Chapter Text
Chapter One
“The ending is nearer than you think, and it is already written. All that we have left to choose is the correct moment to begin.”― Alan Moore, V for Vendetta
All men are not created equal.
It wasn’t a lesson Izuku had encountered just once throughout his life. No, it was one that kept popping up over and over again, and even when he was ready to face it down and create a world that was dedicated to doing better, to bridging those gaps, he’d learned just how deep the scars that lesson had left on society already. On the people themselves.
And the way it festered deep within them until monsters were born.
All men are not created equal.
But all men are products of the society that builds them up or tears them down.
His fingers curled into the dusty ground, digging into the dirt as his vision blurred, his eyes stinging with tears he couldn’t shed even as his throat seemingly closed up, the horror of the past hour catching up with him, suffocating him.
Images flickered behind closed eyes almost as if his brain refused to let him forget how badly he’d failed. Who he failed. People he’d sworn to protect. To do right by.
Aizawa-san. Blind eyes grim as the door busted open.
Shouto. Barely conscious, barely aware of the chaos around them. Even still, Izuku had caught him weakly pushing himself up from the cot.
Kacchan.
Kacchan.
He bowed his head, his sleeve blowing in the breeze where his left forearm used to be, and screamed.
~*~
It felt like stepping through a portal into the past. His lips twitched faintly at the irony of the passing thought, though it disappeared just as quickly, haunted dark green eyes staring up at the towering buildings and surrounding gate that made up UA.
Izuku pulled the edges of his hood farther down his face. He wasn’t sure how this happened. He wasn’t even sure that this was real. Trauma could do a lot of strange damage to a mind and the way the hippocampus processed new short-term memories and tried to fit them into the puzzle of reality, and the last couple of years had been many things but smooth wasn’t even in the same ballpark.
I could just be disconnecting from reality, he mused absently, his fingers tightening on his hood. It was common with PTSD, and the war with the villains hadn’t been kind in that department. Or any department really. If this really was real, though, maybe the disconnect was shock. He remembered wrapping himself around Eri, summoning One For All with the same motion to get away from the hand reaching out from the portal.
But something had gone wrong. Horribly, horribly fucking wrong.
It had to be shock. Shock made sense, especially since the last thing he’d seen was…
His fingers raked through his hair roughly, his eyes clenched shut as his stomach twisted. Yeah. That had been real. He knew it with the same certainty he knew his own name. It had felt too real not to be.
That didn’t mean he didn’t wish it wasn’t. The past few years as a whole had been their own special sort of nightmare, but that especially was just - he didn’t know how to wrap his head around it. Couldn’t. If he dwelled on it, he wasn’t going to get off of it, and he couldn’t afford to crumble. Not now. Not ever.
He hadn’t earned the right to.
Izuku took a slow, deep breath in and then out through his nose to calm down, to stay focused. He knew what he needed to do was sit down and actually think through all of this before he did anything rash, and standing here in front of his old school - whole, in one piece, still a safe haven - wasn’t going to help him with that.
His fingers brushed the metal bars of the gate, curling in slightly before he let go and turned away.
If this was real, then there was a chance. Things could be saved this time around. Izuku knew and understood how everything worked out - the smaller pieces that created the larger pieces that destroyed everything, shattered it.
This time around, he wouldn’t let those secrets linger in the dark. Even if it risked his younger self never becoming the number one hero someday.
It was better to have everyone alive and be just one hero out of thousands.
He wasn’t All Might. The time for symbols would end with him when the time came, and maybe that was for the best.
~*~
From his brief forays out of his motel room over the past couple days, Izuku was able to piece together just when in time he was spat out. Honestly, it really wasn’t that hard to figure out since “The End of All Might” was still plastered on every newspaper, magazine, and news station, screaming to the world that hope was dead.
Maybe that was where things had started to go wrong.
Kamino Ward had been a week ago. Distantly, he could remember that fear that had followed that night. The anxiety, the trepidation, the determination to live up to Toshinori's declaration of him filling his shoes - and the fear of not living up to the monumental task ahead of him. And he knew his younger self wasn’t the only one suddenly faced with a spot that needed filled, with an equally monumental - and far more horrific - task already set in motion.
