Chapter Text
It’s a last resort.
Izuku’s been given the option once it was clear that there was no way they would be able to defend Tokyo any longer. Musutafu had fallen a few weeks earlier and all the other regions were already in All For One’s control.
It’s the government that finds him first. Or what’s left of it.
They offer him a last chance — a last option. Izuku shouldn’t be surprised to find out they have a time travel quirk at their disposal, but he’s just glad that it hadn’t fallen into All For One’s hands first.
He accepts. Of course he does. What other choice does he have?
‘Nope sorry you’ll have to find someone else?’
There is nobody else. Not anymore. He’s the only one of the original Class 1-A remaining.
So he clenches his fists, breathing out calmly before he opens his eyes.
“What do I need to do?”
When Izuku arrives, there is already someone waiting for him.
He barely has time to register that he’s not alone, disorientated and slightly nauseous, when she already steps closer, a groan on her lips. It’s only the absence of Danger Sense looming behind his temple that doesn’t make Izuku retaliate or lash out when he steadies himself against a wall and holds back bile. Only when he is sure he won’t empty his stomach of the already meager contents, he looks up.
It’s a woman with short brown hair wearing a sleek uniform who looks down at him with a frown on her face — her turquoise eyes drilling into him. She’s holding a tablet against her side and clicks her tongue when he doesn’t speak up to explain himself.
“Ugh, it’s Protocol 51 again,” she says, tapping her ear piece before she turns to Izuku. “Alright listen up, sunny boy. We know you are from the future. State your full name, status and intentions.”
Izuku stands up from his half-crouched position and steels himself as he slips into professional mode, taking out his hero license as well as the card the government had given him for this mission — an almost overly simple black card with the words TTA Department, Guest Pass printed on them.
“Izuku Midoriya. Pro Hero. Saving the world.”
The government worker lets out a deep sigh and mutters something that sounds like, “Of course it’s saving the world,” before she nods.
She takes his provisional hero license, staring at it for a moment, eyebrows knitted together and Izuku knows how it must look — he looks nothing like the boy in the picture anymore. She pockets it, but when Izuku tries to hand her the black card, she shakes her head.
“It’s best you keep that on your person,” she says simply, leaving Izuku wondering what for.
At his questioning gaze, her expression evens out, although there is still reluctance written all over it.
“It’s so you can identify yourself,” she explains. “We try to station people from our department in various places so they can reach and react to situations faster.”
“So they’re undercover,” Izuku deduces. “I’m guessing they have one like this too but with their name on it?”
Her left eyebrow raises slightly, but if she is surprised by his guess-work, she doesn’t show it.
“Yes,” she confirms. “They should be informed of your general situation and how to help if the need arises”
Izuku clutches the card and wonders what circumstances fall under ‘when the need arises.’
He follows the woman out of the warehouse he had been transported to, head swiveling to see if he’s still in Tokyo.
“So how does this work?” he questions, when the government worker doesn’t make any effort to say more. “We didn’t really have time to go over the details.”
At that she lets out a small snort.
“I’d imagine.”
She shakes her head, lips pressing back into a thin line.
“It’s important that no one but us finds out who you really are,” she explains. “For that we’ll be extracting your younger self as soon as your debrief is over. I’m going to be your handler and contact for the entirety of your mission.”
She doesn’t look overjoyed at the prospect of it.
“What happens to me when I’m done with it?”
“If we are lucky, your reality won’t exist anymore.”
It’s a sobering thought, but Izuku nods.
She leads him into a black car with tinted glass as she explains the terms of his stay.
He’s going to replace his younger self by using a pill which can alter his appearance into that of his high school self again and carry out his mission while going to UA. If anyone finds out who or more like what he really is, he will be pulled from the mission and sent back. If he succeeds — well Izuku won’t be there to see it happen, not really.
