around like a loose chicken looking for its legs! It’s funny to watch!”

Izuku didn’t know how to reply to that, so he chuckled awkwardly instead. He was feeling very nervous.

“Ready to go home, young listener?” Present Mic asked, unbuckling his seatbelt.

“Yep!”

The other Izuku Midoriya looked at him in awe, as if he was a magician with a really good trick or the world’s last hope against a great evil. 

(Izuku really wanted to be neither but All Might’s warnings about All for One implied otherwise.)

“I guess we should get this over with,” Mrs. Kararete—the real one, this time—said, looking between the two counterparts with a strange, almost sad expression. Izuku immediately took a liking to her: she made for a good teacher. 

Present Mic shook his head. “Take your time: I missed first period for this.”

Izuku felt a soft gratefulness well up in him. “Uh, would you mind if we,” he said, pointing between the other Izuku Midoriya and himself, “talk for a little bit before I go?”

Mic raised an eyebrow.

“Sure,” Mrs. Kararete said and walked out of the empty classroom. Present Mic followed, but not before sending Izuku an almost solemn look.

“Goodbye, Present Mic!” Izuku called out, waving. 

“Goodbye, little listener,” the pro hero said, turning back one last time.

The door shut behind the two teachers, leaving the two high schoolers alone. The musty, classroom air felt almost suffocating. 

Izuku couldn’t help but feel sorry for his other self, who had also given up on his pipe dream like Izuku had all those years ago. They’d chased after heroes, taken legions of notes, and had been bullied by Kacchan for years. Why did fate decide to bless Izuku and not his alternate self over a single choice they didn’t consciously make?

“You… You said you had a question for me?” he asked, pulling out an empty, wooden chair and sitting down. He placed his costume’s suitcase on his lap, clutching it for comfort. He smiled at himself from an alternate future, taking in his healed burns and scarless hand, his meek posture and unsure eyes.

(‘Can someone without a Quirk become a hero like you?!’)

He hadn’t decided how he would answer the question: he’d forgotten about it after playing Uno and talking with Aizawa-sensei and had gotten a good night’s rest instead of thinking about it all night.

His dimensional counterpart stared into his eyes, shaking in his seat. “When the chameleon lady w-was attacking the school, w-why did you save Kacchan?”

Izuku froze. “What?” 

“He’s mean to you, too, right?” Other Izuku asked, straightening slightly. “A-And he can handle himself just fine! He’s a hero student!” So… why?”

“I…” Izuku shook his head, looking down at the large number eighteen on his costume case: evidence of his enrollment at the prestigious UA. “I thought you were going to ask a different question.”

Other Izuku looked embarrassed, ducking his face under his curls of hair. “Oh, yeah. I-I just figured that... s-since you were m-me, you’d give me the same answer I gave myself.”

“Oh.” Izuku hadn’t thought about it in that way.

Now that he was looking closer, there was a bitter expression in his dimensional counterpart’s eyes. Whether it was a product of many negative experiences from the last year or had been building since he was four, Izuku would never know. 

But he did recognize the source of that guilt. After all, their selfish question for All Might had caused Kacchan to end up in the Sludge Villain incident in the first place. And since Other Izuku never rushed in… 

“Someone once told me,” he spoke up, “that meddling when you don’t need to is the essence of being a hero.” 

“I-I guess I’m not cut out to be a hero, after all,” his counterpart said. “That’s… That’s another difference between us. Because you were born with a powerful Quirk and I wasn’t, right? Y-You could de-defend yourself...”

Izuku had seen similar eyes in Kacchan one fateful night after the provisional license exam, shouting his guilt to the empty buildings of Ground Beta.

When had he learned to forgive his childhood friend and tormentor? He hadn’t put much thought into it. Had it been in the last year, when he decided he wasn’t going to be a punching bag anymore? Izuku didn’t think he naturally held anything against Kacchan. His former mixed feelings for his childhood friend—adoration, envy, hatred—had finally started to resolve themselves, anyway.

“That’s not it,” he replied, forming a small, nostalgic smile. “My Quirk came in when I was fifteen, on the day of the UA entrance exam.”

His counterpart’s eyes widened with surprise. “What?! D-Does that mean—”

“If your Quirk hasn’t come in, I-I don’t think you have one,” Izuku answered, frowning. He couldn't say that someone had given it to him, especially since he didn't want his counterpart to go looking for people like All for One in search of a Quirk. But Izuku couldn't exactly give him false hope, either.

(Togata-senpai was very worthy, after all.)

