I know. I know. I'm sorry. I shouldn't be writing this. It's probably not even good - but I had to.

Izuku ducked under the grasping fingers that swiped at him.

His mind blurred as he tracked his enemy, watching those hands, never letting his focus drift from them, categorising every twitch they made.

One touch, he knew. One touch, and it was over.

He dodged again, his boots scrapping against the torn concrete and sending small shards skittering. The villain went for him again and Izuku used the moment – off-balance, weight shifted too far to the right, chest open – to pivot, his foot coming up and slamming into the man's unprotected side, One For All crackling over the limb and sending his enemy flying backwards.

He paused then, breath stuttering in his throat as he blinked rapidly. He disengaged his mask, the metal crawling down to the collar of his jumpsuit, and he spat out a mouthful of blood. The wound on his side burned like fire, and he absently pressed his gloved hand against the gash to stem the flow. He wiped at his forehead with the other, smearing the thin red trickle from the cut above his eyebrow across to his temple.

His arms were numb, and he could feel the familiar tremors of exhaustion running through him.

Izuku cast his gaze around over the destroyed city block, hoping to catch a glimpse of one of his friends.

It had been ages since he had heard the comforting schink of Todoroki's ice, or felt the rumbles of Bakugo's explosions, and the sharp pang of loneliness was only just beaten by his overwhelming desire to collapse where he stood.

He had been on his feet since late yesterday, fighting more than he wasn't, and the consequences were finally catching up to him.

The attacks had come out of nowhere. Waves of petty criminals and villains had simply poured out into the streets, wreaking havoc through the city and spreading panic to the civilians.

Izuku had answered the call the moment a state of emergency had been declared, diving headfirst into the thick of it and hardly daring to take a break. He was one of their heaviest hitters, and people were counting on him to hold the line while they evacuated the surrounding areas.

He bit his lip hard, struggling to keep a grip on his frustration.

The attacks so far had been strategic – too strategic to be anything but a massive coordinated movement. It was as much a confirmation as they could get.

There had been whispers for month that a new villain was rising through the ranks and gathering followers, but for so long there had been nothing tangible for them to go on.

Aizawa had been running himself into the ground trying to chase leads, and Izuku had taken to splitting his time between his normal duties and lending a helping hand to his old sensei. The threat of a new League of Villains was more than enough to get their joint attention. Neither of them wanted a repeat of the sheer chaos Tomura had rained down on them.

Every spare moment the two of them had was put to trying to get ahead of their unknown enemies, but even with the network of underground heroes at their disposal, they found little.

He clenched his fists, willing the trembling to stop as he saw his opponent stumble upright from the crater his rough landing had made. He was running on empty by this point, stretched in too many directions and wrung out. He had to finish this quickly and get to a safe zone to recover. As much as it chafed to admit, he was no use to anyone in this condition, and he knew it.

Izuku watched the villain shake the rubble from his clothes, and he bared his teeth in a grin.

One punch at sixty percent should be enough, he calculated. This guy was strong – the fact that he was still standing even after the pounding Izuku had given him was testament to that – but Izuku had been keeping himself contained to forty percent and below to reduce the damage he caused the area.

But he could end this with just one hit. Put this guy down and make sure he stayed there before anyone else got hurt.

His eyes ran over the man across from him. Close-quarter combat is his speciality; his quirk is touch-based. Have to avoid being hit as I go in. The information flew through his mind.

The villain strolled closer, the lack of injury was equal parts insulting and dangerous. As he watched, the man let out a guttural noise, like stones grinding together, and Izuku grimaced when he realised it was laughter.

"You're good," the man praised, voice raised enough to be heard clearly. It was the first thing he had said since Izuku had appeared like a battering ram and started demolishing his group. "You're very good. I'd expect nothing less from a top tenner like you."

The full-face mask the man was wearing had one of its goggles shattered, with only a few orange shards clinging to the metal rim. Izuku stared into the single visible hazel eye and saw the hungry, mad glint there.

