Chapter Text
Izuku had stopped by his house for an hour or so. He knew Aizawa would call his mother, that’s just how he was even before the end of the world. After it had ended, he had always asked Izuku where he slept. If he was safe where he was. Izuku lied every time.
Of course he hadn’t been safe. He wasn’t safe from himself, or the villains he’d surrounded himself with. He still wasn’t safe. Even as he sat in his room, secretly listening in on the conversation Inko and Aizawa-sensei seemed to be having.
“This is going to sound strange, Mr.…” Mom’s voice drops off into uncertainty. There’s a moment where there’s nothing but this heavy silence.
“Okay,” She seems to pause again, as if to think. “In all honesty, I’m not sure why or how he even got his Quirk,”
Izuku pressed his back against the wall that his bed was pushed against. “You see, he was diagnosed as Quirkless at four years old. He has the extra toe joint and everything. It’s physically impossible for him to manifest a Quirk. I’m not lying when I tell you that a few weeks ago, my son was Quirkless. I woke up one morning, and my son was a completely different person. Do you want the whole truth, Aizawa?”
There’s a muffled response that Izuku wishes he could hear. His bruises throb in time with his heartbeat, like a war-drum. He got them from his former classmates who had found him on his way home. He’d let them beat him up.
It was repenting for his sins. Sins the world didn’t even know he committed. That’s what he told himself, anyway.
“For fourteen years, my child was Quirkless and belittled by society. A few weeks ago he woke up with black hair. He woke up with tattoos that seemed to come out of nowhere. He disintegrated a fork in my kitchen right before my eyes. A few weeks ago, the eyes of a child who had been defeated by the world, turned into the eyes of a dead man. I can’t exactly tell you why, or how this happened, but something is going on here,”
And Izuku knows all of this is to be true.
“I don’t recognize my own child, Aizawa.” Mom said with a sense of finality, and unimaginable sorrow. “And I don’t think he knows who he is either,”
He was already throwing open his window and sneaking out before she could fully finish her sentence. It hurt more than he thought it would, to hear his mother say something like that. But he should’ve expected it. Even his own mother would know there was something inherently wrong about him.
Even she would reject him. His own mother. He should’ve been ready for this. He should’ve prepared himself for this outcome.
His mother had always been much more perceptive than Izuku gave her credit for. He wouldn’t be surprised if his mother’s entire demeanor was fake. He wouldn’t be surprised if she loathed him from the very start.
Izuku had been the most destructive villain of all time, he wouldn’t be surprised if God did this to him on purpose. Maybe he gave Izuku this ability just to mess with him. Dangle a second chance right before him, full of promise and redemption. Only for Izuku to remain chained to the past timeline, and regret his every decision every step of the way.
He was still living in a world that had ended. He was still sifting through the wreckage of his own demise.
Izuku found himself wandering through the streets. This time he made a point to keep himself far, far away from any high schools in the area. He wasn’t keen on having a round two with his childhood bullies.
He didn’t really know where he was going. He just kept walking, and walking. He was still slowly recalling the layout of this town, his feet remembering where to go, but his heart still confused and lost.
He walked along Dagobah beach, as the sun set. All the light seemed to be extinguished every time he went outside. Like the world itself could remember what he’d done. At least someone remembered the horrific things he’d done, and decided to punish him.
The town slowly turned off all it’s lights and life. Izuku watched as time whipped past him, time he couldn’t get back. What had he been doing at this point in his life last time?
He had started his training with All for One. He had turned his back on the world at this point in his life. Logically thinking, he should be patting himself on the back for not reverting to his old habits.
Instead he was wandering through the festering, burning agony in his chest. He hoped that he wouldn’t end the world this time. He hoped he could prevent it this time.
He’d kill All for One all over again if it really came down to it. He hoped that this time, Class 1-A and Aizawa wouldn’t die.
“What are you doing out so late?” someone asked him suddenly, breaking him out of dark musings.
Izuku blinked. It took him a moment to realize that he'd walked pretty far. He’d subconsciously taken himself to the darker side of Musutafu without a second thought. And around this time, Stain the Hero killer had been on a hero killing spree here.
So when he turned, slow and deliberate, he wasn’t surprised to see him there. With fresh blood on his sword. And a hero bleeding out in the alleyway just behind him.
He hardly blinked at the blood blade, and the even bloodier scene behind the Hero Killer. Izuku knew that the man was already long dead. The gash in his chest probably killed him instantly, going from his shoulder to his opposite hip.
He didn’t answer Stain. Instead he posed another question. “Was that Hero truly corrupt, or were you just killing to kill, Chizome?”
He finally looks away from the bloody corpse, to look Stain in the eyes. His bloodthirsty demeanor vanishes in an instant, replaced by something much more human. Remorse and regret. Emotions that Izuku was well-acquainted with. One could say that regret and remorse were his life long partners.
