Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Rain fell in heavy sheets, blackened by soot stripes of a destroyed large city. The boom of distant explosions, the crackle and groans of destruction devouring the city. These had been the sounds that had stayed with Deku for days. His boots splashed through puddles on the ground, his mind fixed on what he was going to do. Stopping Shigaraki from setting everything ablaze was all that mattered now. He turned a corner and saw an old man pulling on a bag, his age-flecked hands slipping off the wet handle. Deku instinctively stepped in, halting beside him.

"Hey, you okay?" Deku said, his voice firm but gentle.

The old man looked up, eyes cloudy with age, yet there was something more behind them. knowing. “I’m fine,” he said with a small shake of his head, but his hands trembled. He bent slightly, his knees cracking as he tried to stand taller, but there was a strange hesitance in his movements. “I just lost my balance.”

Deku looked around to ensure there was no harm within the vicinity. "It's fine. Allow me to assist you," he smiled, carefully removing the bag from the man's shoulder. "Why haven’t you evacuated the city?.".

The man crossed his arms, “It’s gonna take a lot more for me to get kicked out of my own house you know! I boarded it all up so no measly villains will know I’m there!”

Deku stood up, chuckling softly at the old man's stubbornness, yet still highly concerned for him, his fingers brushing against the stranger's wrist. The instant there was contact, the air around them ripple-happened. A weird, shivery business, as if the world itself were being pulled in strange directions. His eye’s immediately darted to the old man’s who gave him a highly confusing smirk.

"Watch yourself, kid. Not everyone can pull time's twist," the old man wheezed before Deku could react.

The words had hardly had time to leave his head when, suddenly, the earth beneath him trembled. He had not had time to step back when the world in front of him seemed to rip itself asunder like wind torn apart, like reality shattered and splintered like glass.

Deku's breath had been caught in his throat, and there was nothing.

And then there was distortion.

The city in front of him disintegrated.

There was no smoldering wreckage, no clouds that shadowed and poured over it. Rather, the world started anew, Sunshine against his face as if it had never been foamed with ash and rain. He stood in the same position, but it was a city untouched by the wreckage he had witnessed. People moved past, heads down, speaking, laughing. The streets were spotless, even the air was cleaner, fresher. His heart racing, he spun around in a circle, trying to make sense of what was occurring. No way. It couldn't be.

His heart is still racing in his ears. Heads went by him with barely a glance, as if he were merely another stranger. But their eyes never left his dripping costume, the menacing cut he made. They were clearly frightened, but they simply continued on as if everything was fine. He walked down the street ignoring the odd looks he got. He knew he was dirty and covered in blood, and how oddly wet he looked despite the setting being bright and sunny. He ignored the folks staring, pointing, as some of them were downright uncomfortable with his being there. He spotted  a storefront window filled with neon, the multiple TV’s were showcasing the weather of that day. The weatherman pointing at the sunny skies of the week ahead on the green screen background.

Deku's stomach churned as he read out the date painstakingly. He was working his way through the calendar chronologically, this seemed to be a few days after the Sports Festival.

He looked at his hands, the bulk of the gauntlets on them, his fingers trembled as he clenched them into fists. 

The people around him were too real, their lives too simple. Their hopes and dreams hadn't yet been crushed. The future he knew hadn't happened yet. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach. His mind raced. How was this possible? How was this happening?

With every beat, Deku carried the weight of his choices, his fate, and the lives he was supposed to save. And if this really was the past, he had a second chance. A second chance to redo everything.

The weight of his existence was overwhelming. He had been brought through time. To a world he barely recognized now, to a world that had not yet realized its destruction. The words of the prophecy of the old man echoed in his head, the words sharp and ominous. Not everyone can pull time's twist.

The cacophony of the city that enveloped him persisted just as normally. The populace passed places to work and back, children played by passing through at a sprint, and stores were open and their bright signs radiating. The blandness of it all was nearly too much. It made him think of a world so far removed from him now, so far removed from what he'd seen be devoured.

Deku's head was spinning. Should he return home? His heart was squeezing at just thinking of his mother. His second instinct was to head towards UA. But the moment he thought of it, his chest tightened. His stomach rumbled at him to go fetch someone. Someone who could help him. But there were too many unknowns. Would the heroes even hear him out if he approached them now? Would they believe him? Would they consider him a threat?

I need a plan , Deku thought, striding down the sidewalk, trying to get it together. He took a deep breath, slamming his mind to a halt. I can't fix everything at once. I need to start slowly.

A part of him screamed to warn everyone, to tell them about Shigaraki’s rise and the inevitable war. But Deku knew better than to rush in without understanding the consequences of his actions. Every decision he made now could alter the future in ways he couldn’t predict. He had to tread carefully.

He glanced over his shoulder at the street signs. His old neighborhood was not far, just a few minutes away. He could go back there for some solitude, get himself together, and figure out what he would do next. Maybe it would get him out of his head.

Deku's legs carried him alone, away from the noise of the busy city street and down a well-known path. He did not know why, but he could not help but feel the overwhelming urge to visit his mother. Calling her name tightened the weight in his chest. She was always there, a constant presence in his life. Even in this strange world, he wanted her with him.

It was instinct, something more profound than logic, that drove him to his former neighborhood. It wasn't completely rational in his head, but it just felt right. He needed to catch his breath, to center himself before he could continue with anything else. Too much was unclear, too much to absorb.

He strolled, his eyes drinking in the street, how everything was different. The streets were tidy, buildings well maintained, and the atmosphere smoke-no-ruin-free. He couldn't help but be touched by a pang of nostalgia for things before everything fell apart.

Deku stood steadfast in front of the door to his former home. His fingers rested on the doorknob, but his mind spun in circles. His chest heaved as his heart accelerated, and his breath clogged in his throat at the weight of his decision. The date he had seen on the TV was just a few days after the sports festival. That would mean that his old self still existed, still a student at UA. The version of him that had no idea what was to come, that had no idea of the horrors of the future that Deku did. That was the version of him he could meet, the one who was probably still hopeful, oblivious to the wars to come.

His stomach turned at the thought.

What would I even say to him?

He'd never been particularly good at confronting, and to confront his past self, innocent and pure made him uncomfortable. Would his past self recognize him for who he was at all? Would he hear him out if he tried to explain it all to him? Deku couldn't help but think about how much different he was from how he'd been when he'd been in the Sports Festival. He was not the same person he had been. His former self had been one who was positive and strong-willed, one who had yet to see the evils of the world. What would he do if he saw a self who had been smeared and bogged down with shame, someone who had already seen what he was only now just beginning to learn?

His hand trembled on the doorknob as his head spun. What if he ran into his past self entering the house? What if his mom spotted him too, and was confused, or what if she thought he was some kind of imposter? What if he was here, right now, completely messing everything up? Was it possible that by speaking with his past self, he could unknowingly change everything?

The weight of it all crushed him like a ton of bricks. The future was precarious. Some slight slip in judgment, some slight misstep, might alter the very fabric of history he couldn't even venture to forecast. His mind spun with questions, but he couldn't yet envision any answers. He ground his teeth, moving back from the doorway, the echoes of his footsteps pounding the sidewalk. What should I do?

 He needed to step back and attempt to figure out what it was that he was supposed to be doing at that point. Was it even possible for him to attempt to change things? He'd been made to see how fragile the future was, and how one thing would become a domino effect that was going to destroy everything. And if he were here, now, there would be too many unknowns.

Deku took one last look at the door, the fear and uncertainty still brewing inside him, before he turned and walked away, exhaling a deep breath. To see his old self, to see someone who was still clinging to the hope that he once was, it was suffocating him. He needed to think. He could not be driven by instinct.

He came to an abrupt halt, his gaze swept toward a familiar alleyway. The thought seized him like lightning. What if I don't have to take on my old self one on one?

A strategy began to form, a small glimmer of hope through his confusion. If he might surprise his past self without selling his current self out, then maybe hopefully he might be able to enlist his assistance without compromising cover. 

He had become used to its weight by then. His mask hid more than his face; it hid his identity, yes, but it also hid the truth. Maybe it would leave him room enough, room to talk to his past self without a show, without scaring him. He was sure that the world of heroes would have its portion of its bizarre, masked men and that his former self would not find it bizarre for someone like him to provide advice in light of today's world. I can still do something for him , Deku thought, the plan starting to take shape in his mind. I don't have to tell him everything. I just have to make sure that he is given proper guidance, proper help, so that he doesn't go and do the same thing that I did.

He could guide him, protect him, even secretly. He needn't disclose his true motives. He could find ways to guide his earlier self in the right direction, without disturbing the carefully knitted tapestry of time. A word of caution, a gentle push in the right direction, and maybe just maybe he could prevent some of the horrors he'd witnessed from taking place in the future ahead.

As he strode, Deku's plan began to come together in his head.

He'd talk to his former self indirectly, guide him along but not intervene. He could give him cues, hints, anything that would guide the boy that he used to be. He had seen him narrowly avoid disaster, and he knew exactly what needed to be done. He couldn't tell them everything, but he could be a behind-the-scenes force, an unseen power. The more he considered it, the more certain he was that his scheme would work. 

His hand was clenched around his gauntlets, the weight of the future still bearing down on him, but for the first time since he arrived here, he felt a glimmer of hope. He wasn't alone here. He could make things different, even if it was in ways he didn't yet understand.

Nodding firmly to himself, Deku continued down the road, his mind racing. No time was to be lost. He needed to move quickly. Every second counted.

He needed a way of approaching his former self naturally. Approaching him alone would be suspicious. His former self had just completed the Sports Festival—just out of fighting, still adjusting to One For All, and full of the determination that had overcome every hardship. That individual was still in UA, with teachers, students, and idols who would jump into action the moment something wasn't right.

Deku sighed, running a hand through his hair. How am I going to do this and not mess everything up?

His past self spent almost every hour not spent in class, training, or returning home to visit his mother. Maybe he could find him at one of those moments. If he could position himself correctly at the right moment, it would look normal.

I have to scout him out first , he figured. He couldn't just rush in blindly. He had to observe, learn where he would go, what he would do. That would allow him to engineer an opening that wouldn't look contrived. 

Deku glanced up at a streetlight above. The city was so. whole. Unmarred. This was not the shattered wasteland he'd escaped. The sight hit him in the throat. This world still has hope.

His fist clenched. He had to get it right. If he could nudge his previous self a little, warn him of the right ways, guide him from the worst of harm, perhaps the future wouldn't be so bad as it had been.

Deku's train of thought was interrupted by the shrill, frightened scream of a woman several blocks distant. His head snapped up, his body already moving before his mind could. His hero reflex had been ingrained too long, now he couldn't stop himself when someone was in harm's way.

He turned and saw one group of men coming on a woman down an alley. She was retreating, her fist closed around her bag as a man loomed over her.

"Come on, don't be scared," one of them snarled. His hand was rimmed with a layer of ice that painfully reminded Deku of Todoroki, "Just give it up, and nobody gets hurt.".

"Or," another thug snarled, his fingers crackling with sparks of electricity, "we play a little first."

Deku's blood boiled. He walked forward unannounced, "That's enough." He was aware that his voice still sounded young, yet it was deep with the weight of experience these thugs could never have.

The group bristled up at him, their eyes squinting in as they looked at his figure. He must have looked somewhat threatening, his mask still on, his wet, ragged costume giving a ghostly effect. But instead of backing off, they laughed.

"The hell are you supposed to be?" one of them sneered. "Some kinda knockoff hero?"

"Mind your business," another snarled, his hand crackling with electricity. "Unless you wanna get fried."

Deku winced as a certain classmate with blonde hair and a black bolt on his hair flickered onto his mind. The pain of leaving UA, his friends , in his timeline was still fresh. Why is the universe doing this to me? He quickly tried to dismiss his thoughts, he couldn't afford to distract himself right now. He let out an exhale, he had tried to do it the peaceful way, but they were not going to release him. His fingers curled, the hum of Blackwhip thrumming in his blood.

"Last warning," he recited, voice flat. "Walk away."

Instead of an earful, the electricity thug punched him, his electrically charged fist burying itself in Deku's chest. Deku didn't wait, Blackwhip bursting forth from his arm like a snake coiled and about to strike. The black tentacles wrapped around the man's wrist and pulled him back, slamming him onto the sidewalk.

The others didn't delay in attacking him. Ice attacked him, but Deku dodged and jumped above the ice. A whip-like tendril unwound from Blackwhip and snapped the ice into two halves in mid-air. One of the thugs tried to bludgeon him with a flurry of razor-sharp-looking metallic quirk shots, but Deku spun around in mid-air, dodging the attacks easily.

He knocked them down one by one with a gentle care, tying their limbs to each other, knocking them off the ground, not wishing to hurt them too badly. The fight was over in seconds. The last thug fell on the ground with a grunt, Blackwhip wrapped around his legs.

"Th-Thank you!" she cried, hugging her bag to her side. She looked at him, her eyes questioning, as if to say whether he was a hero or not. Instead, she held her tongue, she bowed and walked away. 

Deku let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. He hadn't intended to fight, but at least it was done. He was about to step outside to depart when- 

"Interesting."

Deku tensed up.

That voice. He knew that voice.

He bent his head slowly, and his breath was stuck in his throat.

Aizawa rested against the mouth of the alley, arms crossed, eyes flashing behind his usually tired face.

Deku's heart was racing, but he calmed himself. His mask did not shift. His secret was safe.

At least, for now.

He tried to keep still under Aizawa's intense gaze, all of his nerves screaming at him to run, to run before his teacher started questioning him. Aizawa moved closer, his scarf loose around his neck, his tired eyes examining him. "I haven’t seen you around here before," he said quietly..

Deku swallowed. He should’ve realized this was the area that Aizawa patrols, and without a doubt, the underground hero would also know the heroes that patrol around the area. He needed to focus. He needed to get out of this interview before his teacher interrogated him.

Keeping his voice low and gruff, he responded, “Just stopping some thugs.” He turned slightly, as if preparing to leave. “I should be going.”

Aizawa didn’t move, but his presence alone was enough to make Deku feel cornered. “You’re not a pro hero,” he stated. 

Deku tensed. Aizawa was testing him. Fishing for information.

“Who are you?” the teacher finally asked.

Deku hesitated. He only had his provisional license in his compartment, but pulling it out would immediately give him and his identity away. He had to say something, but he couldn’t reveal too much. His brain worked quickly, latching onto his earlier plan. If he played his cards right, he could use this to his advantage.

“…Call me a concerned citizen,” he finally answered, trying to keep his voice slightly distorted. “I’m just trying to help.”

Aizawa narrowed his eyes. “That so?”

Deku nodded. “I don’t want trouble.”

Aizawa’s gaze hardened, "You understand, being a vigilante is illegal, even with good intentions."

 "I know."

There was a heavy quiet. Aizawa was looking at him, considering his words, measuring him. Deku knew he had to leave before his teacher became too inquisitive.

"I should be leaving," he said again, stepping back. "Stay safe, Eraserhead.".

As soon as the words were past his lips, he wished he hadn't spoken them.

Aizawa's face changed. His shoulders squared up a little further, his hard eyes narrowing to focus on Deku with new wariness. Deku swore to himself. That wasn't good.

Aizawa moved forward. "I never mentioned my name."

Deku ground his teeth together. He needed to cut this short now .

Not wasting any time, he turned around on his heel and leapt onto a neighboring fire escape, Blackwhip sending him charging along rooftops. 

His own heart pounding in his ears, he sprinted across rooftops, something that demanded he exercise caution. Aizawa was already suspicious, and if he wasn't cautious, he'd blow his cover before even coming up with a good plan. He took a deep breath. He had planned an escape to getting back to his old self without revealing too much. But by running into Aizawa, he could see now that he needed to be even more careful. 

He needed to get to his old self.

And do it without drawing any further attention.

Chapter Text

/
/

The night air was cold on his skin, but Aizawa barely noticed. His eyes remained fixed on the spot where the masked vigilante had disappeared, his mind reeling through everything that had just happened.

That quirk. That fighting style. The way he moved, like a trained hero, like someone who had experience in the field. And then, of course, there was the way he had said Eraserhead like it was second nature, like he had always known him.

Aizawa’s fingers tightened around his scarf. Something wasn’t right.

At first, he had thought this was just another reckless vigilante. Another idiot trying to play hero in the middle of the night. He had seen plenty of them before. But this one… this one was different.

Aizawa had never told him his name. And yet, the vigilante had addressed him as if he was accustomed to it. The possibilities whirled in his mind. Was this also someone from underground? A rogue hero? A former student?

His gut told him no. His gut told him this was something bigger.

Aizawa exhaled, forcing himself to focus. He needed to find out more. And he needed to do it fast. He placed his phone on his palm, fingers hovering over the contact list. He considered calling Nezu or Tsukauchi, reporting this to someone who could help dig deeper. But something held him back. This wasn’t just some ordinary case.

Whoever that vigilante was, he wasn’t just any rogue hero. He was someone connected to him. Someone who was connected to UA.

" Stay safe, Eraserhead ."

That final line echoed in his mind. There had been no hesitation. No doubt. The tone he'd used was nearly natural .

That ease was what unsettled him the most.

Aizawa sighed, rubbing a hand over his hair. He hated mysteries. He especially hated mysteries that were apparently sitting in front of him, daring him to attempt to figure them out.

Whoever that was, he was no common vigilante.

And Aizawa had a feeling this would not be the last time they would see one another.

                      _______                      

Deku kept walking, his boots making taps against the pavement as he weaved through the city streets. The night was calm now, the earlier confrontation with the thugs and Aizawa still lingering in his mind. But right now, there was only one thing he needed to focus on, his past self.

If the date on the television was correct, then this was only a few days after the Sports Festival. That meant he was still a first-year at U.A., still figuring out how to handle One for All, still... hopeful.

Deku swallowed hard.

The thought of seeing himself at that stage, before everything really started to go downhill, was almost surreal. But he didn’t have time to get caught up in sentimentality. He needed to be strategic. He needed to get his younger self’s attention without revealing too much.

The first issue was finding him.

There was no way he could just walk onto campus unnoticed. Security had only gotten tighter since the USJ attack. Sneaking in wasn’t an option.

That meant he needed to intercept himself somewhere else, maybe somewhere predictable.

Then it hit him.

The hospital.

At this point in time, his arms had already taken a beating from the Sports Festival. Recovery Girl had warned him to be more careful, but knowing himself, he had probably gone too hard in training again. That meant there was a solid chance his past self would be visiting a hospital or clinic soon for a check-up.

Deku adjusted his mask, his pace picking up as he mapped out a route in his head.

It was a gamble, but it was the best lead he had.

If he could find himself there, maybe he could plant a seed, give his past self a reason to be more cautious, to prepare for what was coming without outright revealing the future.

His stomach twisted at the thought. He had to be so careful.

As he neared the quieter part of town where the hospital was located, Deku slowed his pace. He stuck to the shadows, keeping out of the glow of streetlights. The hospital itself wasn’t a major one, just a clinic that U.A. students were sometimes sent to when Recovery Girl's office wasn't enough. He knew it well, he’d been here more times than he could count.

His heart pounded against his ribs as he positioned himself across the street, standing near the mouth of an alleyway where he could watch the entrance unnoticed. He wasn't even sure if his past self would show up, but he had to try.

Minutes passed. Then an hour.

Deku shifted on his feet, rolling his shoulders. The city’s sounds had dulled into the distant hum of cars and occasional murmurs of pedestrians. He had expected this to be easier, but doubt was starting to creep in. Then movement..

His breath caught as he spotted a familiar mop of green hair under the clinic’s lights. His younger self walked toward the entrance, hands stuffed into his pockets, shoulders slightly hunched.

He looks so small.

Younger Izuku Midoriya.

Deku felt his chest tighten at the sight of his past self. He looked… less burdened.

It was strange seeing himself from the outside. There was a stiffness in his younger self’s walk, probably from injuries. It was a habit he still carried, pushing through pain like it was nothing.

Deku frowned, his plan unraveling in his mind as quickly as he had put it together. Leaving a note was too impersonal, too easy to ignore. His younger self already had a lot to deal with, would he even bother? No, he needed something stronger. Something that would guarantee a reaction.

His past self didn’t trust easily, but he did have a habit of chasing after answers.

Deku’s eyes flickered to the rooftops. That might be his best bet. If he couldn’t approach himself directly, he could let his younger self come to him.

With a quiet exhale, he leapt up onto the nearest fire escape, climbing swiftly until he reached the rooftops. From here, he had a clear view of the clinic’s entrance, bathed in the artificial glow of streetlights. He crouched, waiting, hands clenched into fists.

His past self would leave soon.

And when he did, Deku would make sure to be just in sight, just long enough for his younger self to notice. Not enough to seem like an outright threat, but enough to make him wonder.

Deku adjusted his stance, keeping himself partially concealed by the shadows. The clinic's automatic doors slid open every now and then as patients came and went, but there was no sign of his younger self yet. His pulse remained steady, his mind whirring with possibilities.

If this worked, his past self would see him, get curious, and if nothing else, try to investigate. And if he was anything like Deku remembered being back then, he wouldn’t stop until he had answers.

Minutes passed. Then, finally, the familiar figure stepped outside.

Deku inhaled sharply. This was it.

He waited for his past self to take a few steps down the street before shifting just enough to let the dim city lights catch the edges of his silhouette. It wasn’t direct. It wasn’t too obvious. But it was enough.

As expected, his younger self froze.

Deku could practically see the gears turning in his mind. A figure in the distance, watching him but not approaching. A presence that didn’t quite scream hostility, but didn’t make sense either.

His younger self turned his head slightly, as if debating whether to ignore it.

Then, ever so subtly, Deku took a step back. Just enough to make it seem like he was leaving.

That was all it took.

His younger self’s shoulders squared, and with a sudden, determined movement, he started forward.

Deku smirked behind his mask.

He kept his movements measured as he turned and began walking away, careful not to move too fast or too slow. If he made it too easy, his past self might hesitate. If he moved too quickly, he might scare him off.

He could hear his younger self’s footsteps behind him, hesitant at first, then more deliberate.

Good.

Deku led him away from the clinic, down quieter streets where they wouldn’t be easily noticed. The city lights still flickered around them, but the further they went, the fewer people they passed. He made sure to occasionally glance back just enough to let his past self know he was aware of him but not confrontational. Just enough to fuel his curiosity.

And it was working.

His younger self was following him with that look, wide eyes, calculating, determined. Deku almost chuckled to himself. He really hadn’t changed.

Finally, when he reached an alley just secluded enough to avoid prying eyes, Deku stopped.

He heard the footsteps behind him falter.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

Then, his younger self broke the silence.

"Who are you?" His voice was cautious but not afraid, just like Deku had expected. "Why were you watching me?"

Deku didn’t answer right away. Instead, he turned his head slightly, just enough for the glow of a distant streetlamp to catch the edge of his mask.

"You're good at noticing things," he said, his voice lower than usual, rougher. It felt strange talking to himself like this. "Most people wouldn’t have followed."

His younger self tensed, but didn’t back down. "You… You feel familiar. Have we met before?"

Deku hesitated. He couldn’t reveal too much. He couldn’t say anything that would cause a paradox or make his past self act out of character. He had to plant a seed, just enough to help him without unraveling everything.

He exhaled slowly.

"Let’s just say I know what you're capable of," Deku said carefully. "And I know what's coming."

His younger self stiffened, and Deku could see the questions forming in his mind.

"Coming?" Past Deku echoed. "What do you mean? Who are you?"

Deku turned fully now, stepping slightly into the dim light, "I'm someone who wants to help," he said, voice firm but calm. "But whether or not you listen… that's up to you."

His younger self clenched his fists. "Then tell me something real. Something that proves you're not just messing with me."

Deku smiled behind his mask. Of course, he would ask that.

He took a slow step forward, watching as his younger self subconsciously braced to defend himself in case of anything. He stopped just a few feet away. Close enough to speak softly.

"You're pushing your body too hard," he murmured. "The pain in your arms, it’s not just from the Sports Festival."

His younger self's breath hitched just slightly. He recognized that expression, it was the same one he wore when he was trying to piece things together, to connect dots that didn't quite fit.

It was unsettling, standing here like this, face to face with his younger self. He had lived so long, carried the weight of a shattered world on his back, gazing at himself before all that, it was almost like looking at a ghost.

"You tell yourself it's fine," Deku continued, voice quieter now. "That as long as you're making progress, it doesn't matter if it hurts. But deep down, you know you're reaching a breaking point. And if you keep going like this…" He let the words hang. "You're going to regret it."

His younger self was silent, staring at him with wide, conflicted eyes.

Deku took a step back, letting him process. The two of them sat in a silence heavy with doubt. His younger self was still, his eyes wildly flitting about, trying to get his head around everything that had been said. It was clear that something in him was shifting, but not yet enough.

And then his younger self replied, his voice trembling slightly. "What do you want from me?" He was less cautious now, but not yet certain if he could believe this mysterious stranger who stood in front of him.

Deku exhaled, keeping his calm pose. "I don't want anything," he breathed. "I'm not here to make you do something. I'm here only to show you that there is more on the line than you realize."

Past Deku took a step forward hesitantly, furrowing his brow as he searched for any indication of dishonesty. "So what, you just appear out of nowhere and tell me things like that? You don't even show your face. Why should I believe you?"

It was a logical question. Deku could sympathize with the uncertainty. If they were to switch places, he'd probably be the same. However, the weight of the moment settled on his chest. He couldn't be careless, not when he was talking to his younger self, the him who still hadn't screwed everything up. This was the beginning, the final time that things were still simple.

His younger self stayed there, still attempting to absorb the words, but now a flicker of awareness and doubt, but something more too. A glimmer of understanding, perhaps, or at least curiosity.

"Who are you?" Former Deku inquired again, his voice less harsh this time. There was a vulnerability to it now, as though he did not wish to accept it, but something in the back of his mind couldn't shake the idea that this was not a chance meeting.

Deku had the words stuck on his lips. He ached to say so many things to him. Needed to scream at him to not take the same path he took. But he couldn't. His earlier self, youthful and inexperienced, couldn't handle the truth. Not yet.

"I'm not going to say who I am," Deku answered, his voice low but resolute. "What matters is what you do now." He took a step back slightly, making sure that his posture did not become aggressive. "You have a decision. You can keep walking along the road that you're on, blind to all that is around you, or you can stop for once and listen."

In his younger self’s eyes, a mix of frustration and uncertainty blinked. Deku could see it as his past self, stubborn and determined as he had been, was struggling with the reality that someone, someone who would not even show his face, was trying to warn him. And yet there was some corner of him that did not want to listen, that wanted to push it all away and prove that he could do it on his own.

Deku could see that the seed had been planted. He wasn’t sure if it would take root immediately, but he knew that his younger self would think about this conversation long after it was over. That was all he could ask for.

Taking one last glance at the boy he once was, Deku spoke, his voice more final this time. "Just think about it. You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be there when it matters."

Deku halted just before stepping into the shadows, a new thought bubbling up

The timing, if he was right, these were the days leading up to when All Might would reveal the truth about All For One. That meant his past self didn’t know yet. But soon, he would.

And maybe… maybe he could use that.

Turning slightly, just enough that his younger self could hear him, Deku spoke again, his voice firm yet laced with something unreadable.

“Ask All Might about All For One.”

His younger self tensed at the name, confusion flashing across his face. "All For One?" he repeated. "What-?"

But Deku was already moving, his figure slipping into the darkness.

“Just ask him,” he said one last time before finally disappearing into the city, leaving behind nothing but the echo of his words and the growing weight of curiosity in his younger self’s mind.

He kept his steps measured, his breathing steady, forcing himself not to look back. He knew his younger self would be watching the spot where he had vanished, trying to piece it all together.

Deku didn’t need to see it to know.

That conversation would linger in his mind. The name All For One would fester in his mind like an unsolved puzzle, pushing him to confront All Might sooner or later.

Chapter Text

Midoriya Izuku stood frozen in the dimly lit alleyway, his heart pounded inside his chest as the last traces of the stranger’s footsteps dissipated into the darkness. The chill in the night air hardly reached him in comparison to the storm of thoughts and questions raging in his mind.

Ask All Might about All For One.

The words cycled over his mind repeatedly, each time sending another jolt of confusion and unease through him.

Who was that guy?

His fists clenched at his sides, his body still tense from the strange encounter. He didn’t know why, but something about the way the masked man spoke, his voice, his presence, felt… familiar. But no matter how much he searched his memories, he couldn’t recall him.

And then there was the way he moved. The way he knew things about him, things no one else should know.

"You're pushing your body too hard."

Izuku swallowed, bending his fingers. His arms were still aching and sore from the damage he had taken at the Sports Festival. And yeah, maybe he had been ignoring the pain a little. Maybe he had been pushing through it because he didn’t have time to be weak.

