Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku’s feet felt heavy with fog as he approached the barrier of the UA evacuation shelter. His hands trembled at his sides. Dirt still caked under his nails from days of relentless running. His classmates had caught up to him at last, dragging him back here—to safety, to have rest. But was it really? With every step, his mind spiraled deeper into doubt. Is this okay? Should I really be here?

Each footfall felt heavier than the last. His heart pounded in his ears. He could already picture the uneasy stares, the fear from the citizens, the underlying disgust in their eyes when they saw him. After everything, how could they not be afraid? He had become a walking magnet for danger—he was All for One’s prime target.

His fingers curled into fists. He didn’t want to be a burden, not to his friends, not to the heroes fighting to keep this small, fragile peace intact. If the shelter got in danger because of him, how could he ever forgive himself?

And yet… he was so tired. His muscles wanted rest. His eyelids were heavy from too many sleepless nights. There was no time to rest, not when he had to protect everyone. But the thought of sinking into even a moment of safety was enough to make his knees weak.

Then they saw him.

The reaction was instant.

"Get him out of here!"

"That boy is dangerous!"

"What are the pros thinking? Bringing him back? Aren’t they supposed to protect us?!”

The sharp words sliced through the air, but Izuku barely flinched. He’d already imagined every possible reaction, and rehearsed these rejections in his mind over and over. It hurt, but the pain was expected. Somewhere behind him, or beside him? his classmates were shouting. Their voices were rising in desperate attempts to defend him. He knew they were trying, but the words were distant, muffled as if Izuku was sinking into water and everyone was shouting at him above the surface. Because Danger Sense had taken over.

It flooded every bit of Izuku’s nerve. The sharp pain was everywhere, telling his instincts to take over and avoid the danger. Lightning was crackling beneath his skin, making him want to jolt. His heart beated painfully in his chest. Each beat thudded out of rhythm. His breath grew faster as the invisible alarm screamed through his skull.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

The word pounded into his brain over and over, fast and unrelenting, violently with no end. His hands trembled violently. He staggered slightly. Vision blurred at the edges, and every senses were overloaded. The air itself felt heavier, and the voices around him warped and stretched like screams in a war zone. Maybe they were right. The crowd became a wall, as every single person radiated hostility, fear, and the potential for violence. The real barrier.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

He could barely tell where the threat was coming from. It was everywhere. It was everything. His body couldn’t decide whether to run, or collapse entirely. The cold and sharp sweat pricked his forehead. His own heartbeat sounded foreign. It was like a second alarm, right in sync with the relentless pulse of the quirk. It wasn’t just sensing threat anymore, he was drowning in it. Every breath he took was full with the certainty that something, someone, was going to hurt him or the people he cared about. The warning was so loud and so constant that it felt like his own body had turned against him. Even blinking felt like a risk. Every movement around him triggered a fresh spike of alarm. He couldn’t think. Couldn’t process. All he knew was that he shouldn’t be here.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

He was a threat magnet. A walking target. A danger no one could afford. Of course he doesn’t belong here.

Danger. Danger. Danger.

And just when it felt like his own mind would shatter under the weight, a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Enough!” the strong voice rang out. The tone was firm, making Izuku tense. “You’re being far too cruel to this boy.”

Izuku blinked through his spiraling thoughts. The man was unfamiliar. His face was hidden behind a mask, and silver hair was peeking out. Sharp blue eyes were shining. The man’s gloved hand landed on Izuku’s shoulder, and just for a second, the world quieted.

“It’s okay.” The man said softly. His voice was gentle but chilling. “I’m taking you somewhere you belong.”

Danger-

Bright blue light exploded, blinding Izuku’s vision. He heard his friends’ panicked shouts, but he was already falling, falling deep into the calm void where his thoughts and fear faded away.

—

“Hey.”

The voice was foggy and muffled. Just five more minutes. Izuku thought as he squirmed, squeezing his eyes shut tighter.

“Hey!” The voice felt sharper this time, and it snapped him awake.

“Uh… huh?” Izuku muttered weakly as his eyes fluttered open. His vision was blurred and the only thing he could see was shapes and shadows. A silhouette barely came into his focus. And that was when the weight of reality hit him. It wasn’t a time to nap. Right. All for One and One for All. He was at UA. He wasn’t welcomed. And… he didn’t remember pretty much further from that part. He must have passed out due to the stress. Izuku forced to open his eyes a little wider as he blinked rapidly. The black blob turned out to be a boy around his age with a messy black hair. His red eyes were looking down at him in concern.

“Man, I thought you were dead there for a moment. You okay?” The voice was quite familiar, but he wasn’t able to pinpoint who. Probably because his mind was too foggy and his head hurt like it was splitting into half at this point.

Izuku sat up slowly, his head still pounding in the headache. “I… I think so… Who are you?”

The boy grinned as he flashed a smile. “Name’s Eijirou Kirishima. And you?”

Izuku’s breath hitched for a minute. Wait. What? Kirishima? No, that wasn’t right. Kirishima’s hair wasn’t black. There was no hero costume. And to make it worse, Kirishima didn’t seem to recognize him. It didn’t make sense. Was it a villain’s doing? Something was wrong here.

“What… what happened to you?” Izuku asked. Panic creeped into his voice. “Why’s your hair black? And where’s your costume? What about UA? Don’t you remember me?”

Kirishima tilted his head. He was clearly confused. “Dude, I think you hit your head pretty hard or something. I have no idea what you’re talking about. UA? What’s that?”

Izuku’s stomach clutched. It can’t be right. What happened? What happened while he was out? Did something happened to Kirishima? Where’s everyone else? “This… this has to be some kind of quirk, right? Do you remember who did this? Don’t you remember me? Midoriya Izuku? Where are the others?”

Kirishima just frowned without any signs of recognition. “Look, I have no clue who you are, man. I just found you passed out in an alley, so I figured I should check if you were breathing.”

Izuku’s hands shook slightly as he tried to process it all. None of this made sense. An alley? Where was he? What happened to his friend? What happened to himself?

Kirishima continued. “Anyway, do you live near here? This is the Light District. The alley between section 7 and 8.”

And Izuku had no idea what Kirishima was saying. Where was this place? Izuku’s heart started to beat faster. His anxiety grew as the unfamiliarity of the situation started to suffocate him. He needed answers. “The… Light District? What does that even mean?” Izuku echoed. The unfamiliar term only deepened his confusion.

Kirishima gave him a wary look, as if he was actually concerned about Izuku’s (mental) health. As if this was a common sense. “Seriously?”

Izuku didn’t have an answer. Izuku’s mind raced as he sorted out his thoughts of all this mess. But none of this made sense. Kirishima, one of his friends, was standing right in front of him, but he looked so different. No hero costume, no familiar bright red hair. Just a normal boy with black hair and casual clothes, acting like they’d never met.

What was happening?

This has to be a dream.

No, but his body hurt too much for that. His arms ached. His clothes were still torn and dirty as a evidence of everything that happened before he ended up here. This wasn’t some random nightmare. It was real. Some kind of quirk? That would make sense. Maybe a villain’s ability made an illusion. But if that was true, why did everything feel so… solid? The rocky pavement under his hands and the cool air against his skin, the way Kirishima’s voice carried no hint of familiarity, everything felt way too real to be an illusion.

And worst of all, what if this wasn’t some illusion or hallucination? What if all of this was real? That was when the realization set in. Maybe Izuku was the odd one out. After all, the last place he remembered being was the front gate of the UA barriers and suddenly he was found in a back alley of somewhere. And wherever this was, it wasn’t where he used to be. This was reality. Not his reality, but a reality. A reality where UA didn’t exist. A reality where Kirishima never became Red Riot. A reality where Midoriya Izuku was just a nobody collapsed in a back alley.

He gritted his teeth, and his stomach twisted with unease. The way Kirishima had said Light District, like it was something obvious, something everyone should know… that sent a cold chill down Izuku’s spine. But it made sense when this, wherever this was, was… an alternate reality.

He forced himself to take a shaky breath. He couldn’t panic yet. First, he had to understand what he has got into.

“Can you…Can you explain what the Light District is?” His voice cracked slightly as he slightly raised his head to meet Kirishima’s eyes.