He shifted his stance as that eye raked over him, the weight of it feeling like nails clawing over his skin.

"You're slower than I'd heard, though." The villain mused with twisted delight. "Getting tired, little hero?" The man raised one of his pale hands and wiggled his fingers tauntingly. "Don't worry, I can give you a nice, long, permanent break."

"No thanks," Izuku called back, re-activating his mouth guard so that the metal once again covered his lower face. He dropped his gaze to the man's hands, eyes narrowing as his mind spun.

He knew little about this man's quirk beyond that it required skin-on-skin contact, and that whoever he touched tended to disappear when he used it.

Izuku had already seen one of the man's companions succumb to it when he had accidentally gotten between the two of them, and his bare arm had been skimmed by those deadly fingers.

One second, he had been there, then the next he was just gone.

Izuku was determined not to join him.

The villain cocked his head to the side, the angle looking vaguely discerning with the mask's creases. "You're a curious one," he commented idly, "I can see that brain racing behind your pretty eyes."

The man took a few more steps forward, his hands closing and spreading like he was stretching the muscles. "They told me you were smart, too. Smarter than most think. Said you can figure out how quirks work in just a few minutes."

That was flattering, Izuku thought briefly as he watched the man stalk closer. It was true that he had a knack for quirk analysis, and he had gained a bit of a reputation over the years of discovering his opponents' weaknesses swiftly.

But he had to see a quirk - had to have time to think and debate and evaluate - to truly figure it out. And this was the first time he'd had a chance to really stop and study this man in particular.

The villain sidled closer, the type of reckless energy to his steps that spoke of unending confidence. "Well, hero? Do you know yet? Or did you just want me to tell you?" Even with his face obscured, Izuku knew that he was smiling. "My quirk is called Exile, and whatever I touch goes away and never comes back."

Well, Izuku thought, definitely need to end this now. He channelled One For All into his legs, preparing to launch himself as his opponent kept talking.

"I don't even know where they go, no one's ever been able to tell me." He laughed again, the sound ripped from his throat like a weapon. "Still think anyone can be a hero, Deku?" There was a brittle anger to the question.

"I saw that interview you gave last year. God, you're so naive it hurts to look at you. Now stay still, little hero. I'm about to raise my cred with the others."

Izuku didn't give the other a chance to try anything. He leapt towards him, the ground behind him shattering under the force of his jump.

The distance between them vanished within a second, and Izuku raised his fist in preparation. He tracked the way the villain's eyes widened as he seemed to appear right before him.

The man's arms raised, one curling to protect his head. The move was sluggish to Izuku at this speed, and he felt the bite of victory in his chest as his hand closed in on the other. His gloved knuckles connected against his opponent's arm just as something brushed the ripped fabric of his stomach.

Izuku blinked, and everything was different.

The man disappeared from in front of him, and Izuku landed on ground that was smooth and whole. He skidded to a stop, his power still primed as he spun around, trying to figure out where the other had gone.

He paused a moment later, eyes widening as he took in the USJ facility. His mind stuttered to a halt, but before he could even process what had happened, the ground shook.

Izuku turned back around, facing the Flood Zone and watching as the boat on the water exploded. The shockwave rippled over the water and would have sent him flying if he hadn't braced himself.

"What the hell?" He muttered, taking in the destruction numbly. Two figures caught his attention, high in the air but rapidly falling back to the water's surface.

Without hesitation, One For All burst through him and he was airborne. He reached the two, securing one arm around the girl's waist and using their momentum to change their trajectory so that they landed on the shoreline.

He bent his knees and grunted as he hit the concrete, dropping the two safely behind him as he swung back to face the figure that shot out of the water after them.

Izuku's arm came up and he slammed his fist into the villain's face with enough power to send him careening back the way he had come. The man's body – dorsal fin on the upper back and gills on his neck, better suited for submerged environments, potential breathing problems above water – skipped along the surface bonelessly, creating a wild wave that knocked the other villains back too.