But how did that guy know?

He bit his lip, looking at the empty space where the man had stood. He should have chased him. He should have pressed harder, demanded more answers. But the way the stranger had spoken, the way he had left without hesitation. It was like he knew exactly when to stop talking, as if he was controlling the flow of their conversation.

As if he wanted Izuku to be left questioning.

And now, he was questioning.

All For One.

That title alone sent a shiver through him. The way the stranger said it, like it held some deeper, hidden weight.

It was dangerously close to sounding like One For All, and then the man had asked him to ask All Might of all things… Did he know about One For All? 

Izuku exhaled sharply, shaking his head. His mind was going in circles, and he didn’t have nearly enough information to piece anything together.

But there was one thing he could do.

He needed to talk to All Might.

If this wasn’t just some random lie, if there was truth to what that masked man had said…then All Might had to know something. And if he did… then why hadn’t he told him already?

The thought made his chest feel tight.

He took a deep breath, straightening his posture. He would get his answers. One way or another.

He decided to act now, pulling out his phone and clicking on All Might’s contact name. It barely rang once before the other end picked up.

"Young Midoriya?"

Izuku’s stomach twisted. “All Might, I need to talk to you”

"Yes? Is everything okay my boy?"

Izuku inhaled sharply, looking around the alleyway for a moment before replying, “Who is All For One?”

There was silence on the other line for a few seconds before All Might’s voice rang out, “Where did you hear that name..?”

His grip on the phone tightened as his mentor’s voice came through, tense and strained.

He knows.

Izuku swallowed, trying to keep his voice steady. “I-” He was internally debating whether or not to leave out the masked man, “I overheard something. I just-”

"Where?"

“All Might, I-”

"Where, Midoriya?" All Might pressed, more forceful this time.

Izuku bit his lip. Why was he reacting like this? “I was just…I just got out of the hospital and.. Someone told me to ask you about it.”

Silence.

“Are you still near the hospital?” All Might asked. 

“Yes, I’m in an alleyway nearby”

All Might exhaled, slow and heavy, like a weight had dropped onto his shoulders. When he spoke again, his voice was lower,“…Stay where you are. I’m coming to you.”

The line went dead.

Izuku lowered his phone slowly, his heartbeat hammering in his chest.

What the hell was going on?

The silence in the alleyway stretched on, too long, too tense. Izuku stood there, waiting, each passing second feeling like an eternity. His mind raced with questions but then interrupted by the faintest sound, a footstep, then another, growing closer.

The moment he saw All Might’s shrunken figure round the corner, Izuku couldn’t help but feel a wave of relief wash over him. The hero moved quickly, scanning the alley with a sharp gaze, his eyes were calculating, taking in every detail of the surroundings, before they finally landed on Izuku.

“My boy,” All Might said, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? What happened?”

Izuku’s throat tightened, a lump forming as he met his mentor’s gaze. He shook his head. “I…” Izuku hesitated. “I noticed I was being watched, when I left the hospital.”

All Might’s brow furrowed, but his gaze softened with concern, though still laced with suspicion. 

Izuku shifted on his feet, the weight of All Might’s attention pressing down on him. “At first, I thought I was imagining it, but then.. There was this guy. Staring at me, I think he was purposely trying to get me to follow him.”

All Might’s posture tensed. “Describe him.”

Izuku exhaled, “He was a little taller than me. His entire outfit was dark and a really dull green, his suit was barely holding together.. Ripped, dirty, and stained with blood. He had a really tattered yellow cape and he wore a mask so I couldn’t see his face, plus he refused to tell me who he was. 

All Might’s expression grew more rigid with every word. “And he told you to ask me about him?”

Izuku nodded. “Yeah. He didn’t attack or threaten me. He just… knew things. Things about me. My arms. My training.” His fists clenched at his sides. 

All Might let out a slow, measured breath, scanning the alley like he expected to see the figure lurking in the shadows. “And you have no idea who he was?”

Izuku hesitated. “No,” he said, but even to himself, the words felt uncertain.

Because something about that man felt familiar.

The way he stood. The way he spoke to him, not like a stranger, not like an enemy, but like someone who already knew him. 

All Might studied him for a moment longer, then sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “My boy, listen to me,” he said, voice quieter but heavy with warning. “All For One is not just some name to toss around. He is-” He stopped, jaw tightening before forcing the words out. “He is the single greatest evil this world has ever seen.”

Izuku’s breath hitched.

That wasn’t just something All Might said.

Before he could respond, All Might continued, “The fact that someone is feeding you this information is deeply concerning. Whoever this person is, they could be dangerous, Young Midoriya.” He took a step closer, lowering his voice. “He didn’t make any attempt to harm you right?”

Izuku shook his head. “No. He was just… there.” He glanced at the ground. “Like he was waiting for me.”

All Might’s frown deepened. “That worries me even more.”

There was a long silence, the distant hum of traffic the only sound filling the alley. All Might met his gaze, his expression unreadable. Then he spoke, voice low and grim.

“All For One was a man who once ruled this world from the shadows.”

A chill crawled down Izuku’s spine.

“He’s the reason I am the way I am today. And if he’s still out there,” All Might’s eyes darkened, "then this fight isn’t over.”

All Might’s expression softened, though the tension in his shoulders remained. He placed a firm but gentle hand on Izuku’s shoulder, grounding him. “Listen to me, my boy,” he said, his voice quieter now, steady. “I know this must be weighing on you. I can see it in your eyes. But I don’t want you to let this consume you.”

Izuku swallowed, his fingers still curled into fists at his sides. How could he not think about it? Someone had sought him out, someone who knew things he shouldn’t. And that name… All For One. The way All Might spoke it, the way his usual confidence wavered, it was enough to send chills through Izuku’s bones.

All Might sighed, squeezing his shoulder slightly before withdrawing his hand. “For now, you should focus on what’s ahead. You start your internship with Gran Torino tomorrow, don’t you?”

Izuku blinked, “Oh- Yeah,” he murmured. He had almost forgotten in the haze of everything else.

“Then that is where your attention should be,” All Might said firmly. “Gran Torino is… demanding, but he was my mentor once, and I believe you will learn a great deal from him.”

Izuku nodded slowly, though his thoughts were still tangled in the encounter from earlier. “But-”

“If that masked man ever finds you again, you tell me immediately.” All Might’s tone was unwavering, a sharp contrast to the concern in his eyes. “Understood?”

Izuku hesitated, then gave a small nod. “Yeah… understood.”

“Good.” All Might studied him for a moment longer, then forced a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Try to get some rest, my boy. You’ll need it for tomorrow.”

Rest. As if his mind would let him.

But he didn’t argue. He just nodded again, though the weight in his chest remained.

All Might gave his shoulder one last pat before turning toward the entrance of the alley, his smaller frame barely illuminated by the streetlights beyond. He paused, glancing back at Izuku with something unreadable in his gaze. “We’ll talk more about this soon,” he promised. Then, with a weary sigh, he stepped out onto the street and disappeared into the night.

Izuku stood there for a long time after he left, staring at the empty space where he had been.

Try not to think about it.

He let out a shaky breath.

Right.

Like that was possible.

                     _______________

Perched on the edge of a rooftop, Future Izuku stared down at the dimly lit streets below, his thoughts a whirlwind.

His younger self was going to ask All Might about All For One, an unavoidable, necessary push. The doubt would settle in, and soon, his younger self would start questioning. 

He needed to be careful, needed to guide things just enough to change the future without completely unraveling it. Every choice, every word had to be precise. Too much interference, and he might risk making things worse.

A sharp gust of wind rushed past him, rustling his tattered cloak. He exhaled, trying to push away the unease clawing at his chest. There were still too many unknowns, too many things left unchecked. Shigaraki, the League, the Nomu. The inevitable storm was still on the horizon, waiting to consume everything.

And then suddenly. His breath caught in his throat

Eri.

In the chaos of everything, he hadn’t thought about her. He had been so focused on setting the stage for his younger self that he had nearly forgotten the girl who has been suffering

Chisaki still had her.

She was still trapped, still enduring the horrors that the Shie Hassaikai were putting her through.

His fingers curled into fists, nails digging into the fabric of his gloves.

Izuku’s breath came out uneven, his mind spiraling.

This wasn’t part of the plan.

He had told himself that he would work from the shadows, that he would nudge things in the right direction without completely derailing the timeline. Every action, every word had to be precise. Controlled.

But Eri.

His fingers twitched as images of her flooded his mind—her small, trembling form, the way she clutched at his cape that day, how she had been too afraid to hope for salvation. He could still hear her cries, feel the weight of her tiny hands as she reached for him in a desperate attempt to escape Chisaki’s grasp.

And right now, she was still there.

Still trapped. Still suffering.

His breathing grew heavier.

If he acted, if he took her away from Chisaki now, there was no going back. It wouldn’t be some minor shift in the timeline; it would be a landslide.

The Shie Hassaikai’s downfall had been a slow process in the original timeline, a mission that had taken careful planning, teamwork, and the right timing. If he tore through them now, alone, everything would change. There was no telling what kind of consequences would ripple from that single action.

Would Overhaul retaliate in a different way? Would the League of Villains take notice sooner? Would the world’s fate somehow end up worse because he interfered too early?

His stomach twisted violently.

He had been so careful up until now. He had convinced himself that as long as he set things on the right course, the right future would unfold naturally.

But could he really just stand here, knowing what was happening to her?

Could he really just let it play out the same way?

His hands clenched at his sides.

No.

He couldn’t.

But if he did this… if he took her away now… then there was no turning back.

His presence in this timeline would no longer be just a whisper in the dark. It would be a storm.

Chapter Text

Izuku moved through the shadows leaping in between rooftops. It was like this for the last 2 days since he has gotten himself thrown back to the past, his body carried out the motions automatically, scouting, watching, staying hidden, still on the lookout for danger. But his mind was anything but steady.

Eri…She’s still trapped in Chisaki’s hands.

He knew how this was going to go down. He knew when the heroes would step in to rescue her. But that was so long from now. Could he really just sit back and do nothing while she suffered?

A soft sound, barely more than the rustling of clothes, sent his instincts into motion. He pivoted just in time to see  a familiar presence stepped out from the shadows.

"You again," Aizawa said, his voice low, and unreadable.

Izuku tensed a little before forcing himself to relax. He had expected to run into Aizawa again at some point, but not this soon.

Aizawa’s sharp eyes gazed over him, taking in every detail. The gear, the tattered cloak, the faint scuff marks on his boots that hinted at constant movement. His gaze lingered on the mask that hid Izuku’s face, but Izuku knew the hero was focusing on something else.

"Still not giving me a name?" Aizawa asked.

Izuku exhaled slowly. "Names are overrated."

Aizawa’s expression remained unreadable, but Izuku could tell his former teacher’s patience was thinning.

"Last time we met, you knew who I was before I even got a chance at introducing myself." Aizawa’s voice was steady, but laced with quiet suspicion. "That’s not exactly normal."

Izuku fought the urge to curse under his breath. He had slipped up during their last encounter, and Aizawa hadn’t forgotten. Of course he hadn’t.

"I keep track of Pro Heroes," Izuku said, deflecting. Aizawa’s gaze didn’t waver.

"You disappeared fast last time," Aizawa said. "Didn't give me much of a chance to ask my questions."

"Didn’t seem like there was much to say."

"That so?" Aizawa stepped closer, gaze never leaving him. "Then maybe you won’t mind answering them now."

Izuku didn’t respond. He knew how this would go. Aizawa was too good at what he did. If Izuku let him keep pushing, he would crack something open that couldn't be closed again.

So instead, he spoke first.

"If you knew something bad was happening," Izuku started, voice quieter this time, "but there was another solution coming, one that would take longer, would you wait for it? Or would you stop it immediately, knowing it would change everything?"

Aizawa’s expression barely shifted, but Izuku could see the way his shoulders tensed ever so slightly.

"You asking for advice or testing me?" Aizawa asked carefully.

Izuku exhaled slowly, "Just… wondering."

The silence between them stretched, the city sounds distant beneath the weight of unspoken words. Aizawa’s expression barely shifted, but there was something sharper in his gaze now.

"That depends," he said carefully. "Is the solution later a guarantee? "

Izuku swallowed. "Yes."

"Then waiting is an option," Aizawa said. "But depending on the circumstances, waiting just because you don’t want to interfere is the same as letting it happen."

Izuku clenched his fists, hearing Aizawa say that only made the weight in his chest sink deeper.

Eri…the moment her name had crossed his mind, the second he had remembered the sight of her trembling hands, her hollow eyes, he knew there was no version of this future where he could stand by and do nothing.

But it wasn’t just about saving her. It was how he saved her.

Because if he ripped her from Chisaki’s grasp now, before Nighteye’s investigation, before Mirio and his past self ever even met her, there would be consequences. The dominoes would fall, and he had no way of knowing where they would land.

But what was the alternative?

Leaving her in that hell, hoping everything would play out the same? That the others would succeed the way they were supposed to?

No. He couldn’t risk it. He wouldn’t. He knew he had already altered the timeline somewhat by just existing, but his controlled conversations were just meant to be a gentle nudge to the direction he wanted this world’s future to go towards.

This had to be done right. And if all goes well, the heroes would assume Chisaki had made a mistake, and the investigation would continue. But if Nighteye caught even a glimpse of him in one of his visions, it could all fall apart. He just needed to get in, and get Eri.

Aizawa took a slow step closer, bringing Izuku back from his thoughts, his sharp eyes still locked onto Izuku’s. “But I doubt you’re asking hypotheticals just for fun,” he said. “What’s really going on?”

Izuku stayed silent. He had already said too much.

Aizawa sighed, rubbing his temples. “Look. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but you clearly know more than you’re letting on.” His voice lowered slightly. “That kind of knowledge is dangerous.”

Izuku exhaled sharply, shifting his weight. “I know.”

“Then what’s stopping you from telling me?”

Aizawa’s words almost made him flinch.

Izuku didn’t reply, he clenched his jaw looking back at Aizawa. He hated this. Hated the look in Aizawa’s eyes, the same calculating suspicion, the same unwillingness to let things go. He had seen it before, back in his own time, but back then, Aizawa had trusted him. Now, he was just another masked figure lurking in the dark.

“I’m not your enemy,” Izuku finally said, voice quiet but firm.

“Then prove it,” Aizawa shot back.

Izuku hesitated. He couldn’t . Not without exposing too much. Not without making things worse.

A tense silence stretched between them, the distant hum of the city filling the space.

Finally, Aizawa exhaled, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. “You’re going to do something reckless, aren’t you?”

Izuku swallowed. He didn’t answer.

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose. “Damn it.” He looked back up at Izuku, his expression unreadable. “Whatever it is, don’t be stupid, and don’t get yourself killed before you actually accomplish anything.”

Izuku almost let out a breathless laugh. That was so Aizawa. A warning wrapped in gruff concern.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmured.

Aizawa gave him one last long look before stepping back. “I will figure you out,” he muttered. “One way or another.”

Izuku smirked under his mask. “Good luck with that.”

And before Aizawa could react, Izuku stepped back into the shadows and vanished into the night. But even as he disappeared into the city, his mind still echoed with Aizawa’s words.

Don’t be stupid.

Don’t get yourself killed.

Izuku exhaled slowly. He had a decision to make.

And no matter what, it was going to change everything.

Chapter Text

Izuku crouched on the edge of a rooftop, his sharp gaze locked onto the Shie Hassaikai headquarters below. The building was quiet from the outside,but he knew better. Beneath the surface, underground tunnels stretched like veins, hiding the horrors within. Hiding Eri.

His fists clenched. He had spent the last nights gathering information. The Yakuza were creatures of habit, their routines predictable. The guards changed shifts at precise intervals, the night patrol lighter than during the day. The tunnels had multiple entrances, but only a few were still in use. One of those led directly to where Chisaki kept Eri.

Tonight, he would put all of that knowledge to use.

Moving swiftly, he leapt from the rooftop, landing soundlessly in a back alley. His dark cloak concealed his form as he slipped through the shadows, approaching a sewer grate behind the building. He had confirmed earlier that this tunnel was still in use for discreet deliveries, and with the right timing, it would be unguarded.

Izuku pried the gate open and shoved it aside as he descended into the tunnel below. He navigated the winding passageways, his mind replaying every detail he had memorized. The path twisted, turning through dimly lit corridors.

Approaching the first checkpoint, Izuku hugged the side, watching as a lone yakuza guard stood in front of a crate, thumbing his phone. He was so careless, making it too easy. Izuku rushed out, acting quickly, covering the man's mouth with one hand while using his other to put it around his neck. The fight did not last long, the guard knocked out the next instant. Izuku quietly set him down and pressed on.

The next door was locked electronically. He had expected as much. Having observed, he had discovered some of the lower-ranking members carried keycards.

A quick search through the unconscious guard’s pockets rewarded him with exactly what he needed. Swiping the card, the lock beeped, and the door slid open.

Beyond it lay the heart of the operation. The underground hallway was sterile, clinical, with artificial lights buzzing faintly overhead. His pulse quickened. He was getting closer.

A pair of guards patrolled near the far end, their voices low as they muttered about Chisaki’s latest orders. Izuku timed his approach perfectly, slipping into a blind spot. With a burst of speed, he took the first down with a sharp blow to the ribs, twisting the other’s arm into a chokehold before either could react. A few seconds later, both were on the ground, unconscious.

The door at the end of the hallway was different. Reinforced. He knew this was it.

He swiped the stolen keycard. Denied.

Of course. Chisaki wouldn’t make it that easy.

Izuku exhaled, pressing his palm against the door. He had one more option. He focused One for All into a precise, controlled burst, just enough power to weaken the hinges. The metal groaned under the strain. He struck once, then twice, until the door gave way with a muffled crack.

The room was dimly lit, sterile, and cold. And in the corner, curled up on a small mattress, was Eri.

She flinched at the sound of his entrance, pulling her knees closer to her chest. Large, frightened red eyes peered at him through strands of unkempt hair. She was trembling. Of course she was.

Izuku took a slow step forward, keeping his movements non-threatening. He knew what she had been through. Knew the fear Chisaki had instilled in her. To her, he was just another stranger in the dark.

“Eri,” he said softly.

She shrank back against the wall, gripping the thin sheets in her tiny hands.

Izuku swallowed. His current outfit wasn’t doing him any favors. His vigilante gear, reinforced gloves, the tattered cloak draping over his shoulders, this was meant to instill fear in criminals. But to a child? To Eri?

She saw him as another one of those masked monsters.

He hesitated, then let out a slow breath. There was no helping it. He reached up and pulled his mask off.

Eri gasped, eyes widening in shock as she got her first proper look at his face. His messy green hair, his tired but kind eyes, the scars lining his features, he was real. He wasn’t just another faceless figure in the dark.

“I’m not here to hurt you,” he said gently. “I’m here to take you somewhere safe.”

Eri stared at him, searching his face as if trying to find any sign of deception. He stayed still, letting her see him, really see him.

“I know you’re scared,” he continued. “But I promise, I won’t let anyone hurt you again.”

Her small hands clenched the fabric of her sleeves. “H-He’ll be mad,” she whispered. “He always finds me.”

Izuku felt something burn in his chest. The sheer terror in her voice, the resignation, it was all too familiar. But he pushed down his anger. She didn’t need that right now. She needed him to be steady.

“Not this time,” he said firmly. “This time, I’ll make sure he never hurts you again.”

A long silence stretched between them. Then, slowly, cautiously, Eri uncurled just slightly. Her eyes remained wary, but there was something else there now, a tiny, fragile sliver of hope.

Izuku extended a hand toward her. “Let’s go.” For a moment, she hesitated. But then, with a trembling hand, she reached out and took his. Izuku closed his fingers gently around hers, squeezing reassuringly.

Now, all that was left was getting her out of here.

And making sure Overhaul never got the chance to take her back.

Izuku barely had a moment to breathe after securing Eri in his arms before a sharp presence cut through the air. Both his instincts and Danger Sense screamed at him, and he pivoted just in time, narrowly dodging the massive fist that shattered the concrete wall beside him.

A hulking figure loomed in the dimly lit corridor, his presence suffocating. Rappa Kendo. One of the stronger fighters of the Shie Hassaikai, a combat fanatic who relished in drawn-out battles. A direct fight would be risky, Rappa didn’t hold back, and Izuku didn’t have the luxury of time.

"Finally, someone worth punching!" Rappa grinned wildly, rolling his shoulders. "You got guts, breaking in here. But let’s see if you can keep them inside once I’m through with you."

Izuku set Eri down gently behind him, pushing her slightly toward the hallway he’d just come from. "Eri, when I move, I want you to run. Do you understand?" His voice was firm, but he softened it as much as he could for her sake.

Eri’s red eyes were wide, fear gripping her small frame. She clung to the hem of his cloak but nodded hesitantly.

Rappa wasted no time, his fists blurring as he launched a rapid barrage of attacks. Izuku barely managed to weave between them, his body moving on instinct. Even a single hit from Rappa at full force would be devastating. He couldn’t afford to take one head-on.

He ducked low, using One For All to propel himself past Rappa’s guard. A sharp elbow strike to the ribs, quick, precise, but not enough to stop him. Rappa merely grinned wider, pivoting to send another devastating punch crashing into the wall where Izuku had been standing seconds before.

"Not bad!" Rappa bellowed. "But I wanna see what happens when you go all out!"

Izuku didn’t have time for this. More footsteps pounded in the distance. Reinforcements were coming.

He feinted left, drawing Rappa’s weight in that direction, then twisted his body at the last second. One For All crackled through his limbs as he drove his fist upward into Rappa’s jaw.

The impact sent the larger man staggering, momentarily stunned. That was his chance.

Izuku spun, scooping Eri into his arms before sprinting down the corridor. They weren’t out yet.

Izuku didn’t slow, weaving through the underground maze of hallways. Footsteps and shouts echoed from deeper within the compound, more Yakuza were closing in.

He felt Eri tremble against his chest, her small fingers gripping the fabric of his torn costume. "Are we… Are we going to make it?" she whispered, voice barely audible over the chaos.

Izuku tightened his hold on her, dodging through a crumbling doorway just as another explosion rocked the halls behind them. "I promise, Eri. I’m getting you out of here."

Ahead, the dim glow of moonlight filtered through a damaged vent, their only escape route. With one final push, Izuku surged forward, leaping through the opening just as another massive presence barreled into the space behind them.

They were out.

But the night was far from over.

Izuku landed on the rooftop of an abandoned building, heart pounding as he held Eri close. They were safe for the moment, but he knew they couldn’t stay out in the open. He needed to find somewhere secure for her.

He ran through options in his head. He couldn’t keep her with him, it was too dangerous, and would put her at risk. But where else?

The first name that came to mind was Aizawa. He was the only one Izuku knew who could reliably keep Eri’s quirk under control if something went wrong. The problem was… Izuku had no idea where Aizawa lived. And at this point in time, U.A. hadn’t yet implemented the dorm system for students or teachers.

His mind raced until one thought clicked into place, U.A. itself.

Aizawa worked there. If he could just get Eri to him, she would be safe. The only problem was getting past Nezu.

Nezu was a genius, sharper than almost anyone Izuku had ever met. There was no sneaking past him. If Izuku showed up at U.A. with a stolen child in his arms, Nezu would ask questions he wasn’t ready to answer.

But what other choice did he have?

Izuku exhaled sharply, looking down at the trembling girl in his arms. She needed help. More than he could give alone.

Decision made, he adjusted his grip on her and took off into the night.

______________

Nezu’s ears twitched as an alert appeared on his screen. Someone had entered U.A.'s perimeter. That was not unusual on its own. Students sometimes tested their limits, and pro heroes occasionally stopped by unannounced. This was different.

He pulled up the security feed and focused on the figure standing just beyond the school’s entrance. The person moved carefully, scanning their surroundings as if aware of the security measures in place. They were not stumbling upon the grounds by accident. This was someone who knew exactly where they were.

Nezu zoomed in. The individual wore dark, reinforced gear with a tattered cloak draped over their shoulders. A mask obscured their face. Then he noticed the child in their arms.

A small girl clung to the stranger’s cloak. Her pale blue hair stood out against the darkness. Even in the footage, Nezu could see how tense her body was. Her tiny fingers gripped the fabric of the man’s cloak with desperation. She was afraid, but not of him. She was holding on to him as if he were her only protection.

Nezu tapped his paw against the desk, considering the situation.

A masked individual arriving at U.A. in the middle of the night carrying a frightened child was not something he could ignore. The fact that they had not tried to break in or bypass security meant something. They were hesitating. Debating their next move.

Nezu’s mind whirred with possibilities.

Who was this person? Why bring the child here? Did they know someone at U.A.? Was she in danger?

His curiosity grew as he watched the figure shift slightly, standing at the edge of the entrance without making any further moves. They were waiting for something.

Nezu leaned back in his chair, eyes still fixed on the screen. He would need to proceed carefully. There were too many unknowns, and he intended to uncover them all.

Chapter Text

"What do you mean she's gone!?"

Overhaul's voice was ice-cold, but the fury beneath it was undeniable. His golden eyes burned with a quiet, dangerous rage as he stood at the center of the room, every member of the Shie Hassaikai silent in the wake of his question.

Rappa, still kneeling with his head bowed, let out a slow breath. He wasn’t the type to kneel, wasn’t the type to submit, but even he wasn’t stupid enough to test the boss in a moment like this.

"Some masked bastard broke in," Rappa said, his voice unusually restrained. Fought like a damn demon. Fast, precise. I tried to stop him, but he wasn’t just strong, he was smart. He didn't stick around to fight."

Overhaul’s fingers twitched.

His gaze darkened as he took a slow, measured breath through his mask. "So, you’re telling me," he said, his voice eerily calm, "that a single intruder broke into our base, took the single most valuable piece of my plan, and you," his eyes bored into Rappa, "failed to stop him?"

Rappa stiffened but didn’t look away. "I did what I could. But he wasn’t normal. He knew what he was doing."

Overhaul’s gloved fingers twitched again.

"Useless."

The word was barely spoken before his hand shot forward, pressing firmly against Rappa’s head.

In an instant, a gruesome explosion of red mist painted the floor. The other members flinched, but none dared to speak. The room was silent except for the slow, steady sound of Overhaul exhaling through his mask.

He flicked his wrist, adjusting his glove before shifting his gaze to the rest of them. His anger had not passed.

"This was not a coincidence," he said, voice still low and dangerous. "This wasn’t a random act of heroism. Whoever did this knew exactly what they were doing."

His eyes narrowed. "Chrono. I want every loose end tied up. Find out if anyone’s been asking too many questions. Check our contacts, our informants, even the smallest rumors. Someone knew about Eri, and I want to know who."

Chrono nodded, expression unreadable beneath his mask. "Understood."

Overhaul turned to the rest of the room. "I want everyone on alert. This isn’t over. If they took her, they will try to keep her safe. That means they’ll be moving. It means they’ll make mistakes."

He stepped forward, letting his presence suffocate the room. "And when they do, I’ll take back what’s mine."

The weight of his words settled over them, the unspoken promise of what would happen when he found the one responsible lingering in the air like a death sentence.

Eri belonged to him.

And whoever thought they could take her away was going to learn just how foolish of a mistake they had made.

___________

Nezu sat in his office, the glow of the security monitors casting soft light across his desk. He sipped his tea, savoring the warmth as he observed the stillness of U.A.'s grounds.His eyes remained honed in on the figure standing just beyond the school’s security perimeter. They knew exactly where they were standing.

Nezu set his cup down and adjusted the camera feed.

Interesting.

Most who attempted to breach U.A. either used force, stealth, or sheer foolishness. But this one… this one wanted to be seen.

A deliberate approach. That made it all the more intriguing.

He tapped a control on his desk, activating an external speaker. His voice was light, almost playful, but carried the weight of unspoken authority. "Now this is interesting. Most people attempting to infiltrate U.A. do so in a far less obvious manner. And yet, here you are. Standing there,” Nezu continued speaking, tilting his head slightly. "directly in view of the cameras. That is not a mistake. That means you wanted me to see you, Why?"

The stranger remained still. When they finally spoke, "I need to talk to you."

Nezu focused on the voice. It was young, but not unsteady. There was no desperation, only determination.

He took a moment before replying, "And why should I entertain a conversation with someone who refuses to show their face?"

The figure hesitated, then took a small step forward. Their movement caused the cloak to shift, revealing the child more clearly.

"Because it is not about me," they said. "It is about her."

Nezu turned his attention to the girl. She did not speak. She only clung tighter to the stranger, her entire body tense with apprehension.