Kirishima squinted at him. “You’re seriously asking that?”

Izuku nodded. He felt more out of place as every second passed.

“Uh, okay.” Kirishima scratched the back of his head as if he was unsure what to make of him. “So, the city’s split into districts based on quirk types, right? Light, Heavy, Mutation, you know, the usual categories. You really didn’t know that?”

Izuku’s chest tightened painfully. In his world, quirks were classified, but it was nothing like this. Light? Heavy? What was that supposed to mean? Back in his world, no one was physically divided into neighborhoods based on their abilities. That kind of system felt oppressive. Almost dystopian, as if this was something ripped out of a sci-fi novel.

He hesitated before asking. His voice was barely above a whisper. “What about… quirkless people?”

Kirishima shrugged. His expression was oddly relaxed. “That’s everyone’s dream come true, you know. That’s like the ultimate upgrade.”

His mind couldn’t process it fast enough. This place, wherever this was, their values, their way of life was nothing like home. Quirks weren’t something to get rid of where he came from. They were a part of who you were, even if society had its biases. Izuku nodded faintly. Though his thoughts were a whirlwind of confusion and fear. He needed answers. Anything about what this place was, how he got here, and most importantly, how to go back.

Even though his heart pounded hard, Izuku forced his hands into fists as he grounded himself. No matter where he was, one truth hadn’t changed. He had to keep moving forward.

“So… Midoriya, right?” Kirishima said as he rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Yeah.” Izuku’s voice was hoarse, but it was steady enough.

“You really don’t remember anything? Don’t remember your home?”

Play along, Deku.

Izuku shook his head. “Not really. It’s all kinda… fuzzy. I had a bad dream… and I might’ve mistaken things with my dream when you woke me up. Sorry if I weirded you out… but I have no idea what’s happening now.” It was a half truth.

Kirishima hummed thoughtfully, then grinned again. “Well, if you want, you could crash at my place for the night. My parents work in a different district, so I’ve got the place to myself most of the time.”

“But why? You barely know me.” Izuku said as he blinked in surprise.

Kirishima said as he flashed a smile. “I mean, to be honest, I don’t trust you yet. But there’s no way you’re making it through the night like that. Today is definitely not a good day to sleep in the streets. Plus… no offense, but you kinda look homeless.”

Despite everything, Izuku couldn’t help but let out a small laugh. “Thanks… I think.”

“Anytime.” Kirishima said. He was already turning to lead the way. “C’mon, let’s get moving before anyone gets the wrong idea about us hanging around this alley.”

Chapter Text

Izuku followed Kirishima out of the alley. His every step was heavy with confusion and exhaustion from what happened before Izuku was pulled into this strange world. His legs still felt weak, but at least the other boy didn’t seem to mind his state. The streets were quiet, maybe too quiet, and as they walked, Izuku started to notice the little details of the backgrounds that made him feel more uneasy. The streets were eerily clean. It was polished like they’d been prepped for inspection. It felt wrong. Billboards were lining the buildings, all of them displaying the same phrases like “Purity is Power” and “Embrace Freedom—Let Go of Your Quirk.” Izuku’s stomach turned.

Kirishima seemed to caught his staring. “Oh, right. You really don’t remember anything, huh?”

Izuku shook his head. H e was unsure how much he can say without making himself more suspicious.

“Well, that’s the PSA. The President made all those. He’s the one who started The Cleansing.” Kirishima said with a grin.

“The Cleansing?” Izuku echoed. Whatever that was, the name was sending a chill down his spine.

“Yeah.” Kirishima replied as shoved his hands into his pockets. “It happens once a month. The President blesses the hardest working citizens by removing their quirks. It’s like an honor… I guess.”

Remove their quirks? An honor? It didn’t make sense at all. “People want to lose their quirks? Like… willingly?” Izuku wasn’t able to hide his shock. What kind of world is this?

Kirishima let out a dry laugh. “Most people do. Having a quirk means you’re dangerous. Un-Humanly, I guess. If you’re quirkless, you’re safe, you’re pure, human, whatever that really means, you’re part of the ideal society. My parents got cleansed last year. They were super proud of it.”

Izuku’s mind raced. In his world, being quirkless meant being useless. It meant being powerless. Not able to become a hero, not enough to defend. But this place was different in a twisted way. Quirkless was the goal. Quirkless meant acceptance.

Kirishima continued. “And today…was Cleansing Day. That’s why the streets are so empty. Everyone’s gathered at the district square for the ceremony. A hundred people from each district get chosen each time, and some kind of thing? I don’t know. It is a quirk tech or something like that, but it strips their quirks, and boom, new life unlocked.”

“Strips their quirks…? How is that even possible?” Izuku asked quietly. It reminded him of All For One.

“Don’t ask me how it works. It just does. Most people can’t wait to get picked. A friend of mine does .” Kirishima said with a shrug.

“What about you…?” Izuku asked hesitantly.

Kirishima paused for a second, but shook his head with a soft smile. “Nah. I like my quirk, even if it makes life harder. I don’t want to give up part of who I am just to fit in.”

Izuku gave a smile back as he felt a flicker of familiarity. This kind of spirit reminded him of his Kirishima, who always fought to be a strong, reliable, sturdy hero. Even in this twisted version of the world, it felt like that spark somehow still existed.

Izuku followed him as he tried to piece together and get some sense about this world. Izuku’s eyes darted along the buildings they passed, and he was able to notice the labels. The small glowing plaques were stamped beside each door, all with the words Light Quirk District. With every home marked, every quirk was accounted for. It almost made Izuku’s skin crawl.

Kirishima strolled along like it was nothing. “Don’t stress too much.” He said, as if he picked up on Izuku’s tension. “The scanners won’t bite you unless you do something, like…. you know, blow up a building or show off some wild superpowers in the middle of the street.”

Izuku forced a shaky smile. His quirk was definitely a wild superpower. Yup. There was no way the system had his face on file, no record of him in this world (At least this version of him?), and if someone figured that he doesn’t belong here, there’d be questions he couldn’t answer and he would be facing danger he doesn’t know of. It would be definitely safer to lay low until he figures what he’s going to do.

The houses looked almost identical. It had clean white walls with soft glowing trim around the windows. Everything was uniform, sterile and in order. Even the small gardens were all the same. Low plants, nothing too flashy or overgrown. No one stood out.

“How does the categorizing work? What about the quirks that doesn’t activate without others?” Izuku asked, just trying to make sense of it all.

“That doesn’t really matter,” Kirishima said easily. “Anything they call ‘non-threatening’ gets to stay in the Light category. The rest goes to the Heavy district, as long as you are not a mutant. Mutants are their own categories no matter how dangerous the quirk is. As long as you don’t cause trouble, you’re fine.”

Izuku glanced down at his scarred hands as he forced an uneasy smile. One For All definitely didn’t qualify as a light quirk.

They passed a few houses marked with red paint slashes across the doors. It was almost like a warning carved into the walls. Izuku pointed toward one, hesitant. “What do those mean?”

Kirishima’s grin faded away. “Those? Those are the forgotten. It used to be homes of criminals, or people who refused the Cleansing. There are some people who tries to dodge it when their names got called. The government doesn’t forget stuff like that.”

Izuku’s stomach twisted. “What happens to them?”

Kirishima just shook his head. “They are… erased. Not wise to bring them up in somewhere public, like here. Let’s talk about this later in my place.”

That was all he said, but Izuku was able to fill in the gaps himself.

Finally, they reached Kirishima’s house. It was a simple two-story home near the end of the block, nothing special. The plaque by the door glowed with the words Light- Kirishima. Kirishima tapped a small keycard against the scanner, and the door opened silently.

“Welcome to my home. It’s not much, but it beats the street.” Kirishima said with a small smile.

Inside, the house was a bit messy but quiet. The walls were lined with photos. Some older ones showed Kirishima’s parents laughing together, but the newer pictures had a strange emptiness to them. Their smiles were there, but something behind their eyes was missing. It was as if the fire inside was quietly snuffed out.

“They got… calmer over the years.” Kirishima said as he noticed Izuku staring at the photos. “And then the Cleansing happened. They’re happy, I guess. Just… It’s hard to explain.”

