Chapter Text
Blades flashed silver as they spun. Banana, milk, and protein powder mixed together under watchful, if sleepy, green eyes. The thick shake was poured into a large glass, and a scarred hand grasped it gently. Condensation printed around crooked fingers.
Izuku was up a little later than usual, but that was okay - it was his day off. After passing out one too many times in the past ten years due to over-exerting himself to save other people, his therapist and his loved ones had finally got it through his thick skull that he needed to take a break once in a while: heroics was no easy career path, after all.
He smiled privately to himself against the rim of the glass. God knows it was a miracle he was still alive, and he was lucky to have such great friends and mentors to help him along.
The protein shake was cold against his tongue. His gaze flitted down to the dirty mixer, and after he rinsed out the worst of the residue in the sink, he placed it in the dish-washer and padded over to the living room. Izuku settled on the sofa and turned on the TV, slumping back against the cushions and sipping his drink as he got up-to-date on the morning's news.
Since he and his friends had graduated, crime levels in Japan had dropped significantly, and he couldn't be prouder of all of them. Despite the lower activity, there was always something to do, even if it was something simple like helping someone carry their shopping bags. Despite probably being the most powerful hero of all time, it wasn't rare for Deku to be seen soothing children and rescuing animals, and that was what made him consistently top the popularity rankings.
He just loved helping people. He loved it so, so much. No amount of money or fame could top a grateful smile, in his opinion.
Izuku's jaw abruptly tightened, and he turned up the volume on the TV. Another grieving civilian crying through a broadcast that begged heroes to do something about the latest serial killer villain. His heart clenched and he blinked against the warmth in his eyes. She was the wife of the most recent victim.
“How many more innocent lives have to be ended before someone will stop that evil man?” She cried, voice thick with emotion and hands visibly trembling. “It's been four weeks, and he's still out there! We're all living in fear that we'll be the next victim... The Pro Heroes made a promise to protect us, so why... why is nothing being done?! Please... Please... Just stop Banisher before anyone else has to lose someone they love!”
He wasn't on the case, but he knew that lots of people were doing their utmost to bring Banisher down. His best friend, Ochako, was one of the main heroes on-call for any situations when the police needed some extra muscle. Aizawa had been on the team right away, since underground heroes were the best bet for uncovering impossible information, but he... The assignment came to an abrupt end after only two weeks due to unforeseen circumstances. Any leads he might've found hadn't been reported in time, so it was... it was all a waste, and Izuku was frustrated.
Although Banisher was infuriatingly elusive and unpredictable, the police had managed to collate enough blurry photos and fleeting footage of him to work out his vague appearance: mid-thirties, taller than average, thin physique, and short, dark hair. A few of the clearer clips played on the screen, along with a couple of artists' recreations to give civilians a better idea of who to be cautious around. Blank eyes stared out from a plain face, and Izuku exhaled sharply through his nose, glaring right back.
As if having barely any physical descriptions was bad enough, they had no idea what the villain's Quirk was, if he even had one. All of his hits left behind only a splash of blood, meaning there was no body to examine for potential leads. Whether the victims were being dumped somewhere and remained undiscovered, or whether there was some kind of transportation or destruction Quirk involved, no-one had any idea.
Then there was the issue of how he hadn't been caught yet. It wasn't for lack of trying on the heroes' side – he just seemed to appear at random and then disappear without a single trace, no matter how many people with tracking Quirks they hired. The only repeating trend after five victims seemed to be that all attacks were in and around Tokyo. Maybe he had a teleportation Quirk, or had unknown allies who warped him around, or...
Izuku shook his head. He'd been through the same thought processes a thousand times in his desperation to uncover the truth, but with no new information, the chances of him analysing the situation well enough to miraculously stumble upon a solution were incredibly slim, and thinking about the same miserable thing so much was wearing him down.
All in all, the whole thing was a mess, and he just wished it could be over already so no more innocents got killed.
His phone buzzed, and he silenced the TV.