He examined her carefully. She was too thin, almost as if she had been deprived of proper care for a long time. Her expression was not just one of fear but of someone who expected the worst. His mind cataloged possibilities in an instant. A hostage? Unlikely. The child’s grip was tight, not forced. A lost relative? Improbable. The stranger’s stance was protective, not possessive.

A rescue?

That would explain much.

Nezu tapped a claw against the desk. "Who is she?"

The stranger did not hesitate. "Her name is Eri."

Nezu studied the girl once more. Something told him this was not a case of a missing child. There was more to this, something that the stranger was withholding.

He spoke calmly but firmly. "You claim she is important. Then tell me, why bring her here? There are hospitals, shelters, and police stations that handle lost or abandoned children. What do you want from me?"

The stranger’s hands clenched into fists. "Because you will not turn her away."

Nezu let out a small chuckle. "You seem very sure of that."

"You would not ignore a child in danger."

Nezu paused. There was no doubt in the stranger’s voice. This was not a hopeful guess or a plea for kindness. It was a statement made with absolute certainty, as if the person before him knew him well enough to be sure of his reaction.

That was interesting.

He spoke again, “And why UA of all places?”

The masked stranger replied, “Her quirk, Rewind, allows her to reverse a living body back to a previous state, it can get really out of control to the point where it can rewind someone out of existence. I don’t know where Eraserhead is located other than his workplace. He is the only one who can keep her under control.”

Nezu processed this information carefully, his mind racing through the implications of such a powerful and volatile Quirk. His expression remained neutral, but his grip on his desk tightened slightly.

"A fascinating ability," he mused, his voice thoughtful but laced with something unreadable. "And one with truly terrifying consequences if left unchecked. A Quirk that can erase someone from existence… no wonder you are so desperate to find a means of control."

His eyes flicked toward Eri, who remained pressed against the stranger’s chest, small fingers curling into the fabric of his cloak. The weight of her presence, of her potential, was immense.

Nezu leaned back in his chair. "Let us assume I want to help. That still leaves one very important question."

He let the moment stretch before he spoke again. "Who are you?"

The figure did not respond immediately. Instead, they completely dodged his question as their shoulders tensed slightly, and for the first time, Nezu detected hesitation. Not fear, but uncertainty.

"She was being treated like a lab rat," the boy said, his voice quieter but no less intense. "The Yakuza experimented on her, turned her into a tool. I couldn’t leave her there."

Nezu’s claws stopped their rhythmic tapping.

A lab rat.

For a brief moment, his mind flickered back to memories buried deep beneath years of careful control. The scent of sterilized metal. The sterile white walls. The cold calculations of those who saw him as nothing more than something to be studied.

His grip on the desk tightened.

He let out a slow breath. "That," he said evenly, "is not something I take lightly."

The boy’s fists clenched at his sides. "Then you understand why I need your help."

Nezu observed him carefully. The boy spoke with certainty, with conviction. He was not lying. But conviction alone was not enough.

His thoughts moved rapidly. If this was true, then the girl had been suffering under the hands of criminals who operated in the shadows. He had never heard of the Shie Hassaikai engaging in something like this. That meant either they had gone unnoticed until now, or someone had done a very good job of hiding it.

Nezu knew what it was like to be treated as an experiment. He knew what it meant to be seen only as a tool for others to use.

If this child had been subjected to that kind of suffering, then he could not ignore it.

His eyes returned to the masked figure. "If what you are saying is true, then you have done something remarkable. But that still does not tell me who you are."

Silence stretched between them. The stranger’s fingers twitched near their mask, uncertain.

Nezu observed them carefully.

"Please, I just need you to trust me," he said. "Can you do that?"

Nezu remained still, his beady black eyes fixed on the masked stranger before him. The boy’s hesitation was telling. He was weighing his options, calculating risks. That in itself was interesting. This was not the behavior of a reckless vigilante or a desperate criminal. This was someone who understood the consequences of exposure.

He took another sip of his tea, the warmth doing little to distract him from the puzzle in front of him.He had walked into Nezu’s domain, offering half-truths and withholding more than he gave. But he had also brought a girl in need. That complicated things.

Nezu could not turn her away.

But that did not mean he would accept the boy’s words at face value, either.

He had made a choice. He had refused to share the full truth. That alone meant the knowledge he held was dangerous, or at the very least, something he deemed too dangerous to share.

Which meant Nezu needed to uncover it himself.

He placed his cup down with deliberate care. "Very well," he said smoothly. "I will not pry… for now."

The boy’s shoulders remained tense, but he inclined his head in acknowledgment.

"But know this," Nezu continued, his voice light but firm, "I do not enjoy unsolved mysteries." His eyes gleamed with something unreadable. "And you, my masked guest, are proving to be quite the enigma."

Nezu leaned back in his chair, clasping his paws together as he made his decision. There were still too many unanswered questions, but denying entry would accomplish nothing. The boy was cautious, calculating, and undeniably familiar with U.A. That alone was reason enough to let this play out further.

With a tap on the intercom, he spoke. "Very well. You may enter."

The masked boy remained still, as if waiting for more. Nezu smirked. He offered nothing further.

A test.

He would not give directions, nor guide him in any way. Any normal person, unfamiliar with U.A.'s layout, would hesitate, would ask how to proceed. But if this boy truly knew more than he should, then he would not need help.

And so, Nezu watched.

On the security feed, the boy adjusted his grip on the girl and, without a word, began walking.

Not aimlessly. Not cautiously.

With purpose.

Nezu’s smile widened.

How very interesting.

The cameras followed his movement as he navigated the school’s halls with the certainty of someone who had walked them many times before. He never once hesitated at a turn, never slowed to check his surroundings. He simply walked, as if he had done this before, as if he knew exactly where Nezu’s office was.

And that was the most telling detail of all.

Because Nezu had never told him.

Nezu remained seated, his gaze locked onto the monitors as the boy made his way through the halls of U.A. His small smile never faded, but his mind was working at full speed.

This was no ordinary intruder.

Not only had the boy expected to be seen, but he had planned for it. He had predicted Nezu’s reaction and played his part well, revealing just enough information to keep the conversation moving while skillfully avoiding anything too personal. And now, here he was, making his way through the building without guidance, without hesitation.

A former student? Unlikely. Someone who had stolen information? No, there were no signs of hacking, and the way he moved was too natural, too ingrained.

No… This boy had been here before.

Nezu rested his chin against his paw, watching the screen intently. The masked figure turned a corner, his steps sure and precise. He was careful, even now, to keep his movements controlled. His grip on the child was protective but firm.

Who are you?

The question repeated itself in Nezu’s mind as he tapped a claw against his desk. If the boy knew his way through U.A., then he was either a brilliant strategist who had memorized the school’s layout in advance… or there was something far stranger at play.

The second option intrigued Nezu far more.

On the monitor, the boy approached the final hallway leading to Nezu’s office. Still not a moment of hesitation. Nezu chuckled to himself, reaching for his cup of tea once more.

Now, let us see what you do next.

Chapter Text

Izuku stopped in front of the large office door, his heartbeat steady despite the weight of the situation. The halls of U.A. were eerily silent at this hour, the only sound being the faint hum of the security systems.

He hadn’t needed directions. His feet had carried him here on instinct.

And Nezu knew that.

Even without seeing the cameras, Izuku could feel the principal’s gaze on him, studying his every move, dissecting every decision he made. There was no explanation to be given for how he had known exactly where to go, there was no excuse he could come up with that would satisfy Nezu’s curiosity.

But there was no turning back now.

He adjusted his grip on Eri as she clung to him. Her small fingers tightened slightly, eyes darting around the unfamiliar hallway. She was nervous, and he couldn’t blame her.

Crouching slightly, he softened his voice. “Eri, listen to me. The people here… they’re going to take care of you. You’ll be safe with them.”

She hesitated before speaking. “But… What about you?”

Izuku forced a small smile that was hidden by his mask yet shown through his eyes, though his chest ached. “I have other things I have to do. But Principal Nezu, the one we’re about to meet, is really smart. He’s the one in charge of this whole school. And there’s someone else too, Eraserhead. He’s a hero. A great one. He can stop Quirks just by looking at them.”

Eri’s eyes widened. “He can?”

Izuku nodded. “Yeah. And that’s why he’s the best person to help you. If your Quirk ever starts to hurt you or anyone else, he can stop it before anything bad happens.”

Eri’s head drooped, “But what if he doesn’t like me?”

Izuku’s expression softened. “He will.”

In his office, Nezu sat forward ever so slightly, eyes fixed on the security monitor as he listened in.

Fascinating.

The masked stranger spoke of him and Aizawa with an ease that suggested familiarity, as if he had long known what they were capable of, here he was, handing over a child while speaking as though he had worked alongside them before.

Nezu’s ears twitched, but he made no move to interrupt. Instead, he simply sat as he continued to watch, flames of interest sparking in his gaze.

Outside, Izuku stood, exhaling slowly before straightening. He readjusted his hold on Eri one last time, then stepped forward and knocked twice.

The response was immediate.

"Come in," Nezu’s voice called out, light and inviting, yet laced with the same sharpness as before.

Izuku opened the door open and stepped inside.

Nezu sat behind his desk, his tiny paws folded neatly in front of him, a smile on his face. The office was warm, the soft lighting casting long shadows against the walls lined with books and papers. A steaming cup of tea rested beside him.

Nezu’s black eyes flickered briefly to Eri before returning to Izuku.

"You found your way rather quickly," his voice was light but probing,  "Quite interesting."

Izuku kept his face neutral, stepping forward with careful precision. He wouldn’t acknowledge the unspoken accusation, not yet.

Nezu gestured to a chair across from him. "Please, sit. You must be tired from your journey."

Izuku hesitated, then slowly lowered himself into the seat, adjusting Eri so she remained comfortable. 

For a moment, there was silence.

Nezu tilted his head, his beady black eyes unreadable. "Now then," he said, voice still holding that same deceptive warmth, "why don’t we continue our conversation?"

Izuku sat stiffly in the chair, his arms still wrapped protectively around Eri. He could feel Nezu's eyes on him, watching, waiting. The principal hadn’t accused him outright, but the test had already been set.

There was no denying it, Nezu knew something was off.

Nezu smiled, ever polite, ever unreadable. " I must say, your situation is quite unique. A masked figure appears onto my campus in the dead of night, carrying a child who, according to you, possesses an extremely dangerous Quirk. Yet, despite my refusal to guide you, you arrived at my office with no instruction."

Izuku didn’t respond.

Nezu leaned slightly forward, resting his paws on the desk. "There are very few explanations for something like that. I could assume you have prior knowledge of this school. Perhaps you were once a student, or maybe you have inside information." He paused, watching Izuku carefully. "But none of those explanations fit quite right. No, there is something else about you, something... different."

Izuku remained still, his mind racing. Nezu was testing him, pressing him for cracks in his story, waiting for a mistake.

For a brief moment, the temptation was there, to just say it.

To tell Nezu everything.

He was intelligent. He was powerful. If there was anyone who would believe him, anyone who might actually be able to help change things, it was Nezu.

But that same intelligence, that same power, was exactly what made him dangerous.

If Izuku gave him even a fraction of the truth, Nezu would not let it go. He would dig, he would analyze, and he would not stop until he had answers.

He couldn't risk it.

Instead, he forced a small, tired sigh and leaned back slightly. "I have my reasons," he said simply, his voice carefully measured. "And none of that matters right now. What matters is that Eri is safe, and that she stays that way."

Nezu’s eyes gleamed with something unreadable, but after a moment, he simply smiled.

"Very well," he said, taking a sip of his tea. "For now."

Nezu set his cup down with a quiet clink, his expression calm yet unreadable. "You are quite the intriguing individual," he said lightly, though his eyes never left Izuku. "But let us set that aside for now. Tell me more about Eri’s condition. You say her Quirk is dangerous. Has she shown any signs of instability since you retrieved her?"

Izuku glanced down at Eri. She had fallen asleep, exhaustion evident in the way she clung to him even in unconsciousness. "She is stable for now, but that could change at any moment," he admitted. "Her Quirk activates involuntarily when she is scared or overwhelmed. If she panics, she could lose control."

Nezu nodded, his small paws tapping idly against the surface of his desk. "And you truly believe Eraserhead is the only one capable of keeping her under control?"

Izuku hesitated for a fraction of a second before nodding. "His Quirk is the only guaranteed way to stop hers if she loses control. He is also one of the few people I trust to handle something like this."

Nezu hummed thoughtfully, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Trust is an interesting word choice. Especially for someone who refuses to reveal their own identity."

Izuku forced himself to remain still. "Eri’s safety is more important than my identity."

"Of course," Nezu said smoothly. "But your secrecy is just as telling as if you had answered my questions outright. You know things you should not, you move through this school as if you have done so a hundred times, and yet, I have no record of you. You are a mystery."

He smiled again, but there was something sharp beneath the politeness. "And mysteries are things I enjoy solving."

Izuku exhaled slowly. "Then consider me unsolvable."

Nezu chuckled softly. "We shall see."

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of unspoken words hung in the air, but Izuku refused to give Nezu anything more.

Finally, Nezu leaned back in his chair. "Very well. I will allow Eri to stay, under strict conditions. You, however, will not be permitted to wander freely through this school."

Izuku nodded. "I understand."

Nezu pressed a button on his desk, his expression unreadable as he spoke into the intercom. "Eraserhead, I believe your patrol has just ended. Would you be so kind as to stop by my office? There is a matter that requires your expertise."

There was a short pause before Aizawa’s tired voice responded. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

Izuku remained still, adjusting his hold on Eri as she nestled against him.

A few minutes later, the door opened.

Aizawa stepped inside, looking just as exhausted as always, his scarf hanging loose around his shoulders. He barely got two steps in before his eyes landed on Izuku. 

The recognition was instant.

Izuku could see it in the way Aizawa's posture stiffened ever so slightly, the way his eyes narrowed just enough to show that he had not forgotten their last meeting.

This was the third time they had crossed paths. And with each encounter, Izuku was sure that Aizawa’s suspicions only grew.

His brow lifted slightly. "Huh."

Izuku blinked.

Aizawa crossed his arms. "You again."

Izuku let out a quiet breath. "Yeah. Me again."

Nezu tilted his head, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "I see that you two have met?"

Aizawa let out a tired sigh, still watching Izuku. "Yeah. Twice before, actually."

Nezu’s expression brightened with curiosity, “Well that’s quite interesting.” With the way the boy had spoken of Eraserhead earlier, he’d have assumed that they’ve encountered numerous times instead of only twice.

Izuku shifted slightly. He wasn’t sure how to respond to that.

Aizawa, however, just sighed again and crossed his arms. "At this point, I’m starting to think he’s following me."

Izuku huffed a small, tired laugh. "Not on purpose."

Aizawa’s gaze flickered to the sleeping child in his arms, then looked at Nezu. “Alright. What’s going on?”

Nezu smiled, ever pleased. “This young man has entrusted the girl, Eri, to our care. Given the nature of her uncontrollable Quirk, it is best to involve you.”

Aizawa’s gaze flickered back to Izuku before settling on Eri. He took in the way she clung to Izuku, the slight furrow in her brow as if she expected something terrible to happen at any moment even in her sleep. His expression remained unreadable, but Izuku could tell he was assessing the situation carefully.

"And you trust him?" Aizawa asked, voice low.

Nezu chuckled softly. "I trust that he cares about her well-being. And that, for now, is enough."

Aizawa hummed, stepping forward. He crouched slightly, taking a better look at Eri before sighing and standing up again. 

“She’s comfortable with you,” Aizawa noted.

Izuku’s grip tightened slightly. “I promised to keep her safe.”

Aizawa didn’t say anything at first, just studied him with that same unreadable expression, "Her parents?"

"Gone, she was being held hostage by the Yakuza and experimented on" Izuku said bluntly, he knew he couldn't afford to beat around the bush with his former teacher, especially if he was trying to keep Eri safe.

Aizawa's gaze hardened at this revelation, then he exhaled through his nose. His voice was firm, “I’ll take care of her.”.

Nezu nodded approvingly. “I expected no less.”

Aizawa straightened, giving Izuku another once-over. “You know, this is the third time we’ve met like this.”

Izuku let out a quiet huff. “I’ve noticed.”

Aizawa narrowed his eyes, but there was no hostility, just curiosity. “And you’re always doing or saying something interesting. Last time, you asked me about waiting versus acting. Was that leading up to this?”

Izuku hesitated just slightly. “Something like that.”

Aizawa didn’t press, just hummed thoughtfully. “I gotta say, I’m starting to think I’ll be seeing a lot more of you.”

Before Izuku could respond, Nezu spoke again. “On another note, I assume your students are performing well in their internships?”

Aizawa gave a slow nod. “So far, yes. Though with everything going on, I wouldn’t be surprised if something big happens soon.” He exhaled, rubbing his temple. “Call it a gut feeling, but trouble always finds certain students.”

The words sent a jolt through Izuku.

Internships were already happening.

Which meant Hosu-

No. Which meant Stain.

His breath caught for half a second before he forced himself to stay still. The timeline was moving, unchanged so far, and that meant Iida-

He swallowed hard. 

Nezu watched Izuku closely, clearly and subtly noting his sudden shift in posture.

Izuku forced himself to loosen his grip on Eri, schooling his expression into something more neutral. He couldn't afford to react too obviously. Not when both Nezu and Aizawa were already paying such close attention.

Nezu tapped a paw idly against his desk. “Internships are an invaluable learning experience. Real-world hero work teaches far more than we ever could in a classroom.”

Izuku forced himself to nod. “Yeah… I get that.” His voice was even, but his mind was racing.

Hosu.

It had to be soon. He didn’t know the exact date, but if internships were already happening, that meant the attack wasn’t far off.

Izuku exhaled slowly, steadying himself before shifting Eri in his arms. “I should go,” he said, keeping his voice level.

Aizawa watched him carefully, arms crossed. “Where exactly are you going?”

Izuku turned toward the door, hesitating only for a moment. “Somewhere I need to be.”

Instead of responding, Aizawa stepped forward, holding out his arms. “Give her to me.”

Izuku glanced down at Eri. She was still asleep, her small face relaxed against his shoulder. Moving carefully, he passed her over, ensuring she remained undisturbed. Aizawa took her with practiced ease, holding her securely against his chest.

Eri stirred at the movement, her brows furrowing slightly before her eyes fluttered open. She blinked sleepily, looking up at Aizawa, then shifting her gaze back to Izuku.

Izuku crouched slightly so they were at eye level. “Eri, this is Eraserhead,” he said softly. “He’s going to take care of you.”

She gripped Aizawa’s scarf, eyes flickering between them. “You’re leaving?”

Izuku nodded. “I have to. But you’ll be safe here. He’ll protect you.”

Eri hesitated, her small fingers tightening slightly, but then she gave a tiny nod. “Okay.”

Izuku gave her one last head pat before he stood, stepping back. His gaze met Aizawa’s for a moment before he turned and walked toward the door. Without another word, he slipped out into the night.

As the door clicked shut behind him, silence settled over the office. Aizawa looked down at Eri, who was still watching the door as if expecting Izuku to return.

Nezu hummed thoughtfully, breaking the quiet. “He certainly is an enigma, isn’t he?”

Aizawa exhaled through his nose, adjusting his hold on Eri as she nestled against him. “That’s one way to put it.”

Nezu tapped his paws together. “He knows things he shouldn’t. He moves like someone familiar with this school, yet he has no record. And, most curious of all, he entrusts us with Eri as if he’s always known we would protect her.”

Aizawa frowned, thinking back to their previous encounters. “It’s not just that,” he muttered. “He asked me something, the last time we met. Something that stuck with me.”

Nezu tilted his head. “Oh?”

Aizawa’s gaze lingered on the door before he spoke. “He asked me… ‘If I knew something bad was happening, but there was another solution coming, one that would take longer, would I wait for it? Or would I stop it immediately, knowing it would change everything?’”

Nezu’s expression didn’t change, but the glint in his eyes sharpened. “That is an interesting question.”

Aizawa sighed. “Yeah. And I don’t think he asked it hypothetically.”

Nezu chuckled, resting his paws on his desk. “No, I don’t believe he did.” Both of their eyes flickered towards the young girl. 

A beat of silence passed before Nezu continued, his voice light but laced with meaning. “Tell me, Eraserhead… Do you believe in fate?”

Aizawa glanced down at Eri, her breathing slow and even as she drifted back to sleep. He let out a quiet breath.

“I believe in choices,” he said simply.

Nezu’s smile widened just slightly. “Then let’s see what choices our masked friend makes next.”

Chapter Text

Izuku stood in the shadows of an alleyway, he considered his next move. He had to get to Hosu. Fast.

But how?

Running there would take too long. He could cut the time in half if he used Blackwhip to swing across rooftops, but that would be reckless, it would draw too much attention. And with U.A. already on edge from his unexpected visit, the last thing he needed was to alert pro heroes to a “suspicious masked figure” rushing toward a major city.

Trains would be the safest bet. They were fast, relatively anonymous, and wouldn't attract suspicion. It was how he had traveled with Gran Torino. But they also forced him to sit still, waiting, losing time when every second felt like it mattered. Could he afford that?

His fingers twitched at his sides. Maybe he should just run. If he kept to alleyways, avoided major roads, he could stay out of sight. He was fast, faster than before. If he pushed himself, really pushed himself, maybe he could-

He exhaled sharply, cutting the thought off. No. That was a mistake waiting to happen. Exhaustion, injury. it wasn’t worth the risk.

As he walked toward the nearest station, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was wasting time. That every passing second was pushing things closer to disaster.

Even though he knew the attack wasn’t happening yet.

Even though he knew his past self and the others had survived.

Even though he had already seen and experienced the outcome.

His stomach twisted.

What if something changed?

What if his being here had already altered events? What if Stain moved differently? What if Shigaraki decided to let the Nomu out early? What if someone saw something they weren’t supposed to?

Izuku clenched his jaw, his fists balling at his sides.

He couldn’t let himself spiral. Not now.

He forced his thoughts into order, running through every detail he could remember about the timeline. He had time, he was sure of it, he just had to use it wisely.

Reaching the station, he pulled out a few crumpled bills from his pocket and bought a ticket in cash. One way. No ID needed.

Izuku stepped onto the train, keeping his head down as he moved toward an empty corner near the doors. The car wasn’t packed, but there were enough people for his presence to draw attention. Too much attention.

He could feel the stares the moment he settled into his spot.

It was the outfit. His costume, tattered, reinforced with layers to withstand fights, looked anything but normal. He looked like trouble.

A mother further down the car pulled her child closer, murmuring something under her breath as she subtly inched away. A pair of office workers exchanged wary glances, their voices hushed but laced with suspicion and fear. Even a group of teenagers across the aisle kept sneaking glances at him, their eyes flickering between him and the emergency alert button near the doors.

Izuku tensed, forcing himself to stay still. He couldn’t blame them. With his hood pulled low and his tattered costume giving him a rough, battle-worn look, he knew exactly what they saw. He looked like trouble. But he didn’t have time to deal with this.

His fingers curled against his sleeve as he focused on steadying his breathing. Just act normal. He loosened his posture, tilting his head downward to avoid catching anyone’s gaze.

The weight of suspicion pressed down on him. Exhaustion crept in, dragging at his limbs, reminding him how long he had been moving. Sitting still only made it worse. His body had grown too used to constant motion, always ready to fight, always running. The moment he stopped, fatigue clawed at him, tempting him to let his guard down for just a second.

He couldn’t afford to. Not here. Not now.

If someone decided to report him, there could be officers waiting at the next stop. Or worse, a Hero.

He needed to leave before that happened.

A station announcement crackled over the speakers, filling the silence, but it didn’t ease the tension. The weight of suspicion pressed down on him.

One stop.

Two.

At the third, an older man shifted uncomfortably before suddenly standing and moving to another seat further away.

Izuku sighed internally. This wasn’t going to get any better. 

As the train pulled into the next station, he made his move.

The moment the doors slid open, he stepped out, blending into the crowd as quickly as he could. The train lingered only for a few seconds before the doors shut again, pulling away from the platform.

He exhaled slowly.

That had been too much of a risk.

His best bet was to travel the rest of the way on foot. It wasn’t ideal, but at least out there, he could control how much attention he drew.

The city lights blurred as Izuku moved, heading for Hosu, his pace steady but urgent. He kept to the edges of crowded streets, blending into the background where he could, cutting through alleyways when necessary. His breath came in controlled intervals, muscles tense with the need to run.

By the time he finally reached Hosu, the morning light of dawn was already beginning to settle in, casting a hazy golden glow over the buildings. His legs ached from the journey, the burn in his muscles a dull but persistent reminder of how much he had been pushing himself. The city was already waking, cars moved along packed streets, the scent of exhaust and damp pavement filling the air. Pedestrians bustled in and out of train stations, their voices forming a low hum of morning chatter.

Izuku took it all in with a sharp breath, scanning the area. He had made it. But the momentary relief was short-lived. His body was reaching its limit.

He needed to rest.

His stomach twisted at the thought. Rest felt like a luxury, something he had no right to take when he knew what was coming. Even though the incident wasn’t happening yet, even though his past self and the others had survived, the anxiety clawed at him. 

Weaving through the quieter streets, he searched for somewhere, anywhere he could afford to stay out of sight for a little while. He needed at least a bit of energy before deciding to charge forward into facing a serial killer again. He had gotten used to making himself comfortable in empty alleys and abandoned buildings over the past few nights, slipping into whatever dark corner he could find where no one would bother him.

Finally, he found an old storage shed behind a closed-down restaurant. The alley beside it was cluttered with forgotten crates and trash bags, the scent of rotting food lingering in the humid air. But it was hidden, out of sight. He slipped inside, closing the door behind him as quietly as he could.

His shoulders sagged as he pressed his back against the wall, sliding down to the floor. His body screamed at him to sleep, to give in just for a moment. He exhaled shakily, pulling his hood lower over his face.

But even as exhaustion weighed on him, he couldn’t bring himself to relax. His ears strained for any sounds beyond the thin walls, footsteps, voices, anything that might mean he had been followed. His fingers twitched restlessly at his sides.

Just an hour or two of sleep, maybe.

He tightened his grip on his sleeve.

Just a little longer.

Then he would keep moving.

__________

The room was eerily silent except for the faint hum of the monitor as grainy footage played across the screen. Members of the Shie Hassaikai stood gathered around, their faces tense as they watched the hooded figure move through the dimly lit streets. The timestamp in the corner showed that this was taken from a security camera just outside their territory, too close for comfort.

Overhaul sat motionless in his chair, eyes locked onto the figure. His fingers drummed idly against the wooden desk as he studied every detail. The tattered cloak, the gloves, the sturdy boots, it wasn’t a hero’s uniform, but it wasn’t just some common thug’s attire either. It was practical. Efficient.

Dangerous.

The figure moved quickly but not frantically, carrying a small bundle against his chest. Eri.

Overhaul’s fingers stopped tapping.

The girl’s tiny form was curled against the man as he weaved through the alleys, avoiding direct streetlights and cameras with practiced ease. He wasn’t lost. He wasn’t hesitating. He knew exactly where he was going.

That fact alone made Overhaul’s blood boil.

One of the lower members shifted uneasily. “We don’t even know who he is. He’s not a pro-hero, right? If he was, we’d have heard something by now.”

Overhaul didn’t answer. His eyes remained on the screen, following the way the masked figure moved. No wasted motion. No hesitation.

"He’s experienced," Chrono continued, arms crossed. "He’s not just some underground rat trying to play hero. He knew exactly how to avoid detection inside our base."

Another member scoffed. "If he’s so experienced, why didn’t he use an outfit that doesn't stand out as much?"

"That’s exactly why it’s dangerous," Overhaul muttered, his voice quiet but sharp enough to cut through the room. "He’s confident. He doesn’t care if people remember him."

He exhaled slowly.

"This man thinks he can take from us and walk away." His voice was calm, almost indifferent, but everyone in the room knew better.

The tension thickened.

"Spread the word," he ordered, standing up. "Anyone who sees someone matching this description, report it immediately."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"I want him brought to me, alive ."

The others nodded, moving to carry out his orders.

Overhaul remained still for a moment, his gaze lingering on the frozen image of the masked figure.

__________

The day passed in slow, tense anticipation after Izuku awoke. He moved through the streets of Hosu with measured steps, keeping to the shadows, his hood drawn low. He walked with purpose but not urgency, blending into the city’s pace, scanning for anything out of place.

It felt surreal, being here, knowing what was coming. Every street and alley felt like a ticking bomb. He couldn’t see them yet, but somewhere, right now, Iida was walking these same roads, carrying the weight of revenge on his shoulders. Somewhere in the darkness, Stain was waiting.

Izuku clenched his fists. All he could do now was wait.