Stain’s shoulders slump forward slightly, and he can tell that his brows are furrowed in confusion and alarm beneath his wrappings. “You didn't answer my question,”
“Well you didn’t answer mine, either,” Izuku shot back, stuffing his hands in his pocket. “Whose body is that in the alleyway, Chizome? Did you enjoy watching the light fade from his eyes? Did you even give him a chance to fight back before you ingested his blood? Do you feel regret for your actions? Do you wish you could change them?”
Maybe he’s just projecting his feelings, but he swears he sees Stain crumble just slightly under his scrutiny.
“I don’t know,” Stain answers softly, and Izuku’s ever-present frown deepens. “Now, answer my question, what are you doing out here so late? Who are you? How do you know who I am?”
“I’m no one, Stain. I’m just a wanderer with nowhere to go,” Izuku decides to say, beginning to walk away. The police will find the body soon. Maybe he’ll put in an anonymous tip as soon as he leaves Chizome behind. “Think carefully about the things you do, and why you do them,”
Stain doesn’t follow. Izuku ends up calling in an anonymous tip, and finds himself climbing a building and sitting on the edge of the rooftop.
Stain had been a very, very loyal member of the League of Villains after the Hosu incident. Especially after Izuku saved him from getting thrown in jail that night. He and Izuku had shared similar ideals, as well. Except Izuku didn’t have any qualms about killing off the members of Class 1-A.
Chizome had often asked him if this is how he’d wanted his life to go. And Izuku had always lied to his face.
Of course this is how he wanted his life to turn out. He wouldn’t change it for a thing.
It was all lies. The night went on, and Izuku didn’t really notice. He didn’t notice that there was dried blood on his hands and shoes. Chizome had really done a number on that Hero, who Izuku had recognized instantly as Mockingbird. He had the ability to temporarily mimic people’s Quirks just by looking at them in action, and now he was laying in an alleyway somewhere, dead and cold to the touch.
A sad loss of a true Hero. Mockingbird had been a Hero for two years, busting sex-traffic rings, drug cartels, and the most unsavory Yakuza groups. He had truly saved people, and Stain had killed him. Just as he did in the last timeline.
Izuku didn’t cry when he heard about it the first time, but the urge to do so now was strong. He hadn’t seen the body up close and personal. This time, the blood was potent enough to smell. He could see the gaping wound in his chest that resulted in his untimely death.
He sat on the rooftop for a long, long time. There was nothing he could do about it now, though. Izuku could only mourn the loss, and tuck in his heart along with the rest.
Deaths that he’d been a part of, and deaths he’d seen. It was too many to count. They wrapped around his soul, begging for him to burn in the depths of Hell where he belonged .
But not yet. I can’t go just yet.
There was so much he needed to fix, and so much he needed to do. There were people he needed to save, and people he needed to push off course. Like Touya Todoroki and Toga Himiko. They were still good people at this point in the timeline, and he wanted to make sure he gave them a chance to change their ways. Hopefully.
Toga was the wildcard. She was crazy. Crazier than he’d been, even in his prime. Touya was sure to switch sides if Izuku could find him in time. He wanted Endeavor to burn, but Izuku knew his family was infinitely more important than that useless grudge.
The boy had said so himself, after Izuku killed Todoroki Shouto. Shortly after that, Touya had taken his own life.
Izuku had been the one to find the body. Hanging limply from the ceiling fan, his face blue and his eyes wide.
It was an image that burned right behind his eyes for weeks, until he’d ended the world. The League had already been falling apart at that point, all of the villains around him second-guessing the course their lives had taken. Even he had tried to change things at the last possible second.
But here he was now. On the other side of the war that hadn’t started yet. “What’re you doing out so late?”
Izuku didn’t stop looking forward. He could recognize Shouta Aizawa’s voice easily. “That’s the second time someone’s asked me that tonight,” Izuku told him. He could smell the faint scent of iron in the air. “So I take it that you found Mockingbird too, huh?”
He turned slightly, surprised to see Aizawa right at his side. Sitting down with his hands wringing in his lap. “I did,”
“He was a good Hero,” Izuku mumbled, looking down at the dried blood on his hands. He still wasn’t sure how he got blood all over him. “He didn’t deserve that,”
There was a slight lull in the conversation. “How did you come across the body, Midoriya?”
“I was--” Izuku began, feeling betrayed but the silent tears that pricked at the edges of his eyes. “He was already dead when I found him. I had gotten lost in my thoughts, and ended up in the alleyway,”
“Are you okay?” Aizawa asked, and Izuku found the strength to smile slightly.
“This isn’t the first time I’ve seen a dead body, sensei. If I become a hero, it won’t be my last,” Izuku told him honestly. He didn’t bother to gauge Aizawa’s reaction. They’d had similar conversations in the last run.
“How old were you?” Aizawa asked, and Izuku shrugged.
“You’re never old enough to see a dead body, Aizawa,” Izuku mumbled, looking up to the cold heavens above. “You’re never old enough,”
Aizawa has nothing to say to that. In the last timeline he hadn’t either. They had sat in silence much like this one, thick with agony and pain. Except last time, they’d been mourning Present Mic. And Class 1-A.