He turned to face the two had he rescued, question poised on the tip of his tongue, only to choke when he finally saw them clearly. "Tsuyu?" He asked incredulously, stepping back in surprise as the girl – girl, not woman, too young, no scar on her left cheek – blinked up at him.

"Oh my god, who are you?" Izuku glanced down to see Mineta staring at him. The pit in his stomach deepened at the sight of the crying, hysterical boy.

"I –" Izuku stopped, instincts long honed blaring at him. He dropped, hands automatically pushing the other two to the floor as a jet of water sailed over their heads. "Stay here." He ordered, putting aside his utter confusion to focus on the number of bodies emerging from the water.

He readied himself, adrenaline flooding him as his eyes jumped between the seven villains creeping closer. He couldn't waste any time. He was tired, and tired meant mistakes. All it would take is a single lapse in his attention and one of them could slip past him –

Izuku pursed his lips in focus as he spread his arms wide before bringing them together sharply in a clap. The ear-splitting crack he created was accompanied by a sudden burst of wind, and he watched with grim satisfaction as every single one of them got blasted away.

"Are you two okay?" He asked, turning back to face them. He didn't understand what was happening exactly, but whatever that villain had done to him, Izuku silently vowed to reverse it.

Mineta's eyes were still teary, and his skin was pale, but Tsuyu nodded slowly. Izuku sighed deeply, "Okay, good. That's good." His eyes drifted past them, up to the central plaza as his thoughts scrambled to assemble themselves.

This…it looks like the attack on the USJ. But this was years ago. So, what's going on? Is it a memory? A hallucination? But that can't be it. The guy from before, he said his quirk sends people away, but that he didn't know where –

Izuku froze as his gaze locked on something in the distance. He moved without thought, shoving through Tsuyu and Mineta like they weren't even there as he pushed himself forward.

He watched as Aizawa's head swivelled, saw the Nomu's arm raise, its gigantic hand reaching down –

Izuku slammed into Aizawa's side, arms wrapping around the man's middle as he shoved them out of the way just as the Nomu's hand crashed into the ground where they had been.

The two of them rolled along the floor, Izuku's grip slipping enough that Aizawa and he separated as they came to a slow stop.

He groaned softly, propping himself up on his elbow and wincing at the jolts of pain stabbing through him. Izuku's head lolled to the side to see Aizawa picking himself up carefully, his face blank, if a touch paler than normal.

"You okay, sensei?" He croaked, shifting into a crouch and hunching over as his side screamed. He hissed through his teeth, but kept his focus pinned on the Nomu. The man beside him was silent.

"Sensei?" He asked, before the desperation searing through him made him burst. "Aizawa."

Was I too slow? Is he hurt? Oh God, his head –

"I'm fine." Aizawa bit out, sounding pissed about the fact. Izuku's vision whited out as relief washed through him. "Who the hell are you?"

And just like that, the flush over his success left him. Izuku frowned, looking at his old sensei, a split-second glance that cost him.

The shadow fell over him and Izuku could only raise his arms in a block as the Nomu's hand smacked into him. He flew backwards, scrapping along the ground and crying out when he felt something snap.

He lay there, coughing roughly as the dust settled around him and his battered body shuddered. He squinted up at the ceiling as he waited for feeling to return to his limbs.

Come on, he thought viciously, get up. They have no idea what they're up against.

Izuku gingerly rolled onto his side, shifting his legs under him. The Nomu hadn't come after him yet, which didn't bode well for the others. He might not know what was going on right now, but Izuku did know that there was no way he was going to sit back and watch things play out like last time.

Not again.

He shoved himself to his feet, swaying unsteadily as his body adjusted to the sudden upright position. He shook his head, scanning the area swiftly.

Aizawa was facing down the Nomu to his right, the man wisely keeping out of its range for now. He breathed a short sigh of relief at that. The memory of Aizawa's head being crushed beneath its grip still haunted him even after all this time.

His eyes moved on, searching for the only one that really mattered.