Bestie Uravity <3
im cashing in that favour
i want you here to help capture banisher
Izuku blinked. Huh. Was fate really being kind enough to grant him his wish?
He downed the rest of his shake in one, turning off the TV and dashing towards his room. Izuku tugged on his forest-green hero costume, clicking the buttons on his wristbands to activate his supportive gauntlets made by Melissa. He dropped his personal phone on the nightstand next to his teenage diary he'd been reading the previous night, then grabbed his sturdier work phone and equipped an earpiece. After a quick appraisal of his reflection in a mirror as he passed, the hero was out the door. It was such a familiar routine that it barely lasted a minute.
Few things compared to the exhilarating freedom of leaping into the sky and feeling the wind tear past him as he launched across the city. Some people caught sight of him shooting far above, and he offered them a wave and a bright grin. The lively streets and homely buildings graduated into sharper edges and decrepit walls as he grew closer to his destination on the very outskirts of Musutafu. It was already a poorer region, but a recent villain attack had rendered a lot of the place too dangerous to live in any longer.
Izuku had donated a significant sum towards the relocation of those who were forced to leave their homes. Not to be outdone, Kacchan had donated just a little bit more. That sort of pettiness between them had replaced the needless violence and poisonous words of their teenage years, and now their rivalry was iconic in the hero industry.
His green gaze skimmed the skyline. Criminals always flooded towards abandoned sections of the city to avoid being caught, so it made sense Banisher had been cornered there. He spotted a few look-outs stationed on roofs around an intimidating concrete building. Izuku let his Quirk sparkle brighter for a moment as he honed in on where most of the police were gathered outside the front. Ochako's pale pink hero costume was easy to spot amongst the bustle of dark uniforms.
He landed lightly, bending his knees to soften the impact a little. A single dead leaf skittered around his ankles in the tiny air currents he disturbed.
Some of the officers straightened up when they noticed him, blatant relief casting across their faces: it always warmed his heart to see people soothed by his mere presence. Izuku raised himself to his full height, ruffling his short curls from his face and fully melting into his confident Deku persona. Ochako remained oblivious to his presence, too busy staring down at her notebook and muttering to herself. She tensed when he stepped closer, snapping around and immediately startling at the sight of him so close.
Izuku took one look at her shocked expression and couldn't help but laugh, nose crinkling and eyes squeezing shut. His friend grumbled and lightly shoved his hand off her shoulder, but when he opened his eyes again there was the start of a faint smile quirking up the corner of her lips, no matter how hard she tried to act offended.
“I told you not to scare me like that!” She whined, handing him the notebook. “I'm already nervous enough about this mission without you giving me a heart attack, Deku-kun. Next time you spook me, I might accidentally end up punting you into the sun!”
He flashed an apologetic grin, sobering slightly as his sharp gaze analysed the information on the page, although his demeanour remained teasing. “Sorry, Uravity-chan. That offer about spacial awareness lessons is still open if you're interested.”
“You're the only one who can sneak up on me - my spacial awareness is fine! It's just you're freakily quiet when you want to be!” She complained, twisting around to grab some blueprints and present them to him. “We've got Banisher cornered in this building, and I refuse to let him escape again. I figured if anyone could catch him, it'd be you.” Ochako paused, looking thoughtful. “Hm, maybe I could put a bell on you – then you can't take me by surprise.”
“I'm not a cat,” he responded through laughter. “Still no clues about Banisher's Quirk?”
The person he presumed to be the lead officer on the case didn't meet his eyes when he handed over Ochako's information notebook and the blueprints. Their body language looked tense and awkward, but- ah. A red flush covered their face. Izuku shared a bemused glance with his best friend, then turned back around to retrieve a pair of Quirk-suppressing cuffs from the table, attaching them to his red utility belt.
“Thank you for letting me assist you,” he said warmly, getting a flustered nod from the officer before they pretended to busy themselves with some documents.