He had been hesitant once he heard they would essentially kidnap his younger self, but after hearing that he would be put into stasis by a quirk, and they had repeated this procedure with many others, his mind calmed down. For his younger self it would be like no time passed at all once Izuku was finished here. Besides, it wasn't like there was a better option.
He stares at the case containing the pills to turn him into his younger self as well as the ones which will turn him back.
“Does the Hero Commission know about this?”
“We both know that would be very dangerous.”
Izuku clicks the case close, not disagreeing with the assessment.
“And what about your name?”
Her polite smile stiffens around the edges as they stop in front of the hotel where Izuku will be staying until they give him the green light.
“Maybe another time.”
He nods and leaves her behind in the car.
They give Izuku the go-ahead the next day.
He arrives at the apartment complex where he used to live with his mother and the grief almost crushes him. He never properly got to say goodbye to that home, not when All For One lackeys had burned it down along every street in Masutafu. It looks so ordinary, but it was his home — will always be.
He thought he climbed those squeaking stairs in every mood possible — scared, happy, anxious, excited. But the feeling in chest as he climbs them today is new. He’s glad for the cover of night — while people in the apartment complex ignored each other, they still liked to chatter and he’d rather not be the topic of a new rumor.
He stops in front of the door, staring at the All Might themed doormat. He still remembers how much he begged his mother to buy it, and how she had given in with a fond sigh. It’s slightly dirty and rough from use. He feels under it and fishes out the spare key taped to the underside. He should tell Mom to move the hiding spot — this would be really easy to guess for someone with malevolent thoughts.
He manages to get the door to open on his first try even as his fingers shake, and breathes in the familiar smell. It’s dark inside, but even before his eyes adjust to the dark, he has no trouble orienting himself.
It’s almost like how he left it. There’s a few images less, but otherwise it’s the same. His steps are near silent as he moves through the living room, stopping at one particular picture frame. They took it when Izuku got told he passed the exam. Both of them are beaming with tears streaming down their faces, eyes bright.
He might have lost the naivety displayed in those eyes, but he will make sure his mother will never lose hers — will never have a reason to be afraid of Izuku going to UA, of him getting hurt, of him fighting a war alone.
He can almost imagine Fifth’s remark to stop being so edgy. Ever since he traveled back in time, he can’t hear the voices of the Past Users anymore. They would have told he is being sappy and laughed at the photos of “Baby Izuku" littered around the living room.
They had stayed at his side all during the war when people kept falling around him — ever present. Somebody to lean onto when there was nobody else anymore. He feels empty without them. It’s a small relief that he can still feel their quirks pulsing under his skin, waiting for his command. At least this way he will always carry a part of them. At least this way he can pretend he isn’t so alone.
He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. He clutches the seams of his hoodie as he opens his eyes again, gulping back the tears. He should at least create a small altar for them.
He shakes his head. Later. He will deal with it later.
He pauses at the door to his mother’s bedroom, hearing her breaths through the door. He leans his forehead against the wood and just stills, counting her inhales and exhales. He tears himself away several minutes later, own breathing synchronized.
He settles on his own bed, staring at the posters taped to his walls before he opens the case and takes out one pill. Once he explained his plans of also operating as a vigilante, they had given him a month's supply for both the pill turning his appearance into that of his younger self and those that would revert the change. During his check-ins with his handler he would be able to stock up on them.
He spins the pill between his finger tips. For a moment he wonders what quirk made it possible, but he quickly decides to forget about it. (The fact that he knows that a Time Travel Quirk exists is dangerous enough.) He gulps it dry and clicks the case close again, hiding it under his mattress. He barely has time to sit back down on his bed before his eyes flutter closed.
They didn’t tell him they would make him sleepy...
He wakes up without an alarm — something he had learned to do when they went into hiding. Phones were able to get tracked and classic alarms were too loud — too dangerous to keep around. To make sure nobody found their base they had learned to wake up with the first sun rays.
His back hurts when he sits up and he lets out a small groan as his eyes land on his clock. It’s 5am.