Even though he knew what he would see, Izuku still felt like the air had been punched from his lungs at the sight of Tomura.

It had been over a year since he had last seen the man. Over a year since they had gone against each other, since Izuku had beaten him. The skin of his shoulder itched at the phantom sensation of Tomura's fingers curling around the point and laughing while Izuku's flesh disintegrated.

They had almost killed each other the last time they had fought, and the idea of going through that again filled him with nothing but dread.

But, he thought, clenching his fist tightly, I don't need to beat him. I just need to make him leave. His eyes shot to Aizawa, to the stairs leading to the entrance, where All Might would eventually appear.

I have to buy Aizawa time. He can't beat the Nomu, and All Might will be at his limit before he even gets here. I can do this.

He widened his stance, calculated the distance between them, took two running steps, then jumped into the air.

Tomura's head snapped to face him, the hints of his red eyes piercing him even as the Nomu threw itself between them.

Izuku wasted no time after his punch connected. He dropped to the ground, catching himself with his hands and slamming his legs up into the Nomu's gut. One For All at seventy percent was barely enough to push it back a step, but it was enough to unbalance it. Izuku ducked under the wild swing of its arm and punched it again, and again, and again.

Each hit gained more power, to eighty, to ninety, to one hundred and beyond, until finally his last hit sent the Nomu soaring through the air and into the roof of the USJ.

He stopped then, the energy around him snapping frantically, licking at his skin and sending the pain racketing up another notch. He gasped, legs giving out from under him as his body finally started to crash.

Izuku coughed harshly, blood escaping the corner of his mouth, getting caught against his mask and threatening to choke him. He kept himself up with one hand, locking his elbow to stop the limb from folding like a house of cards under his weight.

"Well. That was unexpected."

Izuku closed his eyes, shivering as the voice trailed up his spine. It had been so long since he had heard it – but God it was still the same as in his nightmares. The traces of rage in it rang through his ears like gongs.

"A Pro? I don't think I recognise you, though." There were footsteps, and Izuku grunted as a kick flipped him onto his back. Tomura stared down at him, the hand covering his face hid most of his expression, but Izuku could see in his eyes that beneath the black anger was a keen interest. "You look a little young to be playing the hero game."

One of Tomura's shoes came to rest on Izuku's chest, with just enough weight behind it that it made breathing evenly impossible. "And you screwed up my plan." The pressure increased. "I don't like it when people screw up my plans."

"Should be in a different profession then." Izuku growled, and he almost didn't recognise his own voice. One of his hands gripped the other's ankle, digging his fingers in as a threat.

He might be utterly spent, but he was sure he could summon enough to break the thin bones if he needed to. "Spoken like true hero." Tomura stepped back, slipping from Izuku's hold with a humiliating lack of effort. He squatted down, looming over Izuku and staring like he was a bug.

"Cool quirk though," he continued smoothly, his deadly hands hanging from over his knees. "Reminds me a little of All Might's. Funny, huh?"

"Funny enough to beat your Nomu." Izuku said, laying still for all that he wanted to squirm out from under the man. His lips pulled back into a mocking smile, the skin around his eyes creasing so it was obvious even with his mask. "So much for your 'Anti-Symbol of Peace', huh?"

Tomura's fingers twitched with violent intent, before falling limp once again. "Now, how could you know that, hmm? I don't think I told anyone that just yet." The man's head tilted in consideration and Izuku swallowed thickly at how clinical the move was. "Are you cheating, hero? Breaking the rules somehow by knowing things you shouldn't? How's that fair?" The last word was thrown out like a challenge.

"Life's not fair." Izuku spat, glaring up at the man. It was a fact he had known since he was just four years old. A fact he'd lived his whole life with, had suffered under and accepted the more he grew. Life would never be fair, because life was cruel and horrible and bad things happened all the time.

But it could also be good. And so long as there was even a scrap of goodness still in the world, Izuku would never let himself give up.

Tomura tsked, his hand creeping over his mask and clamping down, keeping only one of his fingers raised as he jerked Izuku's head up off the ground.