Both heroes padded away from the make-shift operation centre, pausing a few paces outside the doorway to the looming building. It was five storeys high and nothing more than the barest bones of a structure, made of cold concrete with no doors fitted or any glass in the windows. Whether it had been lived in at some point or not was impossible to tell.
Ochako lightly elbowed him in the ribs, keeping her doe-brown eyes on the building. “You're such a jerk, Deku-kun.”
“Wh-”
“You always tease people who have crushes on you,” she whispered exasperatedly.
“I don't!” He denied, staring at her with as much innocence as he could muster. “I'm just being nice!”
She raised her eyebrows with an unimpressed face. “Oh, yeah? Thank you for letting me assist you,” she imitated with an exaggeratedly flirtatious tone, resting her chin on her knuckles as she fluttered her lashes up at him.
Izuku choked back a laugh, lightly shoving her. “Stop it! I don't act like that!”
“But you admit you act,” she shot back smugly.
“Perimeter set,” a voice crackled through his earpiece. “Uravity, Deku – are you ready?”
“Ready,” Ochako responded, firm and determined, fire in her eyes and steel in her posture.
“Ready,” Izuku confirmed, drawing back his shoulders and releasing a calming breath.
“Good luck,” the voice added.
Both heroes shared a single glance, and that was enough. Ochako pressed her fingertips to her chest, removing gravity from herself and silently leaping upwards towards the roof. Izuku strode towards the doorway, refraining from using his Quirk to avoid being seen too soon.
The corridors were blank and eerily empty. Pieces of rubbish and plant husks had collected at the base of the grey walls. A doorway drew closer as he crept along, and he hopped into the room on high alert. He scanned the empty space with a pounding heart, relaxing only a little when there was nothing obvious. Izuku returned to to the hallway, ears straining for any sound and eyes flitting around for any inconsistencies – camouflage and concealment Quirks weren't unheard of.
One for All buzzed under his skin, ready to be utilised in any form the second danger arose. Fourteen years of being the ninth holder meant his Quirk was second nature to him, keeping him safe and helping him save others. It was a far cry from when All Might first gave it to him and his entire body would shatter under the strain – but that wasn't to say he had perfect control over it, even at twenty-eight. The Quirk had far more energy than any one person could handle, so he always had to be immensely cautious with his power output unless he wanted to break his arms again and render them completely unusable.
There was rarely a moment that he needed to go above 50%, anyway. Only in dire situations did he dare to raise it past 90%, and if he ever did need the full 100%, he couldn't do it alone.
A soft 'clear' came from his earpiece. Ochako had searched the top floor. Izuku headed towards the stairwell, remaining on guard in preparation for an ambush. His iconic red boots – long since made mechanical by the combined efforts of Mei and Melissa – let him ascend each step silently. He ran a gloved hand over the wall and stayed cautious in case the building had been trapped.
“Clear,” he breathed upon reaching the next floor – and the routine repeated.
It was starting to remind him of the very first battle trial at UA: he was half-expecting a rabid Kacchan to round the corner. The building remained quiet.
A few walls had cracks bridging across them. He eyed them cautiously, but moved on when nothing happened. Sections of graffiti brightened the dull interior. Izuku entered another room, analysing the weathered concrete around the window before continuing on his way. Every exhale sounded stressfully loud, and his heart was pounding so hard it was a wonder it wasn't echoing off the walls.
Another empty floor. He headed up to the next level and examined his immediate surroundings. Nothing leapt out at him, so he resumed his patrol, pausing at each corner to listen. Wind howled ominously through the hallway, hissing over litter and leaves and ruffling through Izuku's green curls. His paces remained light and careful, whole body lowered slightly for better balance if he were to be attacked.
Izuku crept up to the next doorway, peeking inside to assess it for obvious threats before cautiously stepping in and peering around. There was a sofa pushed towards the other side of the room, back facing the wall, covered in a white sheet – possibly something left behind by previous residents, or something deliberately placed by villains. By the layer of dust, it was clear it hadn't been disturbed for a while.