He lies back down, staring at the ceiling. He can feel that the pill has worked its effect. His hair doesn’t brush his nape as he moves, but he feels too lethargic to go to the bathroom to check. He gives himself a few minutes to breathe before he rises, sitting down at his desk before he pulls out an empty notebook. He almost startles at the sight of his unblemished, unscarred skin of his hand, before he shakes himself out of his stupor and opens the notebook.
It takes him until after 6am to plan out everything he will need to do, and when he stretches, he hears a small pop. His hand aches and he massages it, sighing. He should have expected that the chronic pain wouldn’t leave him, even if outwardly he doesn’t have the scars to show for it.
He glances at the clock and estimates he should have time for a short shower before he goes to eat breakfast.
When he opens the wardrobe, he has to smile at the sight of his hanged school uniform. It’s without any wrinkles and he is sure his mother had smoothened any yesterday. He’ll have to thank her later.
He avoids the mirror as he enters, settling his change of clothes on the toilet seat before he pulls off his old clothes, throwing them into the laundry basket. He enters the shower and is out barely 5 minutes later. Another thing that had become a habit — they hadn’t always had running hot water in the later stages during the war so they learned to deal with the ice-cold water without any complaint. They only stayed in long enough to wash off any grime or blood, careful to not waste any water.
The mirror isn’t fogged up as he stares into it, inspecting his face. He really does look like he is fifteen again. There’s nothing left of his scars in his face either, or his too long white hair. His left arm looks like it’s made out of flesh again.
He even has his baby fat in his cheeks back. He squeezes his cheeks, humming when he can’t feel the angular face he has grown into.
But as he clenches his left fist, he remembers his handler’s warning. The pill only alters his appearance, it cannot restore his youth — or in his case missing limbs.
Under the look of flesh is still his prosthetic arm and as he releases his fist he can feel that his motion is still limited. Along with the still present chronic pain it would be hard to forget what happened to him even without the scars or going out at night with his usual appearance..
He lets out a deep breath and tries to prepare himself to see his mother again. She had been one of the first to die — All For One had targeted her with the sole purpose of getting a reaction out of Izuku — hoping he would confront the villain.
It had taken both Katsuki and Shouta pinning him down to prevent him from going after All For One.
He can still remember the sight of her corpse. Her blouse covered in blood, her lifeless eyes. It reminded him of what had happened to Katsuki when he almost died the first time they fought against All For One, but she didn’t come back to life like he had.
He gulps as he sets a hand on the doorknob and hesitates for a moment before he shakes his head.
His steps are near silent as he steps into the kitchen, his mother humming as she prepares their breakfast. He nearly breaks down then and there.
She doesn’t know he’s there, her back turned to him as she tends to the stove, but out of motherly instinct she turns around, beaming at him when she sees him.
“Good morning Izuku!” she greets him. “Breakfast is almost ready.”
His voice fails him, so he tries for a smile — but then he also fails at that so he just nods instead.
Instantly her face wrinkles with concern and she tilts her head.
“Is everything fine, sweetheart?”
It’s the nickname that does him in. Nobody other than his mother called him that. He hasn’t heard it in several years.
His knees threaten to give out under him as a sob tears out of his throat.
In alarm his mother turns off the stove before hurrying to him, pulling him into a hug. She lets out a grunt as he leans against her with all his weight.
“You’re heavier than I remember,” she chuckles, before she wipes away some of the tears streaming down his cheeks, kissing his forehead.
“Nightmare?” she asks and Izuku only presses more into her embrace.
“That bad, huh?” she hums, but doesn’t protest as she leads them out of the kitchen to the living room to settle down onto their couch.
He clutches her hand, nearly breaking down into another round of sobs when it’s warm to his touch and not cold.
“Kami, your hands are cold,” she cries out in alarm, settling her left hand over his before she checks his temperature with her right. He doesn’t resist, even though he knows it must be the metal in his left hand she is feeling.
Her eyebrows knit together.
