Archive of Our Own

It was a Saturday afternoon, and Izuku was free from classes, studies or any surprise combat exercises from Aizawa-sensei. All he had to do today was a quick trip to the convenience store to buy snacks for his class’ impromptu movie night in the common room. Why him? Because he apparently was really bad at rock paper scissors, having lost a tournament for it.

So, he adjusted the reusable shopping bag hanging from his wrist, going over everyone’s requests written down on the notes app in his phone. Two bags of spicy chips for Kacchan, mochi for Uraraka, instant soba for Todoroki, tea for both Iida and Yaoyorozu, and the list went on.

He was so focused on making sure he remembered everything that he almost walked right past the small, hiccuping sob.

Izuku immediately stopped, turning his head to the side to see a little girl standing near the edge of the sidewalk, tiny hands rubbing at her eyes. She couldn’t have been older than four, maybe five at most. 

She had a rugged pink jacket that looked slightly too big for her, which looked like it had been burned near the back and had thin, brown hair that was tied in a ponytail.

People passed by without paying much attention, and Izuku didn’t hesitate to take action.

He crouched down a few feet away so he wouldn’t seem intimidating, figuring out what to say.

“Hey there,” he said gently. “You okay?

The little girl looked up, tears clinging to her eyelashes.

“Did you get separated from their parents? Do you know where they are?”

Her lower lip trembled, and Izuku braced himself for her to start crying harder, but instead she just stared at him. The girl’s eyes scanned him slowly, before they widened. She gasped, launching herself forward straight into his arms.

“Whoa—!”

He barely managed to catch her before she face-planted into the pavement. The little girl wrapped her arms around his neck with surprising strength.

“Uncle Deku!”

Izuku blinked in confusion. Uncle? “…Huh?”

The child buried her face into his shoulder, without a hint of hesitation or fear, like she’d done this a hundred times before.

His brain short-circuited. Did he know this girl? Was she a neighbor of his? Or maybe she recognized him from the news, but that doesn’t explain the uncle.

“Uncle?” he repeated, and the girl nodded enthusiastically.

Izuku carefully pulled back just enough to look at her face, and she was beaming, no hint of her previous tears at all. She reached up and grabbed his cheeks with both hands.

“Uncle Deku!”

“O-Okay, yes, that’s me,” Izuku stammered. “I think. But—”

The little girl giggled, like everything made sense. 

“What’s your name?” he asked, which seemed to upset her, because she opened her mouth then suddenly frowned.

“You don’t know my name?” she said, seeming completely hurt. She crossed her arms, looking away before a look of concentration crossed her face. “Did the villains do something? Why don’t you remember me?”

“What villains?” he asked immediately, hoping the panic he felt wasn’t leaking through his voice. Was this girl like Eri? Some trafficked child just like her? She seemed happy; there was no look in her eye that he saw in Eri, so Izuku hoped she was just lost and had a crazy imagination.

She frowned further before trying to explain to her. “Villains tried to take me in my house, and then ‘Miko saved me, but then—“

She suddenly stopped, like she’d remembered something important. Very slowly, she glanced around them once, then twice, then three times. Her smile completely vanished and her eyes started watering again.

“Daddy…”

Uh oh.

Izuku shifted gears right away.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay.”

“Daddy…”

“Okay, we’re gonna find him.”

The little girl sniffled, pointing directly at him.

“You find Daddy,” she said through tears. “You always do.”

Izuku blinked.

“Me?”

She nodded firmly, and before Izuku could say anything to try to reassure her more, he heard footsteps rushing behind them.

“AKIRA!?”

Izuku turned behind him quickly. A girl— about his age, maybe a little younger— burst out from a convenience store two buildings down. The sliding door was still half-open behind her, beeping faintly as it tried to close, but she didn’t even notice.

She was wearing a black tank top and loose sweatpants, slightly wrinkled like she had been in a hurry before she even started running. She had blonde hair, long enough to reach past her back, swinging wildly as she scanned the street. The most noticeable thing about her was the giant black eye she had on her face. Blood also dripped from the side of her arm, like she had been cut by something but was able to dodge it halfway through.

She had the same red eyes as the little girl in front of him, and Izuku concluded the two were sisters. Her eyes darted left, then right then landed directly on them.

Izuku’s grip instinctively tightened around the little girl, who had been clinging to him.

The blonde girl froze for half a second before exhaling, clearly relieved.

“Akkra!” she panted, sprinting the last few meters between them. He barely had time to process before she was right in front of them, sliding to a stop with enough force that her shoe scraped the pavement.

“There you are,” she murmured, clearly tired from running and whatever happened that caused her to have a black eye and cur before that. “Akira, you scared me.”

Akira.

So that was her name.