"Who are you?" Tomura demanded. "Some underground hero? You're not a student, that's for sure." He dragged their faces closer. "You beat my Nomu without a problem. It could have killed All Might, and you batted it through the ceiling like it was nothing. So, who are you?"

Izuku snarled. "I'm the one who's going to beat you."

"Beat me?" Tomura hissed, sounding equally annoyed and amused. "And how do you figure that, you little brat?"

Izuku laughed, the noise catching in his throat. He hated this. Hated everything about this man. Hated what Tomura did to him just with his presence. How he so effortlessly brought something dark and feral inside Izuku to the surface.

"Easy," Izuku spat, getting right in the other's face, heedless of the danger he was courting, "because I've done it before."

Tomura's tightened his grip on Izuku's mask, but that damning fifth finger never descended. "What?" He breathed out.

Something snaked around Tomura's chest, flinging him away from Izuku like a doll. In the same moment, Izuku's arm was wrapped in fabric and he was yanked along the ground until he came to a stop by Aizawa's side.

"You alright?" His old sensei asked, eyes pinned to Tomura as the other stumbled to his feet.

"Yeah, I'm good." Izuku murmured. "Thanks for the save. He was probably about to dust me." He barely had enough energy to stand, but he stubbornly pushed himself up enough to catch sight of Tomura and Kurogiri – the latter only just manifesting behind his master.

"Kurogiri – the mist guy – try and keep his quirk erased. He's their exit point. If we can keep them here until the pros arrive, we could stop them." Izuku rattled off. "The metal collar, it's the only part of him you can touch. The rest of him is incorporeal."

"And the other one?" Aizawa asked, hands tense around his capture weapon.

"Decaying quirk, which you already know. All five fingers need to have contact for it to work. He's –" Izuku swallowed thickly, "dangerous, so don't underestimate him. Fast. Stronger than he looks. And smart." He took a steadying breath. "If you can knock the hand on his face off – I don't know, it freaks him out. He'll get more violent, but sloppy. Just don't let him touch you."

Aizawa grunted in acknowledgement. His eyes were glowing and pinned to Kurogiri. Izuku clenched his jaw and forced himself to stand with his sensei.

"Stay down," Aizawa ordered. "You're too injured."

"You'll need my help." Izuku said. "You can't handle both of them at the same time. And don't worry about me. I can handle a little pain."

"You're not authorised." Aizawa snapped. "Stay out of this."

Izuku scowled, knowing that technically his old sensei was right. Wherever he was right now, to them he wasn't an official hero. But Izuku also knew the consequences that could come from him not acting, and he would accept whatever punishment the next few minutes would dole out for him if it meant everyone made it out alive.

"If you want me down, you'll have to put me there yourself. And you really can't afford to fight three of us."

Aizawa's mouth thinned into a pale line, but he didn't say anything else. Izuku took the silence as a victory and slid into a simple stance. Tomura and Kurogiri stood across from them, watching the two of them intently.

Izuku could see the way Tomura scratched at his neck and grimaced. He couldn't hear from this distance, but he was sure Tomura was speaking.

Kurogiri hung closer to his ward, and whatever he said, it seemed to calm the other down significantly.

"Fine." Tomura snapped, head facing them. "I was hoping to beat the boss this time but looks like we jumped the gun a little. That's okay, though. We'll just have a redo. But you."

Izuku glared as Tomura gestured at him. "You and I will have to play again later. Kurogiri."

"I don't think so." Aizawa said, stepping forward, eyes still blazing. "You aren't going anywhere."

Tomura laughed, a soft, reedy sound. "I think we are." He sneered. At his words, everything seemed to happen at once.

The entrance to the USJ facility exploded. Izuku, rocked by the explosion, half-turned in time to catch sight of a metallic glint. He shoved Aizawa to the side, grunting as the knife dug deep into his shoulder. He hit the floor. Kurogiri's warp gate opened, and the two villains disappeared.