“It doesn’t seem like you have a fever at least,” she murmurs, but her voice betrays her worry.
“How about you don’t go to school today, I’ll call you in sick,” she offers as she brushes one of his locks out of his face.
Izuku finally finds his voice again as he gulps past the knot in his throat.
“It’s fine,” he tries to convince her, voice slightly hoarse — he almost startles at how high-pitched his voice used to be. “Besides it’s my first day today, I can’t miss it.”
His mother presses her lips into a thin line.
“I guess that’s true.”
She lets out a sigh, before she smiles — it’s a small, genuine smile.
“You do know how proud I am of you,” she reminds. “You more than surpassed my expectations.”
This time Izuku doesn’t even try to suppress the tears that come, but from his mother’s wet chuckle it seems like she expected that reaction.
Izuku remembers the first time he looked up at these Gates after he became a student. How nervous he had been. How excited. How hopeful.
Somehow now… they seem a lot smaller. Not as grand as he remembers them to be.
Stepping through them doesn’t feel as groundbreaking as it had been the first time. He mourns the feeling.
He winds through the hallways, meandering through the mass of first year students until he is standing in front of his classroom.
Similarly the door feels less daunting this time around. Less like a potential prison door. He opens it without a thought and only remembers belatedly what was waiting behind them.
“Don’t put your legs on the desk! Don’t you think that’s disrespectful towards your classmates?!”
“HAH?!”
Hearing Katsuki’s voice after so long is almost too much for Izuku, so he quickly tunes out the conversation before he can choke up from the sound of it. But when his eyes brush over Denki snickering over the interaction, alive and breathing, his heart squeezes together even more painfully and he forces himself to avert his eyes from the class.
That’s how he notices Ochako before she can surprise him.
“Ah! You got in like Present Mic promised!” She pumps her fist up in the air, a carefree smile on her face. “Makes sense though! That punch was awesome!”
She turns back to Izuku, bloodied fist raised to the air as she grins through the pain. It comes out as a grimace.
“Plus Ultra, right?” she grits out, a broken laugh bubbling free from her throat as she tries to blink back tears. “I’ll meet you on the other side, Deku.”
They both know it’s a lie. Izuku still meets her fist with his own.
“Plus Ultra,” he manages through his own tears.
They found her corpse the day after when they managed to evacuate everyone further inland. She had been shredded into pieces by a Nomu, her brown hair matted with dark blood. Izuku will never forget the sight.
That image overlaps with the current one and it’s only the absence of the scars in her face that reminds Izuku that this Ochako is not the Ochako from his timeline. Will never be. Because he won’t let that happen to her.
“Thank you,” he finally answers, smiling softly.
Thank you for being my first friend. Thank you for not doubting me even when One For All was revealed. Thank you for fighting by my side.
There’s so much he wants to thank her for that he will never be able to express outside his thoughts.
Something of it — the depth of those words — must have shown on his face because she falters in her next words, giving Shouta enough time to interject his first words to Class 1-A.
“If you are here to socialize, then get out.” He pulls out a juice pack and sips it. “This is the hero course”
They overlap with his parting words in his mind.
“Don’t become another Oboro, kid.” The blood is all over Izuku’s hands and he can feel it seeping into his skin, but he doesn’t care, he has to make sure- “Promise me it.”
He needs to save his Sensei.
Shouta grabs his wrist when he doesn’t answer.
“Promise me it.”
Izuku chokes on his words.
“I promise.”
Shouta’s voice in the present tears him out of the memory.
“You lot took eight seconds to quiet down,” he chides. “Time is a precious resource. Not very rational, are you?”
He shakes his head, getting rid of the memory and automatically reaches out to take the gym outfit Shouta is holding out as the man steps out of his sleeping bag. The man’s eyes widen minutely in surprise, but he schools his expression quickly, telling them to meet him out on the grounds after he introduces himself as their homeroom teacher.