Izuku rubbed a hand over his face tiredly. Every venture out felt like another weight added on top of him, a reminder of all the people he failed when he should have been better, should have been more prepared. It was too much but he knew it was just the start. He was given a chance to make things right, and he had to take it.
“You’d know what to do, wouldn’t you, Toshinori-sensei?” He whispered to himself. The ache that came with his name would never disappear, and he didn’t want it to. The pain was motivation to not fail this time around and give his old mentor many more years than he’d gotten in his time.
He looked back down at the list he’d made on the backs of several napkins, his lips curved downward grimly. It was a list of things that needed to be done to fix everything, but he wasn’t sure where they connected, how to follow each to the next one.
And by list, it was more like just bullet points of things he knew couldn’t stay the same, which just made finding a starting point infinitely harder.
First on his list, and most importantly, was figuring out just how to approach his younger self without actually revealing himself - and not just that, but finding out how to somehow expose certain matters in a way that didn’t completely destroy everything like the powder keg it really freaking was, but fuck if that would be enough to change anything on its own. It would help, getting the information four years earlier than he had, but it wasn’t enough.
(And that was maybe the biggest problem. If this wasn’t figured out, nothing would change, and All For One would still have the last laugh from his grave).
There was an easier option there, of course, but it was one Izuku couldn’t let himself dwell on for more than a second before moving on. There had to be lines that couldn’t be crossed. There needed to be.
(He missed when hope in people was an easier thing to hold onto.)
The second thing he knew he had to do was somehow reconcile Dabi and Shouto. He owed his friend that much, and then even if the rest failed, Izuku would have done at least one thing right - and who knows, maybe losing his right hand man to the heroes might weaken Shigaraki enough earlier on?
That also came with the problem of Shouto at this stage still thinking Touya was dead, and Dabi being… Dabi.
(He wasn’t as lost as he was in his time though, so maybe that would help? Maybe that would make a difference?But this was post-Kamino Ward. Dabi was already a murderer now… )
The third item on his agenda - which, logically, would actually have to come first to get anything done - was coming up with a new identity. A hero wouldn’t work because he didn’t have any idea where to even start to get a fake Pro Hero license - were those even a thing? - but if he went the vigilante route, he could keep a better eye on the League and pass information along to Aizawa. As an underground hero, he’d be easier to approach and might be more willing than the other heroes to at least hear out his information.
It also meant there was less of a chance of running into Toshinori, and Izuku needed to stay as far away from that temptation as he could because he just knew he would crumble seeing him again and that didn’t exactly work well with what he was trying to do here.
And his old teacher had always been able to see right through him. He didn’t think it would be too hard for the man to figure out what had happened if he saw him, and he didn’t want to put that burden on him. Not if he didn’t have to.
Especially not so close to Kamino.
He also needed a way to make money. Izuku grimaced at the thought. He’d pawned the little bit he’d had on him when he came through just for the room really, and he knew he needed supplies to be out there not to mention food. Food was kind of a big deal. He’d been living off of scraps the past few days, but he knew that couldn’t last if he wanted to actually be in fighting form.
He glanced at his half-an-arm. And said fighting form was already at a disadvantage at the moment.
Izuku was positive that he had no idea what he was getting into, not really, but what choice did he have?
~*~
Redeemer. It was an odd name choice in Midoriya’s opinion, sounded a little too much like a call to vengeance, but he couldn’t deny that the vigilante was gaining some buzz on the forums. And he was doing a lot of good too from what he could see in the single week he’d been operating. Drug busts, late-night rescues…
Not that any of those were attributed to him in the police reports that Midoriya had brought up, he knew the police and other heroes kind of liked to pretend vigilantes didn’t exist, but the people Redeemer had saved had made their own posts about the man, thanking him for his work, and honestly, Midoriya thought that was the most important part instead of the legality and grey area of vigilantism.
People were being helped, and wasn’t that what being a hero was all about?
He wondered if Redeemer had a quirk that didn’t work well in combat or rescue situations and that was why he didn’t go the traditional route. Or maybe, he wondered, absently biting on the end of his pencil, is he quirkless like I was and desperate to be a hero however he can be? Would he have become a vigilante too someday if All Might hadn’t taken a chance on him?