By the time night fell, the city lights flickered on, stretching long shadows across the alleyways. The air felt heavier, charged with an energy that set Izuku’s nerves on edge. He crouched on a rooftop, eyes locked on the streets below.

Then it came.

A deep, thunderous boom.

The explosion shattered the night, shaking the air itself. A burst of orange light illuminated the distant skyline as thick smoke curled upward, the first sign of chaos.

It had begun.

Izuku shot to his feet.

A piercing, inhuman screech echoed across the city. The Nomu had been released. Panic erupted below, distant screams, shouts, the clash of battle. He barely spared the chaos a glance. He already knew how this played out.

Leaping across rooftops, he kept his focus on the streets, searching. He needed to find that alley, the one where his past self, Todoroki, and Iida would face Stain. His heart pounded as he pushed himself harder. He had minutes.

Another explosion rocked the city. A Nomu soared overhead, its grotesque form casting a shadow across the buildings as it shot toward another fight. Izuku barely acknowledged it. Endeavor and the heroes could handle that.

He had barely covered three rooftops before realizing how bad things had gotten.

Below, the streets had unraveled into chaos. Civilians screamed and scattered, some tripping over each other in their panic. Cars swerved, headlights cutting jagged streaks through the darkness. Some vehicles had been abandoned entirely, doors left hanging open in the rush to escape. The Nomu lurked in the shadows between streetlights, their twisted forms looming over terrified pedestrians.

Izuku ground his teeth, his body torn between priorities. He had to find that alley, but he couldn’t just ignore this.

He dropped into the nearest street, landing in a roll before pushing himself up and sprinting toward a woman who had fallen in the middle of the road, her ankle twisted. A Nomu crashed into a nearby building, sending a shower of debris into the street. The woman screamed, shielding her face as chunks of concrete rained down toward her.

Izuku was already moving. He slid across the ground, throwing his weight forward as he scooped her into his arms, rolling with the impact before getting to his feet again. The second he had her secured, he dashed toward the nearest storefront, kicking the door open and setting her down inside.

"Stay here, don’t move!" he ordered before rushing back out.

More screams. More destruction.

Izuku swore under his breath and took off again, his mind racing. He needed to find the alley. His legs burned, but he ignored it, pushing forward. He had to be close now. He scanned the city, trying to piece together the layout through the chaos. Just a little further-

Izuku barely had time to react before a blur of movement shot through the air, landing directly in his path. A figure stood just ahead, scarf swaying in the wind.

His breath hitched.

Gran Torino.

The old hero’s sharp eyes locked onto him instantly. Izuku’s breath caught in his throat. Shit.

The old hero’s gaze flickered over his figure, taking in the tattered costume, the mask, and most importantly, the yellow cape draped across his shoulders. His frown deepened, suspicion tightening his features.

Even from a distance, Izuku could feel the weight of his stare. Assessing. 

Izuku stayed still for half a second too long.

Then Gran Torino turned, shooting off toward the battle without another glance.

Izuku let out a slow breath, but there was no time to process what had just happened.

He forced himself forward, leaping onto the side of a building and grabbing onto the fire escape. His muscles burned, but he ignored it, propelling himself upward. He reached the rooftops in seconds, boots hitting the concrete hard.

From here, he could see it all.

Smoke bled into the night sky, its thick, curling tendrils illuminated by the flickering glow of flames. The city was drowning in chaos. Below, screams mingled with the clash of battle, the distant roars of Nomu echoing through the streets. Explosions rattled the air, sending shockwaves through the buildings.

Izuku crouched low against a rooftop ledge, breath shallow as he peered down into the alleyway. He had finally found it.

And it was already happening.

His breath hitched as his eyes locked onto the fight below.

His past self moved with sharp precision, skidding against the pavement as he barely dodged the glint of Stain’s blade. The knife cut through the air, missing his torso by inches.

Iida stood behind him, struggling to push himself upright, his limbs still sluggish from the paralyzing effects of Stain’s Quirk.

Todoroki was the only one keeping Stain at bay, sending sharp bursts of fire and ice toward him, forcing him back. But Stain was relentless. He twisted and weaved through the attacks like a phantom, his movements too fast, too fluid. Even in the confined alleyway, he was in complete control.

Izuku exhaled sharply, forcing himself to think.

He remembered it all too well. From an outside perspective, it looked worse than he remembered. His younger self was fast, but not fast enough. His dodges were too close. His punches carried weight but lacked precision. His body still hadn’t fully adjusted to One For All. He was burning through power too quickly.

If he hadn’t pushed past his limits that night, if Todoroki hadn’t backed him up so flawlessly, Iida could have died.

Izuku’s fingers dug into the rooftop’s edge. He could end this fight right now. One leap, a few well-placed strikes, and it would be over.

His muscles coiled. He prepared to move, then he stopped. A sharp breath. His pulse hammered against his ribs.

Would stepping in be the right choice?

The younger him, the one fighting below, had survived this. He had learned from it. Grown from it. If Izuku intervened now, would he be stealing something crucial from himself?

Or worse, what if Stain reacted differently? What if the wrong move here changed everything?

Izuku clenched his fists as the fight raged on below.

Todoroki sent another burst of fire forward, forcing Stain to backpedal. His past self lunged, fists crackling with energy, but Stain was already moving.

Izuku’s breath caught. Too fast.

One second, Todoroki’s flames flared. The next, Stain was behind him. His blade flashed, silver catching the moonlight.

Izuku barely had time to react before Todoroki stiffened, his entire body locking up. Paralyzed.

Izuku’s stomach twisted. What? Todoroki hadn’t been paralyzed this early before.

Then Stain turned. A blur of motion. A thin cut across his younger self’s arm. Shallow. Barely a scratch.

But enough.

Izuku felt the blood drain from his face. His past self gasped, eyes going wide before his body seized, muscles locking in place.

Iida was the last to fall. His hand had barely twitched before it, too, froze in place.

Silence. A cold, suffocating silence.

Izuku’s heartbeat pounded in his ears as he stared down at the alley. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

His past self had been caught. Todoroki was down. Iida was defenseless. Stain stood above them victorious.

A slow breath. Izuku barely heard it over the blood roaring in his ears.

Then, Stain turned toward Native.

Izuku knew what came next. The Hero Killer always took out the “false heroes” first. Native had been his target from the beginning. And now, with no one left to stop him-

He leapt. The world blurred. Wind screamed past his ears. His pulse surged like lightning in his veins.

Boots slammed against the pavement. The force cracked the ground beneath him. Wind howled past as he skidded to a halt, throwing up dust., planting himself between Stain and Native.

A single second of pure, ringing silence.

Stain’s gaze snapped to him. Red eyes locked onto him instantly, piercing and unblinking. His grip on his blade didn’t falter, but he shifted, adjusting his stance ever so slightly.

The others reacted immediately. His past self made a sharp, choked sound of shock, "Wha-" A ragged inhale. His fingers twitched against the pavement, muscles still locked. "It’s… you. It’s you again!"

Todoroki’s gaze flickered toward him, eyes narrowing in confusion. Even Iida, frozen in place, managed to look utterly bewildered.

Izuku ignored them. His focus was on Stain.

The Hero Killer’s crimson gaze dragged over every detail, the tattered costume, the mask, the dirtied cape draped over his shoulders.

For a long, stretched moment, Stain just stared. Then, his lips curled. Not into a smirk. Not into a frown.

"Another one," he muttered, tilting his head slightly, grip tightening around his weapon.

Then, a flicker of something in his eyes.

“No…” His tone shifted, low and almost curious. "You're different."

He lunged straight for Stain, no words, no warning. His body coiled, muscles tensing as he struck out with precision. Not to kill. Not even to injure.

To capture.

Stain reacted instantly, twisting to dodge. His blade flashed as he brought it up, expecting an attack aimed for his body. But Izuku wasn’t going for a strike.

Instead, his fingers snapped forward.

Blackwhip shot from his sleeve, gleaming under the dim alley light. A tendril wrapped around Stain’s wrist in a blink, snapping tight before Izuku yanked.

Stain’s arm jerked sideways, his grip on his blade faltering for a fraction of a second.

Izuku didn’t stop.

Keep him off balance. Keep him moving.

He spun, sending another tendril toward Stain’s leg. But the Hero Killer was fast. Too fast. He twisted at the last moment, dodging and lunging forward.

Izuku barely managed to throw himself back, skidding across the pavement as Stain’s blade sliced the empty air where his throat had been. His heart pounded, but he forced himself to focus.

He needed to finish this fast.

Behind him, past Izuku struggled against the paralysis, fingers twitching weakly against the ground. Todoroki’s, eyes flicking between the fight and the masked figure that had just dropped from the sky.

Todoroki’s gaze shifted to Izuku, still paralyzed beside him. “Do you know who that is?”

Past Izuku’s fingers twitched against the pavement as he forced out a breath. His body was still sluggish, but he managed to shift enough to look at Todoroki. “I’ve only ever met him once…” His voice was low, strained. “But he’s not hostile.”

Todoroki frowned. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

Izuku’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I- I don’t know who he is..” His green eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the masked figure’s movements.

Todoroki didn’t respond immediately, but his gaze lingered on the stranger, watching the way he moved, the way he fought, not recklessly, not out of bloodlust. With control.

And with something else.

Purpose.

Chapter Text

Izuku moved with purpose, each strike measured, each dodge calculated. Stain was fast, but Izuku had fought faster. He had fought worse.

Stain twisted, blade flashing toward his side. Izuku pivoted sharply, narrowly avoiding the slash, then countered with a feint, just enough to bait the Hero Killer into shifting his weight. A second later, Izuku’s leg shot out, striking Stain’s wrist with pinpoint accuracy. The knife clattered against the pavement.

He surged forward, closing the distance. His fist slammed into Stain’s ribs, not hard enough to break them, but enough to send him skidding back. Enough to remind him that he was outmatched.

Still, Stain didn’t falter. He adjusted, exhaling sharply as he steadied himself, eyes sharp. "You fight like a man with experience," he murmured, barely winded. His lips curled slightly, almost amused. "But I’ve never seen you before."

Izuku didn’t respond. He had nothing to say that wouldn’t make things worse.

Stain lunged again. This time, Izuku was already moving, sidestepping just enough to avoid the attack before twisting his body mid-air. His foot connected with Stain’s shoulder in a precise, controlled strike. The force sent the Hero Killer tumbling back, rolling once before landing in a crouch.

Izuku landed smoothly, weight balanced, breathing even.

From the corner of his eye, he could see his past self, Todoroki, and Iida still frozen, watching him. He couldn’t look at them. Couldn’t let himself think about what they were seeing.

He had one job.

End this.

Stain recovered from the fall quickly, he lunged again, faster this time, his blade a blur of silver under the dim alley light. But Izuku was faster.

He moved before he thought, instincts honed by experience guiding him. A sharp pivot, a sudden drop of his center of gravity, Stain’s knife whistled past his ear, missing by a hair’s breadth.

Izuku didn’t hesitate.

In a single, fluid motion, he surged upward, slamming his fist into Stain’s gut. The impact sent a sharp crack through the alley, knocking the air from the Hero Killer’s lungs. Stain staggered, but Izuku wasn’t finished.

Before Stain could recover, Izuku twisted, grabbed his wrist, and used his own momentum against him. A perfect throw.

The world seemed to slow as Stain’s body arced through the air before crashing hard against the alley wall. The breath left his lungs in a sharp exhale, his limbs going slack for a split second, just long enough.

Izuku was already on him.

He closed the distance in a blink, pressing a boot to Stain’s chest, pinning him down. One of Stain’s hands was still clenched around a dagger, but Izuku caught his wrist mid-swing, squeezing just hard enough to make him drop it. The metal clattered against the pavement.

He pressed down harder, pinning Stain in place. "It’s over," he said, voice low, final.

Stain let out a slow breath, his lips twitching into something that wasn’t quite a smirk. Izuku’s gaze flickered toward the three still watching from the ground as he felt the weight of their stares.He couldn’t keep getting distracted

Instead, he tightened his grip.

Stain’s breathing slowed. His fingers twitched once, then stilled. And then, finally-

His head lolled back against the wall. Unconscious.

Izuku exhaled slowly, his body still tense even as Stain lay motionless beneath him. His hands ached from the force of his final blow, but he ignored the dull sting. It was over.

At least, for now.

His eyes flicked toward the corner of the alley, where Native was still slumped against the wall, barely conscious. Right. He needed to move.

Stepping over Stain’s unconscious form, Izuku crouched beside Native, checking his injuries. Nothing life-threatening, but the hero was still weak. Without hesitation, he reached down, gripping the man’s arm and hoisting him up.

“Can you stand?” His voice came out lower, rougher than intended.

Native groaned, his limbs sluggish, but he nodded. “I… I think so.”

Izuku didn’t waste time. He supported Native’s weight, guiding him to lean against the alley wall where he’d be stable. He gave the hero one last glance before turning back to the three still-paralyzed figures watching him.

Their eyes bore into him, expressions filled with questions he had no intention of answering.

Izuku hesitated, but then he saw it, the slight twitch of his past self’s fingers against the pavement, and the two other boys as well. The paralysis was wearing off.

Silently, he stepped toward them. Iida’s breathing was heavy, his entire body shaking as he tried, and failed, to move. Todoroki’s brows were furrowed in deep concentration, struggling against the lingering effects.

Then his younger self. Green eyes locked onto his own. Studying him. Searching.

Izuku crouched first beside Iida. Without a word, he grabbed the younger boy’s arm and hauled him upright, steadying him as his legs wobbled beneath him.

Iida gasped at the sudden movement, blinking in shock as he tried to find his balance. “I-” His voice cracked, and he swallowed thickly. “Who are you?”

Izuku didn’t answer. He turned next to Todoroki, gripping his wrist and pulling him up in one swift motion. Todoroki staggered slightly but caught himself, eyes still flicking between Izuku and Stain’s unconscious body.

Finally, he moved to his past self.

His younger self stiffened the second Izuku reached for him, muscles tensing instinctively despite the lingering paralysis.

Izuku hesitated. For just a second.

Then he gripped his younger self’s arm, hauling him upright just as he had the others. Their eyes met, green against green, so much alike yet so different.

Izuku let go the moment his past self could stand on his own. He took a step back.

Todoroki’s gaze narrowed. His body was still tense, like he was bracing himself for something. “You’re not a villain.” His tone was cautious. Calculated. “Are you?”

Izuku’s jaw tightened, he shook his head. 

His past self’s voice was quiet but certain. “You… Did you follow me again?”

Izuku didn’t reply as he stepped back. He dug into his own gear, pulling out the thick, sturdy rope he still had from his time in his original timeline. The one he had used to restrain the villains who had broken free from Tartarus. The rope was strong, meant to hold even the most dangerous of foes. He quickly tied up Stain, making sure the ropes were secure and unyielding as the other’s just stared at him with a mix of curiosity and wariness.

Todoroki wiped the sweat from his brow, looking over at Past Izuku. "We need to get him to the authorities fast," he said, glancing down at the restrained villain. "The quicker he’s locked up, the better."

Izuku nodded in agreement, but his eyes shifted to the mouth of the alleyway. It was getting crowded. From his vantage point in the shadows, he saw the heroes Endeavor had dispatched begin to arrive. Gran Torino among them.

Izuku’s stomach tightened. Too many people. Way too many. He wasn’t sure he could hide in plain sight anymore. His suit stood out too much.

He pressed further into the shadows, eyes flicking down to his armor. The color scheme was familiar, matching his original design, but everything about it was enhanced. Heavier plating. Reinforced seams. The kind of suit built for war, not training.

So much has changed.

Izuku pressed back further into the shadows, wanting to avoid any potential recognition. He couldn’t risk being seen, not now. Not yet.

As the heroes began to examine the area more thoroughly, Izuku could feel his younger self’s gaze shift toward him. He hadn’t expected it, but his past self’s eyes found him, and for a moment, they locked onto each other in the dim light.  A look of concern, maybe even curiosity. It was a silent question, an unspoken inquiry.

Izuku's heart thudded. Was he beginning to suspect?

The younger Izuku's brow furrowed slightly, his gaze lingering a moment longer. It wasn’t suspicion, not yet, but it was something more than what he had given him before. Something that made Izuku feel a little too exposed.

Izuku forced himself to stay still, his fingers tightening around the darkened corner of the alley. This was getting too complicated.

Todoroki and Iida were still focused on securing Stain, Gran Torino and the other heroes were drawing closer. They were bound to notice him soon. His breathing quickened as his thoughts raced. What should he do?

But his past self finally turned back toward the group, the moment of hesitation passing, and Izuku exhaled sharply, turning away as the heroes moved in to secure Stain. The sounds of rustling fabric and hushed voices faded into the background as he leaped onto the nearest rooftop, his boots landing silently against the concrete. He crouched low, staying in the shadows as he scanned the city below. The fight was over. Stain was restrained. His identity was intact so far. 

But something was wrong.

A memory flickered at the edge of his thoughts, an event he knew happened. His past self-

Izuku’s blood ran cold.

The Nomu.

His eyes widened as it all clicked together in an instant. In his timeline, a Nomu had ambushed them. It had grabbed his past self, lifting him high into the air, and Stain had been the one to stop it. But now.. now Stain was completely restrained. Izuku had made sure of it.

His breath hitched. That means no one will save him.

Whipping around, he sprinted to the edge of the rooftop, skidding to a stop just in time to see it unfold below.

The Nomu struck without warning. Its grotesque claws lashed out from the shadows, seizing his past self.

The younger Izuku barely had time to react before the creature yanked him into the air.

Gasps and shouts echoed through the alley.

“Midoriya!” Iida’s and Todoroki’s panicked voices cut through the chaos.

Izuku’s heart pounded.

I have to act.

But if he did, if he dropped down now, the heroes, his past self and friends would see him in full light. The alley’s shadows had protected his identity before, but now? There was nowhere to hide.

His fists clenched. His mind raced.

Maybe Stain will break free-

But Stain didn’t move. The bindings held firm. He wasn’t going to escape in time.

And his past self was getting higher.

Izuku moved.

In a flash of green energy, he launched from the rooftop, Float activating in an instant as he surged toward the Nomu. His speed was unnatural, enhanced by a burst of One For All, and before the Nomu even realized he was there, Izuku was already striking.

His foot connected with its exposed skull, hard.

Too hard.

The exposed head spurting out red. The squelch echoed through the night as the Nomu’s head snapped back from the sheer force of the kick. Its claws instinctively released their grip, letting go of his past self.

Izuku’s hand shot out, grabbing his younger self’s wrist before he could plummet.

A sharp inhale. A flash of green eyes, wide with shock.

Both Izuku’s held on tight.

The wind rushed past them as he adjusted his grip, securing his past self against his chest. His other hand extended outward, Float guiding them as he controlled their descent. He slowed them, steady, and careful until his boots finally touched the pavement.

Silence.. Then- 

“What the hell?”

Todoroki’s voice was the first to break through, sharp and filled with barely restrained shock.

Izuku ignored the way his heart hammered in his chest. He set his past self down gently, stepping back as their gazes locked. Wide green eyes staring into his own.

Gasps rippled through the alley.

Gran Torino had stopped mid-motion, his usually sharp eyes now fixed on Izuku with a look of pure suspicion.

The other heroes, Endeavor’s men, the ones who had come to secure Stain, were frozen in place, their hands halfway to their weapons.

The air felt thick. Too many eyes. Too much attention.

Izuku’s past self stumbled slightly before steadying himself, his breathing uneven. “You-” His voice was barely above a whisper, but Izuku felt the weight of it. “How did you-?”

Izuku took a step back, shoulders tensed. He could feel all of them watching. Todoroki. Iida. Gran Torino. The other heroes. Too many people.

The flickering emergency lights and flames from the nearby wreckage illuminated his figure, no longer shrouded in the safety of shadows. His full-body suit was clearly visible now: armored, functional, rugged from battle and time.

It was unmistakably a suit inspired by the one Izuku currently wore, but this version was sharper, heavier, darker. 

Gasps broke out around him.

“What is that-?”

 “His suit… it’s like that kid’s…” 

“Who is he?”

Even Todoroki took a small step back, staring between his classmate and the armored figure who had just saved him. His eyes narrowed. “He’s wearing your costume,” he said quietly to the younger Izuku.

The younger Izuku didn’t respond. He was too busy staring, wide-eyed, unsettled, trying to breathe steadily. He had noticed it too. The armor. The color scheme. Even the utility belt had the same compartments, just bulked out. Whoever this masked man was… it was like he’d built his version of the suit off of his own.

Todoroki spoke again under his breath “Does he have more than one quirk?..”

Gran Torino’s eyes locked on Todoroki, being the only one that had heard the boy spoke, “What?”

“I saw it,” Todoroki said, “When we were fighting Stain, he used some kind of black tendrils to move. And just now, he was floating.” His gaze returned to the stranger. “Unless it has to do with some form of manipulation quirk that connects the two abilities.. That’s two powers.”

A beat passed.

Gran Torino’s shoulders tensed slightly, his expression sharpening. “More than one Quirk, huh…”

A quiet murmur began to stir among the other heroes. Suspicion. Alarm.

“Could he be a villain? He just killed that thing!” someone exclaimed.

“He has to be.”

“No, look how he saved the kid-”

“Is that thing even a person?!”

Future Izuku didn’t move. His hands were still, his breathing even, but his heart thundered in his chest. Not from fear. From awareness. He’d just drawn more attention in five seconds than he wanted in the entire night.

His past self was staring at him again. Not with fear, but confusion. Curiosity. Worry. 

Gran Torino stepped closer, narrowing his eyes. “Who are you?” he asked, voice low but cutting. “What’s your connection to this kid?”

Future Izuku didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Not without unraveling everything.

Instead, he turned his head, just slightly to glance at his younger self.

Then, without a word, he turned toward the nearest building. He crouched low, green lightning flickering briefly around his legs just for a second before he launched himself up in a powerful leap, disappearing back onto the rooftop, vanishing into the night once again.

Leaving behind a mess of questions, suspicion, and the lingering silence of those who wouldn’t forget what they had just seen. 

Chapter Text

The soft beeping of a heart monitor was the first thing Izuku registered.

Then, the cool weight of a bandage around his right arm and left leg, the stiffness in his right shoulder, and the sterile scent of the hospital room that clung to the back of his throat.

He blinked slowly, eyes adjusting to the harsh white light overhead. The ceiling tiles above him were clean, nothing like the smoke and ruin of the Hosu alleyway still fresh in his memory.

But it wasn’t the battle with Stain that haunted him.

It was him.

The man in green armor. The one who had moved like he’d lived a hundred battles. Who had fought Stain like he’d memorized every step of his movements. Who had saved him from the Nomu with a speed and precision no normal hero should have had.

He could hear Iida and Todoroki speaking in low voices. He strained to listen.

“..You saw how he used more than one Quirk,” Todoroki said, “That shadow tendril thing... then he floated.”

“Maybe it’s gear,” Iida offered weakly. “Maybe the floating was mechanical, like with Hatsume’s inventions.”

“Okay but, don’t you think it’s weird though?” Todoroki murmured, “his suit wasn’t just similar, it was almost identical to Midoriya’s. Only more advanced. Like... it was built off the same design, but enhanced.”

Izuku sat up slowly, hissing at the pull in his side.

Todoroki’s eyes locked onto him immediately. Not accusing. But calculating.

“Midoriya,” he said, quiet but firm. “You know something.”

Izuku froze.

He wanted to lie. Say he didn’t. That he was just as surprised, just as confused. But the words didn’t come.

Because Todoroki wasn’t wrong.

“I’ve encountered him before,” Izuku admitted, voice barely above a whisper. “Once. Before internships.”

Iida straightened. “What? Where?”

Izuku’s mind flashed back to the figure standing in the shadows, in front of the hospital. 

“After I had gotten out of my check up at the hospital, he said a few weird things... like he knew me. Knew what I was going through. I thought maybe he was someone with a precognition Quirk. But now…”

Now he wasn’t so sure.

Todoroki narrowed his eyes. “And you didn’t say anything back then?”

“I didn’t know what to say,” Izuku said carefully, he knew the only person he had told was All Might, “He gave me some sort of warning, and he completely dodged all my questions towards his identity”

The door creaked open before Todoroki could respond.

Gran Torino stepped into the room, eyes sharp and serious. Manual followed behind, more subdued, and then came the tall, sharp-featured Chief of Police, his expression unreadable as ever behind his canine features.

The room fell silent.

Gran Torino’s gaze flicked from one boy to the next before settling on Izuku.

“Well. You three look like hell,” he said gruffly, but there was no real humor in his voice. “You’re lucky you’re alive.”

Iida bowed slightly, his voice heavy with guilt. “I... take full responsibility. I acted recklessly-”

“This isn’t just about recklessness, woof” the Chief interrupted, his tone cool and professional. “You engaged in combat against a dangerous villain without a license. Stain has some serious injuries, severe burns and several broken bones. Right now, he’s in the hospital under strict guard. Even if your intentions were good, it was still illegal. Woof”

The silence was heavy for a moment.

Then Gran Torino sighed, folding his arms. “What’s done is done. You’re damn lucky Stain didn’t kill you. And that someone else stepped in before things got worse.”

Izuku stiffened.

Todoroki glanced toward him subtly.

The Chief’s eyes narrowed. “Yes. This... mysterious individual. The one who defeated the Hero Killer and neutralized the Nomu. None of the pro heroes on the scene recognized him, woof. He fled before anyone could speak to him directly.”

He turned his gaze on the boys.

“You saw him clearly, didn’t you?”

Iida hesitated. Todoroki didn’t speak.

It was Izuku who finally answered, slowly. “He.. His gear was advanced. He fought like someone trained.”

“And he wore a costume like yours,” the Chief added, pointed. “That wasn’t lost on the other heroes.”

Izuku felt the tension in the room shift. The scrutiny was subtle, but it was there.

Gran Torino’s voice cut in, rough. “You’re sure you don’t know who he is?”

Izuku met his eyes. “I don’t know his name,” he said honestly. “But I’ve seen him once before.”

Manual looked surprised. “And you didn’t think to report it?”

“I didn’t think he was.. dangerous at the time,” Izuku said. “He didn’t hurt anyone. He just... said some strange things.”

“Strange like how?” Gran Torino asked sharply.

Izuku hesitated. “Like he knew things he shouldn’t.”

Gran Torino’s gaze sharpened at that, but he didn’t speak.

The Chief spoke again,  “Under normal circumstances, there would be consequences.”

Izuku braced himself. Iida stiffened, and Todoroki remained unreadable, arms crossed.

“But,” the Chief continued, “you’re lucky. There were very few witnesses who actually saw you engaging Stain. According to Native’s statement,” the Chief added, “he insisted that the masked man was the one who took down Stain, and that the three of you were barely involved, saying you only got caught in the crossfire while trying to help civilians. Seems he knew speaking otherwise might get you in trouble, Woof.”

His eyes turned slightly toward Midoriya, though he didn’t accuse.

“As far as the public is concerned, it was him. Not you.”

There was a beat of silence. Izuku swallowed hard, unsure whether that was a relief or a deeper problem.

“The result?” the Chief went on, “The media’s attention is focused entirely on this mystery man. The public is uneasy. A new, powerful unknown appearing out of nowhere during a high-stakes battle? It's drawing the spotlight. And while that means you three avoid exposure and legal backlash for now... it also means this.. vigilante just became a topic of concern.”

Manual nodded grimly. “Even Endeavor’s been pulled into the discussion.”

The Chief gave each boy a pointed look. “You’re not off the hook completely. UA will decide if further action is necessary.”

Iida looked stunned. “So... we won’t be punished?”

“No. Although you were unfortunately involved in this situation, you helped save lives and I don’t wanna damage any promising young careers. Not for a mistake like this, woof.” The chief said. 

His gaze lingered on Izuku a beat longer than the others.

“If this masked man appears again,” he said quietly, “you will report it. Immediately. Understood?”

Izuku nodded, his throat tight.

The Chief turned and left the room. Manual gave a soft nod to the boys before following him out. Gran Torino lingered by the door staring at Izuku for a few minutes before leaving as well. The door clicked shut, leaving the three of them alone once more.

Izuku sank deeper into the hospital bed, the thin blanket tangled around his legs. His arm still throbbed where the bandages tightened over his skin, but it was nothing compared to the ache settling into his chest.

“That was… a lot,” Iida said, adjusting his glasses with a trembling hand. “I… I’m grateful we won’t be punished, but I can’t help feeling we’ve traded one problem for another.”

“Yeah,” Todoroki muttered, arms crossed, gaze unfocused. “We’re not the story anymore. He is.”

Iida sat at the foot of the bed, back straight, but the stiffness in his shoulders betrayed his unease. “This masked vigilante… he saved us. And Native, too. But the way the Chief spoke…” He glanced between them. “The public isn’t going to see it the same way.”