Tenya intercepts him as they head to the locker rooms, Izuku leading in front and the class following after him when they realize he has an idea of where they need to go.
“My name is Iida Tenya, you must be Midoriya. I must apologize for my behavior at the exam! You clearly knew of the true nature of the exam,” he says stiffly. “I misjudged you and for that I am sorry.”
He makes a perfect 90 degree bow while they walk and Izuku would be impressed (and frankly flustered) if he wasn’t used to Tenya’s antics.
“It’s fine.” He stares straight ahead, because he knows if he looks at Tenya now he will also remember the boy’s death. “No harm done.”
“So upstanding!” Tenya almost shouts, motioning with his hands. “You truly have the character of a hero.”
Izuku cracks a smile at that while Ochako teases the boy for being so uptight, not having left Izuku’s side after she picked out her gym uniform from the pile Shouta had left on his desk.
“What do you guys think we’ll do on the grounds in our gym uniforms?” Ochako questions. “I thought we would have the entrance ceremony first.”
Izuku stays quiet, but shudders when he remembers how long winded Nedzu’s lectures could be. Nedzu had been their main strategist during the war and debriefings always took several hours when he was present. And that was when he was keeping it short — every piece of information was important for their survival. Izuku doesn’t want to know how the principal can be when he is actually allowed to ramble.
For that he is glad that he will never be able to attend the ceremony.
“I’m sure everything will be explained once we arrive there!” Tenya answers and Izuku just nods.
When they arrive at the locker room to change, Izuku is silently glad for the fact that he didn't have to cut and dye his hair and just pretend to be younger without the pill. It might have been possible to hide the scars on his face, but he remembers how his body had looked at the end of the war. His left arm had looked the worst, the skin around the stump gnarly and ripped until his shoulder. He also has countless scars all over his torso from fighting with Nomus. The only scar he has in this appearance is on his knee from falling as a small child. It’s nothing compared to how he actually looks.
That is not to say he is ashamed of his scars — he was never ashamed of them. And he will gladly add more of them to his own body if it means his classmates get spared.
“You okay Midoriya?” Tenya asks, when Izuku still hasn’t changed, standing there looking at his bare chest in the reflection. “You zoned out for a bit.”
Before Izuku can reassure the boy, a snicker draws away his attention.
“Pretty sure he just checked himself out,” Hanto teases.
“Yeah dude, you are ripped,” Denki also interjects. “Didn’t think you were hiding that under your baggy uniform.” And he thinks he hears Eijiro whisper, “So manly.”
Old Izuku would have melted at the positive attention, but he just smiles at them instead as he pulls on his sports uniform.
Soon they are heading to the grounds and Shouta seems surprised — although Izuku is sure he is the only one to realize.
“Good you are all here,” he says. “We will now proceed with the Quirk Apprehension Test.”
Izuku stays quiet as the rest of his classmates freak out.
“What about the entrance ceremony and guidance lessons?” Ochako questions, raising her hand hesitantly.
Shouta barely shudders and Izuku knows he must be thinking about Nedzu being the one to give the speech at the entrance ceremony.
“No need,” he says, tone not allowing any contradictions. “You are here to become heroes. UA is known for its ‘freestyle’ educational system,” he adds. “That applies to us teachers too.”
He pulls out a softball, tossing it up and catching it.
“Softball Throwing, the Standing Long Jump, the 50-Meter Dash, Endurance Running, Grip Strength, Side-To-Side Stepping, Upper Body Training and Seated Toe Touch,” he lists. “They are your standard non-quirk gym tests. You probably did all of those in middle school already.”
“Now that you are training to be heroes, it’s time to use your quirks,” he reveals, before he turns.
“Bakugo,” he addresses the boy, “what was your softball throw score in middle school?”
“67 meters,” Katsuki provides and Shouta throws him the softball he has been holding.
“Great,” he replies. “Now try with your quirk. You can do anything as long as you stay in the circle.”