“A-Ah, okay.” A moment of silence passed between them. “C-Can you tell me some stories? Of UA?” 

Izuku knew his alternate self was staring at the scars on his hand and the compression sleeve half-hidden beneath his uniform, much like how Aizawa had done so last night.

“I’ll be happy to,” he replied, delving into a tale of his first year at the prestigious hero school, starting from his entrance exam—”Was it difficult?” his dimensional counterpart asked—and recounting his first day of school (and how he’d almost been expelled). Since then, he’d faced villains at USJ, placed in the top eight at the annual Sports Festival, faced Hero Killer Stain, and rescued Kacchan from the clutches of villainy. He’d moved into the dorms, gotten his provisional license, taught a girl to smile, and was currently interning at the agency of the number one hero. He’d risen the ranks of his class by working harder than anyone else.

“I think I’ve finally caught up to most of my classmates,” he continued, “but I can’t stop now: I want to be the greatest hero. And for that, I’ll continue working hard.”

His counterpart smiled. “I guess I’ll work hard, too. I’ll also become a hero,” he declared, smiling, “but in a different way, maybe?”

"Yep!"

Izuku’s story had some holes in it: he’d left out One for All and some of the more personal details, like Todoroki’s backstory and the true reason behind his fight with Kacchan after the provisional license exam. But the tale was still able to reach his other self’s heart.

“It was nice to meet you, Deku,” Izuku Midoriya told him, holding out his hand, “I’m glad we were able to talk.”

Izuku believed that, at this stage in life, his counterpart was fundamentally different from him. Other Izuku didn’t have the heart of a hero. Or maybe he did, but it was lying deep within his heart, pushed and tucked away by his peers and tormentors. Maybe that made a difference on the day of his origin, and maybe it didn’t, but mulling over it wouldn’t do both of them any good. 

The situation kinda reminded him a little of this world’s Kirishima. 

“It was a pleasure to meet you too,” Izuku replied, taking his counterpart’s unblemished hand in a firm handshake before finding himself tumbling through a sea of black. 

All they could do now is to keep moving forward.

Chapter Text

When Izuku was finally let out of the police station, Aizawa greeted him with either a dead stare or a stare of death—Izuku couldn’t tell the difference—and berated him for his careless attitude for the entire duration of the awkward car ride back to UA, topping it off with another expulsion threat thrown in.

(It seemed that he was right: his teacher did seem significantly less stressed in that other dimension.) 

At least Present Mic was happy to have Izuku back, it seemed. The voice hero had excused him from a major twelve-page research paper that had been assigned on Monday. Izuku saw that as an absolute win: he could focus on extra training. Eraserhead was less sympathetic, assigning him extra practical sessions with him before dinner, but that, too was an absolute win: maybe he could catch up with Shinsou.

That afternoon, Principal Nezu received a very comprehensive report about alternate universes and All Might fretted over him for a good hour or so. Izuku showed off his progress with Float, and even though it wasn’t anything significant (he still kept falling for some reason), the pride in his mentor’s eyes warmed his heart. He’d missed his All Might very much: this one had believed in him when no one else did.

It was around five in the afternoon when Izuku arrived at Height’s Alliance, exhausted and extremely thankful that he’d arrived home in one piece. Uraraka noticed him first—she’d been looking out the window for one reason or another—and ran out the dorm’s front doors at a speed Izuku only saw her move at in training, shouting his hero name (he’d missed that) and throwing him into a hug. Aoyama was next, draping an arm over his shoulders and fretting over him like he was a lost puppy. Todoroki almost set his clothes on fire, and Kirishima pulled him into a friendly chokehold. Mineta shot him accusing looks and Kacchan scowled at him. 

“Guys, I implore you to please respect Midoriya’s personal space!” a familiar, very class president-like voice shouted above the ruckus. “He must be very tired from being kept at the police station all day!” 

Izuku’s eyes landed on Iida’s and started to water.

“Oh, for f***’s sake, I’m going upstairs,” Kacchan growled, turning around and slamming the door behind him.

Izuku ignored him, breaking through the crowd and meeting his close friend at the dorm’s front entrance, dropping his suitcase. “Iida!” he exclaimed, unable to hide his happiness, “I missed you!”

“Bakugo told us all about your adventure!” Kirishima spoke up, placing his arms on his hips. “Man, I still can’t believe Iida was expelled. Imagine how dirty the dorm would be! The kitchen would be a mess!”

“Yeah!” Ashido chimed in. “I’d be late to class every morning!”