Izuku didn’t know how to respond to that. The thought of losing part of yourself made him feel uncomfortable. Even if society called it a blessing.

Kirishima flopped onto the couch as he kicked off his shoes. “You can crash here tonight. Bathroom’s down the hall, and I’ll grab you some clothes. You really need a shower, bro.”

Izuku managed a weak laugh. It reminded him of what Kaminari said right before he was pulled into here. “Thanks, Kirishima.”

“No problem.” Kirishima flashed a grin full of sharp teeth. It was genuine, and that was enough for Izuku.

Izuku sat down slowly. His muscles still aching from the overdue stress and his mind raced with everything he’d learned. The cleansing, the districts, this whole strange world where being quirkless was a prize instead of a curse. It was so wrong and twisted.

He had to figure out how to get back to his world.

—

The next morning, Izuku woke up to the sound of footsteps. Sunlight shone through the window as it made thin lines of shadows across the floor. Izuku foggily opened his eyes and found Kirishima preparing to go out. He slowly pushed his tired body to his feet.

“Uh… where are you going?” Izuku’s voice came out scratchy. He hadn’t got a proper sleep in a week, and he felt still heavy with sleep.

Kirishima was already halfway through tugging on his jacket. He grinned as he noticed Izuku and replied. “School, of course! Since yesterday was cleansing day, today’s class will be short. Just some reviews and announcements, and I’ll be back home.”

Izuku blinked as he tried to process that. They have school the day after a mass quirk removal event? 

“Oh,” Izuku mumbled. “Uh… have fun?”

“Always! Food’s in the kitchen if you need it. You can use whatever you want, except for the underwear. Wait, are your memories back?” Kirishima asked.

“I don’t think so. Sorry.” Izuku said. It was better to stay here and figure things out.

“No, it’s fine! You don’t have to be sorry for something you can’t control, man. I guess you’ll have to stay a bit longer, huh… I’ll buy some new underwear for you on the way home. Just don’t break anything, okay?”

“Got it.” Izuku said. And then he heard the door shut, then silence followed. For the first time since waking up, Izuku was alone.

He wandered through the house. Everything was quiet. Sure, it was a bit messy, but the furniture was simple, practical. It almost felt… staged. Like no one had really lived here in a long time. The photos on the walls still caught his eye. Kirishima’s parents smiling, their faces calm, but devoid of any real emotions. The whole thing about an alternate world brought questions in Izuku’s head.

What kind of life does Kirishima live? What kind of job will he pursue if being a hero is not an option? How does the cleansing work? Is it a quirk erasing bullet like the one Overhaul made, or was it something All for One related? Or is it something else entirely? What if the villains have the same thing back in his world? It would be dangerous, and his friends-

And that’s when the familiar voices were heard. The vestiges of One for All.

“You’re thinking too hard again, kid.” It was Fifth. His voice was rough but warm.

“Can you blame me? This world doesn’t make any sense.” Izuku whispered as he sat down on the couch.

“That’s putting it lightly,” Nana added. “A society that treats quirks like a disease to be cured… is dangerous.” Her presence was hovering near his shoulder.

Izuku leaned back as he stared at the ceiling with blank eyes. “It’s like… everything’s flipped upside down. Back home, before I got One for All, I was treated weak and useless because I didn’t have a quirk. But here, being quirkless is… a privilege.”

“I think it’s not just privilege,” the first user said quietly. “It’s control. When everyone is the same, when no one has power… it’s easier to rule.”

Izuku’s stomach twisted. It made sense in a horrifying way.

“Don’t lose your focus,” Fourth added. “You still don’t know how you got here or how you can get back.”

“I know. I have to go back as soon as possible. What if All for One and Shigaraki strikes while I’m here?,” Izuku sighed. What is happening back at his home? What if he’s too late when he go back?

“Dimensional travel can have unpredictable effects,” the First said with a thoughtful tone. “Time might move the same way in our original world, or it could be entirely different. For all we know, you might return to the exact moment you left, or find that years have passed.”

He paused as a troubled look crossed his face.

“We’ve lost contact with the vestige of All Might. Our theory is that it is because he still exists in the original timeline. Without a connection with All Might, we can’t figure out what’s happening back at home, nor they can know what’s happening here.”

His gaze turned more focused. “We need to find a way back soon.”

“But you should rest while you can,” Nana said softly. “You’ve been pushing yourself so hard for weeks. You’re safe here. At least for now.”

Izuku knew she was right. His body still ached from everything. Fighting, running, barely eating, all the talk with his friends. For now, he at least afford a morning to breathe. Even if it’s just for a little while.

He closed his eyes and listened to the quiet hum of the house. The occasional crackle of the vestiges’ presence in his mind was the only thing he thought about. It felt almost peaceful.

He didn’t know how much time has passed. The door creaked open, and it snapped Izuku out of his daze. “I’m back! And, uh… I hope you don’t mind, but I brought someone with me. I promised to have dinner with him today, but… I kinda forgot to tell you before.” It was Kirishima.

Izuku stood quickly as he smoothed out the wrinkles from shirt Kirishima had lent him. “Oh! Uh, that’s fine!”

The moment the second person stepped inside, Izuku froze.

It was Kacchan.

Even without the familiar hero costume, and without the wild explosions or the shouting he always had back home, Izuku knew he would’ve recognize him from anywhere. The sharp eyes, and the way he carried himself was all the same. But… there was something different too. A weight in his posture, and an unfamiliar stiffness was there. Izuku’s heart stuttered in his chest. This was Kacchan, but not his Kacchan.

For a second, Kacchan just stared. His expression flickered from confusion to something darker as Izuku spotted his hands slowly curling into fists at his sides.

“Shitty hair,” Kacchan said. His voice quieter than what Izuku expected. “What the hell is this?”

Kirishima blinked. “What’s what?”

Bakugo didn’t take his eyes off Izuku. “That. Him. Explain.”

“Oh! Right!” Kirishima gave a nervous laugh. “This is Midoriya. I found him yesterday all messed up in an alley. No ID or anything, so I figured I’d let him crash here until he got his memory straight.”

Kacchan’s whole body went rigid as soon as Kirishima finished.

“What… did you say his name was?”

“Midoriya? Midoriya Izuku.”

The room’s temperature dropped instantly.

“Midoriya Izuku, That’s not possible.” Kacchan repeated, as if the name physically hurt to say. His voice was tight, but his hands were trembling.

Izuku stayed on the couch. His body stiffened. His heart hadn’t stopped racing since Kacchan walked in. This wasn’t the Kacchan he knew, but it was still Kacchan, and this Kacchan seemed to recognize him. The Izuku from this world, from what he could guess.

Kirishima stood somewhere between them. He seemed to be stuck in the awkward role, as he scratched the back of his neck and looked completely lost.

“Okay,” Kirishima said, trying to break the silence. “What is this? Do you two have history?”

Kacchan’s glare hadn’t left Izuku. “You can call it that. So, mind explaining, Shitty Hair?”

Kirishima shifted uneasily. “I told you everything, man. I found him in the alley. He was all messy, and he told his name and asked some weird questions but didn’t remember anything else.”

“And you just brought him home? Without any precautions?” Kacchan said, his voice tensed.

“Then what was I supposed to do instead? Call Security? They’ll throw him into processing, and that’s if they were nice.” Kirishima shot back.

Izuku felt uncomfortable. Kirishima defended him, even though he knew nothing about him. And now he was caught in the middle of this mess of lies and a mad Kacchan.

“You should’ve.” Kacchan muttered. His voice was holding a venom directed at Izuku.

Kirishima opened his mouth to argue, but Kacchan said the words that made his breath go thin.

“Midoriya Izuku is dead.”

Izuku’s heart nearly stopped.

Kirishima’s face was full with confusion. “What? No way. He’s right there.”

“He’s been dead for ten years. He drowned when we were five.” Kacchan said. His voice was full of  anger.

Dead? The other me drowned? Izuku’s heart raced as soon as it started beating again. Now it made sense, why Kacchan looked so mad. Kacchan was seeing a stranger masquerading as a ghost of his dead childhood friend. Now wasn’t a time to tell more lies, at least not in front of Kacchan. He had a right to know the truth.

