Chapter Text
He doesn't exactly know why he started doing this. Sneaking out in the middle of the night, dark hoodie covering his hair and black surgical mask over his mouth and nose. Maybe it was all the other realities, where he's doing the exact same thing. Maybe some far away sense of justice that never really seems to be missing from any of his counterparts.
What he knows for sure, though, is that it feels right . Right in a way that existing never did before. Maybe it's fate, after all, that keeps making Izuku do this sort of thing. He's not sure either way, but he's not complaining. Not yet, at least.
As he walks slowly through the dark streets of Musutafu, light from the street lamps bathing everything in chilly, yellow hues, he stares at the sky. He stares at the sky, at the stars, mostly hidden as the light pollution obstructs his view.
He thinks he can slightly see images form on the sky, not as much as them being projected as more of the stars communicating with him, whispering the Universe's secrets with flickers of stardust at the corners of his vision. Just then, he turns down an alleyway and doesn't stop when he hears the threats, the whimpers or the sound of someone hitting a wall. He just walks forward, head held high contrary to his anxieties and a shy sort of confidence radiating from him as he slows to a stop behind the two poeple. The one closer to him is tall, with a bulky stature and a leather black jacket with a logo that gives away the fact he's from a gang. In front of him, cowering against the wall, clothes slightly ruffled and eyes shiny with unshed tears, is a woman, a teenager really, looking to be in her early twenties, a dark bruise already forming under one of her eyes.
"Could you not?" Izuku says, the man turning around at the sound.
"Who the fuck are you?" gang man scowls, glaring at him. Izuku takes a step back, putting some distance between them.
"I can always call the police, you know." he says, miming a phone with his hand forming a fist, thumb and pinky finger raised.
"The fuck is a kid doing here, aren't you like, twelve?" leather jacket dude takes a step forward, but stumbles and barely catches himself on the wall. Looking down, there are vines and roots holding his feet glued to the ground.
The man snaps his head up at Izuku, his eyes narrowing and trying to throw a punch. Izuku side steps easily, the familiarity of it making it second nature– even if he’s never done this before, not in this reality anyway – getting a hold of the man's wrist and pulling, making him fall to the ground. There, more vines, roots and plants start growing at a spectacular speed around the man's hands and legs, keeping him to the ground.
Izuku turns, ignoring the man's screaming and making sure the other person in the alleyway is not hurt too badly. Once done, he calls the police while exiting the alleyway, already searching for his next stop.
Izuku is hoping he could be anywhere but here.
"Midoriya, didn't you want to go to UA too?"
In fact, he's hoping that every single day he has school. It's not bad, exactly. Really annoying most of the time, especially when they mock him by saying he should be chained up and burned like his ancestors from the pre-quirked. He learned a long time ago, from his counterparts' experiences, not to bring his notebooks to school. To keep his head down and pretend he isn't there. He may not be quirkless, in this reality, but that doesn't really stop the bullying from happening any less.
He's just glad that whenever someone decides to be a little too pushy for his liking, he can just threaten them with their biggest, darkest secrets being revealed. I mean, with all these people calling him a witch, it's pretty easy to make them believe him.
Right now though, he can't really do anything to make the other kids shut up.
"Ha, Deku? Go to UA? How is he gonna defeat the villains, shuffle some tarot cards and read in their palms?" the other kids laugh.
Izuku puts his head in his hands, already feeling the familiar sting of tears in his eyes, yet to spill. He's not really that surprised when a palm smashes on his desk, the smell of smoke and burnt sugar permeating the air.
"Deku, I thought I told you to give up already! I'm the only one at this shitty school that's gonna be a hero!" Bakugo (not Kacchan, not after what he knows he's about to say today) snarls, ruby-red eyes glaring venomously at him.
He lowers his hands a little, just enough to make eye contact with the blonde, "Just because I want to go to UA doesn't necessarily mean I want to be a hero, you know." Izuku whispers, glad his voice didn't crack once. Bakugo silently stares, eyes narrowed and teeth pulled in a snarl. He bends down, too-warm hands grabbing his shoulders and faces centimeters apart.