“They’ll see a threat,” Todoroki said quietly. “Someone that powerful. Unregistered. Unknown. No name. No agency. People won’t care that he saved lives, they’ll want to know why he was there in the first place.”

Iida nodded grimly. “Do you think it’s someone from overseas? Maybe an underground hero?”

“No.” Todoroki’s eyes slid to Izuku. “It’s someone connected to Midoriya.”

Izuku’s breath hitched just slightly.

“You said his gear was advanced,” Todoroki continued. “But it wasn’t random tech. It was built off of your own costume design . That’s not a coincidence. That’s familiarity.” his eyes narrowed slightly, “You said you met him before internships, right?”

Izuku nodded once.

“What did his costume look like back then?”

Izuku hesitated. “Well…it was late at night, and dark so I was… kind of lost in my thoughts. And honestly, I was more focused on making sure he didn’t try anything on me than on taking in every detail the whole time. But-”

He frowned, trying to piece it together.

“I’m sure he had the same general outfit. The hood, the armor around the shoulders, even the mouthpiece.”

Iida cleared his throat. “It’s possible someone stole Midoriya’s design. Maybe broke into UA’s records. Or hacked the support department database?”

Todoroki’s brow furrowed. “That’s possible.. But weird. Midoriya, when did you decide to update and change your costume?”

“That’s the thing,” Izuku said, sitting forward slightly. “The new version, the one that looks closer to his, was based on my mom’s original design.”

He glanced away, thoughtful.

“And even after I submitted it, the support company changed parts of it without my approval. New materials, some aesthetic changes, but I never even asked for that.”

Todoroki crossed his arms, voice quiet but pointed. “So someone showed up looking like the future version of a suit you hadn’t even officially worn yet... and then your support designers updated yours to match his instead?”

Izuku’s eyes widened slightly at that. “...I didn’t think about it like that,” he murmured, looking down at his now clenched fists.

Todoroki looked away, frowning. “That’s not just a coincidence, Midoriya. So I’m just wondering... is it only your mom who helped with that? No one else in your family involved?”

Izuku looked up at that slowly.

“What are you getting at?”

Todoroki hesitated for a fraction of a second before speaking again.

“Your father. I’ve never heard you mention him. Could he have been involved? Or… a sibling? A brother, maybe?” His voice was gentle, but probing. “Someone you don’t talk about?”

Iida’s brows furrowed slightly, caught off-guard by the angle of questioning.

Izuku felt his stomach twist. It wasn’t the accusation that stung, it was the fact that Todoroki’s theory… maybe couldn't have been entirely wrong.

The idea felt insane, wild, desperate. 

Izuku found his gaze drifting toward the faint reflection in the window, a warped version of himself, bruised, bandaged, and silent. The masked man’s image hovered in his mind, too vivid to ignore. The green armor. The familiar lines of the costume.

He’d met the man before his internship. Back when his suit had still been the original version based on his mom’s sketch. But the vigilante had worn a suit too close to the new one, the upgraded one he’d gotten during his internship. Even after that , the support team had changed it without asking, altering the material and some of the color layout. With tweaks, some more minor than others, but noticeable to him. And the vigilante’s version had all of those exact alterations.

His stomach turned.

That left only a few people who could’ve known. His support team. All Might. His mom…

No. Not her. She wouldn’t-

But then again… she’d always avoided talking about his father. Said he worked overseas. Never elaborated. Never mentioned contact. Not even a birthday message. Just a name: Hisashi Midoriya.

Izuku swallowed, his throat dry.

What if he wasn’t just gone? What if he was hiding something?

And worse… What if I have a brother? Someone I never knew about? 

The thought sent a chill down his spine.

Who are you?

His reflection didn’t answer.

He looked back towards his friends, forcing a laugh, soft, uneasy, and unsure , “I don’t have a brother, if I did, I’m sure my mom would have told me about a sibling, or at least have pictures around the house. My dad… left when I was little. He lives overseas now.”

Todoroki didn’t reply right away. He studied Izuku’s face with the same intensity he’d use when reading an opponent mid-battle.

Finally, he nodded. “Okay.”

But Izuku knew that look. Todoroki didn’t believe him. Or at least, he didn’t believe all of it.

His throat felt dry.

Todoroki exhaled, “Whoever he is… he’s not some random vigilante. He’s tied to you. Somehow.”

Izuku didn’t respond.

Because deep down… he agreed.

______________

[BREAKING NEWS – HERO NETWORK JAPAN]

“Good evening, I’m Jin Yukiko with Hero Network Japan, and tonight’s top story continues to stir both concern and intrigue, the arrest of the infamous Hero Killer, Stain, has sent shockwaves across Japan’s hero community as well as the emergence of a new, unidentified figure involved in the Hosu Attack ’”

Footage plays: Slightly unfocused camera phone clip showing a blurred figure leaping between rooftops, shrouded in shadow and smoke. Another clip, grainy and incredibly shaky, shows him driving his foot into a Nomu's head, said Nomu had been carrying a person. The masked figure catching him and descending down slowly

“Eyewitnesses from the Hosu incident claim the masked individual arrived just as the Pro Heroes were overwhelmed. According to early reports, he is responsible for the subdual of the Hero Killer, Stain, as well as the neutralization of a Nomu, actions that, while impressive, raise serious legal and ethical questions.”

Cuts to a roundtable with analysts and pro heroes, including a blurred out “anonymous” Pro.

"He moved like someone who’s seen serious combat. Not like a student. Not even like a typical underground hero. Whoever this guy is, he's trained. And he's dangerous."

“Authorities have not been able to identify the vigilante, who disappeared before any official could make contact. Notably, Pro Hero Native, the one who had been next on Stain's list of targets, has credited the masked man entirely for Stain’s capture.’”

Cut to a still image: the vigilante using a tendril to launch himself from a rooftop to another.

"Speculation has already begun to flood online forums. Who is this masked man? A former hero? A rogue sidekick? Or something else entirely?”

The anchor’s expression turns more serious.
" Officials have not released a statement, but unnamed sources within the Commission suggest that a formal investigation is underway. While the vigilante's actions prevented further loss of life, his identity, and motives, remain unknown. What we do know is this: a powerful new player has stepped into the spotlight… and he’s not playing by the rules.”

“This is Jin Yukiko, reporting for Hero Network Japan. We’ll bring you updates as this story unfolds.”

____________

The static buzz of the old television only seemed to make the words sharper, more irritating. The screen shifted again, that same damn footage. The vigilante’s form, blurry and half-silhouetted, moving like a ghost through smoke and ruin. 

A nobody.

A nobody who had just upstaged him.

Shigaraki dug his nails into his neck, scratching. Hard.

“I was the one who sent the Nomu,” Shigaraki muttered bitterly. “I lit the fuse. I made the chaos.”

But no one was talking about him. No one even knew he was there.

Stain got the headlines. The vigilante got the awe.

He was the reason Hosu burned, but that masked freak swooped in and stole the show like some twisted bedtime story hero.

Even Stain, bleeding, broken, unconscious in a hospital bed, was getting more credit than him .

Shigaraki's fingers twitched.

It wasn't just the attention that infuriated him, it was the meaning behind it. The way the public was clinging to this new figure.

Like something greater.

“More dangerous, huh?” he echoed with a low snarl. “Then why didn’t he kill Stain? Why didn’t he destroy the Nomu? He cleaned up our mess like a good little pawn.”

Kurogiri’s usual calming presence wasn’t there. Probably on another errand. Good. Shigaraki didn’t want to be calmed. He wanted to scream.

He wanted destruction.

And now… he wanted answers.

Whoever this green-clad bastard was, he’d stolen the narrative.

And Shigaraki hated nothing more than being forgotten.

Chapter Text

Past Izuku stood at the edge of the cracked sidewalk, shifting his weight between his feet, his backpack slung over one shoulder. His arms were sore, his ribs still aching, and his thoughts..

His thoughts were a storm.

Gran Torino stood beside him, looking just as cranky as ever, hands buried in his pockets, mouth turned down in that familiar scowl.

"...Are you sure you don’t want me to stay a little longer?" Izuku asked hesitantly. "I could help investigate."

“You’ve done enough, kid,” Gran Torino cut in, voice gruff. “And after what happened in Hosu, you’re lucky the old dog at the top didn’t chew you out himself.”

Izuku scratched the back of his neck, wincing. “Right… yeah.”

They fell into silence.

Gran Torino exhaled. “Pro-hero circles are already talking. Everyone saw the footage. His gear, his speed, his coordination, it wasn’t normal. He fought like a seasoned pro. But the Commission can’t place him. Not even a guess.”

Izuku nodded slowly. “Well... he definitely wasn’t just some random person trying to play hero. He was prepared. He moved like he knew exactly what Stain would do. Like he’d fought him before.”

He hesitated, voice lowering. “He saved us. But I just… I don’t get it. Why would someone that skilled hide behind a mask?”

“Tch. That’s the question, isn’t it?”

Gran Torino finally looked at him then, eyes sharp, unreadable.

“People like that don’t show up out of nowhere. Not with gear like that. Not with instincts like his. Someone like him… he’s been fighting for a long time.”

Izuku swallowed. “Do you think he’s dangerous?”

Gran Torino didn’t answer right away.

“He was trying to protect us,” Izuku added quietly.

“Maybe.” Gran Torino glanced at him. “Or maybe he was protecting something else.”

He narrowed his eyes, gaze fixed on some point in the distance.

“Your generation’s quirks are getting stronger. More complex. Sometimes I can’t tell where the power ends and the person begins.”

Izuku blinked. “What do you mean?”

Gran Torino didn’t respond at first. Instead, he looked up at the sky, like he was chasing a memory just out of reach.

“He floated,” he muttered.

“Huh?”

“The vigilante,” Gran Torino said, frowning. “When he rescued you from the Nomu. He moved through the air like it was second nature. I’ve seen that kind of movement before.”

Izuku tilted his head. “From another quirk?”

Gran Torino didn’t respond. His frown deepened, lips pressed into a tight line.

He wasn’t sure what unsettled him more, how the masked man had moved like Nana… or the flicker of familiarity in the way he fought. Too precise. Too controlled. The same quiet, stubborn resolve he’d seen in another boy.

The one standing right beside him.

“…Keep your head down at U.A.,” Gran Torino finally said, turning away. “Whatever that masked bastard’s goal is, I doubt we’ve seen the last of him. And until we know more, you stay out of it.”

Izuku nodded, but the knot in his chest didn’t loosen.

As he turned to leave, Gran Torino stayed behind, eyes lingering on the empty road.

There was something about that vigilante.

The way he moved. The way he reacted to danger. The way he fought. The way his power felt like a whisper from the past.

It reminded him of her.

And that made him uneasy.

________

📱 [Text Message – Midoriya Izuku & All Might]

Izuku (9:01 AM):
All Might I need to talk to you.

All Might (9:02 AM):
Are you alright?? Gran Torino told me what happened. That Stain was captured, and that some vigilante, which I assume was the one you had encountered before, had also helped you three.

Izuku (9:03 AM):
I’m okay. Just sore. The hospital cleared me already. But yeah, the same masked man from the alleyway before my internship. it was him again.

All Might (9:03 AM):
The same vigilante? Same suit and all, the one who had asked you to ask me about All For One?

Izuku (9:04 AM):
Yeah. He came out of nowhere. He took on Stain then saved me from a Nomu. He saved all of us.

All Might (9:04 AM):
Gran Torino mentioned that too. The authorities and Native are reporting that he was the one to engage and defeat. Midoriya, Gran Torino said that his outfit and your current hero outfit were quite similar, is this true?

Izuku (9:05 AM):
Yes! And that’s what’s freaking me out! My hero outfit was updated AFTER the first time we encountered. I have a weird feeling that he knew what was going to happen. Like he knew how Stain would fight, and now I'm starting to think he might've predicted the Nomu grabbing me as well...

All Might (9:06 AM):
This is quite worrying, Young Midoriya.

All Might (9:06 AM):
You said he wore a mask, right?

Izuku (9:07 AM):
Yeah. Same as before. Still won’t say who he is. Even after being questioned multiple times at the scene.

Izuku (9:07 AM):
I don't understand what is going on. I'm scared, All Might. He feels like a stranger yet doesn't at the same time. The fact that he has showed up twice and is always giving me these looks, like he knows me.

All Might (9:08 AM):
Perhaps, he’s been watching you for longer than we thought. Maybe even before U.A.

Izuku (9:08 AM):
This doesn’t make sense. Why would someone like that help me? Save me?

All Might (9:09 AM):
That’s what we’re trying to figure out. But listen to me, my boy, if he’s somehow tied to All For One

Izuku (9:09 AM):
I don’t think he is. I don’t know why, but I don’t think he’s working for him. His eyes, even behind the mask. They weren’t cold. They were tired. Like he’d been through hell.

All Might (9:10 AM):
That may be true. But you must not let your guard down. If he’s connected to you, that makes him unpredictable. He knows things we don’t. That’s dangerous.

Izuku (9:11 AM):
I’ll be careful. But I want to know who he is. Why he’s helping me. Why he’s staying hidden. I can’t stop thinking about it.

All Might (9:11 AM):
We’ll figure it out.  Just keep doing what you’re doing. Be aware. Be safe. And if he appears again then

Izuku (9:12 AM):
I’ll contact you immediately. I promise.

________

The classroom buzzed with conversation as students eagerly shared stories about their internships. It was the first time in days that things felt remotely normal, even if everyone knew the world outside was anything but.

Yaoyorozu had just finished explaining her experience with Uwabami, talking about the media training and unexpected insights into the hero world, a few curious follow-up questions, and then the talk shifted to the next student.

Tsuyu spoke calmly about her time with Selkie, describing open-sea rescue drills and patrol work. A few classmates listened with interest, some visibly impressed.

“My internship wasn’t really anything wild,” Kaminari said, stretching behind his desk. “No villain attacks, no explosions. Just a lot of basic patrols. Still, it helped with my Quirk control.”

He paused, glancing toward the back of the room where Midoriya, Iida, and Todoroki sat quietly.

“But speaking of wild, did anyone else see that vigilante guy on the news?”

The classroom quieted slightly. Heads turned. Kirishima perked up in his seat.

“Oh yeah, that guy was crazy. He just showed up in Hosu and took out Stain AND a Nomu, right?”

“Yeah,” Kaminari said, pulling out his phone. “The footage was all over the place. You could see him rushing in during the chaos. Wait, I think I saved the clip.”

He scrolled quickly, tapping until a video loaded. The classroom gathered around a bit as Kaminari held the screen up.

The footage was grainy and shaky, taken from someone’s phone during the Hosu incident. Flames licked at buildings in the background, and screaming civilians ran past the camera. A hulking Nomu appeared on screen, lifting someone into the air. The struggling figure dangled from the creature’s massive hand.

“Wait a sec,” Jirou said, leaning in. “Is that... Midoriya?”

The class fell silent. Izuku’s heart pounded against his chest.

Even in the low resolution, it was unmistakable. Izuku hung limp in the Nomu’s grip, one hand reaching up in a desperate attempt to free himself. Then, from the corner of the screen, a blur of movement slammed into the Nomu, knocking it back. The masked figure caught Midoriya mid-fall but then the camera turned extremely shaky before ending.

Izuku sat frozen, as eyes drifted towards him.

“They said you, Todoroki, and Iida got caught in the crossfire,” Kirishima said, his voice softer now. “Are you guys alright?”

Todoroki didn’t look up from his desk. “We’re fine,” he answered.

Iida nodded stiffly. “Yes. It was a difficult situation, but we’re okay.”

Izuku continued to sit still for a moment before nodding weakly.

“You’re lucky he was there,” Kaminari said. “He moved like a pro. I mean, first of all the Hero killer Stain, and then that Nomu that was huge. And he just tore it down.”

“What’s with the costume though? He looked kind of unnerving” Jirou asked. “It didn’t look like any pro agency’s gear.”

“According to the news, he doesn’t work for one,” Sero said. “He’s a vigilante. He’s not licensed.”

“Right,” Kaminari added. “That’s the weird part. He’s clearly powerful, and he knows how to fight. So why not register? Why operate from the shadows?”

“Maybe he’s just trying to help without the red tape,” Kirishima said. “There’s been talk online about whether heroes should be thanking him or hunting him down.”

Izuku’s hands were clenched in his lap, hidden under his desk. He could feel Todoroki’s glance from the side and Iida sitting rigid beside him.

The room slowly drifted back into conversations about internships, but the excitement had faded.

The reminder of Hosu and the vigilante's mysterious appearance left a thread of tension behind.

__________

Future Izuku groaned, dragging a gloved hand down his face.

“ I’m so screwed, ” he muttered under his breath, “I didn’t think- God, how did I not think?” he hissed to himself. “I was there . I knew how it went the first time.”

The Nomu. Stain. The alley.

He shut his eyes, jaw clenched. Stain had saved him. Had stood over his past self and stopped the Nomu from striking. That moment had been pivotal.

And he’d completely missed it.

He’d been so focused on stopping Stain, on making sure he kept them all alive and out of irreversible trauma. He hadn’t even considered the chain of events that would unravel from removing Stain’s final act of bizarre, terrifying mercy.

He clenched his fists.

Okay. Breathe. Focus.

His thoughts scrambled for structure, for some anchor in the timeline. If he could just map out what was supposed to happen, maybe he could minimize the damage.

After internships…

His eyes snapped open. Exams.

Right. The exams are next, the ones that tested their progress from interning under pros. Students would be paired up to fight teachers. 

But what came after that?

Shit.

The training camp.

The League of Villains’ attack.

Kota. Muscular. Kaccan’s kidnapping.

Izuku swallowed hard, throat dry. That was the true breaking point. The event that set the rest of everything spiraling, All Might vs All For One. Kamino. The fall of the Symbol of Peace.

“That’s the next real disaster,” he murmured. “The training camp…”

Even if the exams played out normally,.the slightest change could send them spiraling in a different direction. They could strike earlier. Or later. They could go after someone else. Do something else.

And now with the public and the villains both turning their eyes toward him, the mysterious vigilante who appeared out of nowhere and dismantled Stain..

He cursed under his breath.

He must’ve gotten Shigaraki’s attention, as well as the Eight Precepts of Death.. 

I can’t afford another mistake like this.

But what if…

What if he made another one on purpose ?

He dragged his hands through his hair, heart hammering.

What if I saved Kacchan?

The thought had always been there, lingering just under the surface. Bakugo’s kidnapping had changed everything. It shattered class morale. It accelerated the League’s plans. It forced All Might to burn the last of One For All just to save him.

If I stopped that

If I could stop the camp attack entirely

Would All Might be spared? Would he last longer? Maybe just enough to pass on more to me, to… me , in this timeline. To guide things properly. Not rushed, not broken. Would that give the world a little more time to hold itself together?

Izuku felt sick. 

“I can’t… fix everything,” he whispered, gripping his knees tightly. “But if I do nothing, it’ll all happen the same. Or worse.”

As these thoughts plagued his mind, he had decided he needed to do at least something for the gap between the training camp and now. With his figure being streamed across cities, he knew he wouldn’t be able to take public transportation in the daytime without raising suspicion and the chances of him getting caught. After some time, after traveling on foot and taking alley shortcuts, he eventually reached the edge of Musutafu’s older district. Somewhere far enough from his usual routes that no one would recognize his walk, his silhouette, his eyes.

He’d passed the place once a few nights ago. half-jogging through the area, he kept his hood up as he stepped into the small, beat-up community center. It was one of the only places he knew that had coin-operated showers accompanied by washing machines that didn’t ask questions. A cracked mirror above the check-in desk reflected his shadowed figure

A bored man behind the plastic-covered counter glanced at him with the most uninterested look, despite Izuku’s appearance, as if this was just another day and Izuku wasn’t the weirdest he had seen. He just exhaled and looked back at his phone.

"Fifteen minutes," the man muttered, handing over a laminated key with a locker number scrawled on it in permanent marker. "No funny business."

No questions. Just the way he needed it.

Izuku nodded wordlessly and moved past, keeping his head down.

The shower room was old, the kind with rusted faucets and flickering lights. The tiles were stained and chipped, but the water ran hot. That was enough.

He locked himself into a stall, and he was finally alone, his breath hitched. He peeled his clothes off one layer at a time. The fabric clung to his skin, stiff with old blood and sweat. Bandages half-stuck to wounds. He tore them away slowly, gritting his teeth as they came off in patches, some leaving skin behind.

There was mirror above the sink, various cracks and indecipherable writing with black marker. But Izuku ignored all that as he stared into his reflection.

He didn’t recognize himself.

Dark bags under his eyes, faint bruises running along his jaw. Thin. Gaunt. Pale in some places, red in others. The scar across his forearm looked deeper than he remembered.

And his eyes looked hollow.

He turned away from the stranger in the mirror. Turning the shower handle as it came on with a mechanical sputter. For a second, the sound of rushing water drowned out everything else. He waited until it warmed, before stepping under it.

Then came the pain.

As the water hit his back, he hissed, wounds he’d long since ignored burned . Bruises bloomed under the heat. His muscles trembled from strain. Dirt and dried blood slid down his arms in murky streams along with the layer of grime, and soot.

His fingers tightened against the wall. He closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cold tile. He stayed tense, every noise outside the stall made his muscles twitch. The exhaustion that sat in his bones.

Eventually, the water turned lukewarm, then cold. He reached out with a shaky arm, twisting the handle until the sputtering stream stopped. The air hit his skin like a slap. Sharp and cold against bruises and cuts.

He grabbed the thin towel from the hook beside the stall. It was scratchy and stained, but it was dry, and that was enough. He ran it down his arms, across his chest, trying not to hiss at some of the stings. 

He wrapped the towel low around his waist, tucking the corner in tight so it wouldn't slip. He moved through the quiet halls of the community center barefoot, careful not to let his damp footsteps echo. The door to the laundry room creaked when he pushed it open, but nothing stirred beyond. No voices. No footsteps. No prying eyes.

Still, he waited for a second at the threshold, listening.

Nothing.

Inside, the room was even colder. Tile floor. Flickering fluorescent light overhead. Two washers, one dryer. A wall-mounted vending machine sat dark in the corner, long since broken. 

He laid his hero costume on the machines, piece by piece. Each part stiff with sweat and dried blood. The bodysuit, once vibrant green, now dulled and torn in too many places. His gloves, cracked at the knuckles. His support gear and armor scratched. It was disgusting. His blood, other people’s blood. Ash from destroyed streets. Dust from broken homes.

He couldn't remember the last time he’d washed it.

The washer door groaned as he opened it, and he shoved everything inside, fighting the urge to glance over his shoulder after every piece. He could practically feel eyes on him even though the room was empty. His muscles refused to relax. Every creak of the pipes overhead made his shoulders twitch.

The coins clinked loudly as he fed them into the slot. A red light flickered, then the machine whirred to life..

He backed away from it, pressing his back to the wall furthest from the door, arms crossed tightly across his chest. The towel clung to him, damp now from the steam of the shower and the cold air. His skin had goosebumps. His hair dripped down his neck, curling behind his ears.

He hated this..

Not the cleaning. Not the waiting.

The vulnerability.

Standing there like this, half-exposed, and in the open. It made every cell in his body scream. He kept his eyes locked on the door. If anyone came through, he’d have seconds. Maybe less. He couldn’t run like this. He couldn’t fight.

The washer hummed. The room buzzed. 

He didn’t know who was still looking for him, but someone always was.

He wrapped his arms tighter around himself. Maybe the suit would be done soon. Maybe he could sneak back into the shadows before someone noticed he’d ever existed.

But until then, he could only wait. Eyes on the door. Body tense.

Always ready to run.

Chapter Text

Izuku stood in front of the large U.A. door, his hand frozen on the handle. All Might said he needed to speak to me… after training. Something serious. About One For All. He inhaled slowly, trying to steady his nerves, and pushed the door open.

Inside, the room was quiet,  and sitting alone on a chair in the middle of the room was All Might. The fading sunlight cut sharp shadows across his face.

This wasn’t a casual chat. This was heavy.

“Come in, Young Midoriya,” All Might said, his voice quiet but firm. Izuku stepped in and closed the door behind him, All Might didn’t rise, he folded his hands in front of him, elbows on his knees.

“I think it’s time I told you... about the origin of One For All.”

Izuku’s breath caught.

All Might looked out the window for a moment, then back at him.

“There was once a man who could steal quirks, and give them to others as he pleased. With this ability, he manipulated people, gathered followers, and attempted to control society. That man is known as... All For One.”

Izuku’s eyes widened, “The one you were telling me about..? When the vigilante told me to ask you about him?”

“Yes,” All Might said grimly. “He was the embodiment of control. Of domination. He gave quirks to those who worshipped him and took from those who defied him. He built an empire in the dark.”

There was a pause, heavy with weight.

And so All Might told him the story.

About the rise of a man who manipulated society from the shadows.

About how All For One gave quirks to those who worshipped him and stole from those who opposed him.

About how he ruled, not with a fist, but with control, twisting entire generations to his will.

And then, about how he gave a quirk to his younger brother. A brother who didn’t want power which then merged with his own hidden quirk, one that could pass it on.

“That fusion,” All Might said, “became One For All.”

Izuku could barely process the weight of the history behind his power.

“I fought him,” All Might continued quietly. “Nearly died doing it. And I thought… I ended it. But evil like that doesn't die easily.” Silence lingered, thick and heavy in the room. Izuku swallowed, hard.

“How?!” he asked. “After everything you said he did, how is he still-?”

All Might turned, his expression grave.

“He has lived for over a century. Perhaps longer.. Without a doubt, he uses his stolen quirks to extend his life unnaturally. He is, for all intents and purposes... immortal.”

Izuku felt the floor shift beneath his feet.

Immortal?

“I.. talked to Detective Tsukauchi during your internship. Remember the Nomu I had fought during the USJ?” Izuku nodded, “We found out he had.. Multiple quirks meaning..”

Izuku’s eyes widened, “He’s.. still out there.”

 All Might nodded and continued. “Yes.. Hiding. Healing. Waiting. And because of my failure, one day you may have to face this evil.”

Izuku nodded slowly, his heart pounding in his ears.

All Might watched him carefully. Then he added, “That vigilante you encountered again during the Hosu incident... the one in the mask. His possible relationship with All For One is really concerning me”

Izuku’s blood suddenly ran cold, the masked man.. He- He was able to use more than one quirk, just like Todoroki was saying, just as he witnessed.

“The first time he asked you to ask me about him, and then he shows up again during Hosu?,” All Might said, unknown to the current thoughts swarming in his successor's head, “Only the highest levels of hero society even know that name. Even fewer understand what it means. His timing, his knowledge, and his strength... It’s too precise. Either he’s a product of that same darkness... or someone running from it.”

Izuku gulped, “The vigilante.. He.. We saw him use more than one quirk.” 

All Might stiffened, then rose slowly, pacing the room now, jaw clenched. “If this masked man is wielding multiple quirks… and knows about All For One… we’re dealing with something far more dangerous than just a mere vigilante.”

Izuku’s voice came out hoarse. “But he was helping people. In Hosu. He fought the Nomu. He saved us.”

“That may be,” All Might said, “but his presence throws everything into question. Who is he? Where did he come from? How did he get his powers? We don’t even know what he wants.”

Izuku hesitated. He couldn’t shake the memory of his torn up suit and the resemblance to his own, “He… didn’t feel like the enemy,” Izuku said quietly.

“That’s the danger,” All Might replied, turning to face him. “Sometimes, the most dangerous ones don’t.”

Izuku looked down, thoughts spinning. If the vigilante truly was tied to All For One, why would he fight against the villains? Why save civilians? And how did he know about All Might’s past?

“Come,” All Might said at last, his voice quiet but heavy. “Let’s head out. You’ve heard enough for one day.”

Izuku nodded slowly, still dazed, and followed his mentor out into the quiet hallway. The door shut behind them with a soft click.

The halls of U.A. were bathed in gold-orange light as the sun dipped low outside the tall windows. 

Neither of them spoke for a while. Their footsteps echoed faintly, the silence between them thicker than it had ever been.

They had just turned the corner toward the main corridor when a familiar voice called out to them.

“Midoriya. All Might.”

They both stopped.

Aizawa was walking toward them, his hair slightly more disheveled than usual, the dark circles under his eyes deeper in the fading light. His capture weapon was loosely coiled around his shoulders, and beside him was a small figure clinging lightly to the scarf.

A little girl.

Izuku blinked.

She looked so tiny next to Aizawa. Light hair that shimmered faintly in the hallway light, a little horn poking from her bangs, and big red eyes that scanned them curiously.

“Oh uh- Good evening, Aizawa-sensei,” Izuku said, straightening instinctively.