“Uncle—” she started, then stopped, eyes widening as she registered what she’d just said. A split second of panic flickered across her face.

“Err— Deku!” she corrected quickly, way too quickly, Izuku silently noted. “You’re Deku, right? Hero Deku from the war?”

“Yes, I am.” He nodded, trying to piece together what was happening. “Are you two okay? Your arm—“

“I’m fine!” she said, way too high pitched. She had a panicked smile that made him suspicious. She stepped closer, hands hovering over the child like she wasn’t sure if she should grab her yet.

“I just lost her for like—” she gestured wildly toward the convenience store, “—two minutes, I swear. I turned around and she was gone. She always does this when I look at mochi for too long.” Her voice cracked slightly on the last part, frustration and relief mixing together.

“Anyway, thank you. Seriously.” she exhaled sharply, giving a quick, stiff bow. “Let’s go, Akira.”

Akira, now securely in his arms, turned away from her.

“No, I wanna stay with Uncle Deku. He’ll help us.”

Her smile twitched before she tried to reach for her again. Izuku’s grip tightened around her, because the last time he let a lost child go, she was being trafficked. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.

“Akira,” she let out an exhausted sigh as she wiped her nose. “Please. He can’t help us right now.”

He stood up now, still carrying her as she clung to him. “I can help. Are you two okay? She mentioned villains—“

“No, no, it’s fine!” she said quickly. “Kids say weird stuff. She probably saw you on TV or something and got attached.”

“Akira, let’s go,” she practically hissed at her sister. It was said with such strictness, the way an older sister would, that the girl finally left his arms and into hers.

She turned slightly as if preparing to leave.

“I’m really sorry for bothering you. I’ll take her and—”

“Uncle Deku!”

Akira suddenly twisted, reaching towards Izuku like she was being pulled away from something vital. She kicked slightly in her arms, reaching harder now, tears already spilling down her cheeks.

The blonde girl looked down at her in alarm.

“Akira—hey, what—why are you crying? I’ve got you, I’ve got you—”

Izuku’s brain was already running through worst-case scenarios. These girls were acting so panicked, like they were under a targeted attack or villain kidnapping or quirk trafficking. The blood on her arm wasn’t deep enough to be fatal, but it was enough to make something in his gut feel off. Her black eye was a bad sign, and the way she was acting—too fast, too panicked, too defensive—didn’t feel like someone who had just lost a child for two minutes in a convenience store.

“Wait,” he said sharply. His voice came out firmer than he expected. The blonde girl paused, still holding Akira tightly against her chest.

“I said it’s fine—”

“No,” Izuku cut in. He stepped forward, his eyes locked onto the cut on her arm and strain in her posture, like she had just finished a fight. She kept adjusting her grip on her sister like she was ready to run again at any second.

“You’re injured,” he said, gesturing towards her. “And you’re both acting like you’re being chased.”

The girl’s smile faltered. “It’s nothing—”

“And you know my name,” Izuku continued. “You called me Deku immediately. You know I’m a hero.”

He looked down at Akira, who was still reaching toward him, hiccuping softly. Then back up at the blonde girl. “And she keeps calling me ‘uncle’ like she expects me to protect her.”

She stayed silent as Izuku took another step closer, his tone shifting. He made sure not to sound aggressive, but firm in the way heroes spoke when they refused to ignore danger.

“…Are you two being held hostage?”

The girl blinked, her expression cracking completely.

And she burst into tears.

“No—!” she wailed, loud enough that a nearby pedestrian actually turned their head. “No, we’re not hostages—!”

Izuku flinched so hard he nearly dropped the shopping bag, which was still empty. That didn’t matter right now, he had a bigger situation to tend to.

“W-What—wait—okay, okay, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—” she hiccuped, completely spiralling. “It’s just—everything is—this is so stupid—why is this happening now—” she sobbed, clutching Akira tighter like she might dissolve otherwise.

Akira immediately started crying too, confused by the sudden volume increase. “Uncle Deku!”

“Okay—okay, wait, I’m sorry!” he said quickly, panicking as he raised his hands up. “Please don’t cry—both of you, please don’t cry—”

The girl sniffled, wiping her face with her sleeve in a way that only made it worse. 

“No, I’m not hurt like that! I’m fine! I just—” she blurted out, her voice breaking, “—I’m from the future.” That last part came out quieter.

“What?”

“I’m from the future,” she repeated, putting emphasis on the future like it would make it more believable. “Like, time travel. I got hit with a quirk during a villain attack and now I’m here and I don’t know how long I have before I get pulled back and I just need to keep Akira safe until then—”

She sighed, able to see that his mind was completely short-circuiting. He had never encountered a time travel quirk before. How would that work? It’s just her and her sister, and from looking at the teenager’s cut and black eye, they clearly were involved in an attack. If it were a villain attack, she had to have some sort of combat skills. Luckily the younger one didn’t have any injuries on her, from what he could see. Just messed up hair and a slightly burnt jacket.