“I… I’m sorry, I swear, I didn’t know.” Izuku said quietly.

Kacchan took a step forward. “Then who the hell are you?”

Izuku took a breath as he forced himself to speak. They deserved the truth. So, Izuku opened his mouth, saying. “I’m Midoriya Izuku. But… not the one you knew.”

Kacchan’s hands made fists. “What the hell does that mean?”

“It means,” Izuku said carefully. “I’m not from here. I’m from a different version of this world. At least that’s what I think.”

Kirishima blinked. “What? Like… from fantasy movies?”

“I know how it sounds.” Izuku said quickly. “But it’s the truth. In my world, quirks aren’t sorted into light and heavy. There’s no cleansing. There are heroes, real heroes - as a job, who use their quirks to save people.”

Kacchan’s glare melted into confusion for half a second. “No categories?”

“No,” Izuku shook his head. “Everyone just… has quirks. Or they don’t. It’s not some ranking system. Though Heroes have their billboard chart rankings. But this doesn’t lead to discrimination or other negative things like that. Oh uh… it kind of did in my friend Todoroki’s family case, I guess? But it should’ve never happened it our world’s standards. Speaking of Todoroki, maybe you know a- ”

“Shut up. God, are you really Deku? That muttering gives me trauma.” Kacchan said. Izuku only smiled sheepishly at the statement.

Kirishima frowned. “Wait, but… quirks are dangerous. Why would they just let people run wild with them?”

“Because it’s not like that,” Izuku said. “Some people do use their quirks to hurt others, we call them villains, but that’s what heroes are for. They’re professional, trained people who fight villains and protect people.”

“So quirks aren’t something to get rid of?” Kacchan’s lip curled.

“No,” Izuku said softly. “In my world, having a strong quirk is considered a good thing. It’s something people are proud of.”

“That’s completely backwards,” Kirishima muttered. “What kind of screwed up world…?”

“I know, but that’s where I’m from, and… honestly, yours feels more twisted in my perspective.” Izuku said quickly.

Kacchan’s expression was unreadable. Maybe somewhere between disgust, disbelief, and something Izuku couldn’t place. “You expect me to believe you popped in from some cult where quirks make you a hero? And you are Deku from that world?”

“I know it sounds ridiculous… but I swear, I’m telling the truth. I’m sorry I lied, Kirishima. I had to know what’s going on. But I really don’t remember how I ended up here.” Izuku admitted.

Kirishima was quiet for a few second, staring at nothing before he shot up. “Wait, then what you said when you woke up, does that mean you knew me from the other world?” Kirishima asked as he tilted his head. His face was full of confusion.

“Yeah. I know both of you.” Izuku said.

“Then prove it,” Kacchan demanded. “If you know me from this fucked up fantasy land, prove you know who I am.”

Izuku’s heart pounded. “I’ll try.”

Kirishima glanced between them like he was bracing for a fistfight. “Maybe ease into this…?”

“Shut up,” Bakugo said sharply. “Start talking, nerd.”

Izuku took a deep breath. “Back home, you were my childhood friend. You got your quirk when we were little. Your quirk is explosions, from your nitroglycerin sweat. You were the strongest kid from our middle school.”

Kacchan scowled, but he didn’t interrupt.

“Everyone looked up to you,” Izuku went on. “You always knew you’d be the best. And even though you were… kind of mean to me, I still admired you. I… was a late bloomer, so I was quirkless for a very long time. So, I tried my best to win you after I got to high school.”

“Kind of mean. That’s one way to put it.” Kacchan scoffed.

“You hated me following you around,” Izuku admitted. “Because I was quirkless, and you didn’t like it when I kept on following you, and trying to catch up to you. I mean, not you-you, but still.”

Bakugo went still.

“In my world, quirkless kids are treated like they’re worthless,” Izuku said softly. “But I never gave up on my dream. Even when you told me I couldn’t be a hero and pushed me and shoved me, I still wanted to try.”

“So I became one. I went to a Hero school, I met you guys. You actually apologized to me yesterday. And we… are dealing… with some villains currently. But we’re working to get through it.”

Kirishima’s jaw dropped. “That’s… kind of messed up.”

“Yeah,” Izuku said quietly. “It is.”

Bakugo’s hands twitched at his sides. “So you’re saying… you grew up thinking quirks made you better, and quirkless people were trash?”

Izuku flinched. “I never thought that. I knew it was wrong. But that’s how society treated me.”

“And here, it was the opposite,” Bakugo muttered bitterly. “You were quirkless, perfect little Midoriya, and me? Just a defective light quirk they slapped the wrong label on.”

Izuku had no idea how this Kacchan grew up, but it was sure that he had some issues to go through in this messed up society.

“I’m not here to rub anything in your face,” Izuku said softly. “I’m not your Midoriya. But I am Midoriya Izuku. And I just want to find out how to go home.”

Bakugo stared at him for a long moment with his eyes narrowed. “One chance,” he said finally. “You screw up once, you’re out.”

“Deal,” Izuku said. His voice was steady.

“Don’t thank me,” Bakugo muttered. “I still think you’re full of crap.”

Kirishima dropped into the chair like the weight of all this had physically hit him. “This is the weirdest day of my life.”

“Welcome to my world.” Izuku murmured.

“No,” Kacchan said as he sharply toward the kitchen. “Welcome to mine.”

Izuku watched him go with an unreadable face expression. In any world he guessed earning Kacchan’s trust was hard. But here? In a world where quirks made you less, and quirkless Midoriya had died ten years ago? It felt almost impossible.

Almost.

At dinner, they sat at the small table (not comfortably), settled in like they all three knew this conversation wasn’t optional. Kirishima flipped his chair around as he leaned over it like the casual posture might make this whole situation feel less insane. Except it didn’t.

Kacchan sat sideways, one foot on the chair with his arms folded tightly across his chest. He was glaring at Izuku like he was daring him to say the wrong thing. Izuku perched at the edge of his seat,  and sternly met his eyes.

“Okay,” Kirishima started as he clapped his hands together once, “before we all go crazy, how about we trade? You tell us about your world, we tell you about this one. We compare notes… and maybe we can get some idea about how to deal with this… shit?”

Izuku blinked, then nodded. “That’s… a good idea.”

“Tch.” Kacchan rolled his eyes.

Izuku took a steadying breath. “Alright. I’ll start.”

He thought for a second about how to explain UA without overwhelming them. “So, in my world, we don’t have districts like you do. No light, heavy, mutant categories. We do have categorize a type though. Like emitters, or mutants, and some others, but these usually don’t bother our daily lives. ”

“No sorting?” Kirishima frowned. “Even for mutants?”

“Discrimination exists, yeah,” Izuku admitted, “but the government doesn’t officially split people up over it.”

“That sounds like a nightmare,” Bakugo muttered.

Izuku pressed on. “So, in my world, there’s this school. UA. It’s the top hero school in Japan. It’s where kids with strong quirks train to become professional heroes.”

Kacchan’s lip curled. “Still can’t believe ‘hero’ is a job.”

“It’s more than that,” Izuku said. “Heroes are… hope. When things go wrong, they’re the ones people count on to fix it.”

Kirishima tilted his head. “So you went there?”

“Yeah. And so did you.” Izuku’s smile softened. “You two were my classmates. In Class 1-A.”

Kirishima blinked. “All of us? Even—” He gestured to Kacchan, whose glare deepened.

“Yeah,” Izuku said. “Class 1-A was… we were all friends. More than friends, really.”

Kacchan only snorted. “Friends. Sure.”

Izuku ignored that. “You two mostly hung out with Ashido, Sero, Jirou, and Kaminari. You were the fun group.”

Kirishima’s eyebrows rose and his eyes widened a little bit. “You have them in your world too? We still hang out with Sero and Jirou here. Though Kaminari and Mina… never mind.”

Izuku sensed it was a heavy topic, so he decided to not chime in. At least for now. Kacchan didn’t react, but Izuku could feel the weight of his stare. He gave a soft, sad smile and continued.