"Shit." Izuku muttered, listening distantly as Aizawa knocked out whoever had thrown the dagger. He pressed his hand down around the blade, watching with annoyance as the green of his uniform quickly became soaked with blood.

Aizawa reappeared by his side, kneeling as he assessed the wound. "I'm fine." Izuku assured.

"Shut up." Aizawa said, moving Izuku's hand and replacing it with his own. "That was a stupid thing to do."

Izuku huffed a chuckle. "You're welcome." He blinked slowly, starting up at the man and wincing as his vision swam. "'mkay, 'zawa." He slurred as he struggled to remain conscious.

There was a ringing in his ears, and the sounds of multiple voices began to overlap until they all mixed together.

Izuku closed his eyes, his head slipping to the side as he finally gave into his exhaustion.

Shouta sat at the desk, his fingers tapping the point of the card in his hand against the wood. He stared hard at the computer screen, eyes reading through the information there again, but not really absorbing it.

He glanced at the card, taking in the smiling picture emblazoned on its glossy surface, before glancing back at the computer.

The furrow between his eyebrows deepened.

This didn't make any sense, and Shouta hated things that didn't make sense.

He sighed deeply, rubbing at his eyes and internally scolding himself for leaving his eyedrops back in his office. He sat there, hand folded carefully over his eyes as he let his mind whirl.

Young.

That had been the first thing he had thought when he had seen who had tackled him out of the way of that thing's attack. Painfully young – barely more than a student. A child.

And yet he had managed to fling something created to kill All Might through the goddamn roof.

He recalled the tattered green and black suit, the blood marring that freckled face and the way his features had, for a brief moment, twisted into something ugly and dark when he was pinned by that villain.

Shouta dragged his hand down his face to perch his chin there. He looked back at the card, tilting it enough that he could see the face on it without moving his head.

Name: Midoriya Izuku

And just underneath –

Hero Name: DEKU

His mouth pinched in confusion.

It wasn't necessarily the existence of the card itself that had his thought tied in knots – Shouta, despite his best efforts, did not, in fact, know every hero out there. No, it was more to do with the year the card had been issued in.

2221.

Three years from now.

He brought the card closer, staring at the young face grinning back at him.

All his tests so far had showed the card to be genuine in make and design. Even the stripe on the back held the correct codes in it that allowed access to certain areas of U.A.

It was extraordinarily hard to fake a hero license, due to the digital code embedded in them. And if someone had managed to counterfeit one, Shouta didn't think they would be stupid enough to get something as basic as the year wrong.

He sighed again.

And then there was the report. He looked back to the computer.

While Recovery Girl and her assistants had been working to heal the young man, Shouta had taken a sample of his blood and run it through the database, hoping to get a hit.

He just hadn't expected to get a hit like this.

Shouta brushed the strands of his hair that had escaped his bun out of his face. He closed the police file and logged out, tapping the card once more against the desk before he hauled himself to his feet.

It was well past midnight and Shouta knew from experience that there was no way he would be sleeping now. Not with this new mess dumped on his lap.

So instead of heading to his office, he turned right and made his way down the hall. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as he walked unhurriedly.

He stopped when he came to the right door and opened it without giving himself time to rethink.

The young man laying on the bed was still out cold, so Shouta helped himself to the seat directly to the right. The glow of the lamp on the bedside table cast the other's face into sharp relief.

He slouched in his chair, staring hard at the restrained figure. He took in everything from the smattering of freckles on each cheek, to the fluffy green hair, to the pale pallor of his skin.

He didn't recognise him.

Shouta remembered all of his students, even the ones he had to let go – especially the ones he let go – and he didn't know this face.

"You okay, sensei?"

He had asked him, the title falling from his lips with a familiarity that was concerning considering Shouta didn't know him. And with the police report added on top of this, Shouta just knew that something was very wrong.

He squinted at the sleeping body, trying to understand the puzzle that was sitting right in front of him. He had a million other things he should be doing right now. Following leads. Dealing with the fallout of the attack. Updating security. Actually getting more than four hours of sleep for once.