Who would be her parents if they were from the future? Well, not him, because they both referred to him as ‘Uncle Deku,’ so that means it’s someone in his class or someone he got close with in the future. He analyzed their features, and looking at the color of the older one’s hair, he’d know that that’s Kacchan’s hair. She looked like a younger Auntie Mitsuki, in a way, but he couldn’t put his finger on who the younger one looked like.

“Uncle Deku, you’re mumbling again,” Akira interrupted his thoughts, finally freeing from her sister’s grip and walking to him.

“Sorry, sorry,” he laughed, hesitantly picking her up before looking towards her sister. “A time travel quirk?”

“Yes,” she sighed. “I was warned about it before it happened—like, kind of. I knew it existed, I just didn’t think it would hit me specifically, and then it did, obviously, because my life hates me.”

“…Okay,” he said slowly. “Okay, um—”

He rubbed the back of his neck, eyes darting between them.

“If you’re from the future,” he began carefully, “who are your parents?”

The girl immediately stiffened.

“I’m not telling you anything,” she said quickly.

Izuku blinked. “Ah—sorry?”

“I’m not telling you anything that could change the future,” she repeated, voice sharper now, panicking again in a different direction. “I don’t know what I’m allowed to say. I don’t know what matters. I might accidentally prevent our birth. I can’t risk it.”

Izuku hesitated. That… actually made sense. He looked down at Akira again. Then back up at the girl. He seemed to have an idea on who their father was, at least. He’d recognize that shade of blonde hair anywhere.

“Okay, then I’m going to call Aizawa-sensei,” Izuku said quietly. “We’ll figure out what to do from here.”

“Yes,” she said quickly, nodding. “Yes, call him.”

Izuku handed Akira back to her sister, then he reached for his phone in his pocket.

His hands were shaking a little, not from fear exactly, but more like  from the sheer impossibility of trying to mentally file “time-traveling child claims to be from the future while calling me uncle” into any category his brain had labels for.

He moved to contacts, then pressed the call button.

“…Please pick up,” he muttered under his breath.

It rang twice before he answered.

“Midoriya,” came the flat, exhausted voice of his teacher.

Izuku straightened instinctively. “Aizawa-sensei! Sorry for calling so suddenly on a weekend, but I—this is actually really urgent—”

He heard a long sigh though the phone.

“I’m on patrol paperwork duty. If this is about Bakugo attacking someone again, I’m going to—”

“No! It’s not that!” he said quickly. “I found two children. Or—well, one child and a girl our age. And they’re… I think they might be from the future.”

His teacher stayed silent, and Izuku could see the deadpan stare, even if they were just on an audio call. “Repeat that.”

Izuku glanced back at them. The blonde girl was watching him with tense eyes, holding Akira tightly, who was still reaching faintly towards him.

He lowered his voice.

“I think they’re from the future,” he repeated. “The older girl says there was a villain attack, and she was hit by a time-related quirk. She has injuries, and the child keeps calling me ‘Uncle Deku.’”

He paused again, longer this time.

“Of course she does,” Aizawa muttered, sounding like a man who had lost a personal battle with fate. “Ask for their names.”

Izuku blinked. “Right—yes, of course.”

He turned slightly, lowering the phone. “Uh—sorry,” he said gently to them. “Sensei wants your names.”

“Him—” she caught herself immediately, eyes flicking down. “Err, Hina. And this is Akira.”

Izuku repeated it into the phone, and he could hear a faint sound on the other end, like he was rubbing his face while sighing.

“Fine,” came the reply. “Bring them to U.A.”

Izuku blinked. “Just like that?”

“Yes,” Aizawa said flatly. “If this is a villain trap, it’s a very committed one. If it’s real, it’s above your pay grade. Either way, bring them here.”

He turned back to them, and Hina was already watching him expectantly, like she’d been waiting for the verdict.

“Well?” she asked.

Izuku swallowed, giving them a small nod.

“He said we should go to U.A.”

Akira immediately perked up. 

“U.A.!” she repeated, like the word meant something important. “Eri-chan used to go there and—“

Hina stiffened slightly, clamping a hand over her sister’s mouth as Izuku’s face lit with recognition at the name. If they know Eri, they’re either really dedicated villains or truly from the future.

“Alright,” she said after a moment. “Okay. That’s fine.”

He shifted his shopping bag slightly, which was still empty, then gestured down the street.

“It’s not too far,” he said. “We can walk there.”

Hina nodded once. “Let’s go.”