Unless there was such a thing as a dust redistribution Quirk...?
No, focus.
His muscles tensed tighter as he approached the innocuous piece of furniture. As far as he could hear, there was no-one behind it, but he wasn't going to take that risk and leave it unchecked. Izuku leapt aside, Quirk briefly glittering over his skin before sinking back down as he took stock of the blank floor. He hesitantly moved so he stood in the narrow space between the back of the sofa and the wall, leaning down and peeling the sheet off one corner.
The wall groaned faintly, and he whipped around to stare at it, heart pounding. Nothing was out of the ordinary. Chills tingled down his spine and he felt goosebumps trickle over his arms. He was probably just being paranoid, but still, it was better to be safe than-
A shuffle from the doorway had him spinning to face it, only for his vision to be filled with glowing crimson. One for All crackled over his body and he planted a boot into the back of the sofa, launching it across the room and taking the red with it. He blinked rapidly against the after-image burnt into his retinas until he could focus on the human figure hopping over the sofa, teeth gritted in an eerie smile.
Plain, dark hair, average stature – shit!
“Third floor!” Izuku exclaimed, not daring to make the first move. “Second room on the right!”
“Copy! On my way!” Ochako responded rapidly. “Hold on, Deku-kun!”
Banisher stood before him, pausing in the centre of the room. His face was twisted into a manic expression, and his body looked hunched uncomfortably, as if in a permanent wince. Both his palms, held out in front of him, glowed scarlet with an inner light. Okay, so, touch-activated Quirk – don't let him get close. It hadn't felt warm or cold near his face, but it had given off a weird aura.
The villain lunged, and Izuku leapt to one side, startled by the speed generated by such a skinny frame. His green eyes were sharp and analytical as his brain worked to unveil the machinations of the dangerous Quirk. He ducked under a swipe, feeling that familiar-but-foreign energy phase over his head – it was like... like having a word on the tip of his tongue. Something he definitely knew, but could never quite remember.
Izuku backed up, standing in front of the bare window and staring down the villain, but the more he looked, the more an unpleasant feeling settled heavy in his gut. It really looked like Banisher was in pain, and he couldn't shake the guilt of not helping him. Despite his unexpected speed and athleticism, every time the villain moved, his face would crumple and his body didn't seem to be able to handle the rapid motion. Maybe it was forcefully enhanced by drugs, or a Quirk...
Banisher came to another halt as the hero swiftly dodged once more, repositioning deeper into the room. His glowing fingers flexed – his hands were trembling. Izuku's face fell as the realisation hit him.
The villain's Quirk was hurting him. If it was hurting him, that likely meant he couldn't control it – and, god, no-one could sympathise with that more than Izuku himself.
“Your Quirk,” he began softly, letting as much hostility fade from his demeanour as he dared, “it hurts you when you use it, right?”
Banisher froze. The shaking grew more apparent. His face remained ferocious.
“There's probably more side-effects, too...” Izuku continued, taking a slow step forward. “I don't want you to feel like this life is all there is for you. There are lots of people who can help you.”
He couldn't stop thinking about what it would be like if their fortunes were reversed. A Quirk powerful enough to destroy an entire human was bound to have horrible repercussions on the user. What if he couldn't even control it? What if the Quirk was controlling him, and he didn't want to be doing any of this?
Izuku dared another step closer. “If you're okay with it... Could you tell me more about your Quirk?”
“You really want to know?” Banisher said lowly, head dipped.
“Please,” he said earnestly. “I want to help you.”
There was a pause. The villain – or victim? – stayed still for a moment, letting Izuku get an even better look at him. Despite the mindlessly manic air, his clothes were clean, and his hair didn't look greasy. Was there someone else helping to look after him?
Banisher suddenly jolted forwards, hands outstretched. Izuku went to hop backwards, but his foot somehow caught on something and he thudded to the ground, quick to get back up. The vi- enemy surged in close with a bark of laughter, and Izuku pressed himself back against the wall, nervously eyeing the red glow.