All deaths that had been his fault.
“So,” Aizawa said after a long while. “Who beat you up?”
There’s an undercurrent of concern and curiosity in his tone. On the surface it sounds like he’s grasping at straws to keep the conversation going. He shrugs again.
“It doesn’t really matter. You should see the other guy,” It's a petty white lie, but he hoped it would give Aizawa a hint to stop asking about it.
But of course it wasn’t going to be that easy. “Where’d you go after school? I know you weren’t home,”
“I didn’t want to go home and worry my mother,” Izuku explained, his eyes flickering over to Aizawa for a moment. “She worries about me too much,”
“Why aren’t you home right now? Aren’t you worried that she’ll worry even more now?”
“I—“ He pauses. He hadn’t thought of that when he left. He hadn’t thought that his mother would come to check on him, and notice his absence.
“I didn’t think of that,” He admitted after a moment.
“You better head home before she searches the entire city for you,” Aizawa told him, “But I would recommend cleaning yourself up first,”
“I will. See you tomorrow,”
“Will I be seeing you in class, or on one of these rooftops?” Aizawa asked as Izuku got to his feet. Izuku turned toward him.
“I guess you’ll have to wait and see, won’t you?” Izuku told him, and he was definitely aware that he was already giving this man grey hairs.
Shouta isn’t sure of what to make of his new students. Especially Midoriya, who seems to be out of it most of the time. Wandering the darker streets of Musutafu until the sun cusps the horizon, only to talk in riddles and mystery.
The next day, Midoriya is actually in class this time and his throat is lined with red streaks, and dried drops of blood mar his fingernails.
He really needs to ask him about his destructive habits. It’s concerning, watching him scratch his neck every so often until blood drips onto the white dress shirt of his uniform. He pretends not to notice, but Bakugou also glances at Midoriya a couple of times every five minutes or so.
So he’s noticed the weird habit as well.
“Midoriya,” The boy looks up at his name being called, “Do you know what the Fourth Law of Heroics is?”
His fingers still on his neck, digging into the flesh. “It’s a law that states that Heroes are by no means allowed to use excessive force. That includes killing or seriously maiming villains,”
“Correct,” Shouta replied, but Midoriya opened his mouth to continue.
“The Hero Commission should seriously consider rephrasing that law. It gives villains yet another advantage over the Heroes. Logically speaking, villains are exempt from all laws and morals. Most of them are crazy and bloodthirsty. Some want to kill and maim Heroes. They aren’t bound by any rules or laws until they’re captured. They’re not some dumb thugs. They understand that fact, and therefore won’t hold back when trying to escape. On the other side of the coin -- the Heroes -- we need every advantage we can get. We aren’t aware of enemy plans. We aren’t aware of their Quirks, or what they’re capable of. The law should either be abolished entirely, or rephrased like I said earlier. Giving the Hero the right to maim and kill villains who are impossible to catch would make our jobs a lot easier,” Midoriya clears his throat when he realizes the entire class has turned their attention to him. “It’s… just a thought…”
And Shouta finds himself impressed yet again. Midoriya sinks into his chair, and Shouta decides to save him from the weighing stares of his classmates.
“Midoriya is correct,” He begins. “Villains have an insurmountable advantage against us during every fight. However, there have been special cases where excessive force has been authorized during certain villain fights throughout history. To this day, the Hero Commission is trying to change Hero Laws to better fit the times, and the villains we’re facing,”
He sees his students look away from Midoriya and look at Shouta with rapt attention. “Nowadays, if your life is in danger you can kill villains. But you will get backlash from the public for it,”
“Aw, really?” It was Mina Ashido who said that, and Shouta nodded.
“Plenty of Hero careers have ended because they killed a villain in front of a large audience,” Shouta told them, “But recently the public has been getting used to the idea of it. By the time you graduate the law should either be changed or abolished entirely,”
He notices Midoriya’s miniscule flinch, and doubtful smile but he doesn’t think much about it. He was too busy announcing that All Might would be in charge of teaching their next class.
“That’s all for this class,” Shouta mumbles flatly, “All Might should be arriving soon, to teach your next class. I’ll be watching just in case he runs into any trouble,”
And with that, the class explodes into exclamations of excitement and adoration for Japan’s Number One Hero. He doesn’t notice Midoriya’s deepening frown, and the regret swirling in his deep green eyes.
He doesn’t notice how his shoulders slump forward, and his hands dig in deeper into the skin of his neck.
These are things he should’ve noticed, as Midoriya’s home room teacher. But he doesn’t. He hardly even blinks.
He should’ve noticed, especially considering the talk he’d had with Ms. Midoriya not even twenty-four hours ago. About how her son went from a child who had been crushed by society to a walking corpse.
It doesn’t even cross his mind, as he tries to get his class to calm down before All Might arrives.