Katsuki grins as he steps into the circle. He squeezes the ball before he reels back his arm, an explosion filling the air with smoke as soon as the ball leaves his hands.
“DIE!”
When the smoke clears Shouta holds up the display. 705.2 Meters.
His classmates let out murmurs, and then come the dreaded words.
“Wow this is fun!”
“We can really use our quirks? Neat!”
Izuku stiffens up and gulps.
“You think this is fun?” Shouta's tone is scalding. “Fine. Whoever comes last will be expelled.”
“The lowest score will be expelled?” Ochako cries out. “It’s the first day… no even if it wasn’t, it’s totally unfair!”
“Unfair?” Shouta scoffs. “Natural disasters, villain attacks, accidents are unfair. There will come many times where life is unfair. The job of a hero is to bear it and persist through it.”
It was a reality Izuku had come to terms with. It was only when he lived through a war himself that he fully understood Shouta’s words.
War didn’t care about fairness. Death didn’t care about fairness. It took from you, every piece of your humanity until you were only a shell of your former shell.
The only thing Izuku learned to be grateful about during the war was that he never had to attend a funeral. They simply didn’t have time to give every fallen comrade a proper burial — to celebrate the life they had before they were forced to become child soldiers.
So no. Life wasn’t fair. But still you had to endure. Still you had to do your duty. That was what it meant to be a hero.
But he doesn’t say anything of that aloud. If it were up to Izuku, his classmates would never need to fully understand the unfairness of life until they became adults — until they had the full capacity to understand what they are agreeing to. So he just stares ahead and nods in agreement.
“So go Plus Ultra.” Shouta grins. “Show me that you have the right to become a hero.”
Izuku does decently well in the first 4 events, he limits his output to a few percent, just enough to land in the middle ground. It’s more than enough to significantly improve his scores from how he had done back during his first run.
He feels slightly bad for not giving it his all, but it would be weird if he would go from blowing his limbs to mastering One For All on the outside in only a few weeks. He’s sure Toshinori wouldn’t question it — Kami bless his mentor, but he never had trouble regulating One For All like Izuku had.
It had taken him his entire first year and the rest of the war to get to a level where using One For All at 100% didn’t completely shred his body to his pieces. He had only realized later that the arbitrary percent and numbers he had attached to the quirk had changed too. The few percents of One For All now held much more power and energy than when he first started using the quirk.
He lets out a small sigh as he accepts the softball. There’s no need to be the best. He had outgrown that mindset long ago — All Might had suffered under it, Izuku had suffered under it. And where had it brought him? Back to the past with all the versions of his family and friends dead.
He shakes his head and steps into the circle, gripping the softball.
But before Izuku can activate his quirk and send the ball flying, Shouta’s capture scarf winds itself around his wrist, locking it in place.
Izuku turns to his teacher, raising an eyebrow.
The man himself has his arms crossed as he narrows his eyes.
“Use your full power.”
Ah… busted.
The capture scarf pulls back and Izuku lets out a sigh as he lets One For All coat his body, relaxing under the familiar feeling. If he uses his full power he will kill someone with it. The strength his past self showed at the entrance exam must have been about 20% with his current limit, right? So let’s go for that.
His classmates shrink back as the smell of ozone fills the air and sparks from his body scorch the concrete black where he is standing. He reels back the quirk, wrapping it around himself more tightly before he draws back his arm and throws.
The sound of a shockwave hits his ears and when the dust settles he sees Shouta hold up the result.
753 meters. Slightly more than during his first time back then. 20% must have been a bit too much then. Should he settle on 18% next time?
But Shouta seems satisfied with the result as he nods at Izuku to return to his spot.
Surprisingly this time Katsuki doesn’t make a scene, instead just staring at Izuku with burning eyes.
After that, everytime Izuku tries just settling for a few percent to land in the middle ground, he can feel Shouta’s gaze on him and he ups it to 18% with a sigh, outlasting everyone in the distance run as well as in the number of seated toe-touches and sit ups.