A wider grin split Banisher's face. “I call it-” Izuku tried to move, but something stopped him- “Obliterate.”
The hero raised an arm to shield his face. Fingers clamped around his forearm, and that foreign feeling sparked against his skin, and for a moment everything was completely still. Wide brown eyes met startled green, the red glow reflecting in both. Over Banisher's shoulder, he could see Ochako burst into the room, moving as if in slow motion, and she gradually turned her head to face the scene, gaze locking with her best friend and-
Izuku screamed. It was ragged and guttural, involuntarily tearing free from his throat and spilling over his lips as his senses were overridden by sheer, crushing agony, feeling every organ shriek as his body seemed to be dragged through a shredder, with pain enough for him to have died ten times over, and yet it still wasn't over and he felt everything and nothing, nerves on fire and brain completely blank to everything but anguish and he just wished for it all to just-
He blinked open his eyes to bright sunlight. A baseball dropped from his raised hand. It bounced onto the grass a few feet ahead. Fresh air filled his lungs as he took a shuddering breath. Tears blurred his vision before he stubbornly blinked them away.
The whole scene felt familiar... but foreign.
Slowly, Izuku turned around, palm moving to clasp over his forearm. His stomach gave a sickening wrench as a flurry of emotions rushed over him.
Aizawa stood there. His capture gear swirled around his head, revealing barred yellow goggles glinting at the base of his neck. Unkempt black hair had risen upwards and his glowing red eyes were glaring towards the boy. Izuku swallowed, mouth feeling dry.
“I Erased your Quirk,” the man stated flatly.
It definitely looked like him... kind of. He was in his all-black hero costume, with ragged cuffs on the long sleeves and loose trousers tucked into his shin-high boots. His piercing eyes were inhumanly bloodshot, even more terrifying up close. Except... A few things weren't quite the same. The dark stubble along his jaw was messily trimmed, the wrinkles around his mouth and eyes were barely visible, and, most obviously, he was lacking the jagged cheekbone scar below his right eye.
But... how did any of this make sense? Last time he'd seen Aizawa, the man had been...
Actually, it was better to consider when Aizawa had last looked like... this. There was only one point in time the whole situation recalled from, and Izuku wasn't quite ready to leap to that conclusion just yet.
Not able to focus on Aizawa's speech, Izuku instead turned his attention on himself, wrapped up within the capture gear and held on his tip-toes in front of the teacher. One arm was locked in place across his torso beneath grey ribbons, still pressed to his other forearm that he now realised was lightly thrumming with pain. He lifted his other hand awkwardly, feeling his stomach drop in dread. The pale skin wasn't marred with scars, and his fingers were small and not crooked. His gaze slipped further down, skimming over his chest and taking in the dark blue fabric emblazoned with a white design – the old UA gym uniform.
Izuku was shorter, too, with slighter muscles, and a body that didn't constantly ache in reminder of old wounds. He lifted his gaze, glancing to the right and determinedly suppressing the expression of alarm. Class A were grouped up across the field, all wearing the same uniform as him and looking so frighteningly small and young. None of them gazed at him with the warmth and affection he'd grown used to. Spotting Kacchan was most jarring of all: he'd forgotten what it was like to have that murderous glare aimed at him.
“Do you intend to become incapacitated again and have someone save you?” Aizawa continued, blissfully ignorant to Izuku's turmoil, and for a moment he closed his green eyes to just listen to the comfortingly deep timbre of his teacher's tone. “Midoriya Izuku, with your power, you can't become a hero.”
A high-pitched giggle spilled from his mouth before he could stop it. His eyes snapped open and he pressed his lips together cautiously, staring with doleful eyes up at his teacher. The crowd of his friends – they were just children – whispered in shock to each other at the harsh words, and the sickening déjà vu grew even more overwhelming.