They started moving, and Izuku noticed that she was already taking the right route there, clearly knowing the way to their school. Even though he walked slightly ahead, Hina turned before he would, looking around at the buildings around them.

He finally let out a sigh of relief as they approached the gates of U.A., and their teacher was already waiting outside for them.

—

Shota sat behind his desk with his elbows resting on the surface, and across from him, two ‘guests’ had been placed on a chair that was not designed for emotional triage situations involving time travel. 

The younger one—Akira—had not stopped clinging to him since the moment they entered the room, calling him ‘Uncle Shota.’ Now she was practically latched onto his sleeve, face buried into his capture weapon. Shota didn’t move her. He had learned, over years of teaching and hero work, mostly the most few recent years with Eri, when not to fight small panicked children.

The older girl, Hina, sat in front of him, still alert. Shota didn’t blame her. If her story was true, and if she was really attacked in her home and teleported into the past, it’s a reasonable reaction. Her blonde hair was now tied into a ponytail compared to when she arrived at U.A., spilling down her back messily. There was still a faint black eye and cut along her arm, already bandaged by Recovery Girl earlier, but both not fully healed yet.

He exhaled through his nose.

“So,” he said flatly, “let’s go over this again.”

The older girl furrowed her brows. “I already told Uncle Deku everything.”

Wow, feisty. Shota already had an idea of whose kid this was. It still felt off seeing her refer to Midoriya, who he sent back to the dormitories, as ‘Uncle.’ Both she and Midoriya were the same age right now, so there’s no reason for her to call him that, but Shota knows you can’t break habits.

“I know,” he replied. “Now tell me.”

“Fine,” she muttered. “But I’m not giving you everything. I don’t care if you’re a teacher here right now or whatever—I can’t risk messing up the timeline.”

Shota didn’t react to that. She was bold and slightly disrespectful. Careless with her words. Now he was almost one-hundred percent sure of who her father could be, but he wouldn’t say out loud.

“Start with what you’re willing to say.”

Hina hesitated, and Akira shifted closer to him, as if sensing the conversation had become more serious.

“My name is… Hina,” she said finally. Shota made a mental note of the hesitation before the name. Noted, but not questioned.

“Last name?”

“Can’t say,” she said immediately. “You’ll recognize it.”

He only nodded in response.

“I’m a student at U.A. in the future,” she continued. “Class 2-A.”

“…Go on,” he said.

Hina swallowed. 

“There was a villain attack,” she said. “At our home. They broke in. It wasn’t random—it felt planned.” 

Her fingers tightened slightly on her own sleeve. “I don’t know if it was targeted or just bad timing, but they came prepared. It was right when my brother was at work, and my parents had both come home, tired from work.”

Shota’s eyes narrowed slightly. That detail mattered. Very few villains operated with that level of coordination unless they were organized with a purpose, or funded.

“My parents and I were able to fight back,” Hina continued. “We were able to hold them off long enough for me to grab her.” She nodded slightly toward Akira.

“They told me to run and find Uncle Deku,” she said. “Or Uncle Eijiro or you.”

”I got her out of the house. I thought I could escape cleanly, but—”

She hesitated again, then exhaled sharply. 

“But the villain had a quirk I didn’t expect. Some kind of time-based interference. I don’t know the exact mechanism. I just know I got hit by it.”

“I was warned about it by my dad,” she added quickly. “How he was arrested before for sending a bunch of people twenty to thirty years into the past, and he recognized the quirk. I just didn’t think it would happen to me.”

“Continue,” he said calmly.

Hina nodded.

“Judging by everyone’s ages, I think we were sent back twenty five to thirty years.”

He leaned forward slightly, elbows on his knees.

“Describe the villain.”

“…Why?”

“Because if there’s a time distortion involved,” he said evenly, “then identifying threats from your timeline helps us determine whether this is an isolated incident or part of a pattern.”

Hina looked down at Akira again, then exhaled.

“He was around forty,” she said.

Something in Shota’s mind clicked, and he made sure nothing changed in his expression. The villain was around forty. He did the math automatically without meaning to. That means he’d be around the same age as his students.

His gaze flicked upward briefly, then back to her.

“Continue.”

Hina nodded, unaware of the calculation he’d just made.

“Tall. Lean build. Dark clothing. Masked, but not fully covered—like he wanted to be recognized but not identified.”

She frowned slightly, focusing.

“His quirk looked like… distortion. Not full teleportation. More like he could bend space in small areas. Pull things off trajectory. Like reality was slipping a few centimeters out of place around him.”

She continued quickly, like she wanted to get it out before she lost the courage. “He used it to separate us. To break formations. He knew he’d probably get beat up by a teenage girl, so he sent us to the past.”

A tactical fighter, then. Not a brute. That narrowed possibilities.