“And we had others too,” Izuku continued. “There were my friends, Todoroki, Iida, Uraraka, and Tsu. And there’s Yaoyorozu, and-”

Izuku suddenly paused. Just saying their names filled Izuku with warmth, but at the same time,  an uncomfortable dread knotted in his stomach. Iida’s family ran a long line of pro heroes, so what happened to them in a world without pro heroes? Todoroki’s entire life, his entire existence was tied to Endeavor’s obsession with the Hero Billboard Chart, a chart that seemingly didn’t exist here. What if they don’t even exist here? The thought made Izuku feel physically ill.

“Uh…” Kirishima scratched his head. “Never heard those names before.”

Izuku’s heart dropped. Even if he expected it, hearing it out loud still hurt. These were the people who shaped his life, who saved him countless times. And here, maybe they existed somewhere, but not as the people he knew. Maybe they were just strangers, living completely different lives. Maybe they don’t exist.

“You okay?” Kirishima asked. His brow was furrowed.

“Yeah,” Izuku said, even though his voice was too thin to be convincing. “I just… realized how much is different here.”

Kirishima looked uncomfortable, but Kacchan just crossed his arms tighter. “You’re up next, shitty hair. Tell him about this world.”

“Right,” Kirishima said. “Okay, so… you’ve seen some of it already. We have a… - what do you call this - a hierarchy?  Quirkless are at the top. Light quirks are at next, not enough to be rich, but not too poor. Heavy quirks, the big and destructive ones get shoved further down. And mutants…”

He trailed off, as his expression darkened.

“What happens to mutants?” Izuku asked quietly.

“Outer zones,” Kacchan said. His voice was flat. “Factory work, dangerous jobs, low pay, with no care from the government. They aren’t even considered human.”

Izuku’s felt sick. His friends, the pro heroes he know to be degraded like that. “That’s horrible.”

“Don’t say that out loud in public.” Kacchan said.

Kirishima winced. “It’s not exactly fair, though.”

Izuku’s hands tightened. “But your quirk, Kacchan—”

“Don’t call me that. You’re not him.” Ka- no, Bakugo snapped. He was right. It wasn’t his world, and this wasn’t his friend. At least not yet.

“Sorry… Bakugo…? If that’s okay for now?” Bakugo just rolled his eyes. Izuku got this as a sign to continue. “Anyways. Your quirk is explosions from what I know. Shouldn’t have that put you in Heavy? Why are you here? Uh… no offense, if that was offensive.”

Bakugo just glared at Izuku with piercing eyes. “Yeah. It should’ve.”

“So why didn’t it?” Izuku asked.

There was a beat of silence before Kirishima hesitantly answered instead. “There was this teacher… Aizawa-sensei got him into Light.”

Izuku’s heart jumped. “Aizawa-sensei? You know him too?”

“Used to,” Kirishima said. “He was our elementary teacher.” His smile faded slightly. “He’s the one who fudged Bakugo’s file. Called his quirk ‘Sparkles’ so they wouldn’t drop him into Heavy right away.”

“What happened to him?” Izuku asked softly.

Bakugo’s scowl deepened. “Hell if I know. One day he just… disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” Izuku’s breath caught. “You mean…?”

“Yeah… Forgotten.” Kirishima said, “Rumors said he was hiding a heavy kid or something and bailed before Security caught him.” Izuku had a hard time processing all that info dump. Aizawa sensei was the same. Always trying to save a student’s life first, and they didn’t even know if he was alive.

“You good?” Kirishima asked, softer this time.

Izuku forced himself to nod. “Yeah. Thanks for telling me.”

Bakugo shifted uncomfortably, like the conversation was getting too heavy. “Whatever. None of this helps figure out how you got here.”

Kirishima snapped his fingers. “Actually… maybe it does! If someone in this world has a quirk strong enough to pull someone across dimensions, that’s not exactly subtle, right? Someone had to notice. Or if someone in your world has that quirk, there has to be a same quirk here. Right?,”

“Maybe,” Izuku said, mind already spinning through possibilities. “But if quirks are so controlled here, what if that person was cleansed? Or even if he still got his quirk, how do we find him?”

Bakugo’s expression darkened. “Only people in power knows. And the cleansed quirk doesn’t vanish. They always say that it’ll be used somewhere good.”

“Then… people from the Government is the only ones who knows about those information?” Izuku’s stomach twisted.

“Yup. Them, or,” Kirishima added, “someone underground.”

Bakugo shot him a look. “What the hell do you know about that?”

Kirishima shrugged awkwardly. “I mean, you hear stuff. Black market quirk tech, people dealing with suppressed quirks off-record. Not everyone loves the system.”

Bakugo groaned. “Great. So now we’re digging through the trash. Love that.”

“We have to start somewhere,” Izuku said quietly.

Bakugo jabbed a finger at him. “And if you screw up once-”

“I’m out,” Izuku finished. “I know.”

Kirishima stood first as he stretched his arms over his head. “Well, detective squad! Let’s get moving.”

Izuku pushed himself up too. His legs were a little bit unsteady, but his resolve was firm. The weight of everything still clung to him. Aizawa missing, his friends’ whereabouts still unknown in this reality, same for the pro heroes. But at least now, there was a direction he can follow.

And for Midoriya Izuku, all he ever needed was that first step.

They didn’t leave right away. Kirishima disappeared into his room, saying something about “calling in a favor,” leaving Bakugo and Izuku stuck at the table in the thick silence.

Izuku stared down at his hands and twisted his fingers together in awkwardness, while Bakugo’s glare never wavered.

“This is gonna be a waste of time,” Bakugo muttered. “If we end up chasing some mutant’s bad gossip, I’m throwing you through a wall.”

Izuku tried to smile, though it was weak at best.

Bakugo’s glare deepened, but before he could snap back, Kirishima returned. “Alright. Good news, I got us a lead.”

“Who?” Bakugo asked sharply.

Kirishima hesitated just a second too long. “Tokoyami.”

Bakugo’s whole face twisted. “Him? You’re kidding.”

Izuku’s heart jumped into his throat. “Fumikage Tokoyami?”

Kirishima pointed at him. “You know him?”

Izuku nodded quickly. “He’s… he’s one of our classmates. We worked together all the time!”

Bakugo snorted. “Well, he’s not your teammate here. He’s a mutant.”

Izuku’s heart sank a little, though it wasn’t exactly a shock. Tokoyami’s appearance - his avian head, and Dark Shadow would absolutely land him in the mutant category here.

“He used to be in our year before we got split,” Kirishima explained. “He got sent out to the outer zones pretty fast, but I’ve kept in touch. Sort of.”

“Sort of? Why?” Bakugo raised a brow.

“I had my reasons, you know.” Kirishima said in a somewhat tense tone. As if Bakugo was touching on some sensitive ground. Bakugo seemed to catch the subtle expression, but he just shot back.

“If this is about her again, I’ll-”

“Yeah, then you’ll what? Stop me?” Kirishima snapped.

“Yes.”

Kirishima rubbed the back of his neck as he sighed. “Look, just drop it if you’re not going to help. Mutants have to get good at… knowing things. The system doesn’t exactly hand them opportunities, so they have to make their own.”

Izuku could already see the shape of it. Tokoyami, information broker.

“Great,” Bakugo muttered. “We’re dealing with back alley informants now.”

“We need a lead,” Izuku said softly. “I’ll talk to him.”

“You better hope he doesn’t knew the other Izuku,” Bakugo said darkly. “Or he’ll know you’re full of crap.”

Chapter Text

Kirishima told that visiting other zones were technically restricted, but he seemed to be skilled in disguising themselves into guards and slipping through the barriers. Bakugo just rolled his eyes, clearly not happy with all this. Izuku found them interesting, though he was curious how Kirishima had all the connections or the skills to pull this out easily. And surprisingly, without getting into any sort of problem, there they were, in the outer zones - the home of mutants.

“Don’t talk unless you have to,” Bakugo muttered. “We’re pretending to be guards and I’m sure you’ll mess up everything.”

The outer zone was colder than Izuku expected. It was not just the air, the whole place felt colder. The streets were cracked and uneven. Buildings were leaning at odd angles, like no one had cared about maintenance in years. People watched them from windows and doorways. Some were wary, some were openly hostile, but at least his Danger Sense wasn’t activating.