All Might gave a soft chuckle in his smaller form. “Ah, Eraserhead. Out for a stroll?”

Aizawa nodded once, slowing to a stop beside them. “She was feeling cooped up. Recovery Girl recommended some light movement, so I figured I’d take her through the faculty wing. It’s quiet around now.”

Izuku’s eyes lingered on the child. He’d never seen her before. There was something… delicate about her. Her gaze didn’t waver as she looked up at him. If anything, it seemed to be growing wider.

“Oh yeah, I don’t think you two have met,” Aizawa added after a pause. “This is Eri.”

Izuku smiled, small and polite. “Hi, Eri. I’m-”

But he didn’t finish.

Because the moment her eyes met his fully, she froze. Her small fingers clenched tighter around Aizawa’s scarf. Her breath hitched.

All Might noticed it first, brow furrowing as he stepped slightly forward. “Eri…?”

Her lips trembled, “It’s… you,” she said, just barely above a whisper.

Izuku blinked. “Huh…?”

She took a hesitant step forward. “You… You’re the one who saved me.”

Izuku’s stomach dropped.

Aizawa turned sharply toward her. “Eri?”

She pointed at him. “You… had the scary costume, but your eyes were kind. And-” her voice cracked, “and you took off the mask… you told me, you’ll never let anyone hurt me again.”

A chill went through Izuku.

All Might’s eyes snapped toward him.

“Eri,” Aizawa said gently, crouching beside her. “Are you sure? This is Midoriya. He’s just a student here. You’ve never-”

“No! It was him! ” Eri’s head had shook before he even finished. “ I remember! You held my hand and carried me away from the bad people… You had green hair like that. And those eyes!.” she pointed again, desperate now. 

Aizawa rose slowly, eyes narrowing. His entire posture shifted, subtle but sharp. “Midoriya?" His voice was calm, “Is there something you want to explain?”

Izuku’s mind was reeling. “I- no, I don’t- I’ve never-!”

All Might took a step forward, concern now fighting suspicion in his eyes. “Young Midoriya…?”

Izuku clutched his chest.

He looked at Eri again, and her eyes were still full of something real. Recognition.

___________

Aizawa didn’t say anything when he entered Nezu’s office, just walked in, dark eyes unreadable, and set the tablet down on the polished desk with a soft tap.

Nezu glanced up from his paperwork, ears perking at the sound. “Shouta?” he asked lightly. “What brings you here?”

Aizawa didn’t answer. Instead, he reached over and hit play.

The screen flared to life, showing a dim hallway in the staff wing, late evening lighting, golden shadows casting long lines across the polished floor. There were four figures caught in the frame. Himself, Eri clinging to his scarf. Midoriya. And All Might, trailing behind in his smaller form.

Nezu squinted slightly as the footage rolled.

They watched the moment unfold. Eri staring up at Midoriya, wide-eyed. Her lips were moving. Her hand rising. Izuku stiff as a statue, confusion radiating off of him in waves. Aizawa paused the video at the exact moment Eri pointed, her expression full of recognition.

“She recognized him,” Aizawa said, his voice as tired as it was focused. “No hesitation. She looked him dead in the eye and said he saved her.”

Nezu blinked. Then slowly leaned back in his chair, paws folding neatly in front of him, “You mean she recognized the vigilante… but identified Midoriya.”

Aizawa didn’t answer immediately. He took a slow breath, eyes flicking to the screen again. “She pointed directly at him,” he said, “Called him the one who saved her. Said he had green hair. Green eyes. Told her she was safe. Took off his mask.”

Nezu’s expression didn’t change. But his whiskers twitched slightly as he settled deeper into his seat.

“Fascinating,” he murmured. “Though not entirely impossible. Children… especially those who’ve gone through trauma… their memories can blend. Fill in the gaps. A familiar face, a certain tone, even an aura, these things stick.”

“She wasn’t guessing.” Aizawa’s voice was firmer now. “I’ve seen confused kids before. Hell, I’ve worked with enough of them. This wasn’t that. She was sure. The moment she looked at him, it was like something clicked.”

Nezu was quiet for a moment. Then, with the sort of deliberate grace he was known for, he reached into a drawer and pulled out a small notepad. He flipped through a few pages, pausing, then looked up again.

“You remember when the vigilante brought her to us?” he asked, tapping his pen softly against the desk.

Aizawa nodded.

“He didn’t ask for directions,” Nezu continued, “No hesitation at turns. He came straight here,” he gave a low hum. “He knew the location of my office, too. Didn’t need a map. Didn’t wander. He walked those halls like he’d been doing it for months.”

Aizawa ran a hand down his face, letting the weight of the memory settle, as Nezu continued, “Now the girl he saved is pointing to a student. One whose costume shares the same colors. Whose eyes are nearly identical according to her.” Nezu’s tone was casual, but his gaze was razor sharp.

A long silence stretched between them, the air in the room turning heavier with each passing second.

“Midoriya seems to have strange ties to this individual,” Nezu continued. “First in Hosu, and the way the mere talk of this masked vigilante keeps circling his orbit like gravity pulling him around and around.”

Aizawa didn’t reply.

“He wears green,” Nezu murmured. “Same hair. Same eyes. Same burning need to save.”

Aizawa exhaled slowly. “Even their fighting styles… Midoriya’s changed since his internship. He’s been adapting faster lately, changing technique. It reminded me of the vigilante’s movements during the times I’ve seen him fight out criminals in the streets, and after analyzing some footage of the Hosu incident from various news outlets.”

“And yet,” Nezu mused, “the vigilante was the one who saved him. Multiple witnesses confirmed it.”

“Exactly,” Aizawa said. “They’re not the same person.”

“No,” Nezu agreed. “But I think we’ve established that… they're connected.”

Another stretch of silence passed, thick and humming with implication.

“Family?” Aizawa asked, “A brother?”

Nezu shrugged, “Maybe a twin. Or someone imitating him. Or… someone from a place where the two aren’t so different.”

Aizawa didn’t answer. His expression had shifted, just with slightly less suspicion now, more unease. He looked back down at the tablet. The still image of Eri’s small hand pointing at Midoriya lingered like a silent accusation.

“Well, if anything..” Aizawa said, his voice low. “Midoriya has probably been the one feeding him information.”

Nezu’s ear twitched.

Aizawa continued, gaze still locked on the screen. “Midoriya’s always been a student who gets absorbed into information. Observes. Calculates. What if he’s passing things along?”

Nezu hummed thoughtfully, tapping his pen against the desk. “An accomplice?”

“Not necessarily with criminal intent,” Aizawa admitted. “But… emotionally? If the vigilante saved him, maybe he feels indebted.”

Nezu didn’t answer right away. Instead, he flipped the notepad closed and steepled his paws, watching the paused footage flicker in the dimming light.

“Keep a close eye on Midoriya,” he said at last. “Don’t confront. Don’t alert. Just observe. If he is feeding the vigilante intel, I want to know how. I want to know why. And if this connection is deeper than we think…”

Aizawa nodded grimly. “We’ll be ready.”

___________

The night stretched endlessly around Izuku, a quiet stillness settling over the city as he walked. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down not by tired legs but by a storm of thoughts swirling relentlessly in his mind.

She said I saved her.

The words circled like a whisper in his thoughts, impossible to shake.

But I’ve never met her. I’d remember.

He clenched his jaw. The image of Eri’s wide eyes, her trembling hand pointing straight at him, it played on a loop, sharper than any memory before.

Green hair. Green eyes. A scary costume… but kind eyes.

His mind flicked to the vigilante’s suit, the dark fabric but that scarily resembled his own.

She saw him without his mask. And thought it was me…

Green hair. Green eyes.

The details haunted him, tugging at a corner of his mind that was usually reserved for facts and strategy. This wasn’t just a coincidence.

A voice from back then floated back to him, Todoroki’s cautious speculation.

“... a sibling? A brother, maybe?”

Izuku frowned deeply. Siblings? Relatives? Could that even be possible? Maybe Todoroki hadn’t been entirely wrong, as much as he dismissed him.

Maybe there was something his mother hadn’t told him.

The thought stirred something deep inside him, a mixture of hope, fear, and frustration. What if his own history held secrets even he didn’t know?

I can’t keep wondering. I have to find out.

He bit his lip, the weight of uncertainty pressing on him like a physical weight. How could he ask his mother about something so strange? How would he even begin the conversation?

But the need to understand was stronger than his hesitation.

His pace quickened as he neared the familiar house the one place where he felt safe enough to face the truth, no matter how complicated it might be.

Chapter Text

The night air in Musutafu was cold. Streetlights flickered, casting long shadows across the pavement. The city never really slept, but it did grow quieter. Especially around a 24-hour gas station tucked beneath a flickering sign near the edge of the neighborhood.

Izuku had stopped walking. His boots were still. His hood hung low. He’d been heading west, toward the next abandoned building he could crash in as he stalled for UA exams to be over. When suddenly, a spike shot through the base of his skull. Danger Sense

From across the street, through the wide glass windows of the station, nothing looked strange at first. 

But then Izuku saw it.

The cashier’s hands were raised. And in front of her stood a man with a gun. He wasn't yelling. Wasn't panicking. He was just holding the weapon perfectly still, lips moving slowly, like he was talking under his breath. Almost like he was rehearsing.

Danger Sense pulsed again. Izuku didn’t walk in.

He floated.

Silent. Controlled. His feet never touched the ground as he drifted through the automatic doors. They hissed open with a soft beep, and the robber's head snapped up.

He turned the gun toward him, “Don’t move. Stay where you are.”

Izuku stopped mid-air, keeping himself between the man and the civilians. His eyes darted around. Five people, not including the cashier. A child clutching candy near the soda machine. A man who had stopped scrolling on his phone by the ATM. A teenage girl frozen with a can of coffee in her hands. The mother near the freezer was shielding her child with her body.

And all of them were stuck.

Trapped.

“I’m not here to fight,” Izuku said, tone low. “But I need you to stay calm.”

The robber didn’t move.

He was young. Maybe late twenties. Dressed clean, almost too clean, like someone trying hard not to look suspicious. His hands didn’t shake, but his eyes did. A constant flicker, like he was tracking something just outside his vision.

Izuku’s Danger Sense went off again.

This wasn’t just about the gun.

“I need everyone to slowly sit down,” Izuku instructed, eyes still on the man. “No sudden movements. Just crouch low and stay quiet.”

The mother pulled her child close and lowered herself behind a shelf. The others began to follow, slowly, eyes wide and fixed on the scene. Someone’s phone was already recording.

The robber shifted his weight.

Izuku’s eyes narrowed.

There was something strange about the air around him. A shimmer, maybe. Or static. Hard to pin down. But when the man adjusted his stance, Izuku saw it again, a ripple through the floor tiles, as if the space warped just slightly beneath him.

He didn’t like that.

He raised one hand.

A tendril of Blackwhip flicked out, quick and controlled, wrapping around the base of a snack shelf and tipping it onto its side. The loud crash startled the robber, just enough to throw off his line of sight.

Izuku darted left, using Float to glide behind the frozen food aisle.

The man spun and fired. The shot shattered a light above the register. Screams echoed, then silence.

Izuku moved fast, circling the far side of the store. His mind was racing. The static. The ripple. Every time the man adjusted his footing, the air seemed to distort around him. Not like an explosion or impact quirk. Something more refined. Subtle.

It clicked.

Spatial slip.

Not teleportation. Something different. The man didn’t move space, but bent it. Slipping slightly in one direction, barely noticeable unless you were looking for it. Like stepping over cracks in reality. Which meant if he aimed and activated the quirk at the same time, he could make his bullets curve or land from unexpected angles.

No wonder Danger Sense kept flaring.

“Get down!” Izuku instructed the cashier. “Crawl under the counter and stay there.”

The girl ducked just in time as a shot curved unnaturally and shattered the screen behind her. Izuku cursed under his breath.

He launched forward.

Blackwhip lashed out again, this time aiming for the robber’s legs. The man sidestepped, slipping again. A flicker in the air signaled it. Izuku twisted midair, redirected the whip, and caught a bottle off the shelf instead, hurling it toward the man’s face.

It hit. A momentary daze.

Izuku took it.

He dove in, aiming low. The robber fired again, but the bullet struck where Izuku had just been. Blackwhip snagged the barrel of the gun, wrenching it sideways. Another shot, wide. The curved angle missed him by inches.

Izuku hit the ground, rolled, and sprang up with momentum. He grabbed the man’s wrist, twisting hard.

There was a shimmer.

The robber slipped again, space bending around him, but Izuku was faster this time. Float launched him upward as a warped shockwave pulsed through the tile. The shelf behind him exploded outward, cans flying in all directions.

People screamed.

Phones kept recording.

Izuku landed behind the man, sweat trailing down his temple. He wrapped Blackwhip tightly around the man’s torso, but not enough to trigger another slip.

“You’re not thinking straight,” Izuku said, breathing hard. “You use that Quirk wrong and it’s going to fold half this place inside out.”

“I didn’t mean to scare them,” the man growled, struggling. “I just wanted to scare the register open. I wasn’t gonna shoot.”

“You already did,” Izuku replied. “Now stop before you do worse.”

The robber struggled again, trying to slam his foot down and trigger another warp, but Izuku adjusted the angle. One more loop of Blackwhip immobilized the ankle midair.

“I said stop.”

The man slumped, out of strength. The ripple in the air faded.

Sirens wailed in the distance, blue and red lights flickering outside the windows.

Shit He looked around and winced as he realized the mess the store was in. He quickly pulled out the leftover rope he had, using blackwhip to quickly surround the robber with it.

He exhaled in relief, turning towards those in the store, “Don’t worry, he is immobilized, the police will get here soon.” The girl from the cash register slowly peeked her head up. Although she couldn't see through his mask, Izuku sent a sympathetic look, “Sorry about how trashed the place got..”

The girl stood up fully and waved her hands in front of her, “No no, it’s alright you saved our lives! Thank you..”

Izuku nodded once, then turned toward the doors. His steps were soundless, almost weightless. The moment he slipped into the night, the darkness swallowed him whole.

_________

The flashing lights of patrol cars bathed the cracked pavement in pulses of red and blue. The gas station was cordoned off with yellow tape, officers moving in and out with quiet efficiency. Glass crunched beneath Tsukauchi’s boots as he stepped under the tape, his coat swaying as he stepped under the fluorescent lights. They buzzed overhead, casting light on the shattered glass on the floor.

 Most of the shelves were intact, save for one that had collapsed into a mountain of spilled snacks. There were bullet holes in the screen above the counter. The scene itself wasn’t particularly bloody. No collapsed buildings, no screaming. Just the whirr of camera shutters and the crackle of radios. 

“Detective,” Officer Sansa called, approaching with a clipboard, “Victims are physically unharmed, though pretty shaken up. ”

“And the suspect?” The detective asked.

“Detained in the back of the car. Still.. twitchy..”

Tsukauchi nodded, barely glancing toward the suspect's silhouette behind the fogged rear window of the squad car, “Did you get a description of who intervened?”

Sansa glanced down at his notes, flipping a page, “We’ve got several statements. Though, everyone’s story seems pretty consistent, more or less. A man entered through the doors, no sound, just... appeared. Well more literally, he floated in. Let’s see uh.. Dark green suit, mask, white gloves, yellow tattered cape.. Oh and a red utility belt ”

Tsukauchi’s jaw tightened.

The news reports on Hosu came back in fragments. Reports from that night, Stain defeated by an unregistered figure. The same.. Costume details from the vigilante without a name. He hadn’t seen the face. But the suit... the presence...

The stories weren’t dying down. They were multiplying.

He exhaled slowly, nodding once at Sansa. “Get me the full copies of the witness statements. And CCTV, if any cameras survived.”

“Yes sir.”

Tsukauchi turned slightly, just enough to catch the flash of a nearby news van parked just outside the tape. A local reporter stood under the harsh beam of a camera light, mic in hand, interviewing a teenage girl, likely one of the bystanders. Her voice was calm, but her expression...

Awestruck.

He shifted closer, just enough to overhear.

“He just floated in,” the teen was saying. “Not flying. Or- well maybe he was? He wasn’t walking for sure, but it didn’t feel flashy or loud, you know? It was quiet.”

The reporter raised a brow. “So you think he had a mobility quirk?”

“I mean.. Maybe, but he also had these like shadow tentacles besides from the floating. Not only that, but he was there before I noticed he’d come in. Like a phantom or a shadow that got tired of hiding. He wasn’t terrified at all, despite the robber having a literal gun pointed at him. He just told us to lay low and he just handled it.”

Tsukauchi’s brows knit as he heard. That wasn’t the first time someone had described the vigilante that way. A blur, a shadow, a phantom. Always one step ahead, always vanishing before the pros arrived. Not reckless, but careful, and eerily silent.

_________

The rooftops were quieter here.

Izuku groaned as he pulled himself up the rusted ladder of a half-abandoned office building, his limbs trembling with leftover adrenaline. The wind bit at his face through the edges of his mask. He landed with a dull thud on the rooftop, staggering slightly before crouching low behind the ledge. His shoulder was bruised, ribs aching from where he'd narrowly twisted out of the way of the warped bullet. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. His breathing was heavy but quiet.

Until his eyes caught the glow of one of the massive public screens across the street and his breath hitched.

There he was.

Blown up in crystal clarity. A dark figure stood still from someone’s phone video, but unmistakably him. Hovering just above the gas station’s tiled floor, cape tattered, arms outstretched as civilians crouched in fear behind him. His mask shone under the harsh fluorescent lights, blank and unreadable.

He didn’t realize he was holding his breath until his ribs reminded him to inhale.

The audio from the screen was faint, but clear enough.

“-now being referred to by citizens as ‘The Phantom,’ after eyewitnesses described the figure as ‘silent,’ ‘ghostlike,’ and ‘inhumanly calm’ during the armed robbery at a 24-hour gas station in Musutafu. The vigilante appears to be the same unidentified figure from the Hosu incident earlier this year, where Stain was defeated. Police have yet to release a statement, but online speculation is growing- who is the Phantom, and why does he keep disappearing before authorities arrive?”

Izuku’s shoulders slumped forward.

No name. No face. No real details. Just enough to grab attention.

“Phantom,” he muttered bitterly under his breath. He slumped back against the ledge and covered his face with one trembling hand. “Great. That’ll help me blend in.”

He peeked around the edge of the rooftop.

Far below, a couple stood watching the screen, murmuring to each other. One pulled out their phone. They were smiling. Not afraid.

He didn’t like that. He didn’t want to be a symbol. Not like this.

He hadn’t meant to be seen, let alone talked about.

Izuku’s head dropped back against the concrete behind him, exhaling a slow, ragged breath. His heartbeat had finally started to slow, but now that static hum was back, low in the back of his skull. Not Danger Sense, just pressure.

He couldn’t stop now. Not with the Training Camp next on the timeline. Not with Shigaraki already starting to stir. He was running out of time, out of angles. But the moment his image started circulating, the timeline could-

He cut himself off. Thinking about it didn’t help.

He clenched his hand, flexing it slowly. Cameras were catching too much.

And now they were giving him a name.

The Phantom.

He didn’t even feel real anymore.

Izuku stood slowly, one hand gripping his side as he glanced toward the far edge of the rooftop.

He had to move.

If the media was watching, the heroes were watching. And if the heroes were watching…

He didn’t know how much time he had left before everything unraveled.

But he did know this. He couldn’t stop. Not yet.

Not until the people who smiled at that screen were never given a reason to scream instead.

Chapter Text

Izuku let himself into his home quietly, the click of the lock sounding too loud in the small space. The familiar smell of dinner drifted from the kitchen, miso soup, rice, something warm and comforting. He should’ve felt at ease, but instead his stomach twisted.

“Welcome home, Izuku!” Inko called from the stove. She peeked around the corner, smiling in that soft way that always tried to ease him. But the smile faltered when she saw his face. “Oh… honey, are you alright? You look pale.”

“I’m fine,” Izuku said automatically. He slipped off his shoes and sat down at the table, staring at the wood grain as though it held the answers he was looking for.

Inko fussed with the bowls, set food in front of him, and sat across the table, “You don’t look fine.” 

“Mom,” Izuku said after a few seconds of pondering. His voice cracked, hesitant but urgent. “I need to ask you something.”

Inko frowned at his tone, “Yes? You can ask me anything baby.”

He hesitated, gripping his chopsticks tightly before setting them down again. “When… when you made my hero costume… that was just you, right?”

Inko tilted her head. “Of course. You showed me your sketches, and I helped make the real thing.” She smiled nervously. “Why do you ask?”

Izuku’s throat felt dry. “But… no one else had a say? Not Dad? Or… anyone else?”

Her expression faltered. “Izuku…” She folded her hands together. “Your father hasn’t seen those sketches. He’s been away for so long, you know that. It was just me. I wanted to make sure you had something that felt like you. ”

Izuku gulped looking down at the table.

“No! It was him! I remember! You held my hand and carried me away from the bad people… You had green hair like that. And those eyes!”

A moment passed. Then he said it softly, almost like he didn’t mean to, “Do I have a brother?”

The question hung in the air and Inko blinked, startled. “What? Izuku—no, of course not-”

“I mean-” he tried again, rubbing his wrist like it itched beneath the skin. “Did you ever… have another kid? Before me..? After me even?”

“No,” she said, slowly. “No, Izuku. It’s just you. You’re my only child”

His eyes went up to his mother’s, “Are you sure?”

Now she was frowning outright, “Izuku- Wha-? of course I’m sure. What’s going on?”

Another pause. Then, quietly, “Would you tell me if I did?”

That made her still. She stepped closer, slowly, like approaching a frightened animal. “Izuku. Look at me. Why are you asking me that?”

“I-” His fingers curled looking back down at the table, “I don’t know. It’s probably stupid.”

“It’s not stupid,” she said quickly. “But it is worrying me.”

His lips parted, but the words tangled in his throat.

“He’s wearing your costume,” Todoroki had said. “It’s someone connected to Midoriya.”

“Izuku…” 

He met her eyes again, “What was Dad like?”
“The new version…was based on my mom’s original design.”

And yet, somehow, the vigilante had already been wearing it.

“What was his quirk?” He asked very shortly after his first question.

Inko frowned, “It was fire breath, I- Izuku you know this already.”

He stared at her, hands tightening in his lap. “Then… what else? Did he ever try to see me? Call you? Write?”

Inko frowned at him from across the table, her chopsticks resting untouched beside her bowl, “Izuku… why are you suddenly asking me so much about your father?”

Should I even tell her? He swallowed hard and lifted his head. “Mom… have you seen the news lately? About… a vigilante?”

Inko, tilted her head, “A vigilante? You mean… The Phantom?”

Izuku stiffened. “...The Phantom?” He hadn’t realized they’d already given the man a name. Hearing it spoken aloud sent a strange chill through him.

Inko nodded, setting her bowl down. “Yes, I think that’s what the news called him. I saw it on TV though, honestly, I’ve only caught bits and pieces while cleaning. Why? Did something happen?”

Izuku’s throat went dry, but he forced the words out. “That vigilante… his costume, his design. It’s the same as mine.”

Her eyes widened. “What?”

“The torso design especially, the way it looks- it’s almost exactly the same as the costume you made for me,” Izuku said, his voice trembling now. He gripped the edge of the table like it would steady him. “It’s not just similar. It is the same but a darker version.”

Inko opened her mouth, then shut it again, as though the words she wanted wouldn’t come. She didn't know what to say other than to reassure his other worries “Izuku. There is no one else. It’s always been just you. I promise.”

He forced a nod, but his chest felt tight, unsatisfied. “Right. Just me.”

But the words tasted wrong, and for the first time, he wasn’t sure if his mom’s promises were enough to believe.

Later, in his room, Izuku sat on the edge of his bed, the light from the streetlamps slicing across the floor. His notebook lay open in his lap, page after page of sketches and theories, but his pen hovered uselessly above the paper.

Just me.
That’s what she’d said.
But it didn’t feel like enough.

He thought of The Phantom again, the way the shadows seemed to cling to him in every shaky news clip, the distortion of his voice, the mask that stripped him of any human identity. And beneath it all, that costume. His costume.

Izuku squeezed his pen until his knuckles hurt.
“If it’s not a coincidence…” he whispered to himself. “Then who is he?”

___________

Dim lights flickered over bottles, and dusty chairs. Shigaraki slouched in a chair, arms crossed, scowling, clearly irritated. Giran had come in and insisted he meet the “new recruits.”

“Kurogiri, get rid of these two, I can already tell they’re the type of trash I hate.” Shigaraki glared at the two wannabe members, “A brat, and a guy with no manners.”

Kurogiri turned towards the blue haired man, “They’ve come all this way, Tomura, the least we can do is hear them out and give them a chance,” His gaze drifted to Giran, “Besides, they were brought here by this broker who is quite respected in the underworld. They’re bound to be valuable assets.”

Giran grinned as he stopped leaning against the door, “Like em’ or not, I’m still expecting the finders fee paid in cash, Kurogiri,” the smoker walked forward, “I suppose I can introduce the two of them before I go” 

He gestured to a blonde highschool looking girl, “This here is Himiko Toga, the main suspect of circulating crimes where the victims all bled out, however her name and face have been kept out of the media” 

Toga smiled brightly, “Hi! Life is too hard, I just wanna make it easier to live in this dumb world and not have to worry about how I use my quirk! Like that Phantom guy the heroes are looking for all over the news! He uses his quirk without caring about the heroes!” She pointed at Shigaraki who had made a face behind the white hand, “And he made blood gush out of your Nomu’s big brain when he kicked it! It was so beautiful!” 

Shigaraki tensed at her tone and the passion in her eyes when she talked about blood, “What is she crazy?”

Giran chuckled softly, “Well, she can hold a conversation for the most part, but no doubt she can be useful.” Giran’s gaze shifted to the purple-scarred man. “This is Dabi. He hasn’t committed any flashy crimes, but he’s ready for action, especially with this new vigilante drawing attention to himself.”

Shigaraki stood up, “Geez, all anybody can talk about is that stupid vigilante, it’s really pissing me off!” Kurogiri and the other pair could feel the murderous intent within Tomura’s words, “You two are done!”

However before any damage could be done, Kurogiri made his portal as the trio seemed to launch attacks at each other, “Please calm yourselves. Tomura Shigaraki, if you want things to go according to plan, you must allow the League to expand,” Kurogiri said calmly, his voice a counterpoint to Shigaraki’s simmering irritation. “Stagnation weakens us. Growth ensures survival. Survival ensures your rise.”

With that Kurogiri halted the use of his quirk. Shigaraki just grunted in frustration as he made his way towards the door, “Where are you going?” Giran asked.

“Shut up” Shigaraki had said simply as he shut the door.

Kurogiri exhaled, “Shall we get back to you about recruitment at a later date? I believe our leader knows what he must do. That’s why he left without a word, he understands the circumstances. All Might, and then this vigilante Phantom that defeated our Nomu and the Hero Killer during the Hosu Incident. He’s been humbled twice.” The others just continued to look on at the door where Shigaraki had disappeared off to, “I’m sure he’ll bring forth an answer soon. One that will satisfy both of you as well as his own desires.” 

___________

Dim chatter, footsteps, and the hum of fluorescent lights filled the Kiyashi Ward Mall. The scent of fried food mingled with sanitizer and perfume, a strangely comforting, ordinary odor in the midst of a day that was about to feel anything but normal.

“Ah, Midoriya! I just remembered- I need to buy bug spray! For the training camp!”

Uraraka’s voice floated over the crowd, bright and awkward, before she disappeared into the mall.

Izuku blinked. “Oh… okay.”

He lingered for a moment, slightly disappointed in how the class had come together to the mall yet here he was. Alone.

He watched the waves of shoppers move around him, families tugging children toward stores, couples laughing, bright eyes fixed on displays. It was peaceful. Normal.

He allowed himself a small exhale.

“Oh hey, It’s someone from UA, nice.”

The voice was casual, calm. A figure suddenly loomed over Izuku but before he could get a good look at his face, the man placed his arm over his shoulder, “You’re the one who got beat to hell during the Sports Festival right?” Izuku couldn't help but stand tensely and just chuckle nervously

“Uh, yeah..” The boy answered. 

“And if I’m not wrong.. You’re also one of the kids that ran into the Hero Killer, and The Phantom in the Hosu incident too?”

Izuku muscles locked, “You sure.. Do know a lot.”

The man let out a low chuckle, “I guess you can say I’m a big fan. I can’t believe I’m running into you again ”

The green haired boy’s eyes widened letting out a hitched breath.

“It makes me think it might not be a coincidence,” Izuku finally managed to look up and the unnerving face of Shigaraki met his gaze, his hand went up to Izuku’s neck and tightened slightly, “No, no, this feels like fate or destiny.” Shigaraki grinned, “Oh right, from your point of view, we haven’t met since the attack at UA.”