When Shouta reveals the results, Izuku’s left eye starts twitching. He’s in first place. Even with winning first place in the last three tests, he should have been in 4th or 5th place at the most.
He can’t help but glare at Shouta and he can see the man’s lips twitching as he announces that he will not expel anyone today. Bastard.
Two can play that game.
“Well of course it was a lie,” Momo says hesitantly. “I thought everyone knew.”
“It wasn’t a lie. He expelled his entire class last year.”
As soon as the words leave his mouth, he regrets it. The role of first year Izuku Midoriya would be too meek for such passive aggressiveness.
His class explodes in chaos and he’s reminded that nobody but Katsuki and All Might know that version when nobody calls him out on it. Izuku holds back a sigh when he sees Shouta looking at him with interest as his classmates demand answers when the man doesn’t even protest. He was supposed to lay low — he’s being too familiar with Shouta.
“We are done here,” Shouta says sternly, ignoring the protests. “Head back to your classroom, you’ll find a packet about the curriculum and other important things back there. That’s all.”
Then he heads off before anyone else can say another word.
Izuku lets out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding.
He quickly heads off before any one of his classmates can question how he knew Shouta had been double-crossing them, out of the locker room and changed before the first students find their way back. He picks up the syllabus even though he knows it by heart and heads to the gate to head home.
At least he didn’t need to go to Recovery Girl today. He is so lost in thought, that he almost jumps out of his skin when a hand lands on his shoulder.
“Midoriya.” Izuku turns to Tenya, noting the smoke coming out of his calves — did he use his quirk to catch Izuku before he went home? “Good job today! How expected of someone who knew the true objective behind the entrance exam!”
“Thank you.” Izuku smiles. “You did well too.”
Tenya puffs out his chest in pride.
“Of course!” he says confidently. “I have a legacy to uphold after all!”
“Hey, you two!”
Both Izuku and Tenya turn around and Izuku has to suppress a fond smile when he sees Ochako.
“Wait up!” she calls, jogging over to them, slightly out of breath.
“You two really know your way around here, huh?” she chuckles. “Are you guys heading to the station?”
Tenya adjusts his glasses.
“Yes, at least I am. My brother was an alumni here so I got a tour from him when I was younger,” Tenya explains, gaze heading to Izuku. “What about you Midoriya?”
“I’m also heading there. I studied the handbook and the map,” Izuku says easily, stretching the truth and directing the attention back to Ochako. “Uraraka, right?”
Her family name feels weird on his tongue. It’s been so long since he made the switch to her given name, back when the war started and all of his classmates grew more together.
Ochako nods energetically.
“Yeah I’m Uraraka Ochako,” she introduces herself. “And you are Iida Tenya and Midoriya…”
She trails off, finger scratching her chin.
“Izuku,” he finishes for her, a little bit disappointed.
He forgot that because Katsuki didn’t have an outburst this time around, she never came in contact with the nickname Deku.
“Izuku, right!” she smiles.
But he guesses he doesn’t mind — after all it was when they were in the middle of night, hero personas shed that she had called him Izuku instead of Deku.
“Can I call you Midori then?” she surprises him and he blinks.
She gestures to his hair and Izuku lets out a snort. Ochako had been the first to lament when his hair had turned white from the stress of using One For All at its maximum.
“Sure,” he says and can’t hide how he feels touched.
“Great,” she beams and holds out a fist bump. “To a great year Midori!”
He meets her first pump, swallowing the bitter feeling swelling up in him and only manages to laugh when Ochako complains to Tenya that he should join too. He does when Izuku joins the light teasing, although rather awkwardly.
“To a great year,” he murmurs once their paths separate. He will make sure of it.
His mother greets him by the time he slips out of his outdoor shoes.
She presses a kiss into his hair and inspects him for a moment before she smiles at him.
“How was your first day?”
“It was…”
He struggles to say good with the nightmares and worries still plaguing his mind. There’s so much to do — so little time.