Speaking of All Might…
Midoriya glanced up at the hospital bed where his mentor was currently resting, light green eyes softening at the even, easy breaths instead of the more labored breathing from before. The fight with All For One had taken a lot out of him, and while he’d been released after just a couple days, Recovery Girl had thrown a fit when she’d found him hunched over at UA, having overdone it trying to lift an old box of textbooks he’d found in one of the storage closets, and forced him to check back into the hospital until his injuries healed a little more since she didn’t trust him to take it easy if she sent him home.
You’re next.
He chewed on his bottom lip. He hoped he’d be able to live up to his legacy. He didn’t want to let him down. He didn’t want to let anyone down. Midoriya needed to become the new Symbol of Peace, show the world that he was here, which meant he needed to get stronger.
But he could only safely use about 8% of One For All currently, and that was just with Full Cowling. He could push it a little beyond that, but not reliably so, and he couldn’t risk breaking anything more than necessary since that would only bog him down in longer fights…
He shook his head and forced his attention back onto the forums on his phone. A distraction so that he wouldn’t keep lingering on it all. He did that enough at night.
Redeemer… The only shot of him he could find was blurry and hard to see in the dark alley the picture took place in, but he could faintly make out some kind of partial mask if he squinted enough. Unfortunately, that was just about all he could make out from it, but he added the detail anyway to his notebook.
A quiet knock drew Midoriya’s attention away from his notes again and towards the door. He blinked at the hesitant red-and-white haired figure standing in the doorway before smiling warmly as he stood up a little too quickly, his chair accidentally screeching against the hospital floor from the abrupt motion. He winced and quickly glanced at All Might again. Upon seeing him still fast asleep, he let out a small breath of relief before meeting his friend at the door.
He gave him a smaller smile and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “What’re you doing here, Todoroki-kun?”
Todoroki’s eyes hesitantly flickered over towards the frail looking man over Midoriya’s shoulder before looking back to him. “You weren’t in class today, but Aizawa-sensei said that I might find you here…” He trailed off before lifting the small box in his hands. “I made an extra bento. You probably skipped lunch, right?”
Lunch. Midoriya’s eyes flew to the clock on the wall that showed that class had let out half an hour ago. Oh. “Thank you.” His stomach grumbled as if on cue, and his cheeks instantly pinkened. “Um, do you want to go down to the cafeteria and we can split it?” His body might be hungry, but mentally, he just… wasn’t. But he didn’t want Todoroki’s sister’s hard work to go to waste, and it was a really, really nice thought.
The past week had just been crazy.
Todoroki nodded silently, politely not drawing attention to the fact that he could see through him, the heterochromatic eyes understanding.
Downstairs, they situated themselves in the corner of the room, and ate in silence. Honestly, it was kind of nice for a change. It wasn’t loud or oppressive like he usually thought silence was like. It was just… comfortable.
Midoriya absently prodded at the rice with his chopsticks before asking finally, “Did Kacchan go back to class today?”
Bakugou hadn’t been answering his texts since their fight a couple nights before, and he’d be lying if he wasn’t a little worried about how he was doing, especially with today technically being the first day classes were back in session after everything.
Todoroki looked back up from the food, his eyes considering as they scanned his friend’s face before he nodded. “He was… quieter than normal today, though after everything that happened, that’s understandable.” He sat his chopsticks down and leaned back a little, thinking through his next words. “I don’t think he spoke at all except when called on by a teacher today, actually.”
Midoriya nodded silently, still not looking up from the rice. That’s what he’d figured, especially after what Bakugou had asked the other night.
(“Why was I the one who ended All Might?!”)
He’d sounded desperate in a way that he couldn’t remember ever attributing to his childhood friend. Tormented. Midoriya understood why even if the others probably wouldn’t. Despite how he acted, Bakugou had always looked up to All Might as much as Midoriya had. Losing their hero - in the sense that All Might the Symbol of Peace was gone for good - was painful, but to see yourself as the reason it happened? To put all that blame on your own shoulders?
He never wanted to hear Kacchan sound like that again. Ever. He hadn’t expected the blonde’s desperation and pain to affect him as much as it was, for it to hurt like his own, and whenever he thought about it, he tried not to grimace.
