Chapter Text
"Ugh, well I can't just sit here all day. I've got to figure out where I am."
Looking around, Izuku saw nothing but open land stretching for miles in every direction.
"Well... I guess I'll just pick a direction and walk."
After walking for what felt like hours, he stumbled upon what seemed to be a highway, judging by the speeding cars zooming past.
"I guess I'll just hitchhike. Hopefully I don't get kidnapped..."
A black minivan pulled over a few minutes later, the window rolling down to reveal a man with tired eyes and a cigarette between his lips.
"What's a kid like you doing out in the middle of nowhere?" the man asked, blowing out smoke.
"Umm, well... I don't actually know. I was watching a hero fight and then this bright light appeared and... I woke up here," Izuku replied, deciding to stay vague until he figured out what the hell was going on.
"Where you heading, anyway, kid?"
"Uh… can you just drop me off at the nearest city?"
"Sure thing. You sure you don’t need anything else?"
"Yeah, I’ll be okay."
The ride to the city only took about twenty minutes. It was quiet, save for the soft hum of the engine and the occasional puff from the driver’s cigarette.
When they pulled up to a busy street lined with tall buildings and bustling with life, Izuku climbed out.
"Thank you for the ride, Mister."
"No problem, kid. Be safe out there."
The van sped off, leaving Izuku to take in his surroundings.
"I still have no clue where I am… I probably should’ve asked the guy that, huh?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his head. "Well, no matter. I’ll just look around."
As he wandered the sidewalks, his eyes landed on a billboard. A flashy ad promoting an All Might action figure.
He froze.
"Is that—"
He stepped closer, squinting. His eyes widened in disbelief.
"That figure came out sixteen years ago."
He immediately turned to the nearest passerby.
"Excuse me!"
The stranger turned around—and Izuku nearly fell over.
Shorter hair. Less tired eyes. Barely-visible eyebags.
It was his homeroom teacher. A much younger Aizawa Shouta.
Izuku’s mouth went dry. His eyes wide. Aizawa’s brows furrowed slightly, scrutinizing the kid in front of him.
"You look like you've seen a ghost," Aizawa said bluntly.
"Umm... Hi. I was wondering if you could tell me the date?"
"Sure. It’s September 12th, 20XX."
Izuku must have looked completely shocked, because Aizawa’s expression sharpened.
"I’m guessing that’s not the date you were expecting."
Rubbing his neck sheepishly, Izuku glanced away.
"Yeah... I’m that obvious, huh?"
"Very," Aizawa replied, deadpan.
“So… when are you from?” Aizawa asked, voice calm but probing.
Izuku hesitated, glancing down at his shoes. “Don’t freak out, but… I’m from sixteen years in the future.”
Aizawa raised an eyebrow but didn’t react the way Izuku expected — no shouting, no disbelief, just a silent look of deep analysis.
“Sixteen years, huh?”
Izuku nodded quickly. “It was a quirk accident. I swear, I didn’t mean to travel through time or anything. There was this kid — Kazua. His quirk activated out of fear. He created this massive shockwave and I was caught in it while trying to shield him and this woman he was with. Next thing I knew, I woke up in the middle of nowhere.”
“Wow.”
Izuku stared at him. “That’s… not the reaction I was expecting.”
Aizawa gave a one-shouldered shrug, gaze still analytical. “It’s only logical to figure out all the facts first. Freaking out won’t help either of us.”
That… made sense. It was weird how much Aizawa hadn’t changed.
“Well, come on,” Aizawa said, turning. “You clearly don’t have anywhere to go. You can stay with me until we figure things out.”
Izuku’s jaw dropped. “W-Wait, really? I mean—are you sure?”
Aizawa looked over his shoulder, eyes narrowing slightly. “You said you were caught in a quirk incident, right? You don’t have ID, no money, no place to stay.” He paused. “You’re a kid, regardless of how future-you is. I’m not going to let you wander around the city.”
Izuku’s chest tightened. “Thank you.”
Aizawa’s apartment was small — a one-bedroom with a messy living room, lots of books in the center. It was quiet, except for the traffic outside.
Izuku sat on the couch with a blanket draped around him. Aizawa passed him a cup of tea before sitting across from him.
“So, time travel,” Aizawa said flatly. “You’ve got one hell of a story. But I want to hear it. Start from the beginning.”
Izuku took a shaky breath. “There was this kid—Kazua. He was scared, his quirk went out of control. Gravity quirk, I think. I tried to protect him, but the blast sent me… here.”
He looked down into his tea. “I don’t even know if he’s okay. I just—left them there.”
Aizawa watched him silently, letting the boy talk.
“And everyone else… my friends, my teachers—” his voice broke a little, “—they probably think I’m missing or dead. Kacchan’s gonna kill me when I get back… if I get back…”
He bit his lip, trying to hold it together. Aizawa didn’t say anything at first, just refilled his tea.
“You said you’re from sixteen years in the future.”
Izuku nodded.
“You know me there?”
Izuku hesitated… then slowly nodded. “Yeah. I do. You’re… teaching.” He smiled a little. “You’re my homeroom teacher.”
Aizawa blinked. “Huh.”
“I didn’t want to say too much. I know there are rules about timelines and all that…”
“You’re right to be cautious,” Aizawa replied. “But I don’t plan to interrogate you. I’ll help you keep a low profile until we can figure out how to send you back.”
Izuku looked around the apartment. “You live alone?”
Aizawa nodded. “Yeah. Always have. I grew up in a group home.”
Izuku’s breath caught. “...You were an orphan?”
“Still am,” Aizawa said with a wry smile. “No tragic backstory. Just… parents died when I was young. I got by.”
There was a long pause between them.
“I… I’m sorry,” Izuku murmured.
Aizawa shrugged. “You deal with what life gives you. I chose to become a hero. Doesn’t mean I’m not tired of it sometimes.”
Izuku looked down at his hands. “I think I needed to hear that.”
Izuku drifted off to sleep, exhaustion finally catching up with him. For the first time since waking up in this unfamiliar world, he felt safe — surrounded by something familiar, even if it came in the form of a younger version of someone he trusted.
h his life.