“Different,” he finally settles on. It’s not a lie.
His mother doesn’t press, instead humming as he follows her into the kitchen.
“Did you make friends at least?” her voice sounds hopeful, probably remembering the girl Izuku talked about from the entrance exam.
“Yes,” he says, forcing a smile on his face.
What he doesn’t know is that it looks tired and seems out of place on such a young face.
‘Are they really your friends when you already know them? When you will only ever see past shadows in them?’ something whispers in him and he forces it down.
They had approached him on his own — even when Izuku had kept his distance. Sure it will never be the same — this Ochako will never call him Deku, but they are still his friends. He will love every version of them.
“How about take-out for today,” his mother suggests. “We can watch movies and eat on the couch.”
He knows she is doing it for his sake, but he smiles nevertheless, a genuine one this time, as he nods.
His mother pulls him into a hug and they walk side by side to the living room. She picks up the phone and orders, and soon they are eating Katsudon on the coach, laughing as they watch an All Might documentary. Izuku can’t imagine a better place.
Izuku drapes a blanket over his mother, about to leave for his bedroom when his mother stirs.
“You fell asleep on the coach,” he whispers as she sits up, bleary from sleep. “I’ll help you get to bed.”
He supports her to her bedroom and presses a kiss onto her forehead when she settles into bed.
She lets out a half-hearted grumble.
“I’m your mother, not the other way around. You always grow up when I’m not looking.”
Izuku laughs and his mother smiles, still sleepy. It heals something in his heart.
“Good Night,” she says and Izuku echoes it back.
A few seconds later, she falls asleep and Izuku stills at the door frame, watching the blanket rise and sink for a few moments before he closes the door.
He heads to his bedroom, fishing out the case and popping the pill that will return him to his original appearance. He sets a silent alarm for an hour later as he feels himself falling asleep.
The alarm tears him out of a nightmare and it takes him a few moments to realize where he is. It’s pitch-black outside, the only light source in his room is the moon shining.
He groans as he shifts but is silent as he pulls out his old hero costume. He got it cleaned at the hotel he had been staying at, but there were still some rips and tears he would need to get fixed later. It’s weird seeing his normal appearance when he adjusts the mask in the mirror after staring at scarless skin for the entire day.
He ponders for a moment what this Ochako would call him if she saw his current hair but quickly discards the thought.
He lowers himself from his window and lands on the fire exit, quickly scaling down. He had been pondering whether to use his quirk during his night time activities or not but had ultimately decided against it. While he would be hiding Black Whip and the other quirks during his time as a student, he doesn’t want there to be connection in case he would need to use them after all.
Despite not using his quirk it isn’t difficult for Izuku to scale the next building and parkour over the roofs — after all Shouta had made sure that in case any one of them lost their quirk they would still be able to move around and defend themselves. Sure All For One could not take One For All, but there was still the possibility of him acquiring quirk destroying bullets or developing some of his own. There was also the added bonus that they could fight under Shouta’s quirk without faltering when he assisted them by erasing the quirk of a villain.
It saved his life multiple times.
He takes the patrol route he used to take when UA was still being used as a stronghold during the war for civilians and heroes alike.
He had always taken over when either Shouta or Hitoshi returned from their nightly patrols, early before the sun could rise and until the first sun rays and early morning.
The streets are quiet, but it’s a different sort of quiet from what Izuku is used to. There’s still life in them — not the desolate state Izuku had grown to expect during the war. The drunken stragglers he comes across are not the hulking forms of Nomus he needs to defend against. It makes it easier and more difficult at the same time.
He stops a few petty, mostly harmless fights and doesn’t bother hiding his presence as he patrols. The faster the rumors spread, the better. He’ll need to catch someone’s attention after all.
He returns before the sun can go up and slips into his bedroom through the window to catch at least a few hours of sleep.
“Well, nothing I’m not used to,” he hums to himself as he takes another pill, slipping into a restless sleep.