He distinctly remembered being attacked by Banisher, so whatever this situation was, it was caused by a Quirk. There were three likely conclusions he could draw from his analysis:
Banisher had killed him, and this was some sort of afterlife.
Banisher's Quirk created incredibly realistic illusions, possibly based upon the victim's memories.
Or...
Izuku's gaze flitted over to the building. Toshinori had confessed to him years after the fact that he'd secretly observed the assessment. At the time, Izuku hadn't noticed him at all, too wrapped up – both literally and figuratively – with trying to keep his hard-earned place in the heroics course. And yet... there he was, peeking out from behind a wall. He wore a bright yellow pinstripe suit that strained against his absurdly large muscles. Even if he was standing in the shadow of the building, there was no mistaking his iconic silhouette.
So... Did that mean... Time travel...?
No. No way. There couldn't be a Quirk that powerful... could there? Quirks were growing stronger with each generation, and One for All was a testament to the proof of the impossible... No bodies were ever left behind, and powerful Quirks often included great sacrifices, so it wasn't implausible to assume that, with the destruction of the body, the mind could be sent back in time with Banisher's unknown Quirk.
But then – what about the other victims?!
“I've returned your Quirk,” Aizawa's voice cut through his thoughts, and the capture weapon loosened and slipped free, settling back around the man's shoulders. He blinked, and glinting red faded back into black coffee eyes. “You have two turns for the ball throw. Hurry up and get it over with.”
Izuku stared sideways at him for a moment longer as he slowly settled onto the flats of his feet, pushing back the instinct to run and panic. His gaze remained on his red shoes as he mindlessly trudged back to the plate. If it really was time travel, he had to be cautious, because who knew what the consequences would be for changing an event, no matter how small. He didn't even know if just him being there would alter anything. Even with the possibility of another explanation that didn't involve time travel, it would be smart to pretend he wasn't aware of anything, just in case it gave him an advantage later on.
All he had to do was play along.
He tossed the ball up and caught it, testing the weight. Alright. A ball throw was simple. Izuku didn't even need to think about it as he drew back an arm, fired up his Quirk, and then flung the ball forwards. Air pressure exploded from his palm, the force tearing up a dust cloud that whirled around him, and he instinctively shifted his stance a little to compensate, as well as raise a hand to shield his eyes. His focus remained on the ball as it launched through the sky, tearing through several clouds and promptly shooting out of sight into the blue.
A familiar ache arose in his bones, and Izuku winced. He glanced down at his forearm, blinking in surprise at the sight of a shallow wound. It was in the same spot Banisher had grabbed him, seemingly leaving behind a vague hand-print with blood trailing from it. Some was smeared across his skin, and a look at his other hand confirmed the culprit. He'd had much worse injuries, and even though it was a Quirk-induced injury, it didn't seem as if it was causing anything out of the ordinary.
The thing that worried him more was the way his bones had rattled when he used his Quirk. It wasn't like he had even used much, not even 50%, and yet it hurt his body in a way it hadn't since he was-
Oh. Oh no.
Izuku gradually turned to face his teacher. Aizawa's face was split into a maniacal grin. The screen he held up displayed an infinity symbol, far beyond the score he had intended to replicate. Instead of being careful, he had just punted the ball into the sun with fifty times the power he was supposed to use.
Congratulations, Izuku, he thought to himself sarcastically, not even ten minutes into this mess and you've already screwed up. That's a new record!
He hid his burning face in his hands, wishing the ground had a quicksand Quirk to swallow him up. The other students weren't making a secret of muttering about his awe-inspiring feat, gushing over the casual display of immense power. Footsteps pounded heavily against the earth and Izuku automatically raised his head, shifting his stance cautiously until he saw the crimson scowl of his childhood friend. Kacchan was blasting his way over with murder in his expression, every explosion making the kids flinch, but Izuku himself merely stood still and resisted the urge to smile fondly. Reels of capture gear looped around the volatile boy and yanked him to an abrupt halt.