Bakugou might have stopped being his friend long ago, but Midoriya had never stopped being his, even if there were underlying problems there that he just couldn’t brush aside. He could forgive, of course he could forgive after everything, but he couldn’t just forget, and he was pretty sure that might be Kacchan’s biggest problem too.
That and, well, it was Kacchan, so… That alone should explain just about everything. He’d never make trying to be friends again easy, but Midoriya was nothing if not determined, and he wasn’t the same little kid desperate to cling to his only friend. He had friends now. He had the best friends a person could ever even dream up.
But he wasn’t giving up on Bakugou for a single second.
“I think… I think I might stop by his room when I head back.”
He might push him away, he might shout at him to go, and the peace between them was already really fragile, but Midoriya owed it to him to try.
Bakugou might have stopped being his friend, but Midoriya had never stopped being his, even when Bakugou had made his life unbearable. He didn’t excuse his actions, but he was in a place to forgive them, and the other night had felt almost like a clean slate.
Almost.
Todoroki nodded after a short pause, though he didn’t look away. Instead, his eyes pinched with concern. “How are you doing?” He asked quietly. “You’ve been quieter too.” He hesitated, uncertainty briefly flashing across his face, before continuing, “I know you said that you two aren’t related, but you clearly care a lot about All Might, so I know this must be… hard.” His eyes slid away with a sigh. He wasn’t good at this. He was trying though.
Midoriya smiled. It was small, tired, but it was there. “I’m doing alright. He was the first person to believe in me, to tell me that I could be a hero, and for reasons I’ll never be able to understand, he took me under his wing. It’s just going to be an adjustment, but he’s not gone, you know? And that’s the important thing.” A lump suddenly formed in his throat and he swallowed it back hard, refusing to let his emotions get the better of him again. Despite that determination, his eyes still stung with tears, betraying him like they always did. “Things could’ve gone a lot differently.” They almost did.
“But they didn’t.”
Midoriya’s eyes rose back to Todoroki in surprise, though the latter’s expression didn’t change despite his own blunt words. “Well, yeah, I know that. I mean, of course I know that.”
“Then don’t dwell on what didn’t happen.” The bluntness was still there, but it was softened by the look in the mismatched eyes, one that showed an understanding neither of them should have had at their age. “Focus on what did. Everyone survived. Bakugou was saved. The head of the League was captured. I wouldn’t say that we won, but I wouldn’t say that we lost either.” The words came slowly, Todoroki choosing his words carefully, thoughtfully, “I don’t think either really exists in our path. All we can do is move forward and make sure we don’t let anyone’s sacrifice be in vain.”
Something akin to awe was in Midoriya’s eyes as he just stared at Todoroki. It took the other teen a moment to notice the staring, but when he did, he ducked his head down and paid a startling amount of attention to the leftover rice in the bento.
“Sorry,” he muttered, misinterpreting the staring, and drew his shoulders in some.
Midoriya quickly shook his head while waving his arms in front of him. “No, no! That’s - You’re right. I mean, I wasn’t trying to dwell in what ifs or anything, it’s just been a really long day, but I agree one hundred percent! Well, mostly,” he rambled. “I think anytime a life is saved is a win, a victory. A win doesn’t have to be big to be a win. But you’re right. We have to keep moving forward. All Might said the future is in our hands, right?” He flashed him a determined smile and, slowly, he began to actually feel the determination build within him.
Because Todoroki was right. They were heroes. They couldn’t dwell on the past or they’d miss what was happening in front of them.
“We can do this,” the green-haired teen stated firmly, his fervent belief in his promise clear as day. The other teen nodded, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips in agreement.
Just as the fires of hope were rekindled towards the unknown future stretching forward before them, fate continued on through its loop of film, time continuing to spin towards a future where that fire would be put out permanently, as the heir to the League of Villains found his own determination in the same replaying news coverage of the battle.
Worn and ragged nails scratched down his neck anxiously, dark red eyes fixed on his defeated master and the cheers from the crowd.
“I won’t fail you, sensei,” he swore lowly to the dark room.
And with that, the next stage had begun, the centuries old conflict passed on to the next generation, for better or for worse.