He shifted his gaze briefly to Akira. The girl was still clinging to him, but now she was calmer. She was listening without understanding, but soothed by proximity.

“And you said you’re from U.A.,” he said.

Hina nodded. “Yeah.”

“You’ll stay here for now. Both of you,” Shota decided. “Midoriya told me you two were already familiar with Eri. She’s around Akira’s age right now.”

He knew not to take them to the students’ dormitories. That would’ve been a big mistake on his part. There were too many ears and curious eyes, and he knew that the moment Class 2-A heard the word ‘future,’ things would turn into a crisis that he just couldn’t handle right now. Plus, they were all very smart, and would be able to figure out that these two were the children of Bakugo. 

For the sake of Hina, Shota didn’t say he figured it out, because hearing her speak she already sounded like she had high anxiety, so he’d let her keep this secret for now.

So he led them in silence towards the side of the teacher’s housing. He’d much rather explain this situation to Hizashi and the other teachers than explain it to his class.

Actually, he’d do that now. He didn’t want Hizashi freaking out at the sight of more kids with the teachers. He typed a message explaining the important things to the U.A. staff.

He led them down a short corridor and opened the door to a small common room.

It was simple: couch, low table, a few scattered teaching materials, and a corner space that had clearly been modified for one specific purpose. Eri’s toys were neatly placed in a drawer compared to when they were scattered on the floor earlier that day.

Eri looked up at them cautiously, fidgeting with her hair.

“Stay here,” he said plainly. “Don’t leave the room.”

Akira immediately looked up at him.

“Stay?”

“Yes.”

Hina gently adjusted her hold on her sister’s hand, still cautious, but then she saw Eri. Her expression changed slightly, and recognition flickered.

“…Wait,” she murmured. “That’s…”

“Wow,” she said under her breath. A small, disbelieving laugh slipped out. “It’s weird seeing her small like this.”

Aizawa’s eyes shifted slightly.

Hina continued, almost to herself now.

“When I was little, she used to babysit me. She’s like my big sister.”

Eri tilted her head at the newcomers, then slowly stood up, clutching her toy tighter.

Akira spotted her and didn’t seem to recognize her as the big sister Hina referred to her as. She was still a small child, after all.

“Hi,” Akira said softly.

Eri stared, then gave a small wave. “…Hi.”

And just like that, Akira moved away from Hina’s sleeve.Her older sister watched carefully as she took a hesitant step forward, then another. The two children met in the middle of the room.

They had no words at first, just staring at each other before Akira offered her hand, and Eri slowly took it.

Shota didn’t interrupt. He watched as they began to play, and behind them, Hina exhaled quietly. For the first time since they arrived, her shoulders dropped slightly.

He turned away from the scene.

“I’ll be back,” he told Hina, pulling out his phone. She nodded in response.

Shota walked away to the staircase, then dialed. After a few rings, the line connected.

“Naomasa Tsukauchi speaking.”

He didn’t waste time. “It’s me.”

“You sound tired,” Tsukauchi said.

“I am,” Shota replied. “I need you to run a database search.”

That got immediate attention. “What kind of search?”

He glanced briefly at the two children playing in the corner, lowering his voice. “Time-based quirk. Possibly spatial distortion adjacent. Could involve displacement, temporal slippage, or forced trajectory separation.”

Tsukauchi didn’t respond right away.

“That’s very specific.”

“I also have a physical description of the user,” he continued. “Male. Approximately seventeen to mid twenties right now.”

“Dark clothing. Masked, but partially exposed face. Lean build. Uses a quirk that distorts space locally—interferes with positioning and separation rather than full teleportation,” he continued. 

“I’ll start the search,” Tsukauchi said. “But this is going to take time. What’s it for?”

“Two of my students’ future children were transported here during a villain attack in the future,” Shota explained. “We need to find the logistics of the quirk to find out how to send them back to their timeline.”

“Sounds tiring,” Tsukauchi said, typing down everything.

“Tell me about it,” Shota grumbled.

“I’ll start now,” he informed him. “I’ll call you when I find something, Eraserhead.”

“Thank you.”

And with that, Shota ended the call. Behind him, the sound of children laughing softly continued.

The next morning, Shota hadn’t slept much, which wasn’t unsual. What was unusual was the reason. 

He sat at the low table in the common room, one elbow resting on the surface, phone already in hand. Akira, Hina and Eri ate pancakes Hizashi made as he loudly introduced himself to them.

“So, you little listeners are from the future? Who’s your parents?”

Shota blanched at that question, because he clearly told Hizashi not to figure that out because he might mess up the timeline and prevent them from being born.

”The number two and number seven hero, Dy—“

Hina slapped her hand over Akira’s mouth, hissing something that Shota couldn’t hear.