“I don’t care if you want to be a hero or not, you could become a villain for all I care. Just stay out of my way .” he accentuates the last words, his hands getting hotter and hotter until the smoke is a little too much, it gets a little hard to breathe, and his shoulders hurt enough to be uncomfortable.
But he stays there, quietly staring as Bakugo retracts his hands and goes back to his desk, the class continuing as if nothing happened. And all he can do is suck it up, because he knows too well Bakugo Katuski is way too important to the timeline for evil little Deku to ruin his big ego, to alter his development even a little. He may not like it, but he learned early in his life that you’re not supposed to play with faith, no matter how much you hate the outcome.
Classes pass by in a blur after that, most of the other kids ignoring him. except for Bakugo, who's been glaring at him the whole day. It's clear at this point that he won't be allowed to leave without a talking-to.
As the last bell rings through the class and the kids start filtering out, he's stopped from gathering his things by an all too familiar hand on his shoulder, burning as usual. He could see Bakugo in the corner of his eye but decides to ignore him in favor of putting his last notebooks in his backpack and zipping it shut. The hand on his shoulder is getting hotter and hotter by the minute, and he could already smell the burning uniform.
"What's your problem, Bakugo?" Izuku asks, voice low.
"You know very well what my problem is, Deku. Don't you dare apply to UA, you hear me?" Bakugo's voice gets louder and louder as he puts his other hand on his shoulder, Izuku now forced to face him fully, forest green eyes meeting ruby red.
One of Bakugo's friends laughs from his left, "He still thinks he can be a hero with that weak-ass quirk?" he says, tone disbelieving. "What a loser." another agrees from the right.
Izuku's eyes narrow, but he keeps quiet. Bakugo's smile stretches, a look of amusement in his eyes as he says, "Why don't you pray for a better quirk in your next life, and take a swan dive off the roof of the building?" He says the words like it's friendly advice, like how you would talk about the weather, and it makes them sting that much harder, no matter how many variations of this exact phrase he's heard over and over again in the past years.
He squeezes his eyes shut, suppressing tears and nails biting in the skin of his palms as he clenches both fists, not paying attention as the other people in the room leave. He stays like that, silently crying for what feels like hours but must only be a few minutes, when he gets a vision.
The world around him wraps and morphs, the blacks and beiges from the classroom turning to dark green and ash blonde. There is screaming in the distance, and he can barely smell smoke and burnt sugar. There are fires in the background, but all he can concentrate on are the two terrified, familiar red eyes staring at him. The scene morphs and changes again, the classroom coming back along with his senses. He knows what he has to do.
It’s quiet when he gets to the bridge, no sound could be heard except for his rapid breathing. He had been running to get here, afraid he might not be on time. He’s still afraid he might be late, but he can’t be sure.
As he walks under the bridge, as far away from the sewers as he could while also being able to pass through. Just as he gets to the middle of the bridge, a putrid smell starts filling the air, weird sloshing sounds coming from the sewer.
As he turns his head, he sees a dark green, shiny substance start coming out through the sewerage cover, slowly becoming bigger and bigger as it gets out fully. Just as the eyes of the sludge-like substance turn over to him, mouth of the slime forming into a smile, he materializes the water droplets from the air, chilling them enough to turn to ice, then throws them at the sludge’s eyes, while at the same time he freezes the slime into place.
The slime cries out in pain as he tries to dodge, one eye getting impaled by Izuku’s icicle, smile fading, “You’re gonna pay for that, kid!” the sludge growls as it comes forward after Izuku. Just as it starts covering his legs and left hand in sludge, there’s a rush of wind as the words, “Do not fear, for I am here!” are being screamed from his right before the sludge is suddenly gone, the number one hero appearing before him.
“All Might!” Izuku exclaims in disbelief. Even if he knew what would happen if he took this route, knew who would come to save him, it’s still a whole different thing from knowing something will happen and it actually happening. Because, well, no matter how many realities where All Might leaves him on a roof, where All Might, his all time idol, crushes his dreams , he’s still Izuku’s mentor in so many others, sometimes even a father figure! How could he hate him, really, when he’s the only one that gives him a chance when the whole world is against him?