But.

"Aizawa."

None of that would explain how a dead kid knew his name. Or was alive, for that matter.

He shifted in his seat, hating the budding impatience he felt.

The boy let out a soft noise, his head twitching in Shouta's direction. At once, his full attention snapped to the other. He was waking up.

Those eyes – green, vibrant, burning green – opened into slits, but they squeezed shut a moment later. Shouta watched as he tucked his face away from the light and cursed lowly. He saw how those hands pulled weakly at the restraints, still too out of it to understand where he was.

Shouta reached over and clicked the lamp off, plunging the room into relative darkness. The moonlight still allowed him to catch the way the boy's entire form tensed. How his eyes snapped open and alert, for all that he was still suffering from the backlash of Recovery Girl's quirk.

Those hazy green eyes locked onto him with surprising accuracy, but the moment they did the tension in the boy disappeared. It wasn't the first time Shouta had seen someone react like that to a hero's presence, but it was intriguing how readily he seemed to reassure this kid.

"Thanks for the save."

Then again, maybe it wasn't totally surprising.

The kid's head dropped back into his pillow as he sighed deeply. "I should put a bell on you." He groused, but it was said with a warm fondness that had Shouta blinking. He tilted his head curiously. The kid was clearly still coming to. He hummed to him, deciding to play along for as long as he could.

"You'd have to catch me first." He said, watching with no small amount of interest as the boy's mouth twitched into a little smile.

"I could do it," he declared tiredly, "I'm faster than you, sensei." He smacked his lips together and frowned. The fog was beginning to recede from his eyes. "I feel weird."

Shouta hummed. "You were just healed. Your wounds were extensive, so you'll be out of it for a while."

The other made a vague noise of acknowledgement. "Makes sense. What time is it?"

Shouta glanced at the clock on the wall. "Almost two in the morning."

"Don't you ever sleep?" Teasing. The kid was teasing him.

"Not when I have a job to do."

The kid frowned lightly, rotating his wrists in the restraints like he had only just noticed them. "Why can't I move?"

"It's to stop you from aggravating your wounds." He said plainly, and it wasn't exactly a lie. There was just the added benefit that it kept the other from escaping too quickly.

Another airy sound, this one closer to a laugh. "You don't trust me, sensei?" The kid asked, for a moment making Shouta think he'd somehow given himself away. But no, the kid was still groggy.

Shouta narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, taking a risk. "You have a track record, Midoriya."

There was no clear reaction to the name, no twitch of suspicion or confusion. Either the name really was his, or he was trained enough to not show such an obvious sign.

Midoriya laughed again, and his throat must have been too dry because he coughed straight after. Shouta poured him a glass of water and slowly leaned closer, holding the glass to his lips.

In a show of complete trust, the kid let him guide him easily. He sipped at the water, eyes closing in relief. "Thanks." He whispered when Shouta took the glass away and put it back on the table. "So, not that I don't appreciate it, but why are you here, sensei?"

Midoriya was still blinking tiredly, but Shouta could tell he was coming around faster than he had thought. If he wanted answers, he had to act quickly, or this entire conversation could go south when the kid realised he wasn't talking to who he thought he was.

"I wanted to know what happened to you."

Midoriya's nose scrunched up in a way that reminded Shouta of a bunny. He frowned at the comparison. "I don't know. I was just fighting this guy -"

He stopped suddenly. Shouta waited as patiently as he could.

Midoriya blinked hard, staring up at him with a little twist to his lips. The cloudy look in his eyes was gone, replaced by something too aware. "You're not Aizawa." He said in a tone that left no room for doubt.

Shouta leaned back, his arms crossing with slight disappointment at how fast the kid had recovered - before he could even begin asking questions. "I am, actually."

Midoriya's eyes darted inexplicably to below his right eye. "You're not my Aizawa." He clarified.

Shouta inclined his head in a brief nod, though he took note of the possessive tone. "No. I don't think I am." He agreed evenly.