Izuku took in how he had his hood up, black hoodie would’ve had him blending with the crowd. Hair pale and wild. He didn’t stand out, yet everything about him screamed danger.

“Act natural. Don’t make a scene, I’m nothing but an old friend visiting you at the mall,” Shigaraki said, his fingers twitching slightly, brushing against the fabric of Izuku’s collar. “So wipe that look off your face and let’s have a friendly chat.”

“And if you think of trying something, like running away or fighting well..” Shigaraki toyed with Izuku’s neck, “It’ll be fast, the moment all five of my fingers lie down on your neck. Your throat will be the first to crumble into nothing but ash.”

Izuku swallowed thickly, his pulse thundering in his ears, “If you do that here in this crowded area, the heroes will come right away and you’ll get caught.”

Shigaraki grinned, “I don’t doubt that,” He pointed at the people walking throughout the mall, “But look at these people, anyone could use their quirks and start a massacre whenever they wanted. But, they’re all smiling and laughing. They think laws and rules will protect them. And yet, we’ve seen how a few words written by the ‘higher up’s can be so easily ignored. Like the unlicensed Phantom brat that floated up to save you and power up a kick enough to kill .”

“Sure a hero will come and stop me as you said, but imagine how many more I could kill after you. ”

Izuku felt a lump form in his throat, “What.. What do you want to talk about?” Shigaraki let out a chuckle at the boy’s reluctant compliance at a conversation. 

“Let’s go grab a seat and get comfortable shall we?”

As they moved, the mall blurred around Izuku. Laughter, chatter, the shuffle of bags and strollers, none of it felt real anymore. His senses tunneled down to the figure at his side, the heat of Shigaraki’s presence pressing against him like a shadow. He caught sight of a little girl tugging her mother’s hand toward a candy store, her smile bright and oblivious, and the sight almost made him sick.

“Imagine how many more I could kill after you. ”

Only when they reached the edge of the food court, by a quiet fountain tucked away in a shadowed corner, did Shigaraki finally speak again.

“Generally, I don’t like a lot of things. I hate just about everything” he muttered, still not looking at him. “But, what really pisses me off? Is the things that occurred during the Hosu Incident.”

Izuku glanced at him, careful to keep his expression neutral. “You mean… Stain?”

Shigaraki’s lip curled. “Tch. Don’t flatter yourself. I couldn’t care less about him.”

He turned slightly now, eyes narrowing. “But everyone else? They’re obsessed with this… new character. His takedown of Stain. They talk as if your little masked ‘friend’ is the second coming.”

Izuku tensed. His throat tightened, “The Phantom”

“Yeah. That guy.” Shigaraki’s eyes glittered with irritation. “Showed up out of nowhere. Saved you. Took down my Nomu like it was nothing.”

His voice dropped lower.

“People won’t shut up about him. Not Stain. Not me. Him. I simply don't understand how the world could cheer for anyone , for someone who very publicly breaks the rules. Someone dangerous, ”

Izuku didn’t respond. Couldn’t. His thoughts were racing too fast. 

“You should be dead, you know,” Shigaraki muttered. “But he interfered. Everyone’s fascinated now. Heroes, The commission, hell even villains are buzzing. All about some nobody in a scary mask.”

Izuku gritted his teeth. “He saved lives. That’s what matters.”

Shigaraki laughed quietly, “Maybe. Or maybe he’s just another player in the game. Another puppet thinking he’s pulling strings.”

His voice dropped to a whisper, razor-sharp.

“You attract people like that. People who jump in front of knives for you. Ever wonder why?”

Izuku said nothing, his fists clenched tightly at his sides.

Shigaraki tilted his head slightly, his grin fading into something cold.. “What makes you so special, Midoriya?”

Izuku couldn’t do anything but stare back, every muscle locked.

“I should kill you,” Shigaraki said softly. “But not yet.”

He lingered for a second. A second too long.

And then just like that he got up, sliding back into the crowd with his hands shoved deep into his hoodie pockets, swallowed whole by the noise of everyday life.

Izuku stood frozen. The world felt far away voices muffled, lights too bright, his heart too loud. He breathed in. Then again. Shakier.

Shigaraki was gone.

But Izuku didn’t feel safe.

___________

Shigaraki kept walking, his shoulders hunched, hood pulled low. He didn’t look back. He didn’t need to.

Midoriya would still be standing there, probably shaking. Useless. That kid was always just barely surviving, always protected by something, someone bigger than him.

But this time… something was different.

It wasn’t just Midoriya anymore, was it?

He ducked down a quieter hallway near the back of the food court. Concrete walls. Emergency exit signs humming faintly above. His shoes echoed dully against the floor.

Shigaraki slowed, but didn’t turn. His instincts prickled, the air here was different, he flexed his fingers against his pocket, there was that sensation again. Like being watched through a scope, “You followed me,” he muttered. “Or maybe you were already here.”

Silence.

But he could feel it, “You’re the one everyone keeps talking about, aren’t you? The ghost in the footage. The freak in the mask.”

His fingers drifted close to the beacon in his pocket. Kurogiri’s insurance.

“You messed everything up,” he said flatly. “The public was supposed to have their eyes on me. But Stain… and especially you stole my moment, “ His voice dropped. “I don’t like sharing the spotlight.”

From the shadows, a voice emerged, low and Steady

“Leave those kids alone.”

Shigaraki stilled. There was weight behind those words. Not just a warning. A threat, “Tch,” His fingers twitched, “So you do talk.”

He still didn’t bother to search the dark. Whoever this guy was… he was good at hiding. And that made him worse than a hero.

“What’s your deal, huh?” Shigaraki asked, “You think you’re better than me? Playing the silent protector and ruining plans?”

No response, only the hum of the emergency lights, “You should’ve stayed out of it,” Shigaraki said quietly.

He pressed the beacon.

A ripple of darkness bloomed behind him, Kurogiri’s warp gate.

“But now that I know you’re watching…” He turned his head slightly, just enough to make out the edges of the hallway behind him, “You’re on my list too.”

And with that, he stepped into the black and purple fog.

Gone.

Chapter Text

The air smelled like summer pine and damp soil, Izuku glided down the slope leading into the wooded landscape. It was still early, the sun only a pale wash of light bleeding across the horizon.

He knew that this place would soon be filled with voices, laughter, and the sounds of determined training. But for now it belonged to the insects, the rustle of leaves, and the sounds of birds perched high above.

He didn’t have much time before he’d hear the echoing screams of students.  

The straps of a scavenged duffel bag cut into his shoulder. He dropped it behind a tangle of underbrush, breathing hard. The bag clinked faintly with its contents, medical bandages, antiseptic, ration bars, water bottles, basic masks and filters, flares, whistles, and whatever else he could get his hands on. 

He had stolen them from a distribution truck late in the night before, slipping through the shadows while workers laughed and smoked cigarettes on their break. No one had seen him, they never did.

They’ll replace it by tomorrow morning, he told himself, almost chanting it. They won’t even notice. But if I don’t bring it here, someone’s going to need it, and it won’t be there. That’s the difference, supplies restocked or a classmate bleeding out. If I can prevent even one kid from being carried out on a stretcher, it’ll be worth it. 

The motion felt almost ritualistic as he unloaded the stolen supplies. Everything had to be accounted for. His hands trembled slightly as he organized them into smaller bundles using strips of torn fabric.

Piece by piece, he built survival kits. Each one small enough to stash in hollowed tree trunks or wedge between boulders. He worked with a tightness in his chest. Every scratch of twig under his shoes felt too loud, every bird that took flight made him spin, half expecting the blue flames of Dabi to flicker from the treeline. But the villains weren’t here yet. Not yet.

With the supplies taken care of, Izuku turned his focus to the terrain. He needed to know this forest better than anyone, better than even the Pussycats, better than his past self who would stumble through it with classmates. The Beast’s Forest was thick, heavy with humidity and buzzing with insects that whined against his ears.

He noted the steep drop-offs, cliffs covered in moss that would crumble if grabbed too hard. Every time he found a vantage point, he climbed, sometimes scrambling by hand, sometimes whipping Blackwhip into the branches to haul himself upward.

From the treetops, the view was a patchwork of endless green, treacherous and beautiful all at once. He sat there, crouched against the bark, committing the layout to memory. His mind filled with scenarios playing out the possibilities until his brain throbbed with tension.

By the time engines echoed in the distance, his throat was dry, and his palms stung from bark burns.

He froze where he was, perched high in a tree, and pressed himself against the trunk. A bus rumbled up the dirt road, too bright, too loud for this wild place. The sound of voices carried even before the doors opened.

His breath caught. He didn’t need to see them to know.

One by one, his classmates spilled out, chatter and footsteps filling the air. He saw flashes of uniforms, the glint of familiar hair colors, Kirishima’s red spikes, Uraraka’s bob catching sunlight, Iida’s glasses flashing. And then himself.

His green hair in his usual mess, his shoulders tense in that way he recognized all too well. Past Izuku shuffled nervously after the group, notebook clutched to his chest like a shield.

Izuku felt his stomach twist.

He wanted to leap down, shake that boy by the shoulders, tell him everything . It was the same feeling he felt the first time he encountered him. To warn him about what was coming, about what it would cost. But he stayed frozen in the treeline, hands digging into bark until splinters pricked his palms.

The Pussycats didn’t waste time. He saw Mandalay and Pixie-Bob grinning as they gestured toward the cliff. Class 1-A crowded forward, confused, chattering until the ground fell away beneath them.

The screams echoed through the forest as his classmates plummeted into the Beast’s Forest below.

Izuku’s muscles tensed to move, every instinct screaming at him to jump, to catch them, to save them. But he stayed rooted, jaw clenched. They would be fine. He remembered this much. They’d land, they’d fight, they’d struggle their way through monsters and exhaustion, and they would survive.

Still, hearing their shouts echo through the trees, watching his younger self tumble headlong into danger, it was like pressing his hand against fire and forcing himself not to pull away.

He shadowed them from above. Swinging quietly through the treetops, he tracked their progress as they battled grotesque earth-beasts clawing out of the soil. He crouched in the branches, his own memories overlapping with the moment unfolding below. It was surreal, like watching a movie he had already memorized, except every slip, every stumble made his heart lurch with the terror that maybe this time, it wouldn’t work.

As the class staggered their way toward the camp proper, exhausted but triumphant, Izuku continued to linger in the shadows. The laughter carried faintly to where he crouched. He couldn’t join them, couldn’t let himself be seen.

The day ended with the smell of smoke from the Pussycats’ cooking fires drifting through the woods, faint laughter carried on the night breeze.

Izuku sat high in the branches, legs dangling, eyes fixed on the glow of the camp below. His chest ached with something he couldn’t name, longing, grief, and a thin thread of determination that held him together.

"One day down," he thought, clenching his fists. "I can hold out. I have to."

The forest creaked around him, and the shadows stretched longer.

And he waited.

_____

The second morning was harder than the first.

Izuku stirred from another shallow half-sleep in the crook of a tree, his back stiff, every muscle reminding him he hadn’t truly rested since before this nightmare began. The sun was bleeding faint light across the treetops, birds starting their chorus. It should have been peaceful. Instead, it felt suffocating.

For a long while, he just sat there, knees tucked tight to his chest, watching his own breath fog faintly in the cool air. His chest felt heavy, like there was something pressing down on him that wouldn’t ease.

"I shouldn’t even be here…"

His whisper fell flat in the damp morning air.

Somewhere below, camp was stirring. The voices of his classmates drifted faintly upward, laughter blending with groans of early-morning exhaustion. He heard his own younger voice, a thin note among them. And the sound of it, his own voice, belonging to someone so far from who he was now , struck him harder than he expected.

He pressed his fists to his temples. That’s me. That’s supposed to be me. But it’s not.

He had slipped out of time like a knot unraveling, and no amount of pulling could sew it back together. He didn’t even know if there was a way home. And if there wasn’t… what then? Would he just rot in the shadows of his own past, haunting the people he once loved, watching them laugh and grow without ever being able to reach out?

The thought burned.

He thought of his mother. Her worried eyes, the way her hands wrung together when she didn’t know what to say. Did she even exist anymore, back in his time? Or had she already lost him once he slipped away?

He thought of All Might, of the pride in his mentor’s smile, the weight of his hand on Izuku’s shoulder. Was All Might searching for him? Or was he just… gone, erased, like a dream fading in the daylight?

His chest constricted, breath coming uneven. The ache wasn’t physical, but it hollowed him out all the same.

"If I don’t make it back… what was all of it for? Did I save anyone? Did I help at all?"

The doubts clung to him like mud, and for a terrifying moment, he let himself sink into them. Maybe he was nothing more than a ghost. A mistake. Someone who existed in the wrong time, condemned to watch from the outside until he disappeared altogether.

By midday, the camp below roared with life. His classmates were training again, laughter and shouts echoing through the forest. Izuku didn’t watch it this time. He couldn’t bear it.

Instead, he carved out a small clearing deeper in the woods, clearing branches and flattening the earth. His “training ground.” It wasn’t much, but it was his.

He stood in the center, fists trembling, and closed his eyes. He let One For All’s energy surge through him, bones thrumming, lightning crackling faintly under his skin.

"Control it. Focus. Don’t waste it."

His breathing grew sharp, forcing the energy into his limbs, pushing it down, pulling it back. He launched himself forward, slamming his fist into the trunk of a tree. Splinters flying, bark exploding outward. The impact rattled his arm, but it held. He gritted his teeth and did it again. And again.

Sweat poured down his face. His body screamed for rest. But he kept going.

Because stopping meant thinking. And thinking meant falling apart.

When he finally collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath, the clearing looked like a battlefield. Trees gouged with strikes, earth torn from his impacts, marks from flickers of Blackwhip.

He bent forward, pressing his forehead to the dirt, body shaking.

“All right, Midoriya! Again!”

He jerked his head up.

The voice wasn’t real, but it might as well have been.

For a moment, standing at the edge of the clearing, he saw All Might, not the skeletal shadow he had become, but the towering Symbol of Peace, grinning with encouragement, fists clenched on his hips.

Izuku’s throat closed. He blinked hard, but the image stayed, as vivid as memory could paint it.

“All Might…”

His voice cracked on the name.

The hallucination smiled, impossibly bright. “You’ve come this far. You can’t stop now! Push beyond your limits!”

Izuku’s chest heaved. He knew it wasn’t real. He knew . But his body moved anyway, staggering to his feet, drawing on the last scraps of power in his muscles.

He charged forward, fists glowing, striking again and again at the empty air, tears streaking down his face.

“Is this enough?! Is it?!” he shouted, voice breaking. “Will this make me strong enough to get back?! To save them?! Or am I just… wasting it all here?!”

The forest swallowed his cries. His fists finally gave out, his legs buckling. He collapsed, dirt clinging to his sweat-soaked skin, chest heaving with ragged sobs.

The phantom of All Might was gone. Only the broken clearing and the silence of the woods remained.

Night came slower this time.

Izuku sat slumped against a tree. His whole body ached, but inside he was emptier than ever. The ache of exhaustion was nothing compared to the hollowness in his chest.

He wondered if his classmates would notice him missing, someday, in the future that wasn’t his. Would they remember the boy who had fallen out of time? Or would his absence just be another silence they never questioned?

Would his mother cry herself sick? Would they think he abandoned them?

All Might… if he looked into those same eyes, would he just see a stranger wearing his successor’s face?

For a moment he almost laughed. His whole life had been about reaching for the future, and now he was trapped in the past, tearing himself apart with questions that had no answers.

The stars blurred in his vision. He curled his knees up again, wrapping his arms around them like a child.

"I don’t know if I’ll ever go home."

The words were barely audible, but they were all he had left to hold onto.

Somewhere below, his classmates were laughing again. The firelight glowed faint in the distance, warm and unreachable.

Izuku sat hunched over in the dirt, staring at the stars through the cracks in the canopy. Sleep wouldn’t come, not with his body sore and his mind gnawing itself raw.

His thoughts kept dragging back to the old man’s quirk.

He didn’t know what it had done. Not exactly. Not really.

“Was I… erased?” he whispered to the empty forest.

The words sounded dangerous, even to himself.

If the quirk had pulled him out of his own timeline, then… was it gone now? Was there a future where his friends were standing in the ruins, waiting for him to come back, only to realize he never would? Or had the quirk cut the thread entirely, snipping him from existence?

His stomach twisted.

What if this.. this world, these days with his younger self was just a branch , a whole new line drawn in the sand because of him? If that was true, then what happened to the world he’d left behind? Did it keep going, without him, without his interference? Or had it collapsed the moment he was spat into the past?

And if it was just another timeline, another branch, then what did that mean for him?

He clenched his fists against his knees.

“If I change things here… then how does the future happen? The one I came from? How could I even be thrown back if I make it different?”

His throat went dry, the paradox clawing at him.

He squeezed his eyes shut. His own memories, messy, fragmented, but real, never included a shadow watching in the woods, never hinted at an older, broken version of himself hovering at the edges of their training camp.

“Does that mean… none of this even matters?”

The words cracked, spilling into the dark.

If he couldn’t remember being here, then this wasn’t really his past at all. Just a cruel trick, a copy. A cage he couldn’t climb out of.

Izuku pressed his forehead to his arms, teeth digging into his lip until he tasted blood.

He hated that he didn’t know. Hated that the old man had given him this - this impossible knot of timelines and theories without answers.

When he let himself close his eyes, he could almost hear All Might’s voice, not the booming one from TV, or the one from his hallucination, but the quiet rasp he knew best:

Stand up, Midoriya. Even when it hurts.

_____

The third morning in the forest was filled with tension. Sunlight filtered through the canopy in thin, scattered shafts, painting the forest floor with fractured light. Dew clung to leaves and branches, making each movement sound louder than it should have. Izuku’s muscles slightly ached from the previous two days, but he didn’t dare rest. Not today.

From his perch atop a gnarled tree branch, he scanned the camp below. His classmates moved with purpose, but their focus was on the drills, the instructors, the expected challenges of the training camp. They had no idea what waited beyond the treeline.

This is the calm before the storm, he thought. And I can’t let anyone get caught off guard.

Every footstep, every snap of a twig under a squirrel or bird, made him flinch. He shifted slightly, careful not to rustle the branches, careful not to reveal himself. He’d spent the past two days mapping the terrain in his mind. Fallen logs that could serve as cover, small clearings that might become traps, the slope of the earth that could give attackers the advantage.

Izuku’s hands flexed, testing the tautness of his muscles. One For All thrummed beneath his skin, and he let it flow through his arms and legs, feeling it settle into a rhythm. He wasn’t just watching today, he was anticipating and acting. Every possible movement of his classmates and every potential strike from the attackers ran through his mind like a mental simulation.

Hours passed like this, tense and meticulous. He moved quietly from tree to tree, crouched behind rocks, and even paused atop a small ridge to observe the instructors coordinating formations with the students. He didn’t interfere, not yet. Every action had to be precise, one misstep could compromise everything.

I can’t be seen. I can’t interact too much. I need them to fight this without knowing I’m here… but I have to protect them.

Izuku decided to move carefully, retracing the paths where he’d hidden the medkits and supplies. 

One more check. Better safe than sorry.

As he slipped through a dense thicket near the creek, he froze. Movement ahead. A small figure was crouched, apparently inspecting a fallen log.

“Kota…” he whispered under his breath, but it was too late.

Kota’s wide eyes locked on the dark figure emerging from the shadows. Masked, hands gloved and fists clenched, Izuku looked almost inhuman, something from a nightmare. Kota’s mouth opened, then shut. He staggered back, tripping over a root, his backpack swinging.

“I-I… I didn’t… I wasn’t-” Kota stammered, eyes darting around for an escape.

Izuku moved a step forward, raising a gloved hand in a calming gesture. “It’s okay, I’m not-”

But Kota had already decided. Whatever this figure was, he wasn’t human, he wasn’t safe. He bolted through the brush, yelping, every instinct screaming to run.

Izuku cursed under his breath, his voice low and muffled by the mask, “Wait- don’t! I’m not a villain!”

But it was too late. Kota vanished through the undergrowth, leaving Izuku alone with the rustling leaves and the faint scent of disturbed earth.

He exhaled slowly, Damn it… I need to be more careful. Not everyone can handle this face. 

______

Kota stumbled through the forest, heart pounding, backpack bouncing against his shoulders. Branches snapped underfoot, and every shadow seemed to reach for him. His mind raced, images of the masked figure burned into his memory.

He didn’t stop until he reached the outskirts of the camp. Panting, he darted toward the familiar shapes of tents and training areas. His eyes frantically searched for someone who could help, someone who would believe him.

“Auntie! Auntie!” he called, voice cracking.

He found her speaking quietly with Aizawa. The hero’s calm but firm presence gave him a momentary sense of safety, though the fear still clung tightly to his chest.

“Auntie! There was… there’s a man in the woods! He had a scary mask… he- he looked like a villain!” Kota blurted, voice rising with panic.

Mandalay turned, eyes widening slightly at his tone, and Aizawa’s expression didn’t change, but his gaze sharpened.

“Slow down, Kota,” Mandalay said, crouching to his level. “Take a breath and tell us exactly what you saw.”

Kota’s chest heaved. “He… he was wearing a dark green mask and- and- he was covered in dirt- he had a yellow cape -”

Aizawa’s gaze sharpened, though his posture remained deceptively relaxed. He’d trained himself not to flinch at surprises, but the words cut through his calm like a heated up knife to butter.

Green mask. Yellow cape.

His mind snapped back to an alley drenched in neon light and rain, to the clash of fists and the groans of downed thugs. The man that was half-hidden behind a ragged mask and a cloak that caught in the wind. The one that had fought like a storm, reckless, but undeniably skilled. The masked figure that had been on U.A. grounds with the small, trembling girl cradled in his arms. Eri. 

Aizawa’s jaw tightened.

“Green mask… yellow cape?” Aizawa repeated, his voice low, testing the boy’s memory. Kota nodded vigorously, eyes wide and pleading.

“Yes! I’m not making it up! He looked like- like a bad guy. He had gloves, and- and…” The boy rambled on mostly stutters of fear. Mandalay looked up at Aizawa with a concerned expression. 

Mandalay’s gaze returned to her nephew’s, her hand pressed lightly to Kota’s back, grounding him. “It’s okay, Kota. You’re safe now.”

As the boy continued to attempt to breathe correctly with the help of Mandalay, Aizawa took a singular step towards the forest area, seemingly glaring in both wariness and suspicion. 

Are you here? he thought, his memory supplying the image of that dark mask again. And if you are.. Why?… And just what the hell are you planning?

As nightfall began to descend, Class 1-A and 1-B’s ‘Test of Courage’ would soon begin.

Chapter Text

Izuku had been tracking where Ragdoll was for the past 15 minutes. He had almost forgotten during his planning that the aftermath of this incident would include Search being taken. He refused to let that happen this time. 

He kept to the shadows between the trees. Every few seconds, he paused, held his breath, boots hovering above the forest floor, as if the trees themselves might scream his position.

 Ragdoll stepped lightly across a fallen log far ahead, humming something bright and optimistic, even though the forest was too quiet for that kind of energy. She kept scanning the area, shoulders tense, thinking about the “man in the woods” Mandalay mentioned. 

Kota had thrown the whole camp off with that one sentence. Eraserhead had told her and other Pussycats that he had a suspicion of who this man was, The Phantom, and their history of run-ins along with his tendency to follow his students, especially Midoriya. He reassured them that he wasn’t hostile but to keep their guards up if in the event they encounter him.

Izuku ducked behind a broad trunk as she turned, pressing his back to the bark. He exhaled slow. The moment she saw him, she’d activate Search on instinct.

He forced himself to speak as soon as she was within his range, keeping his voice low, and steady, “Ragdoll. Don’t freak out- I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

Her footsteps halted. Her hand brushed against her utility belt, “...So you’re the one Kota saw,” she said. Her tone was cheerful on the surface, but underneath was the unmistakable readiness of a pro hero about to strike. “If you’re not dangerous, sweetie, you should try walking up to me instead of stalking me from behind trees~”

“I can’t,” Izuku said immediately before he steadied himself, “Just listen. Please.”

When Ragdoll remained quiet, he continued. 

“A group is coming,” he said. “They’ll hit the training camp in less than an hour.”

Ragdoll inhaled sharply. He could hear the shift in her posture, the twitch of her head as she tried, out of habit, to activate Search.

“If you’re not a villain, then talk to me openly about this-”

“Please Ragdoll, I’m trying to keep you safe!” 

She frowned, “How do you even know this? And, why warn me first?”

He hesitated, then answered honestly, “Because not only do they want to harm and even take students- They want you. Specifically. Because of what your quirk can do.”

Leaves stirred as she stepped closer, cautious but curious, “That’s… a very big claim, mystery man.”

“It’s true,” he said quietly. “Also, they’re specifically after a student- Katsuki Bakugo”

He shifted his weight, ready to disappear if she made a move, “I’m trying to give you time. Enough to warn the others. Enough to avoid them.”

Ragdoll took a slow step back, not in fear, but to widen her angle, to keep more terrain in sight. Her instincts were sharp. She’d lived off them for years.

“A villain attack? Tonight?” Her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “You didn’t say you were guessing. You said it like a fact.”

Izuku stilled against the tree, wanting to let out a sigh. Goddamn it- this is exactly why he wanted to keep interactions minimal- This was Aizawa and Nezu all over again.

“Tell me something,” she said. “How does a lone vigilante, one who lives off scraps, fights criminals as a pass time, has gotten involved with The Hero Killer Stain, know the movements of an organized villain group?”

Her gaze locked on the trees where he hid.

“You know the timing, targets, even motivations. That’s intel-level knowledge, not vigilante instinct.”

He felt the weight of her words slam into him. She wasn’t accusing. She was analyzing. Trying to map him like she mapped every criminal she fought.

She exhaled, jaw tight, “People don’t just stumble into knowledge like this. Not without being on the wrong side of something isn’t it?”

Izuku let out an exhale, “I’m not with- Villains… talk,” he said. “And I listen.”

A long silence followed. Ragdoll’s eyes sharpened further, flicking between the trees, tracing invisible dot-lines only she could see.

“That’s not an answer,” she lifted an eyebrow.

“But that's all I can give you,” he replied.

Silence drew between them for a few seconds before Ragdoll slowly exhaled, almost a laugh but not quite, “You know,” she said lightly, though her voice trembled faintly underneath, “it’s really hard to figure out if you’re a threat or a good guy with terrible social skills.”

Izuku let a tired half smile pull at his mouth, “...I’ve been told both.”

He adjusted the grip on his scavenged gear, aware that time was running out, “Just trust me on this one thing. Don’t split up. The moment you’re alone, they’ll take the shot.”

Ragdoll didn’t answer right away. He could feel her staring at the tree, at the shadows shifting around him.

 “You need to stop the Test of Courage tonight.”

A beat of silence.

She shook her head slowly, even though he wasn’t visible, “Oh no, no, no… sweetie, that’s not happening.”

“You don’t understand,” he insisted, stepping a little closer but still hidden from her sight. “The timing- the students are going to be scattered across the forest when they hit. They’ll be isolated and vulnerable! The attack relies on that.”

“I get what you’re saying,” she cut in, her voice tightening, “but we can’t just pull the plug like that.”

Izuku clenched his jaw. Why not? Why wouldn’t they?

She exhaled sharply, and suddenly her usual bouncy tone dropped entirely, “Listen. I’m not brushing you off. But there are protocols. We’re still responsible for teaching these kids, and we’re evaluated on it. Everything we do with the students are monitored training exercises planned with the U.A. faculty in advance.”

Izuku gritted his teeth,  “That shouldn’t matter if they’re in danger.”

“Of course it matters,” she snapped softly,“If I go to the others and say ‘cancel everything right now,’ They’re going to ask why a vigilante who is by the way, very much on the radar, knows more than us pros.”

Izuku pressed his knuckles against the tree trunk beside him, frustration burning through his veins.

She inhaled slowly, “We can’t change the whole structure unless we’re 100% sure of a real, immediate threat. Otherwise we risk looking reckless. Or incompetent. And these kids? They deserve the best judgment from us.”

“So what then?” he asked quietly. “You just hope nothing happens?”

Ragdoll sighed, “I believe you’re trying to help,” she said gently. “But belief isn’t enough to reroute 40 students and 6 pros in the dead of night. I need something I can act on, something solid. And right now…”

“All I have is your word.”

______________ 

Pixie-Bob was mid-rant about how no one appreciated the fine art of seasoning mysterious stew when Mandalay let out a sigh and Tiger just snorted, crossing his arms as he watched Aizawa sip from a thermos like he regretted every life choice that led him up to this point.

