Chapter Text
Check the computer on the desk.
When you wake up, your memory resets to the day before the incident.
Check your notes and journal when you wake up in the morning.
Izuku Midoriya.
U.A. High School. Class 1-A.
Always keep your notebook in your bag.
Check today’s to-do list on your calendar.
You have a journal on your computer. Always write down things to remember.
Locker Code: 20-04-15-07
-
Sticky note after sticky note. Notebook after notebook.
Each wall surrounding Izuku Midoriya’s head seemed to project bright, vivid sticky notes that stuck out against the bland color of his bedroom. Sticky notes that contained step-by-step instructions leading to a routine of realization and grief.
The array of the colorful notes directed Izuku to the same place each morning he woke up. His laptop.
Hello, future self. I’ll be straightforward.
On April 26, 2026, while on patrol duty, you came across a villain. Honestly, I think you’re strong enough to defeat most villains physically. All Might helps you train!
However, this villain was different. I wouldn’t remember, but officers scanning the security cameras inferred there seemed to be no intention to physically harm you.
Some sticky notes around have already said what I need to. When you wake up in the morning, your memory resets to the day before the quirk incident. The villain struck you with an extremely rare memory loss quirk. Not only can you not afford new memories, some random fragments of your life have been erased from your mind.
Whether there is a solution, we do not know yet. Pro heroes and officers are still actively hunting down the villain.
For now, you’ve been keeping a journal every day since the accident. Keep up a simple routine. You should still remember how to use your quirk. All Might says One For All is a quirk of the soul.
The only people that know of your condition are your mother, your teachers, those investigating the villain, All Might, and Kacchan.
He was on patrol with you that day.
Good luck, self.
-
“Oh, did you sleep well?”
Izuku silently walked down the hall, carrying the weight of the new knowledge on his shoulders. A faint smell creeped its way into his nose, something that for once felt familiar. His mother’s cooking.
“Mh, yeah," Izuku replied, while his mother continued pacing around the tiny kitchen. He catches his mother’s soft, yet reassuring, glances a few times.
Inko Midoriya loved her son immensely. A supportive and extremely emotional mother. Constantly overwhelmed with joy or worry, tears would find their way to spill out of her eyes, one thing she passed to her son.
That’s why it felt extremely ironic to sit and avoid the topic. For a mother who loved to talk and cry, to shy away from the situation currently shaping her son’s life.
But then again, what use is discussing the same issue every morning? That would only bring sorrow to the table daily.
I can’t imagine her sadness.
An unspoken expression of understanding exchanged between the two family members as they started their morning.
Izuku understood that ever since the incident, he would have to deal with this silence being his normal day. His normal routine—to act as if he didn’t have something wrong with his mind.
Even with his mind truthfully being tempered, the number of thoughts simultaneously surging through his head seemed interminable.
“Midoriya!”
Izuku glanced back over his shoulder to find a boy wearing the same uniform as him. He feels familiar, just like the pathway down to his supposed school. Just like what was written on his laptop, there were certain things that felt oddly normal. He knew how to get to his high school with the same turns without looking at directions planted on the floor. He knew what time he should be there and the streets he walked upon.
The guy that just called out his name and approached him was moderately tall. His hair, evenly split, with white on his right and red on his left, had a prominent scar on his face.
Smile. Just smile. As if I remember who this guy is, right?
Half and Half continued walking alongside Izuku down the sidewalk, with a stoic expression imprinted on his face.
There’s that anxious feeling that starts to bubble up in Izuku’s stomach. That silent, suffocating panic that he should remember, that something will always be missing. Only an hour into his day, and his throat already wanted to exude the words, “I’m sorry, who are you again?”
But the green-haired boy already understood how that would go.
Confusion.
An explanation.
Concern.
Worry.
Pity.
And an awkward silence that would speak the words, “I feel sorry.”
How many names have already slipped from his mind? How many more?
Izuku thought of how much this routine would have repeated each morning. No one seemed to know yet, so he should be okay. He’ll be okay.
June 26, 2026.
It's been exactly 2 months since the quirk incident.
As Izuku Midoriya pasted the date on the board onto his notebook, he felt reassured. While some faces seemed to be strangers, he still remembered the classroom he belonged to. His seating arrangement, being the exact middle row on the far right. None of his seatmates talked to him so far, meaning Izuku inferred that they weren't his closest friends or the group he belonged in. His school routine built before the incident seemed engraved inside his mind.
While everyone continued talking, a visibly fatigued man lazily walked through the door. His long, messy black hair made him appear more intimidating than people assumed U.A. high school teachers would look like.
Mr. Aizawa.
That's one name he remembers, finally. The thought of one person in the room being aware of Izuku's condition made him relax. Izuku finally allowed his tired, slumped shoulders to rest on the desk.
"Pass your homework down, and then leave it on this desk. Then we can start your surprise quiz of the fortnight, yay."
Everyone in the classroom groaned in unison while grabbing their pens out of their cases, as if the test was expected.
A tap on the shoulder. Izuku turned around to find a short teenager with a mohawk made of four purple balls, handing him two papers, representing homework he should give in. Except, there was nothing noted as 'homework' in his bag. Surely Mr. Aizawa would understand. And obviously, he wouldn't be able to pass that surprise quiz mentioned earlier. Maybe his yesterday self studied it, but that yesterday self forgot to write a reminder that Mr. Aizawa certainly did not seem like the type of teacher to give leniency.
"Did you do it?"
A voice from the seat in front of Izuku asked, without bothering to turn around. As if it were such a hassle to turn around and ask in curiosity. The boy in front had a ridiculously low slouch, possessing spiky blonde hair.
"Yeah, I just forgot it at home; I was in a rush."
Does losing my memories just mean I have to get used to lying every moment of my life? "I totally forgot it; I was totally in a hurry. " Why does that not sound like Izuku Midoriya? But then again, will I ever remember how Izuku Midoriya felt? Not only are there fragments of my thoughts scattered around the place; there are fragments of my identity that I feel like I've lost.
"Tch."
Okay, did this guy just scoff at me?
Izuku Midoriya made a mental note to avoid the spiky blonde-haired boy that sat in front of him—the boy that clearly didn't want anything to do with Izuku.
Okay, scrap that. Whatever.
Katsuki Bakugo. Class 1-A, childhood friend.
May 1. Dear Diary, There is no way this blonde-haired-looking guy is my 'childhood friend. 'I don't want to believe that I used to hang out with this self-absorbed, selfish...
May 10. Dear Diary, We had combat strategy class, and I went against Iida first. He's a really nice friend, but I already read notes on his quirk, so I knew how to defeat him. But guess who I had to spar with next? That crimson-eyed boy whose fury is carved on his face. I don't want to talk about it. Did I ever feel this much annoyance back then? Maybe there was one memory of him being kind, but that's not important anymore.
May 22. Dear Diary, Today I remembered instantly who Todoroki was. We sometimes coincidentally meet three minutes at this crosswalk before we arrive at school. So fun fact, some days my fragmented memories aren't fragmented. I also remembered who Kacchan was today. And...wow.
June 12. Dear Diary, Are you sure this Kacchan dude knows about my condition? Now I'm afraid younger Izuku was so incredibly annoying that this 'Kacchan' is still holding a grudge on something.
June 16. Dear Diary, I hate Kacchan.
But he's so cool. Everything he does is so cool. He makes it hard for someone like me to hate him.
All I want is to remember who he is, who my friends are, and the small memories I had with my mother. Is it that hard to ask the universe?
Without my memories, I don't feel like anyone.
Who am I?
Signing off.