Then his phone rang exactly when he expected it to, and he answered immediately.

“Tsukauchi.”

On the other end, Tsukauchi didn’t bother with greetings.

“We found him, the man from your description,” he said. “Spatial distortion-type quirk user, ranging from twenty to thirty years old, multiple confirmed sightings over the years under different aliases. We’ve got a match in the expanded quirk registry. But his official identity right now is eighteen years old.”

Shota exhaled slowly through his nose.

“Send it.”

A few seconds passed, and he heard paper rustling and keyboard clicks, then Tsukauchi’s voice again.

“Cross-checking facial composites now. If you can get confirmation from your end, we can lock the file.”

He gestured for Hina to go to him, which she did, leaving her pancakes on the table. Akira didn’t seem to notice her sister leaving, as she was still engaged in her conversation with Hizashi and Eri. 

“…What is it?” she asked

“Tsukauchi found a match.”

That alone made her freeze. “Show me.”

Shota handed her the phone, a file of a face image pulled from surveillance footage and reconstruction on the screen. Hina stared at it for a long time before her expression hardened.

“That’s him,” she said quietly.

Shota took the phone back and immediately relayed the confirmation.

“Confirmed,” he said into the call.

There was a short pause on Tsukauchi’s end.

“Alright,” he said. “Then I can explain what we know about his quirk.”

Hina’s attention sharpened instantly. He gestured slightly, and she stepped closer without hesitation now, listening.

Tsukauchi’s voice came through the speaker clearly.

“This is going to sound counterintuitive,” he began, “but based on repeated incident patterns, temporal displacement quirks of this type do not appear to alter established history.”

Hina frowned as he continues.

“We believe the mechanism is closer to a closed-loop timeline model.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning,” Tsukauchi said, “that whatever information you obtain from the future… or whatever actions are taken after time displacement were always part of history to begin with.”

Shota’s eyes narrowed, but he still said nothing.

“If someone travels to the past, they are not creating a new timeline. They are fulfilling an already existing one.”

“So… I can’t change anything?” Hina asked.

Tsukauchi hesitated.

“Not in the way you’re thinking,” he said. “There is no evidence of branching timelines or divergence caused by these incidents.”

“The quirk itself appears to be highly limited. It doesn’t create permanent displacement. The individuals affected typically remain in the past for a short duration—anywhere from several days to approximately one week,” he continued.

“And then what?”

“They fade,” Tsukauchi said. “And return to their original timeline. No known exceptions.”

“So whatever she experiences here already happened, and will happen. There is no version of history where she did not return.”

“So I’m just… here,” she said under her breath, not as a question, but a statement.

“For now,” he said gently. “Yes.”

The call ended a little after that, and Hina finally nodded, deciding to herself that she was going to tell Shota information. He stood, waiting for her to fill in the silence.

She sat down, and he looked at her closer and now he really could see the resemblance between her and Bakugo. He had already noticed it before with her blonde hair and attitude, but as he watched her posture and observed her instinctive aggression that was much more controlled than his, it became clearer and clearer.

Akira, however, didn't look like Bakugo, but was stubborn in a way that he could recognize right away. Her being Bakugo’s kid made sense, and it was obvious in hindsight. Shota wasn’t surprised by that part. What he was still processing was the other half of the equation.

“Okay,” she started. “I can tell you who my parents are now.”

“I already inferred one of them,” he said flatly.

Hina frowned. “You did?”

His gaze didn’t shift. “Bakugo.”

Her shoulders dropped a fraction. 

“…Yeah,” she admitted, laughing slightly. “He’s my dad. A lot of people say I look like him.”

Shota gave a slow nod. Hina hesitated again, longer this time. Her eyes flicked toward Akira, then back to him.

“And my mom is,” she took a deep breath before speaking, and when she finally did, her voice was quieter. “Ochaco Uraraka.”

Shota didn’t react at all. Not outwardly, at least. But internally, he was pretty surprised. If there was one pairing he would have statistically expected to produce a child in a hero context, it would have been something far more predictable. Like Midoriya and Uraraka. Midoriya and Bakugo, even.

Those two had always sat in that space of quiet, mutual orbit—stable, obvious in the way students talked about it when they thought teachers weren’t listening. With Bakugo and Uraraka, if someone had asked him to speculate blindly, it would not have been his first assumption.

The two of them together weren’t impossible, but it required a level of narrative collision he had not seen play out in any timeline he’d mentally mapped.

Bakugo and Uraraka. Three kids together. Wow.

“And my name isn’t actually Hina,” she said. “I lied.”

Shota wasn’t surprised at that. The hesitation with him yesterday and he heard over the phone with Midoriya as well— right, he needed to call Midoriya to check up on everything. He made a mental note to do that later. It was obvious she’d chosen a name on the spot to hide her real name for reasons he wasn’t completely sure of.