Izuku didn’t comment on that. Instead, he sent his good friend a silent, knowing look, and Iida solemnly nodded back in understanding. 

Todoroki—this one used both fire and ice at a refined level—looked between the two with a slight bit of hesitation. “I talked to Endeavor for you,” he said, turning to Izuku. “He says he understands.”

“Thank you, Todoroki!”

Kouda let him hold his bunny. It calmed his nerves.

“I’ll bake a welcome back cake!” Sato announced. “Who wants to help?”

“Me!” Hagakure exclaimed, her clothes bouncing up and down.

“I’ll help!” Uraraka said, pumping a fist in the air.

“Ah, I’ll come too,” Sero piped up, surprisingly. “Maybe I’ll need this skill in the future, y’know? Ojiro, wanna help?”

His classmate flicked his tail. “Why not?”

Izuku looked between his classmates, not bothering to hide his grin. Iida stood beside him, studying his expression.

“You seem like you’ve been doing a lot of thinking, lately,” he said, raising a hand to adjust his glasses.

Izuku didn’t deny it. “I’m very blessed,” he replied, believing every word.

“Understandable. You’ve had a very eventful past few days.”

Izuku saw it, now: he had changed so much from the jittery person he was in middle school. He had true friends, now, and a bright future. 

It would be blind of him to ignore the sheer amount of luck that he’s had in the past two years, coupled with hard work and determination. Izuku studied and trained so much to be where he now stood, and for that opportunity, he was eternally grateful.

As for his alternate universe self… 

Izuku remembered that one winter evening after his second internship, when the villain Ending had attacked Todoroki’s brother. It had been a triumphant encounter but a sad one, too, and Izuku thought that, if Endeavor, the number one hero, had moments where he stopped to think, that it was okay for his alternate self to make that same mistake, too, and still aspire to be a hero (albeit, in a different way). If Endeavor froze while his son’s life was at stake and still was able to move on, then the other Izuku, too, should have the chance to hold his head high and press onward.

Seeing Iida again reminded him of the incident at Hosu, which could have easily ended in a very different way, now that he had experienced that alternate ending for himself. It brought back memories of what the Gentle Criminal said to him after their skirmish, months ago. 

Izuku supposed that he could have been expelled from the hero course, too, very easily. He could have faced the repercussions of vigilantism, just like how he could have let himself think for just a moment in that crowd back in middle school, watching his tormentor suffocate to death…

Indeed, his current happy life was an agglomeration of tiny experiences and choices, and somehow, he’d—by fate or chance? He didn’t know—picked many good paths of life to walk through.

“Are you okay, Midoriya?” Iida asked, snapping him out of his ponderance. Class 1-A was beginning to move back in the dorms, eager to start preparing for dinner.

“Yeah, I’m good,” he replied easily, following his good friend inside. He was starving.

That night, he approached Kirishima’s door with a hesitant knock.

“Come in!” his friend’s cheerful voice called out, muffled by the door.

Izuku had walked in on a late-night homework session. He idly wondered why his classmate was alone before remembering that it was nine in the evening. Kacchan was asleep.

“Hey, Kirishima,” he said. “Sorry for bothering you.”

“It’s nothing!” his friend exclaimed, a toothy grin spreading across his face. “By the way, did you understand question two on the math homework?”

“I’ve been excused from a lot of schoolwork, so I haven’t,” Izuku replied, letting a sheepish grin cross his features. He leaned over his classmate’s shoulder. “What’s the problem?”

“Here, look at this ugly integral. I have an answer, but it’s in the wrong terms, and I can’t exactly ask Bakugo—”

“Don’t worry about it!” Izuku exclaimed, picking up a spare pencil and drawing a neat right triangle at the edge of Kirishima’s notebook. “Here, just take that trig substitution you did earlier in the problem and find cosine in terms of what you wrote down earlier.” He wrote down a few equations. “And here you have it! Don’t forget the ‘plus c!’”

“Thank you so much!” his friend exclaimed, his face lighting up in understanding. He turned around. “So what’s up?”

Izuku felt very embarrassed. “Nothing big,” he answered. “Just, I wanted to thank you for being Kacchan’s friend…” he trailed off.

Kirishima let out a hearty laugh. “You don’t have to thank me for that!”

“No, I really want to,” Izuku insisted. “I talked with your alternate self for a bit, you know? And with that dimension travel incident and all, I realized that I really really appreciate you—”

“For keeping Bakugo off your back?” Kirishima asked, throwing back his head in another fit of laughter. “No problem! It’s my pleasure!”