“Are you ok, young man? Do you need an ambulance?” All Might breaks him from his thoughts, vision focusing back on the scene in front of him.
“Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m–I’m fine. T–Thank you for saving me!” curse his nervous stutter, looks like this is another constant in almost every reality.
“No need to thank me! It’s my job as a hero to make sure civilians like you are safe! Now, I must get this villain to the police station.” he answers, smile never leaving his face as he crouches low, then jumps into the sky
As Izuku looks after him, he thinks a small part of him wished he was quirkless. He eliminates the thought as soon as it surfaces. He knows he has a different role to play in this reality, and knows this time it’s Mirio’s turn to be the Ninth. He won’t take that chance from him, he can’t afford to be that selfish.
Making his way home, no word of any Sludge Villain or hostage situation in the area on the news, he thinks he can allow himself to be a little proud. He just spared Bakugo some trauma, after all.
When he arrives home, after eating with his mother, when he’s finally in his room, alone, he walks up to his notebooks and pulls out a black one, with no title. This notebook is different from his Hero Analysis for the Future ones. This is the notebook where he stores all of his visions, all the future events. And more importantly, this is where all his planning is. Every major future event has at least 5 pages, including as many details as he can get from different visions and the plans to counter them.
Surprisingly enough, today was actually the first ever important event in the timeline that he had visions of. Except for All Might's battle 8 years ago of course, but he couldn't really do anything to stop that from happening, could he?
Flipping to the next pages, the next big event would be the entrance exam, 10 months from now. Looks like he's gonna need to do some more quirk training.
He put his black notebook back on the shelf and picked up a different one, blue with the title "Training" on the cover. As he lets himself disconnect and enter his own little world of planning, muttering quietly under his breath, he loses track of time.
When he's checking his phone, a good number of hours later, it's already past midnight. He decides that the schedule he's come up with for now is enough and settles for sleep.
Or that's what he would like to do, if he could actually fall asleep. It was never, ever since his quirk came in. It's like when the sun goes down and the moon comes up, he feels more alive.
He figured it's probably a side effect from the more 'spiritual' part of his quirk. Why does having a shitty sleep schedule have to be a constant for every timeline as well? He wonders idly as he gets up, going to his closet and changing his pajamas for the usual black hoodie, dark gray sweatpants and the black surgical mask.
As he gets out through the window, already falling into routine, he can't help but start thinking.
There's nothing he can do about the future right now. He doesn't have enough information yet. But there is one event, pretty far in the future if his timeline is correct, that he might have a slim chance of preventing.
He starts walking faster, thoughts forgotten. If he strains, he can barely hear the sounds of fighting from a street over, the night quiet enough for the sounds to be audible.
He turns the corner, and there are indeed two men, both big in stature and seeming to have enough muscle mass that a two on one wouldn't be an option for Izuku.
When he gets closer, he gets the sudden idea that they’re drunk, from the sloppy punches to the stuttered screamed obscenities. He lets a current of wind split them apart as he approaches, “Gentlemen, please. There’s no reason to fight when you can resolve this with words, is there?”
Both men turn to look at him, startled, and then their expressions turn angry, “Scram, kid, this is none of your business.” the man on his left, with blond hair and a long scar stretching from his chin to the underside of his right eye, snarls as they both get back to fighting as if nothing happened.
Izuku stares, eyes narrowing as he urges roots and greenery to grow around the men’s feet, the one on his right, with a buzz cut and red eyes glowing in the dim light of the alley, catching on a particularly large root and stumbling to the ground, bringing the other guy down with him.
As they stare at each other dumbfounded, Izuku allows himself a giggle, bringing the attention to him once more, “Are you planning on continuing, or do I have to call a hero?” he asks, tone condescending as he bows his head to one side, an amused smile stretching behind the mask.
The two men decide that he’s not worth dealing with as they both get up, going separate ways. That was easier than I thought .