Branches rustled next to them before Ragdoll burst through the treeline, “Seems you were right, Eraserhead,” she announced, brushing leaves off her costume. “Looks like we’ve had a visitor for who knows how long, camping out in our woods.”

The other Pussycats straightened immediately, Aizawa’s grip tightened on his thermos. “…The Phantom.”

Ragdoll nodded, “Yep. And I just had a whole conversation with him. He seemed to know about my quirk well enough because he made sure I couldn’t see him. He’s cautious, wired tight, and definitely not just passing through.”

Pixie-Bob blinked. “Wait- him? So it really is the same one you’ve been dealing with, Eraserhead?”

Tiger frowned. “You’ve run into this guy more than anyone. What do you think we’re dealing with here?”

All eyes shifted to Aizawa.

He exhaled slowly, already tired. “He’s intelligent, paranoid, and somehow always three steps ahead.” He lowered his thermos, gaze sharpening. “What exactly did he say to you?”

Ragdoll rubbed the back of her neck. “A lot, actually. He tried to convince me to stop the Test of Courage, said something was coming and that keeping the kids out of the woods was safest.”

Aizawa’s brow twitched. “Did he specify a threat? A person? A group?”

“A group, he said they were targeting me as well as planning to harm the students. The group is after me for my quirk and that they’re after the kid named Bakugo,” she admitted. “But, he got all tense when I confronted on how exactly he was getting this information”

Mandalay crossed her arms, “Well that’s just great.”

Aizawa didn’t look away from Ragdoll. “What about his behavior? Tone? Did he make any demands?”

“Other than to cancel the camp activity, told me not to be alone,” she said, expression tightening.”

Aizawa let out a long, slow breath. Tiger stepped close, “Did he threaten you?”

Ragdoll shook her head. “No. If anything, he seemed… desperate for me or well- us to just listen. But I also felt as if he was just ready to bolt if anything went wrong.”

Aizawa nodded once, “That tracks.”

Pixie-Bob tilted her head. “So what now? Do we trust him? Ignore him? Chase him down?”

Aizawa's expression had sharpened into something else.

He didn’t speak right away. His eyes flicked toward the treeline where Ragdoll had emerged, then toward the area where his students along with Vlad’s students were, trusting him and the other pro’s with their safety.

Mandalay shifted, “Uh… Eraserhead?”

Aizawa was busy running probabilities in his head. If the Phantom was lying, which the guy hasn’t outright done yet, but had a nasty habit of dodging questions, then he was manipulating them into doing whatever the hell Phantom was planning. If he was telling the truth… then Aizawa was already behind. Again.

He clenched his jaw.

Bakugo.

Not the easiest kid, nor the most compliant. But undeniably powerful, and an obvious target for villains who wanted raw, unstable firepower.

Aizawa felt a familiar spike of irritation at himself, he should have moved the second Kota had brought up the mere description of the Phantom earlier today. Should have pressed harder. Should have searched the perimeter. Should have-

Ragdoll spoke gently, “Eraserhead. You’re thinking too loudly.”

Aizawa huffed, “I’m thinking just enough.”

Pixie-Bob frowned, “You’re not seriously considering pulling the plug are you?”

Aizawa pinched the bridge of his nose, thinking hard before he spoke, “…Look. I don’t know if the Phantom is manipulating us, or if he genuinely wants to stop what’s coming.”

He looked at each of the Pussycats in turn taking a slow breath, jaw tight.

“I’m not betting our students’ lives on a vigilante’s word. But I’m not throwing out a warning that specific, either. We stay alert.”

Then, more quietly,“…If he wanted to harm us, he’s had a dozen chances already. Keep that in mind. He’s not dangerous to them.”

____________

Izuku slipped through the trees like a shadow, feet barely touching the ground as he cut across the forest, only the sounds of the students who were participating in the Test of Courage that he had the misfortune of not putting a stop to. 

A thin flicker of blue, and then a misty cloud of purple caught his eye through the branches.

His stomach clenched.

It’s starting.

He didn’t waste a second. He pivoted hard, heading toward the source. Mustard.

Izuku kept low, weaving between roots and trunks, he took off his hood and quickly slipped his own gas mask over his face, breath muffling behind the filter. His pulse steadied. He needed to thin the enemy’s numbers fast. And he knew exactly where to start.

His boots crunched on pine needles. It didn’t take long. The boy was there, mask on, pistol drawn, cloud already beginning to spread. 

Mustard spoke when he noticed him. “Hey… You’re not a student… You’re that freak Giran kept talking about. The one in the mask.” He raised the pistol lazily. “You’ll die just like the rest!”

Izuku didn’t flinch when the boy fired. Danger Sense alerted him immediately. In one fluid motion, he dodged and launched himself at Mustard. His body remembered the rhythm from countless nights in back alleys, close the gap, drive the shoulder, rip the weapon away.

They crashed into the dirt. Mustard struggled, clawing at his mask, “Shit-! No! This wasn’t how it was supposed to go-”

Izuku slammed his wrist against a rock until the boy’s fingers went slack. The pistol fell and Izuku scooped it up instantly.

Click. His thumb brushed the safety, but he didn’t fire. Instead, he pressed the muzzle to Mustard’s chest.

The boy froze. His arrogance crumbled, fear leaking through his gas mask’s filter.

Izuku’s voice was a growl. “Kids with toys like this get people killed. Turn your quirk off. Now.” 

As soon as the boy did as told, Izuku yanked his mask off, ripped the gas canister from his back, and tossed both into the brush. He knew the boy couldn’t produce gas like this, not without protection against it himself. He then tugged a coil of rope from his kit, cinching Mustard’s wrists to a thick trunk in brutal knots.

The pistol he kept. Full magazine, still warm from the boy’s grip. He slid it into his belt beneath the yellow cloak, hidden but accessible.

Breathing hard, he loomed over Mustard for one more second, the boy let out a pitiful whimper, “Sleep it off. You won’t be spreading poison tonight.”

He suddenly heard Mandalay’s voice in his head, this was within the time where she had used her quirk to telepathically alert everyone of the situation, it seems he was within the range.

“Everyone! Two villains attacked us, it is possible there are more coming.everyone return to camp immediately! We’re regrouping, do not engage with enemies!”

He straightened back up and turned, cloak snapping behind him. Izuku moved through the forest with the weight of urgency pressing down on him. He pulled his hood back over his head after taking off his gas filter, masking his face in shadow, letting only his presence speak for him.

His next step was to intervene in his past self’s fight with Muscular. He felt a familiar, bitter twist of guilt in his chest as he ran up to the cliff. Every scar, every bruise, every memory of pain he carried from this exact encounter was still etched into him. Yet here he was, planning to stand between his past self and the consequences he knew would come. I can’t let him take any more damage than he already has. I won’t allow it.

The first flicker of Muscular’s attack had already reached the cliffside clearing, smoke curling into the night air.

He emerged onto the edge of the clearing and froze for just a heartbeat, taking in the scene, his past self, battered and tense, blood dripping down his head, positioned in front of Kota.

Had he seriously looked that bad?

Muscular flexed, his body a living cage of coiled muscle, ready to strike with lethal force, each movement resonating through the ground like a low, dangerous drum.

Kota had gasped loudly when he spotted Izuku, falling on his bottom from pure fear, “The man that was in the woods! Oh no oh no-!”

His past self quickly whirled his head around at Kota’s words, thinking the worst- another villain, but instead, recognition hit him like lightning.

“You-!” the younger Izuku gasped, “The Phantom… again? First the alley, then Hosu, and now here?!” His voice wavered, a mixture of shock, fear, and the same desperate plea he’d felt before when fate had pinned him in impossible situations.

Kota clung to the younger Izuku’s side, trembling, small and helpless in comparison to the predator that was before them all. Muscular’s gaze swept over them, amusement flickering across his monstrous features. “Two idiots for the price of one,” he sneered, but there was a calculating intelligence in his posture as he shifted, testing for weaknesses.

Future Izuku didn’t flinch. He walked forward., “Stay back,” he muttered under his breath, but loud enough for Past Izuku to hear. “Kota- stay with him.” His past self’s hands went instinctively to the boy’s shoulder, trying to keep him calm, but the tension in his own frame mirrored the forest around them.

Past Izuku swallowed hard, his voice cracked with urgency and desperation, “You… you have to get back, Phantom! Take Kota, he’s-”

Future Izuku felt that familiar guilt twist in his chest again. I’m taking this from him. I’m stealing the experience, the lessons he should earn himself. But I can’t let him get hurt.. not like I did. He doesn’t deserve these scars.

He shook his head, the cloak around his shoulders fluttering slightly as he moved to position himself between Muscular and the two boys, “No. You stay. Protect him. I’ll handle Muscular.” Each word was precise, carrying both command and unspoken apology. Third time’s the charm, but I can’t waste time thinking about what I’ve taken from him.

The younger Izuku’s eyes widened at the finality, he opened his mouth, but only Kota’s tiny hand tugging at his sleeve cut off any protest.

He remembered the words of his doctors, the more damage he did to himself, to his arms, the more likely he wouldn’t be able to use them anymore. He’d make sure his past self didn’t bring forward that consequence even sooner. 

Future Izuku braced himself, the wind catching his cloak, the muscles in his legs coiling and releasing with calculated precision. He didn’t look back. He didn’t hesitate. He became a living shield, a single force meant to absorb, deflect, and strike with exacting precision. “Stay with Kota,” he muttered again, his voice quiet but resolute. “This is my fight.”

Muscular lunged, and the world seemed to condense to the rhythm of his movements and the snap of Future Izuku’s Black Whip slicing through the air, hooking around the villain’s torso, yanking, and constraining, while floating just above the ground to stay out of reach. Danger Sense screamed every second, giving him just barely enough seconds to tilt, pivot, and evade devastating strikes that could have ended him in a heartbeat. Past Izuku’s jaw dropped, and Kota clutched at his arm, wide-eyed.

“He… he’s unreal,” past Izuku breathed, barely able to keep his footing as he urged Kota back, dragging him with care yet keeping them just within reach to witness every movement. 

Kota’s small voice tugged at him, tentative but insistent. “That man… I saw him earlier- he was in the woods- he’s a good guy, right?” His gaze flicked to the Phantom, seeing him twist midair, calculating every blow and counter. 

Past Izuku froze for a split second, eyes narrowing as he processed Kota’s words. So he really is following me… Don’t tell me he’s really been in the woods since we’ve arrived... He adjusted his hold on Kota, voice low, uncertain, “Y-yeah… he’s a good guy. He’s saved me before,” he murmured, continuing to watch the Phantom in awe and disbelief, knowing there was no other explanation for the fluid, near-prescient way he moved against the villain’s sheer, terrifying strength.

Muscular roared, barreling forward again, and Future Izuku countered in a blur while past Izuku whispered to Kota, hand over the boy’s own, “Just… trust him. He knows what he’s doing.”

Then came the moment. Future Izuku’s eyes narrowed, Danger Sense and instinct synchronizing perfectly with every movement. Black Whip lashed one final time, snapping with pinpoint accuracy, hooking into the small gap under Muscular’s arms, yanking him off his feet while simultaneously using the momentum to deliver a precise, non-lethal but devastating strike with a kick that connected squarely with Muscular’s jaw.

Muscular’s roar cut off mid-thought. His body crumpled to the ground, limp, knocked out cold before he even had the chance to process the strike. Dust swirled around him, the sheer force of the blow leaving him completely incapacitated. Future Izuku hovered for a heartbeat, chest heaving slightly, Black Whip retracting as he lowered back down to the ground. 

Past Izuku exhaled slowly, shoulders sagging with relief as he held Kota a little tighter. The boy’s wide eyes reflected awe and fear in equal measure. “He…  Is he…?”

Future Izuku spoke low, “He’ll be out for a while. No need to tie him up.”

Kota blinked, incredulous, “He… really is good,” he said softly, voice tinged with wonder.

Past Izuku glanced at the hooded figure before him, mask and cloak still casting him in shadows. His gaze lingered much longer on his suit this time. His tone was tentative at first, then edged with frustration and a need for answers.

“You… why are you following me?” he asked, voice low, but sharp with disbelief. “I mean… all of this- Hosu, the alley in front of the hospital- now here… you keep showing up. Why?”

Future Izuku had turned his whole body towards his past self this time, Kota cowered slightly more behind his past self as they both got a full view of him, “I’m… I’m not following you… not in the way you think,” he said quietly. “I’m here to make sure you survive. To make sure the people around you survive.”

Past Izuku’s brow furrowed, conflicted. “But… you’re always there. Every time something horrible happens. And I-” He hesitated, swallowing hard, “I don’t know… I just… I can’t help but feel like you’re hunting me, or testing me, or something.”

Future Izuku said nothing as he stared at his past self through the mask, something heavy and exhausted sinking behind his eyes. The weight in his chest felt like it was doubling by the minute. How much he wanted to just grab him by the shoulders- to tell him everything- but he couldn’t. Not yet. 

He walked forward and then past him, “We need to get you and Kota back to camp. Your arm is messed up and he’s shaken up.”

“Why do you keep dodging my questions?!” Past Izuku’s frustration sparked instantly, his voice laced with anger, “Who are you?!”

Future Izuku kept walking, he knew his past self would follow regardless. 

Past Izuku’s grip on Kota’s hand tightened slightly and reassuringly. His past self, as predicted, did, “You need to give me something- “ he insisted, stumbling down the slope after him, “You can’t expect me not to ask questions after everything!”

Future Izuku continued to walk, his jaw clenched tightly behind his mask.

“All I have right now,” His past self pressed, “Is that my suit now looks like yours, and that your face looks like me!”

Future Izuku stilled, stopping abruptly in his tracks. His face? How did- He never-

His breath hitched. Eri-

Past Izuku saw the subtle rigidity in his shoulders, the shift in his breathing, the way something locked into place, “The little girl- At UA, she said I was the one who saved her. She said you took off your mask and that you had green hair, and green eyes just like mine.”

“She- She said you had kind eyes”

Future Izuku remained frozen for just a heartbeat longer, the weight of Eri’s retold words pressing down on him like a physical force.

Past Izuku’s eyes darted back and forth, searching the hooded figure for any hint, any recognition. His voice trembled as a thousand thoughts collided at once, “You… you know me… How do you know me? Are you some kind of relative?! Are… Are you… my brother? ”

Future Izuku finally moved, turning around and stepping just barely closer, his tone quiet but firm,  “You need to stop asking questions you can’t have answers to. Focus on yourself. That’s all you can do right now.”

Past Izuku swallowed hard, his mind spinning because he also didn’t outright deny his accusation, “If you know me… then… Why do you keep yourself hidden? Why the mask? You could help more if you… if you just told me who you really are!”

Future Izuku turned his gaze toward the forest edge, scanning for threats while keeping his past self and Kota within his protective arc. He let the silence stretch, letting the weight of unspoken truths settle in the space between them.

Past Izuku faltered slightly as the Phantom began to run through the forest without another word. The adrenaline coursing through him made him desperate to know, to understand, but the Phantom kept his silence, his presence both a shield and a mystery. Kota clung to him, his small frame trembling from earlier events.

The forest opened slightly, revealing a narrow path, and there, running through came Aizawa. The sight of both Future Izuku and Past Izuku had him halt.

Past Izuku stumbled forward slightly, breathing ragged, clutching Kota more tightly.

“…You,” Aizawa said flatly, voice cutting through the night air, gaze landing squarely on the Phantom who also stopped in front of him, “Just what the hell are you doing out here too?”

Future Izuku ignored him, his head turning towards his past self, “Stay with him,” 

Past Izuku’s chest heaved. His heart was still hammering from the fight, from the fear, from the near-constant tension that now defined these nights. “What- I… I can’t just stay!” he said, voice tight with the need to act. “I have to help-my friends- I need to tell Mandalay that they’re targeting Kacchan-”

The Phantom didn’t let him finish, without another word, he pushed off into the trees, moving toward the flickering light of the forest where Mandalay and the others were.

 Past Izuku’s jaw tightened, but he had no choice but to stay with Aizawa and Kota for the moment. His hands itched with the urge to move, to fight, to act- 

“Did Phantom tell you about that?”

Past Izuku blinked. Furrowing his brows at Aizawa, “What?

Aizawa narrowed his eyes, “Was he the one to tell you they were after Bakugo?”

The boy shook his head, “No- On the cliff, Muscular mentioned that there was a list- and Kacchan was on it”

Aizawa let out a long, slow sigh, lowering his head slightly, looks like The Phantom wasn’t lying, there really were targets. It’s just a matter of how he got that info that was worrying. Was The Phantom maybe a traitor to the villain group? Is this how he got this information? 

Aizawa looked down at Izuku’s somewhat battered body, “You used your quirk on the villain? You haven’t forgotten about Hosu have you?”

The teen sweatdropped, “I… Well-” Past Izuku’s eyes flicked toward the Phantom’s now barely visible retreating figure. “…He did most of the fighting. The Phantom… he took the villain out.”

Aizawa’s gaze softened fractionally, though his arms stayed crossed. He exhaled slowly, weighing his next words carefully. “Alright. Go, but on one condition- you tell Mandalay, on my behalf, that the students are granted permission to use their quirks to defend themselves. Do not endanger yourself unnecessarily.”

Past Izuku nodded once, jaw tight, adrenaline still pumping, determination hardening. “Yes sir.”

_______________

Future Izuku pushed through the dense underbrush, the sounds of battle had reached him, the grunt of exertion, the occasional cry of pain. Ahead, the familiar clearing opened up, pale moonlight illuminating the chaos,

Mandalay was locked in combat with Spinner, Tiger wrestling against Magne, and Pixie-Bob sprawled on the ground, a dark smear spreading across her costume.

His chest tightened. He’d hoped to arrive sooner, to intercept before Pixie-Bob took that hit. He surveyed the scene carefully, Danger Sense alerting him to every twitch, every motion.

And then his eyes landed on Spinner.

Izuku froze for a heartbeat. The man’s costume, he recognized the silhouette immediately. It wasn't Stain’s anymore. The design had shifted, eerily echoing his own suit, muted, tactical, his face was partially obscured by a mask. 

He didn’t hesitate. With a subtle flick of his wrists, Black Whip shot forward in a blur, latching simultaneously onto Spinner and Magne. The villains yelped in surprise as the cords wrapped around their arms and torsos, yanking them violently towards each other.

“Woah!” Tiger shouted, “What the-?!” Mandalay’s eyes widened as she realized that the Phantom had arrived. 

Magne struggled against the whip, but the force dragged her directly into Spinner, and the two collided with a deafening thunk, rebounding off one another hard enough to send them stumbling backward into a tree trunk. Dust and debris scattered into the air.

A figure stumbled into the clearing, Past Izuku, panting, eyes wide with urgency. “Mandalay! Kota’s safe! Tell everyone in Class A and B that Eraserhead has granted them permission to engage in combat with the villains!” Mandalay looked uncertain for a moment before nodding once, using her telepath to deliver his message.

Future Izuku walked towards Magne and Spinner. Magne tried to scramble up onto her feet while Spinner stared in awe before Izuku had them pinned against the ground with Black Whip.

“It’s true- he really did come!” Spinner weakly struggled against Izuku’s quirk.

“Duh! Shigakari clearly stated-” Magne started, trying forcefully to be free before Izuku had raised her up and slammed her back on the ground. 

He stepped forward closer to Spinner, voice low but undeniably sharp, “…Why do you look like me?”

Spinner’s head whipped toward him, and for a moment the villain looked almost… starstruck. “You really don’t get it? Phantom- You were there in Hosu. You didn’t need speeches. You didn’t hide behind empty words. You fought. You acted. That’s what a real symbol is!”

Izuku swallowed hard, stomach turning. Spinner hadn’t modeled himself after Stain at all… Stain never got to make his viral speech that inspired many villains to rise up, thanks to him. So Spinner.. he’d latched onto him. Onto a version of him that Izuku had barely survived being.

The guilt twisted deeper.

He turned to the Pussycats, voice firm, almost clipped. “Keep an eye on them. Don’t get close unless you have to. Restrain them as best you can.”

Tiger opened his mouth, whether to question him or thank him, Izuku didn’t know.

He didn’t wait to find out.

He was already sprinting into the forest after his younger self.

Future Izuku was moving fast keeping his pace silent. He remembered this part. Remembering who they were about to stumble into. And how badly it had almost gone.

Shoji. And Tokoyami, with Dark Shadow absolutely losing it.

Danger Sense screamed.

A massive shadowy limb shot from the darkness, razor-tipped claws aimed straight at Past Izuku’s chest, inches from tearing through him-

Blackwhip fired before Future Izuku even consciously moved.

The whip wrapped around his younger self’s torso and yanked him backward so fast his breath left his lungs in a shocked gasp. The shadowy claw slammed into the ground where he’d been standing, carving a trench into the dirt.

Past Izuku stumbled back onto Future Izuku, wide-eyed. “W-What-?!”

Dark Shadow erupted from beyond the forest, its shape warped into something huge and contorted by feralness and darkness.

Shoji burst through after it, panting, eyes wild with worry.

He froze when he saw the Phantom, past Izuku pulled safely behind him.

“…Phantom? What are you…” Shoji’s voice wavered with surprise and relief. Then steadied. “You saved him. Thank you.”

Future Izuku gave him a silent nod. 

Past Izuku looked worried as one of Shoji’s arms was clearly cut off, Shoji was quick to reassure, “I know it looks bad, but don’t worry it was just a duplicate. Tokoyami is the real one who needs help right now.”

The three of them looked at the darkness and the cries of a desperate Tokoyami. 

Past Izuku winced, “I.. I have a plan” Future Izuku of course, had already known of it, “Dark Shadow responds to sound right? Shoji, can you make duplicate arms to bait him? We can make a run for it and find Kacchan. His explosions will weaken him-"

“I’ll make the noise,” Future Izuku spoke, his voice low. The two other boys turned to him, a bit stunned at his sudden words, “Your arm is already hurt, and if another duplicate gets cut off by him then you’ll be in even more pain.” He withered a dark tendril from his arm and extended it, “Focus on running.”

Shoji nodded, Past Izuku looked uncertain. Suspicion still clear in his eyes before he nodded.

Shoji dropped low, readying himself. Past Izuku steadied his breathing; Future Izuku cracked Blackwhip like a warning lash toward the rampaging shadow.

“Go!” he barked.

The three of them launched into motion. Shoji sprang ahead with incredible speed. Past Izuku sprinted beside him, hand gripping his chest as he forced himself to stay focused. Future Izuku brought up his tendrils, slamming Blackwhip into tree trunks as they passed, each impact sending a sharp crack through the woods.

Dark Shadow screeched, recoiling at the layered noise as the boys darted through the forest..

Branches whipped past their faces. Leaves scattered in their wake as the monstrous form barreled after the sound instead of them.

They burst into the next clearing, and immediately spotted Todoroki, breathing hard, carrying a fully unconscious Tsuburaba over his shoulder. Bakugo stood further back, palms sparking, eyes darting between Moonfish’s thrashing form and the approaching boys.

“KACCHAN!” Past Izuku shouted before anything else. 

“We need light! Now!” Shoji yelled after him.

Future Izuku braced himself, waiting for Bakugo and Todoroki to act. Waiting for it to play out the way he knew. They would delay it only slightly for Dark Shadow to defeat Moonfish before the boys would finally weaken Dark Shadow.

But that didn’t happen.

Instead-

Todoroki’s flames immediately roared to life, Bakugo ignited a massive blast at the same time.

Future Izuku’s heart jolted.

That wasn’t how it had gone.

Then he saw why.

There was a yellow barrier between the group and where Moonfish was supposed to be.

Standing just beside Moonfish calm, was a tall man in a dark colored Yukata, his hands outstretched against the shimmering, barrier.

Hekiji Tengai.

A member of the Eight Precepts of Death.

A precept who should not be here- Not tonight- Not anywhere near this incident!

Future Izuku’s breath froze in his throat.

No. No, no, no, NO…

If Tengai was here, then- then the Eight Precepts might be here. Which meant

Overhaul.

Future Izuku almost stumbled. His vision tightened to a pinpoint.

What the hell is going on-?! Why is he here? Why is he-

“Oi!” Bakugo barked, snapping the moment. “What the hell are you staring at?!”

Future Izuku snapped back into reality just as Tokoyami collapsed onto his knees, Dark Shadow shrinking with a pitiful hiss under the twin blasts of light.

Shoji and Past Izuku rushed to help him, dragging him farther from the villain.

Todoroki, still catching his breath, turned toward the new arrivals. His eyes moved from Past Izuku,

-to the Phantom.

He stiffened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “…The vigilante from Hosu?”

Shoji, still winded, answered honestly. “He saved Midoriya back there. Saved him again just now. He’s… helping.”

“Helping?” Bakugo scoffed sharply, but his eyes never left the Phantom, narrowing with a mix of irritation and calculation.

Todoroki’s expression tightened He saved Midoriya again.. He spoke, “Are you… following us?”

Past Izuku swallowed hard, his eyes flicking towards the Phantom knowing he’d refuse to answer.

Future Izuku's eyes were locked on Tengai’s barrier, on his stance, on the deliberate way the man shielded Moonfish like an asset instead of an ally. It made no sense. None of this made sense.

The monk-like villain lifted a hand in a soft, almost graceful greeting. His eyes were closed as usual, serene, as if he were stepping into a temple instead of a battlefield.,“…Ah,” he murmured, “so it is you. The Phantom.”

Future Izuku’s jaw tightened.

“How nice to see you, in person. Instead of behind a glass screen.” he said softly, “though the location is… unconventional.”

“Answer me,” Future Izuku snapped. “Why are you here? Why are you with him?”

Tengai tilted his head slightly, confused by what he may be referring to, before answering.

“An odd grouping, yes. Moonfish and I share little philosophical alignment. I prefer efficiency. He…” His nose wrinkled ever so slightly. “He prefers carnage.”

Moonfish thrummed against the barrier, teeth gnashing, Tengai didn’t give him a glance.

“But orders are orders,” Tengai continued, voice smooth, “You have caused a remarkable amount of disruption,” he said. “Stealing the girl from him… Such a fragile thing, yet so pivotal to his plans.”

Future Izuku’s throat tightened. Anger seething through his suit.

Tengai continued, tone still patient and almost pitying, “He was…“ a small breath, “…uncharacteristically emotional over the loss.”

Moonfish twitched harder, reacting to his partner’s shift in tone.

“All of Shie Hassaikai has been searching for you since that night,” Tengai said. “Lord Overhaul had nearly scoured the underworld for information. But you-” he gestured delicately toward Izuku with one hand “-are extremely inconvenient to track.”

Future Izuku didn’t move. Every hair on his body stood on end.

“And yet,” Tengai exhaled slowly, “fate is strange. Through this chaos, a man with a shared hatred of you was found.”

Izuku knew- Before Tengai even said it, He knew.

[ Overhaul’s voice cut through the silence, low and clinical, “One of my men came into contact with a broker, ” he began, “ Said that you know that the vigilante we have been looking for, will be at this… UA training camp.”

Shigaraki flicked a look at him, fingers pausing in their restless movement before resuming with renewed agitation.

“He will.”

Overhaul tilted his head, mask glinting in the dim light, “You sound very certain.”

Shigaraki’s fingers drummed faster, “I’ve met the pest.”

Those words pulled Overhaul’s focus sharper. Shigaraki continued, tone laced with resentment and something darker.

“I cornered one of the UA brats in the mall, Midoriya. The vigilante showed up as I was leaving. Didn’t even try to fight,” He paused, eyes narrowing in irritation as he replayed it in his mind, “‘Leave those kids alone.’ Is what he said to me.”

Overhaul’s eyes tightened almost imperceptibly, “So he protects UA students.”

Shigaraki grinned,  “The vigilante follows them. Watches them. He’s obsessed with those brats.”

Overhaul hummed low in his throat, “Then if UA sends their students to a remote location… The vigilante will follow. Even if they don’t realize he’s there.”

Shigaraki nodded once, quick and sharp.

Overhaul turned away, the light haloing his silhouette as he spoke more quietly.

“So if we strike the training camp,” he said, “the vigilante will appear.”

Shigaraki’s grin stretched under his hand, “Exactly.”]

“Shigaraki Tomura,” Tengai finished. “The mutual… animosity was a perfect catalyst.”

Future Izuku felt the ground sway beneath him, Tengai smiled faintly, serene and horrible, “So here we are,” he concluded. 

His stance shifted, stance widening, Blackwhip crackling to life around his arms.

“You’ve complicated much,” Tengai murmured. “And tonight… we are expected to correct that complication.”

Tengai smiled behind his mask with gentle finality.

“Shie Hassaikai has orders,” he said, “And I fear you cannot be allowed to leave this forest… “

“Uncollected.”