Izuku sighed. This wasn’t how he wanted the conversation to go. 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a gym membership gift card. “I don’t know if you’ll get to use this very often because we live at UA, but if you ever want a change in the scenery…” He held out his gift.

Kirishima teared up, taking the card. “Aw, thank you, man! But seriously, you help me with homework and you’re the one giving the gifts? That’s unfair!”

Izuku smiled, moving toward the door. It was getting late, and Iida would be reminding everyone about curfew, soon.

He was about to leave, but he remembered one last thing. “Kirishima,” he said, looking back, “you’re a very brave hero. It’s really inspiring!”

Then, he shut the door and disappeared down the stairs before his friend could respond.

It was a little past five in the morning on a beautiful morning. Izuku put on his red high-tops, taking extra care to tie his laces tightly. A few of his classmates were already up, preparing for their own morning workout routines.

“Good morning!” he called out to Kacchan, who grunted and made a not-so-subtle effort to be out the door before he was.

Izuku opened the front doors, taking in the mild, spring weather and the smell of freshly-cut grass. It had been raining last night, and droplets of water still clung to foliage, reflecting the warm rays of sunrise that were slowly starting to peek over the horizon.

“Good morning, Midoriya!” Iida greeted him, warming up with some stretches. Izuku joined him immediately.

“Hey, Iida!” he said. “Ready for our morning jog?”

“Ready as ever!” the class president replied, giving his friend a thumbs-up. “Uraraka’s training by herself, today, but we can meet up with her after we finish three laps around the school. Usual path. Seems fair?”

“Good idea!” Izuku said, crouching and firing up One for All at five percent. Similarly, Iida revved his engines, switching to a lower gear.

Izuku had promised himself that he’d do his best, and he wasn’t going to break that oath anytime soon. Beside him, Iida shot him a look of determination.

“Sorry, Midoriya, but I’m going to win, today!” his friend declared.

Izuku grinned, returning the challenge. “No, I will!” 

That morning, he had finally realized why his alternate self had been stuck at some no-name, old school close to home. The other Izuku Midoriya had given up after seeing his Kacchan suffocate in the Sludge Villain’s grasp, unable to do anything. He’d given up on becoming a hero, on saving others, and on saving himself. 

“On your mark!” Iida shouted.

But people who made mistakes could still become great heroes, Izuku believed. His close friend once walked the path of revenge, seeking out the Hero Killer alone on the streets of Hosu. But Iida was also his hero: when Izuku had been bogged down by his internship and the heavy weight of One for All, Iida was there, offering his beef stew to ease Izuku's overwhelming stress because that’s what friends are for.

“Get set!”

Izuku didn’t know what type of hero his alternate self was going to become. He decided not to think too much about it: his counterpart could take care of himself. Instead, he would face his own future and whatever it would bring. And if that meant facing a great evil like All for One, one day, so be it. Izuku had come to be a different person—a better person—since he’d entered the gates of UA. He’d grown so much as a hero student and he wasn’t going to stop anytime soon.

After all, remembering his origin made him feel like he could do anything .

“GO!” Iida hollered, pushing himself forward in a sprint.

And before Izuku had the chance to think ponder his past for any longer, he let out a burst of One for All through his body, leaving his personal musings in the dust and rushing, racing toward his very bright future.

“Hey mom, I’m home,” Izuku Midoriya called out, gently closing the door behind him and taking off his shoes. He was new to rising early, and Izuku struggled to wake up at first, but over the course of the morning, his body had gotten used to it. 

“Welcome back, Izuku!” his mom greeted him, giving him a warm embrace as she met him at the door. “I made you some breakfast.”

Izuku idly thought about his upcoming day. He had roughly an hour before he was expected to show up at the gates of Aldera Senior High. “Thank you,” he said.

Inko Midoriya guided him to the kitchen. “How was your jog?” she asked.

“Oh yeah, it’s very pretty outside!” Izuku exclaimed, sweaty and exhausted but filled with a strange feeling of accomplishment and renewal. “It rained last night, you know? So it’s a bit misty, but seeing the sunrise was worth it!” He grinned.

His mom hid a relieved look. “I’m glad,” she said truthfully. 

Izuku was glad, too. He had finally started to take care of himself. It had been a while, but he had a long journey in front of him, and he couldn’t be bothered to do anything but his best from now on.

“Mom?” he asked. “This is very sudden, and I know you might not agree with it, but…” He took a deep breath. “I want to transfer schools.”

Yes, this was his first step.