Well, he considered hopefully, at least this experience promises to be entertaining.
*
Izuku brushed past his mother with a hasty greeting. He felt a little bad for being so short with her, but he was two seconds from a breakdown and he didn't need another familiar-but-foreign face to freak out over. With the door closed behind him, he felt like he could breathe a little easier in the small space of his childhood bedroom.
But... wow, that really was a lot of All Mights looking at him. Izuku uncomfortably avoided making eye contact with any of them as he dropped his yellow backpack on the floor and immediately started rummaging around for a spare notebook. There was a green one in a drawer, and he snatched it away, throwing himself down on his bed with a pencil in his hand and a plan in his mind.
Time was a delicate thing. It wouldn't do to make the same mistakes he made today: he needed to be much more cautious. Caution required careful planning, which, thankfully, was something an ever-anxious Izuku had become very good at.
Since there were bound to be two concurrent timelines running through his head as the weeks past – presuming he was going to be stuck there for a while, but he'd find a way out, he was sure – then he knew it was important to note everything down to the best of his ability. Despite the bad events that had prompted him to do so, Izuku was now infinitely grateful that he had been re-reading through his old UA diaries for a couple of weeks, and even more relieved that he'd been so thorough in documenting everything, even if that was borne of his worry that the whole experience was all a dream at the time. Everything was still fairly fresh in his memory, with vivid scenes springing to the forefront of his mind as he wrote it all down in his own personal code.
Izuku added precise dates and times as accurately as possible, painstakingly chronicling his whole journey to become a hero and taking special care to include more detail on everything relating to the most dangerous events – which, now that he looked at it, was an awful lot...
After hours of frantically scribbling away, everything he could recall about his school years was safely written down. There wasn't enough time that evening to cover everything after graduating, and even despite his fear of forgetting something important, his hand hurt too much to continue. Instead, he went back through the notebook and added coloured post-it notes to separate the events, making it easier to flip through to the relevant page if he was in a hurry.
Izuku closed it with a sigh and stared at the cover for a moment before reaching over and grabbing another notebook. He hesitated for a moment before starting to write out everything that had happened that exhausting day, still in a disbelieving haze about the whole absurd situation. Apparently he hadn't come to terms with it yet, after all. Why did these things always happen to him?
He carefully stapled the two notebooks together, flipping through them one last time before tucking them away in a drawer. Izuku slumped down in the bed, staring at the ceiling and finally letting the tears fall.
He knew he would be okay: he always was, eventually. It was such a huge change, and just when he was getting used to being somebody, he was nobody once again. But, maybe... that wasn't such a bad thing. If he kept a low profile, then no-one would know if he changed things for the better.
However, that would be dangerous. He couldn't risk making huge changes in case it messed up the timeline and he could no longer predict events and respond accordingly. His mere presence already meant things had changed, but even with his mess-ups throughout the day, overall nothing had been significantly affected.
People always pondered over what they would do if they were given the option to go back in time, and now that Izuku had the chance, he wasn't going to waste it. There were so many horrible events that he and his loved ones were put through, but now he had the opportunity to support and protect them. He knew he couldn't do everything, or even save everyone, but he could do something.
He wanted to lessen the damage of the USJ. He wanted to help his friends at the Sports Festival. He wanted to bring an end to Stain's reign. He wanted to stop Wolfram. He wanted to prevent Kacchan's capture, and he wanted to fight with All Might so the battle between him and his nemesis wasn't so deathly close, and he wanted-
Well, there were lots of things he wanted. He wanted good, not evil.
Izuku rubbed his knuckles over his forehead, taking a deep, steadying breath. There was a lot to think about, but the serious plans could wait for tomorrow: he couldn't do anything if he was dead tired.
He hastily rushed through his nightly routine on autopilot, then flopped back down onto his bed, smiling to himself at the familiar scent of home.
It was a lot of pressure, but, hey... Plus Ultra, right?