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I shouldn’t be here.
Shouta Aizawa scowls down at his phone, trying to will the niggling thought away. He thumbs over the date staring back at him from his pitch-black lock screen, listening as a breeze racks through a row of frosted windowpanes on the quiet street. The screen should hold a picture of him and his husband, Hizashi, wearing garish Christmas sweaters and hugging their very obtuse tabby. It’s a day he remembers well. He remembers the annoyance upon seeing the offending articles of clothing reclining across the couch when he came home, the small huff of defeat that escaped his lips when Hizashi pulled the sweater over his head. Above all else though, he remembers how happy he was to have just one day free of being Eraserhead, a day when he could just be Shouta.
He feels the edges of his mouth tick up into a soft smile but the joy of the memory quickly disappears at the sight of the glaring contradiction peaking out from underneath his shivering fingers. “17:36, Saturday 13th, December, 2387” stares at him, bold white letters printed into an empty, black screen, in place of where that precious memory should be. In a place where Shouta isn’t supposed to be.
It’s the right month, the right day, the right time, but-
Heaving a long, exasperated sigh, Aizawa fiddles with the dark blue scarf around his neck, internally cursing the absence of his capture weapon brings and the familiarity it brings. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he glances up to the flakes of snow beginning to fall from the darkening sky and gives a defeated huff, watching as the cold air rolls and flows from his mouth.
I shouldn’t be here. Two years before I’m supposed to be.
He knows what caused this, knows who caused this. He’s all too aware of how this quirk works – he’s been pursuing this villain for weeks. And just to rub salt in the wound, it was the one day he wasn’t chasing the criminal, the one day he uncharacteristically wasn’t wearing his capture weapon that they decided to strike. Likely some kind of petty revenge plot designed specifically to fuck with him. It worked, he supposes, because Aizawa is pissed.
Furious at the criminal who did this, furious at himself because he allowed them to get the drop on him and yet the largest surge of fury Shouta feels is for the situation he finds himself in. This city that isn’t his city. The fact that for quite possibly the first time in his entire life, he is completely and utterly alone; unable to interact with anything here lest one trivial action somehow changes the future in some irreversible way. So, he’s just… stuck here. In limbo. A bystander. Waiting for God knows how long for the quirk’s effects to wear off, restricted to doing nothing. Helpless. Useless. The very thing he hates being. He swore he wouldn’t be useless again. Not after Oboro. Not after the training camp. Not again. Never again, not after everythi-
“I can’t believe I lost my scarf…” A young voice cuts through his thoughts.
Is that..?
Shouta knows he shouldn’t turn around, that he shouldn’t interfere with anything, but he recognises this voice. It’s one he’s come to associate with kindness, bright smiles, determination. This is the voice of Shouta’s problem child. So, he ignores the thoughts swirling in his head that shout and plead that he shouldn’t interfere and turns around anyway, watches as Midoriya – so young, so small – walks with shuddering clouds of cold air accentuating his every step. For a moment, Aizawa just stares. Observes as his problem child stops to glance at the dimming sunlight in the sky, raising one unscarred hand to the sky and collecting the drifting snow on his fingertips. His emerald-green eyes glisten against his pale skin as the white dust continues to fall. Unconsciously, Shouta begins to smile – the childlike fascination in Midoriya’s eyes still hasn’t faded two years later. He’s glad it stays there despite everything that’s happened. That will happen.
“I know I must have had it before last period started I remember putting it in my locker when the bell rang,” Midoriya puts a hand to his chin, “then after last period I got it out of my locker and put it on my desk and then I checked the hero forums and wrote some more in my hero journals about the debut of that new hero that showed up during the villain fight this morning the I put the journal awayandthatmusthavebeenwhenIdroppedthescarfbecauseIwouldhaverememberedputtingitinmybag-achoo!”
Aizawa can’t help the small laugh that escapes from his scarf at the scene.
The kid really hasn’t changed at all, has he?
Shouta really should be worried about being spotted right now, – he has no doubt that Midoriya would be able to recognise him despite not having his capture gear – but he can’t bring himself to look away. As irrational as it is, he’s pleased to find something so familiar in this place where he shouldn’t be. And, well, the dejected pout on Midoriya’s face following that sneeze is definitely worth sticking around for. Just as Shouta goes to tuck his grin further into his scarf, it feels like his body is starting to fade away.
The effects of the quirk are starting to wear off he notes dully.
Shifting his gaze back to his problem child, his heart clenches in sympathy at the way Midoriya looks miserable, small tremors racking through his frame after standing still for too long. The winter air is clinging desperately to each shallow breath that creeps out of the kid's bluing lips. Shouta sighs and narrows his eyes at his student – just because he enjoys scaring people with his logical ruses, doesn’t mean he enjoys witnessing pointless suffering. He’s not a sadist. Not all the time at least. And despite this being past, Shouta is itching to do something to help the kid out.
He agrees that the future shouldn’t be changed but looking at how his charge is fully shaking now with chattering teeth, he thinks that maybe, maybe, one small change wouldn’t be so bad. He thinks he hears Hizashi’s teasing voice in the back of his mind; “You’re such a mother hen Shou~” and quickly squashes it down with furrowed brows.
That is not true Hizashi he mentally snarls back, but just this once, I am going to do something completely irrational.
Feeling his body fade further, Shouta quickly moves to approach Midoriya from behind with the efficiency and silence only an underground hero could execute. Unwrapping the cotton scarf from his neck, he waits until the very last second to drape it across Midoriya’s trembling shoulders before he disappears from this time completely. In the last moment, Aizawa sees the kid flip around with a shocked and somewhat fearful expression painted across his face, only for it to morph into one of confusion when he sees nothing but the falling snow. Remaining unseen and unheard by Midoriya, Aizawa can only hope that his unspoken support is clear:
You’ll be OK problem child.
The next day finds Shouta back in his classroom – in his time thankfully – watching as the hell spawn that is 1-A pack up their things and leave the classroom. The windows of the room shiver slightly, drops of condensation cascading down the frigid glass. Hearing the sound of a zipper, he glances over with concealed interest as Midoriya pulls out a very familiar dark blue scarf from his bright yellow bag and smiles.
He kept it…
“Hey Deku,” Uraraka chirps from the doorway, “I’ve been wondering about that scarf for a while now… I always see you wearing it. Did someone give it to you?”
Midoriya rubs the back of his neck sheepishly before replying, “Uh…kinda… Someone did give it to me but I have no idea who it was. I just, sort of suddenly found it around my neck…”
“Deku…”
“Yeah…I know how that sounds,” he chuckles nervously, “It was uh… a strange afternoon. But this scarf… even though I don’t know who gave it me, I kind of feel like they were encouraging me? I mean, if whoever it was didn’t leave it, I probably would have frozen on my way home so I guess it’s something like a good luck charm to me. Whenever I wear it, I feel like someone’s telling me that I’ll be OK... does… does that sound stupid?”
“Awwww no way, that’s so sweet!” She coos cheerfully as they both wave to Aizawa and head out together, “Still a little weird though.”
“Hehe maybe. I still kinda wish I could meet them again you know?” Midoriya’s nostalgic voice trails down the hall, “I wish I could thank them for doing something so nice…”
“I’m sure you’ll get your chance Deku.”
Back in the classroom, Shouta tucks another smile into his capture weapon and addresses the cold air of the room.
“You’re welcome problem child.”