Kirishima led them to a narrow building sandwiched between a scrapyard and a shop with no sign. The windows were covered with bolted metal slats, and the door had enough locks to make Izuku wonder if it some one broke it before. There was a faint hum from inside, like a machinery running.

Kirishima knocked. Two knocks, pause, three fast taps.

The door opened just an inch, and Izuku’s breath caught in his throat.

A single, sharp red eye peered out through the crack.

“Tokoyami,” Kirishima said. His voice slipped into something softer, like he was talking to an old friend. “It’s been a while.”

The eye flicked over to Bakugo, then landed squarely on Izuku.

Izuku’s heart stuttered.

“Who is that?” Tokoyami’s voice was lower than Izuku remembered from yesterday. It was rougher like sandpaper. The door swung open fully, and there he was. His feathers were ragged around the edges, his coat patched and frayed, but his posture was still straight in that quiet Tokoyami way. Dark Shadow flickered faintly behind him.

“He’s a friend. It was him I talked about at the phone.” Kirishima blinked.

Tokoyami didn’t answer right away. His eyes locked onto Izuku’s, as if he were searching for something.

“Hi…?” Izuku said softly.

Tokoyami made a low, thoughtful sound. “Come in.”

—

Inside was small and cluttered, part living space, part workshop. Some steampunk-like tech sat in piles along the walls. There was a thin mat in one corner that was probably meant to be a bed for Tokoyami. A shelf held a row of books that were worn soft brown with use.

Bakugo stood stiff near the door with his arms crossed tight. Izuku and Kirishima took seats wherever they could find space.

“So, what’s the matter? What’s the deal you can’t say through your phone?” Tokoyami asked. His voice was still low, still edged like a blade kept just sharp enough to use.

“We need information,” Kirishima said. “About quirk tech, or quirks, something that could mess with reality.”

Tokoyami’s eyes narrowed. “Reality?”

“Dimensional stuff,” Izuku clarified. “Like something that could pull someone from one world into another.”

Tokoyami’s brow lifted slightly. “That’s rare.”

“Rare, but not impossible?” Izuku asked hopefully.

“There was a rumor,” Tokoyami said slowly. “Something surfaced in the black market a few months back. A Quirk Tech that could erase more than quirks.”

“Erase what?” Bakugo demanded.

“People,” Tokoyami said. “Like they were never there.”

Izuku’s stomach flipped. “That sounds close.”

“Where did it come from?” Kirishima asked.

“No one knows.” Tokoyami tapped against the arm of his chair. “The sellers claimed they ‘found’ it abandoned. As if it had been used once, then left behind.”

Izuku’s heart pounded. “Where?”

Tokoyami hesitated, and Izuku realized he was debating the price of the information. Something he could get out of in exchange. But Izuku didn’t have anything, at least in this world. So, he decided to be honest.

“I’m not here to cause trouble,” Izuku said quietly. “I just want to go home.”

Tokoyami’s sharp gaze softened, just a little bit. “Outer Zone 6. Warehouse block. Third row, building 12.”

“Found it there?” Kirishima asked.

Tokoyami nodded. “Whoever had it first, they’re long gone. But the trail starts there.”

“Perfect.” Bakugo stood abruptly. “Another crap lead.”

“It’s all we’ve got,” Izuku said.

“Don’t thank me yet,” Tokoyami said. “Whatever you’re looking for, it won’t be easy to find.”

“It never is,” Izuku said softly.

“Tokoyami! So… what’s the price? And you know...? Got anything?” Kirishima asked with a slightly anxious face, side eyeing Bakugo for a bit.

“Your friend’s presence is more than enough of the price. Keep in touch.” With that, Kirishima gave a slight smile.

Izuku was confused. What was that even supposed to mean? He didn’t know if he should interpret that as a good thing or not, but Kirishima seemed to be trusting, and it was Tokoyami. His friend. So, he decided to not think too hard about it while they departed for the place Tokoyami told him. He would have time to think about all of that later.

As they left, stepping back into the cold outer zone air, Kirishima glanced over at Izuku. “So… you knew him back in your world, huh?”

Izuku smiled faintly. “He was my classmate. A friend. One of the strongest in our class.”

Kirishima grinned. “Still pretty strong here, even if he’s different.”

Bakugo snorted as he glanced at Kirishima. “Whatever. Let’s just get this over with.”

Izuku glanced back once, seeing Tokoyami still standing in the doorway, watching them go. This world had rewritten so much. But some things, some people, still had that same spark. That gave Izuku hope. Because if hope existed even here, then maybe finding his way home wasn’t impossible after all.

—

The outer zones were even heavier at night.

Izuku wasn’t sure if it was the darkness, the cold, or just the weight of everything this place represented, but every breath felt thick in his lungs. The streetlights flickered uselessly. It barely illuminated the cracked pavement and rusty buildings that no one had even cared about for years.

Kirishima led them through winding alleyways. He was a bit tense, as he seemed to be pacing steady but a little too fast to be casual. Bakugo kept at his side, constantly glancing at their surroundings. His fingers twitching like he was waiting for an excuse to fight. Izuku stayed in the middle, memorizing every street sign, even though most of them were too faded to read.

Warehouse Block 3, Building 12 were at the far edge of Outer Zone 6. The building was squat and wide, and its roof was dented like something heavy had caved in part of it. A faded logo clung to the side. Probably an old distribution company, but it seemed to have been eaten away by rust and time.

“What did this place do?” Izuku asked softly.

“Supply hub,” Kirishima answered. “Before the quirks, they used to run shipments through here. Before districts were a thing.”

“The districts…” Izuku echoed. “That happened when quirks first appeared, right?”

Kirishima let out a breath. “Yeah. It started when quirks showed up and people freaked out. Government decided mixed areas were too dangerous. So they split us. Quirkless on top, light quirks under them, heavy quirks pushed further down, and mutants dumped at the bottom.”

“And kids?” Izuku asked.

“They stay with their parents until they graduate elementary school,” Kirishima said. “After that, if your quirk fits the district, you stay. If it doesn’t, they move you.”

“Move you where?” Izuku asked, already fearing the answer.

Kirishima hesitated. “Sometimes with distant family. But most end up alone. Some go to government-run dorms, some go to civilian facilities. If you’re super lucky, you get a job placement.”

Izuku’s hands curled into fists. No wonder everyone here was so resigned. The system didn’t just separate people. It tore apart families, leaving kids to grow up alone just because they had the ‘wrong’ kind of quirk.

“What about you two?” Izuku asked. “Did you stay?”

“Yeah.” Kirishima’s smile was a bit tense. “Both my parents had light quirks, so I got lucky.”

Bakugo didn’t answer, and that alone told Izuku everything.

Bakugo shouldn’t have been there. Without Aizawa, he would’ve been reassigned, ripped from his home, probably sent to a facility where he would’ve been treated like a time bomb waiting to go off in the Heavy.

Izuku didn’t push, but he understood.

“We’re here,” Bakugo muttered as he cut off any further conversation.

—

The warehouse door was chained shut. The rust was thick on the links. Bakugo grabbed the lock, testing it, before growling under his breath. “Sealed.”

“Let me,” Kirishima said, stepping up. His quirk flickered to life under his skin, arms hardening, but it was weaker than Izuku remembered. Less refined, less practiced. It took two tries before the metal groaned and gave way. Bakugo just shot a dirty look at the whole process, not trying to engage with it.

The door scraped open, and the air inside hit them like a wall. It was cold, and was carrying the metallic tang of rust and something sour underneath. They moved inside, the flashlights they brought flicking on. The room was massive, dust swirling in the beams of light. Glass crunched under Izuku’s shoes. Graffiti covered most of the back wall. Some of it was old cleansing slogans, some of it just tags. But one section caught Izuku’s eye.

The letters on the wall stood out starkly against the crumbling concrete, painted in thick, bold strokes that had clearly only just begun to dry. The rest of the alley was weathered, rusted, decayed by time and neglect—but this… this had been done recently. The lines were clean, purposeful, and every drop of paint clung to the surface like a statement that refused to be ignored.

The resistance lives. You are not alone.