“What is it?”

She hesitated again, for a long time before speaking. “Himiko. Himiko Bakugo.”

He accepted that easily, but his eyes narrowed slightly. He’d seen the effect of Himiko Toga on Uraraka himself, how much guilt it caused her. He wasn’t surprised that their firstborn daughter would be named after her.

“You aren’t going to ask?”

“Ask what?”

“Why did I hide it, why is that my name?

Shota looked at her. “You were dropped into the past after a villain attack, separated from your family, and landed in front of people who know your parents. Plus, I can already get an idea,” he slightly shrugged. “I know who Himiko Toga is.”

The revelation sat in the back of Shota’s mind long after the conversation had moved on. Bakugo and Uraraka of all possible outcomes. It wasn’t impossible at all, just so unexpected. He would’ve expected Bakugo and Midoriya before he expected Bakugo and Uraraka.

Even Hizashi was surprised when he found out, saying something about how their personalities were the complete opposites. But maybe that was the thing, maybe they balance each other out.

He found himself mentally replaying years of classroom interactions, trying to pinpoint when exactly that possibility would have entered anyone’s predictions.

The answer was simple. It wouldn’t have. Not during first year, certainly not during the Sports Festival, not during the licensing exam and definitely not during the endless number of times he’d watched Bakugo and Midoriya nearly give him stress-induced gray hairs. Yet somehow the result of that future sat in the next room teaching Eri how to stack toy blocks. Life was irritating like that.

He pinched the bridge of his nose, then reached for his phone.

He dialed, and the call connected almost instantly.

“Hello?”

“Midoriya.”

“Aizawa-sensei!”

Shota leaned back slightly. “Did you tell anyone?”

He paused. “About the future thing?”

“No..”

The answer came fast enough that he actually believed it. “Good.”

Midoriya made a noise which he recognized. It was the specific kind of noise people made right before delivering bad news. Shota closed his eyes.

“Midoriya.”

“I didn’t tell them anything!” he said quickly.

He already knew where this was going. “But?”

“…They might have seen them. Through the window, because I was taking too long.”

Aizawa slowly lowered his hand. “What.”

“It wasn’t my fault!”

“You told me to go back to the dorms yesterday, right?”

“Yes.”

“And I did,” he said. “But then when I took too long, because I was supposed to buy them snacks—”

Right. The entire reason this situation existed. Midoriya had originally been sent to buy food, disappeared then returned without the food but instead returned with two mystery children. Shota suddenly understood exactly how this looked from the students’ perspective, but he already hated where this was going.

“I was taking too long, so they were watching from the dorm windows.”

“And?”

“And now they’re asking questions,” he said. “They’re really curious.”

“I’m sure they are.”

“I haven’t told them anything, but they keep asking who they are.”

Shota sighed.

“They think she’s a transfer student.”

Naturally.

“Somebody suggested she’s my cousin.”

He stared at the ceiling. “Your cousin?”

“I don’t know where that came from.”

Neither did he.

“And now they’re wondering why she looks familiar. But they don’t know she’s from the future, or Kacchan’s daughter.”

That made Aizawa immediately open his eyes.

“Kirishima said she kind of reminds him of someone,” Midoriya added. “They might figure it out soon, sensei.”

He slowly rubbed his forehead, trying not to trigger a migraine. The reality was simple, of course his students were going to notice. He had spent two years teaching some of the most observant, stubborn, nosy teenagers in the country, and now there were two unidentified girls wandering around campus. One of whom looked suspiciously like a perfect collaboration between Bakugo and Uraraka, while the other looked exactly like a female version of Bakugo.

This was not sustainable, especially if they were going to stay for about a week.

“I see.”

Midoriya immediately sounded hopeful. “So we’re okay?”

“No, Midoriya.”

The hope died instantly. “Oh.”

Shota stood, already regretting every second of the conversation he was about to have later. He looked toward the doorway where faint laughter from Eri and Akira drifted down the hall.

“We are very much not okay,” he said. “I’m going to have to explain this to all of you.”

The silence on the other end of the phone lasted two seconds before Shota hung up.

—

Monday mornings in 2-A were usually loud, but it was annoyingly loud because something slightly interesting happened on Saturday, and his damn class could turn absolutely nothing into a full-scale discussion.

Katsuki sat at his desk with his chin resting against one fist, glaring out the window and trying very hard not to listen to the idiots around him.

Unfortunately, the idiots around him were being especially loud.

“I’m telling you, it has to be Midoriya’s secret girlfriend.”

“That doesn’t even make sense! Why would he bring her to U.A., then?”

“It does! Maybe she’s in the support course or something.”