They stared at each other for a few, long moments, before some odd emotion crossed over Midoriya's face. He looked achingly young like this, and Shouta felt sympathy grow in his chest despite himself.

Midoriya looked to the ceiling, and even with the quiet sorrow etched over his face, his eyes remained dry. Shouta gave the kid some time to compose himself.

After almost a minute, Midoriya inhaled deeply, his face setting into something determined as he turned back to stare at Shouta. "I think...I might be in trouble, Eraserhead."

Eraserhead.

Not sensei. Not Aizawa. There was no trace of the previous friendliness. Midoriya's voice was calm, collected, and his eyes were steely. This was someone asking for help from a hero, not whatever Midoriya seemed to think they were. It was also a line in the sand, he knew. The kid was rattled right now, and was clearly trying to put some distance between them to regain some control of the situation.

"Tell me." He ordered.

And, haltingly, quietly, Midoriya did.

Izuku peered up at his sensei anxiously, waiting for him to speak.

He hadn't told the man everything – didn't even know how to begin explaining the absolute mess their lives had become – but he'd said more than enough to at least build some credibility.

At least, he hoped.

Aizawa's blank stare was not inducing much confidence.

Izuku turned his head away. "Look. I know it doesn't make any sense – I barely understand any of this myself, but if there's even a chance that I'm telling the truth…"

Aizawa didn't so much sigh as he did slump in place. He palmed at his face in a rare show of vulnerability, and Izuku felt the first hint of hope bloom in his chest. "You believe me?"

Aizawa's mouth turned downwards. "Normally, no." He said, "But there's a little too much going on with you that I can't help but to consider it." The man held something up to the light, and Izuku's eyebrows rose.

"My hero license." Aizawa nodded stiffly.

"The issue date is 2221. We're in 2218, right now. It's a legitimate card, as far as I can tell, so that helps your case." The man's eyes narrowed. "Plus, there's the matter of, well, you."

Izuku frowned. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know you." Aizawa said bluntly. "You said you were my student, once, wherever you came from – that you were a part of my current class, but I'd never seen you before you showed up at the USJ."

Izuku had already figured as much, given Aizawa's lack of recognition when they were fighting the Nomu. "That explains why Tsuyu and Mineta didn't recognise me." Izuku said slowly. "So…what? This isn't right. If this is the past or whatever, then I should be here. Or, there. I should have been in the Flood Zone with the others."

His gaze shot back to his sensei just in time to catch the strange ripple of emotion there before it was smothered. "You know something."

Aizawa's jaw clenched. Slowly, he reached out and undid the restraints' clasps. Izuku watched uneasily as each strap was loosened. He sat up carefully, swinging his legs to the side so that he was facing Aizawa fully. His body still ached, but he was familiar with the affects of Recovery Girl's quirk by now, and whatever lingering lethargy there was, it was barely noticeable.

"Aizawa. What's going on?"

His sensei sighed harshly. "There was a Izuku Midoriya. However, he was never a student of U.A."

Izuku nodded slowly, but his mind sunk its teeth into the one word that made his heart turn cold. "Was?" He asked.

Aizawa's face was made of stone. "He died last year."

Izuku stopped breathing. His fingers dug into the sheets beneath him as his eyes dropped to his knees. His mind was silent, unable to connect the words with the implications.

Dead.

Dead.

He was –

And all of a sudden, Izuku's thoughts exploded into action, burning through him like wildfire.

He's dead, he never got One For All. All Might never made him his successor. His friends, they'd never had the chance to be friends. His mother –

A hand landed on his shoulder, grounding him against the torrent in his head. He numbly looked up at Aizawa, taking in the barely concealed concern there.

"How?" He rasped.

The man clearly took a moment to consider whether he should say anything, but he must have seen something on Izuku's face, because he answered. "There was an attack. A villain with a sludge-like quirk tried to use him as leverage during his escape from a crime scene. You – he – didn't survive."

Probably horrible, but let me know what you think either way.