Izuku’s entire body froze in place as he stared at the words. A resistance? It made sense. For a society that suppressed one’s individuality and abilities this much, it almost felt natural that they had a resistance. The question was, should he consider the Resistance as a hero, or a villain? He took a small step forward and reached out his fingers until it hovered just over the lettering. The paint was still tacky beneath the cool night air. Whoever had written this, they’d done it just moments before.

"Guys," Izuku said quietly, trying to keep his voice low. "Look at this. This is new.”

Kirishima and Bakugo moved to his side quickly, footsteps quiet on the cracked concrete, both of them lifting their eyes to the wall.

Bakugo’s face twisted into a scowl almost instantly. “The hell is that supposed to mean?”

Kirishima, on the other hand, looked uneasy as his brows drew together. “I’ve heard stuff about this… rumors mostly,” he murmured, gaze never leaving the words. “There’s talk about a resistance—some underground group made up of people pushed out by the system. Heavy quirk users, mutants, outlaws... people who got tired of being stepped on. But no one’s ever seen them. Some think they’re just a myth.”

Izuku shook his head slowly, his voice firmer now. “Not if this was painted tonight. ”

He stared at the message again. His fingers brushed the air just above the surface as if contact would somehow confirm the truth. The scent of paint that hadn’t had time to fade pinched his nose.

Before Bakugo could say anything more, a sound broke through the stillness. It was soft at first, but it was unmistakably human. Footsteps. All three of them froze, instincts taking over in an instant.

The steps weren’t hurried or clumsy. They were slow. Controlled. Intentional. Whoever was outside wasn’t just wandering past. They were moving with purpose—circling the building.

Bakugo reacted fast as he snapped his flashlight off quickly. Darkness swallowed the alley as no one was able to see what’s going on. And for a few long seconds, none of them moved or dared to breathe too loudly.

The footsteps grew louder, making a soft crunching noise as it came closer. Then, they paused right outside the door. Izuku’s heart raced as he grew cautious. Who was that? Danger Sense hasn’t activated, so they must’ve not been known to that person. But what if the person is a threat? Izuku would probably handle it quickly, but what if using his quirk get caught by the government and bring Kirishima and Bakugo to an undesirable situation later? He shouldn’t use his quirk, not now at least. So, he would have to do a quirkless—

Before Izuku was even able to finish his thoughts, the handle turned. A voice followed—muffled, but clear enough through the thin, rusted door.

“We found the machine. Yeah, I tested it—thing made my burger disappear, so I’m definitely getting my dinner back once I return. It was stashed at Heavy. Taking it to headquarters. …Yeah, I left the message for them. I’m pretty sure they saw it.”

That wasn’t just a coincidence. They were talking about him. About them. His entire body tensed, ready to bolt and attack if the man is attempting to hurt them. His brain started to analyze the voice, the tone, the phrasing as he tried to figure out if they were trying to harm them or if this was some strange, backwards version of help.

A second, softer voice answered with a tone too quiet to make out clearly. Then the footsteps began to retreat, echoing softly into the distance. Danger Sense stayed quiet. Which was nice. They weren’t under threat. Not yet. But someone knew they were here.

A long silence followed, stretched thin by held breaths and pounding hearts.

“…The hell?” Bakugo whispered harshly, his eyes still locked on the door like it might swing open again.

“The machine?” Kirishima echoed, glancing at Izuku. “That’s what we were tracking, right? That’s what the Resistance mentioned… the tech that could shift someone between worlds?”

Izuku didn’t answer right away. His throat was dry, and his thoughts were tangled with too many realizations all at once. It was the fact that this stranger had mentioned headquarters. And the message on the wall—You are not alone—wasn’t some passive symbol of hope left behind for anyone to stumble across. This was meant for them. A signal. A trail. Proof that the Resistance wasn’t just whispers anymore. They were real. Active. Watching.

And if the Resistance had the very same thing, or something remotely close to what had ripped Izuku from his world, then this was more than a lead. It was a chance. A way back home.

His voice was quiet, but filled with something sharp and certain.

“I’m going after them.”

Bakugo scoffed, the sound sharp and dismissive. “You’re insane.”

Izuku’s head snapped toward him, his eyes wide with urgency. “You saw the wall. You heard that guy! The Resistance is real. They have the machine. That could be my way home.”

Bakugo stood firm as he folded his arms across his chest like a wall Izuku couldn’t break through. “And what the hell does that have to do with me?” he snapped.

“I’m not gonna throw my life away chasing after some underground freaks just because you think they’ve got your magic portal.” Bakugo finished.

Kirishima shifted uneasily beside them, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I get it’s important, man. It really is. But we’re just three guys. And this? This is the Resistance. The real deal. People talk about them like they’re ghosts. Even being seen near the outer zones is enough to get us marked.”

He hesitated, eyes flicking between them. “I want to help. I do. But this… this is dangerous. It’s not just sneaking around anymore. I t’s crossing a line we can’t uncross.”

Izuku’s shoulders tightened. “I know. I know it’s a lot. But this is all I have to go on. If they really do have the machine, then that’s the only thing that has the chance to be tied with whatever brought me here. It’s not like I’ve got more leads, and I have to go back fast. I have things to protect back at home.”

Bakugo turned away with a grunt. “They could kill you the second they see you. Who says they are the good guys?”

Izuku didn’t respond to that, because deep down, he didn’t know either. But he couldn’t stop now. Not when the thread he’d been clinging to had finally started to tug.

Their walk back was quiet. Not peaceful, but the silence was thick with things unsaid. The alleyways felt darker than before, the streets were colder. Even the familiar turns of the neighborhood didn’t feel quite the same. No one broke the silence. It wasn’t until Kirishima’s front door shut behind them that the tension that was choking them went loose. Bakugo flopped onto the couch with a heavy thud as he spread his arms across the back like he couldn’t decide whether to relax or explode. His scowl hadn’t left his face once. Kirishima leaned on the table, fingers tapping a restless rhythm. Izuku stood by the door as he made a firm face and stance. For a moment, none of them spoke.

Then Bakugo let out a short, sharp breath. “So. Resistance freaks have your little teleport machine, or they don’t. What now? You still think this is smart?”

Izuku’s voice was quieter this time, but it was full with determination. “I don’t know if it’s smart. I just know it’s all I’ve got.”

Bakugo sat forward with a sharp and tired glare. “And what? You want us to tag along? Join some suicidal rebel squad just because you think it might help you?”

“No!” Izuku held up his hands. “I’m not asking you to do that. I’m not asking either of you to risk your lives for something that doesn’t affect you.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Bakugo muttered.

“I mean it,” Izuku said, softer now. “I was dragged here. You weren’t. I get it—you both have lives here. You have things you’re trying to protect. I wouldn’t ask you to throw all that away for me.”

Kirishima’s tapping slowed. His brows furrowed. “Midoriya… You really think you can do this on your own?”

Izuku hesitated, then nodded. “I might not have a choice.” His voice cracked slightly at the end, the exhaustion slipping through. “I can’t bring anyone else down with me.”

He knew this Bakugo and Kirishima hadn’t spent years fighting villains or training to face death around every corner. They were just trying to survive in a system that barely let them breathe. 

“I don’t even like quirks,” Bakugo muttered, folding his arms again and staring at the floor. “Why the hell would I risk my neck for a bunch of radicals who think quirks are some gift?”

Izuku winced at that but nodded slowly. “I understand.”

Bakugo’s gaze flicked up to him, and Izuku saw something almost unreadable flashing through it. “No, you don’t. You come from some perfect world where powers make you heroes. Here? They just make you dangerous. They get you marked. Taken away. Locked up. They rip families apart. I got lucky someone screwed up and called my quirk ‘light,’ but I don’t forget where I’m supposed to be.”

Izuku opened his mouth, then shut it again. There was nothing he could say to that. And Kirishima still hadn’t said much. His expression was twisted in something Izuku couldn’t quite read—regret, maybe, or guilt. Or something else.

“I won’t ask because I know this is a lot for you two, I already appreciate what you did for me. Really.” Izuku said finally. “And I really am okay going alone. I’m used to that.”

But even as he said the words, something inside him twisted. Because he didn’t want to go alone, n ot again. Not when he didn’t know anything about this new world, and not when he didn’t know what the rules are here. But again, Izuku didn’t have a choice here. All he could do was adapt, and find a way.