He almost doesn’t notice the slip of paper on the ground, where the men had fallen earlier, when he turns to leave. He walks over to it, crouching and picking it up, holding it this way and that so it catches the light from the streetlamp nearby. Nothing really stands out, it’s just an hour, a date and some coordinates. He folds it and puts it in his pocket anyway.
It’s quiet tonight, the only sounds being the crickets and cicadas from nearby gardens as he runs silently along the rooftops. Well, as silently as he can when he has to attenuate his fall every time he jumps from a building to another. He just recently learned to climb buildings, and after seeing so many of his counterparts spending their nightlife enjoying all of these views, how could he resist? Especially with a full moon like this one? There really was no other choice.
Slowing to a stop at the edge of the current rooftop he’s on, he re-checks the location, making sure he’s on time, and lowers himself to the ground, waiting.
After around ten minutes, the soft sounds of footsteps echo through the alley in front of him, the slim silhouette of a woman waking into view. She stops, back leaning against the wall as she waits. A few moments later, she sharply turns her head to one side of the alley, the one opposite to where she came from earlier. The two men he encountered the other night, now dressed slightly more formal, bow their heads respectfully as they approach the woman. She bows her head in return, flicking a lock of stray hair over her shoulders as she eyes the two.
“Do you have it?” she asks.
The two men share a look, then turn back to the woman, bringing into view a black case and opening it, the angle making it impossible for Izuku to see the contents.
“Is this all?” the woman asks, incredulity coloring her voice. “This is only half of what we agreed on.” she continues, slightly annoyed.
“You can get the rest of it after you finish your part of the deal.” the man with the buzz cut responds, closing the case and lowering it to his side.
“We’ve had a couple heroes on our case recently, so we’ll need all of the bullets we can get,”
the woman stares for a moment, too far for Izuku to be able to see her face. After she seems to have made a decision, she clears her throat, “but I suppose we can make due.”
The two men nod, seemingly satisfied. “You know, it’s not often we do business with organizations like yours.” the blond man with the scar adds after a moment of quiet.
“It’s not often we get with the Yakuza, either. Let’s not make it a habit.” she takes the case from the men, then turns and leaves. Izuku waits for a few more minutes to pass, making sure there’s no one left to see him as he stands up.
The Yakuza? he wonders, the earlier conversation replaying in his mind. He might have stumbled upon something more important than he initially thought.
He’s outside, behind the remains of some abandoned building, the moon, a little after the first quarter, illuminating his surroundings as he trains the more elemental part of his ‘quirk’, when he meets the man for the first time. It’s not actually the first time they meet, even though the other will never know, won’t remember what never happened, the memories created by another him .
He was just concentrating on using his wind manipulation enough to allow him to fly, already three feet in the air, when he felt it, The slight change in the mood, the soft footsteps, the aura oh so familiar but at the same one he’d never felt before, never seen with his own eyes, only through another’s. And then he’s standing right in front of him, in all his tired glory, face shadowed and golden goggles catching the dim moonlight. He could almost cry because finally, finally , it’s his turn. Meeting the man makes it so real, the fact that he doesn’t have to watch, to feel, to live through another Midoriya Izuku , to long for the time when it would be his turn.
“What’s a kid doing here at this hour?” Aizawa’s voice startles him, and when did he get down?
He realizes he’s been silent for too long when the hero flicks his hand in front of his face, catching his attention. “W-What?” he stutters out pathetically.
“What are you doing out in the middle of the night.” he repeats, not seeming particularly annoyed just yet.
“Nothing illegal?” it comes out as a question and he curses his poor conversational skills as Aizawa raises one eyebrow.
When the hero sees he’s not going to say anything more, he lets out a sigh.
“Go home. It’s dangerous in this part of town, especially at night.”
“Y-Yes sir.” he responds quietly, trying not to let his disappointment show and probably failing from the way the man’s eyebrow raises slightly higher.
Despite his earlier disappointment, he can’t help the little bubble of excitement that swirls in his chest. The simple act of meeting the man, of having an actual conversation, shows that he doesn’t have to wait anymore. All his training, all his planning lead up to this point. He can finally save the people he was always meant to save. He can do what he always knew he was created to do.
His story is finally beginning.