Izuku had known he would be doing this alone. He’d prepared himself for it the moment the Resistance came up. But still… a small part of him hoped, e ven if it was impossible. But this world wasn’t his. Theirs wasn’t a life of chasing hope. It was surviving just long enough to not get noticed. He knew this was a selfish thing to expect. 

He swallowed hard. “I’m sorry.”

Kirishima blinked. “For what?”

“I shouldn’t have dragged either of you into this. I just—when I saw that message, when I heard that voice... it was the first time something felt real. Like I wasn’t just chasing shadows. But that’s my problem. You guys have your own lives. I know that. I don’t want to pressure you guys.”

Kirishima didn’t respond right away. He looked down at the glass in his hand, then slowly turned it upside down on the table.

“There are some shadows worth chasing,” he said eventually, so quiet that Izuku almost missed it.

Izuku opened his mouth, but Kirishima had already pushed his chair back. “Night, guys,” he said, standing up. “I’ll think about it.”

And with that, he disappeared down the hall, and the soft click of his door left Izuku alone with Bakugo, who hadn’t moved a muscle. He didn’t expect him to say anything either. So, Izuku just nodded to himself, quietly walked over to the small mattress Kirishima had set up for him, and curled beneath the blanket. The warmth didn’t reach the tightness in his chest. The vestiges didn’t bothered him, but he was able to hear the small whispers from the edge of his mind. 

The sunlight that bled through the window wasn’t warm. It was pale, thin, and more a reminder that time was moving forward whether Izuku was ready or not. He’d barely slept. Not from fear, not even from stress. It was just a constant undercurrent of motion in his brain, as if staying still too long might let doubt creep in and swallow him whole. So, by the time he heard quiet movement in the kitchen, Izuku was already up, tugging his jacket on and bracing for the day.

Kirishima stood by the window with a mug in his hands. His shoulders were tensed. He hadn’t noticed Izuku yet as he was staring out into the street like he was waiting for something, or maybe remembering something that never came.

“Good morning,” Izuku said.

Kirishima didn’t look away from the window. “Yeah. Morning.”

Izuku hesitated, then stepped in. “I’m heading out soon. Back to the alley, maybe back to the outer zone where we saw the message yesterday. If I can catch a trail, maybe I can still find out where the machine went or I may get in contact with the person who left it. I just wanted to thank you for all this.”

Kirishima’s fingers tapped against the mug—once, twice, like the thought had already been circling in his head long before Izuku said anything.

“You sure you want to walk into the outer zones on your own?” he asked, quiet. “If you don’t know how to, you’ll be in big trouble.”

Izuku shifted his weight. “I don’t really have time to be careful. If I lose this lead, there might not be another. I can defend myself.”

Kirishima finally looked at him, eyes tired but sharper than they’d been the night before. “You’re lucky,” he muttered. “To have a direction. Even a half-broken one.”

Izuku blinked. “Lucky?”

“Some people’ve been chasing shadows for years,” Kirishima said, lifting the mug again. “And the longer it goes, the quieter it gets. No new leads. Just silence.”

There was something about the way he said it—too specific, too steady. Izuku frowned slightly, but didn’t press.

“I know someone who keeps track of strange movement. Symbols, names, all that stuff. You already met him.”

“Tokoyami?” Izuku asked.

Kirishima nodded. “He’s the only person who hasn’t stopped listening. He texted me this morning about something. ”

There was a pause—just long enough for the weight of that sentence to settle before Kirishima added, almost under his breath, “He helps me check names when I’m looking for someone, you know. Thought I’d be done by now.”

Izuku stilled. He didn’t ask. But he saw the way Kirishima’s jaw tightened. The way his hand tightened just slightly around the mug before setting it down. Someone. A person. Not a goal. A promise. Someone Kirishima had been trying to find long before Izuku ever dropped into this world.

“I’m not promising anything,” Kirishima said as made a carefree grin and grabbed his jacket from the back of the chair. “I don’t really know how far I should help you, but I’ll come with you. I don’t think I can leave you alone like this, bro. We’ll talk to Tokoyami.”

Izuku nodded quickly and gave a soft smile of gratitude. “Thank you. That’s more than enough.”

They stepped out into the cold morning light. Kirishima pulled his hood up, shoulders hunched slightly as they walked. Izuku glanced sideways, wanting to say something, to ask who he was trying to find, but the words stuck in his throat. Kirishima didn’t talk about it again.

But as they walked toward the edge of the district, Izuku noticed him glance once toward the sky, like he was hoping someone might still be out there, waiting to be found.

The morning was colder than it had any right to be, the kind of quiet chill that lingered. It curled under sleeves and settled into the spaces between footsteps. It wasn’t just the air—it was the stillness of the streets, the hush of everything around them as if the city itself was watching, waiting, holding its breath for what came next.

Izuku kept a step behind Kirishima, not out of caution, but because there was something in the way he moved that didn’t feel like it should be interrupted.

It struck Izuku more now than it had the night before, how much Kirishima already knew. Not just about navigation or underground contacts or how to spot trouble before it had a chance to form—but how to move like someone who had spent far too long chasing ghosts in the dark. Yesterday he just assumed this was an every day skill people needed to survive this world, but this was personal to Kirishima. 

He didn’t speak or glance back. He just walked with a kind of practiced certainty. His confident demeanor told Izuku this wasn’t a new path, and it wasn’t one taken lightly. The turns they took were too precise, too quiet, threading them through alleyways that the average passerby would never look twice at. These weren’t the kind of shortcuts you stumbled across. They were the kind of routes you memorized when you had nowhere else to go,  and someone worth finding.

The realization slid into place slowly, piece by piece. The way Kirishima had brushed off the Resistance rumors, not because he didn’t believe them, but because he didn’t want to say too much. The way he’d known how to cross zones with ease. The way he’d spoken to Tokoyami like they were part of the same long, ongoing search. It was all for the long search Kirishima didn’t give up on. 

“I used to take this route a lot,” Kirishima said with a smile. His voice cut softly into the quiet. His eyes flicked ahead to an alley choked with rusted pipes and tangled fences. “Most people don’t even know it leads anywhere.”

He made a faint, worn smile, the kind that didn’t quite reach the eyes but still carried weight. “Sometimes… promises are the only thing that makes walking through this place feel worth it.”

Izuku felt the words settle deep, like ash. He didn’t press, didn’t ask who or why or how long—it felt too private, too tightly wound in memory to pull at. But now it made sense. More than ever.

Kirishima hadn’t just been surviving this world. He’d been walking its edge for years, holding onto the memory of someone he’d lost, or someone who’d been taken. And now, maybe, the path Izuku was on had started to overlap with the one Kirishima had walked alone for far too long.

They putted on disguise from yesterday and slipped out the borders of the zones and finally got to the outer zones. A few twists and turns later, they were at a corner where the buildings leaned in too close. Kirishima didn’t even pause. He just slipped into the narrow stairwell beside it, like he had a hundred times before.

Kirishima knocked once. Waited. Then knocked again with a familiar rhythm. The door creaked open slowly, and hinges groaned like they hadn’t moved in weeks.

“Ah,” Tokoyami said. His dark eyes were steady and sharp. “You’ve returned.”

—

The house was too quiet. Katsuki sat on the edge of his bed. The blanket was pushed off his lap, one sock was half-on, the other was forgotten on the floor. He hadn’t heard them leave. That was the part that got to him.

They were already gone. And he’d just... slept through it.

No, he hadn’t really slept. He’d just shut his eyes to stop thinking. But now that silence had crept into the cracks of the walls, every breath and started to drown himself.

Deku’s probably chasing that damn Resistance right now. Kirishima too, probably, he thought bitterly.

His fingers tightened against his palms.

Deku was gone again, and Kirishima was going with him.

Kirishima. Who never stopped believing in people. Who always chased after things when no one else would. Of course he went. Of course he did.

Katsuki clenched his jaw, standing abruptly. His body was moving before his brain could catch up. He quickly grabbed a jacket, yanked on his boots, swearing under his breath.

He really didn’t want to help, but the thought of losing him again made his mind race. Because if he didn’t grasp this chance to make things right, the weight of failure will crush him. And he knew the consequences this will bring would be all his fault too.