Katsuki felt a vein twitch. Three days. Three entire days.

Ever since Saturday, Izuku vanishes to go buy everyone food, and apparently he came back empty handed with a random girl and little kid instead. Then, Aizawa showed up and all three of them had disappeared into the staff section of campus.

Somehow, they were still talking about it. Nobody shut up. Not even once.

“Think about it!” Kaminari was speaking from somewhere on his right. “Midoriya disappears for an hour, comes back with a girl, refuses to explain, and then Aizawa takes them away. That’s suspicious!”

“Guys…” Izuku started, only to be ignored.

“Maybe she’s a witness in a hero case?” Jiro suggested.

“Maybe she’s his cousin.”

“His cousin with a child?”

“You don’t know it’s her child!”

“Maybe the kid’s his,” Todoroki pointed a finger up.

The room became louder as Katsuki slammed his forehead against his desk.

“WHAT?”

”That’s not—“

“You guys didn’t see them,” Sero argued. “The little kid looked way too attached to Midoriya.”

“Exactly!”

“That’s what kids do,” Yaoyorozu said.

“No, but like attached-attached.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know, okay?!”

“Maybe she’s his niece.”

“Then why wouldn’t he just say that?”

The room fell silent, and that did get Katsuki thinking. That was the actual problem with this whole ordeal, Izuku didn’t say a single thing. He was being super weird about it, and the last time Katsuki saw him like this was when they were planning a surprise birthday for him, and when he was hiding One for All. 

If somebody asked him a question, he’d usually answer it. Or try to, at least and end up accidentally answering three different questions nobody asked. But this time, he said nothing. Every single attempt had been suspiciously pushed down politely, which is why everyone had been obsessed. If Izuku refused to talk about something, then clearly there was something worth talking about.

They were all idiots. The whole thing was stupid, Katsuki didn’t care at all who the girl or the kid was.

What he cared about was the fact that everybody kept talking about it.

“Maybe she’s undercover.”

“Maybe she’s a transfer student.”

“Maybe she’s a villain.”

“Maybe she’s Midoriya’s—”

God, Katsuki had enough of all of this.

“Shut the hell up.”

Silence. Finally.

Several heads turned, and Katsuki glared at all of them.

“Do you losers ever get tired of hearing yourselves talk?”

“Not really,” Kaminari admitted.

“Clearly.”

Kirishima laughed. “Come on, man. You’re not curious at all?”

“No.”

That was a lie. The whole thing was weird. Deku was being so off about it, and the biggest part wasn’t even the girl. It was their teacher. Aizawa didn’t personally escort random civilians around campus, and he especially didn’t keep them hidden in the staff section for two days. Something was going on, Katsuki just hadn’t decided if it was worth caring about yet.

“You don’t think the girl looked familiar?” Kirishima asked.

Katsuki frowned. People kept saying that since Saturday, saying there was something about her face or something about her hair or the way she carried herself was familiar. He had only gotten a brief glance through the dorm windows from the couch, and all he saw was the recognizable figures of Izuku and Aizawa, and long blonde hair and a black tank top. That was about it. It wasn’t nearly enough to identify anybody.

“Not really,” Kaminari admitted. “It’s just a feeling.”

Katsuki rolled his eyes. Idiots. All of them.

The classroom door slid open, and conversations dropped instantly as every straightened.

Aizawa had arrived, and judging by the way half the class immediately sat up straighter—

Everyone had exactly the same thought. Finally, someone was going to explain what the hell had been happening since Saturday.

He walked in, and whatever whispers were left when he entered completely faded away, because the blonde girl stepped in after him. Katsuki recognized her right away, and everyone else had seemed to as well. 

Up close, she looked about their age. She had long blonde hair and red eyes, and a faded bruise near one side of her face. The weirdest part about her was that she entered wearing a U.A. uniform. 

The little kid followed closely behind her, clutching her hand.

“Remember what I told you, Akira,” the older girl whispered to the younger.

The room erupted into whispers the second after they entered. Katsuki could hear the questions and the theories, not saying a word because he knew what was coming.

Aizawa’s capture weapon snapped out, and the class immediately shut up.

“Sit down.”

Everyone immediately sat down, and the blonde girl looked deeply unimpressed, which was interesting. Most civilians got nervous around Aizawa, but she looked like she’d already seen this exact situation a hundred times.

Katsuki frowned slightly. That was weird.

He also noticed how both her and the little girl were looking at their class, like individually at each person’s features.

Aizawa quietly sighed before he spoke.

“As most of you have already guessed,” he began, “the girl and child Midoriya was seen with on Saturday are connected to an ongoing situation.”

The entire room leaned forward. Katsuki did not, mostly because he wasn’t an idiot.

“The details are classified,” Aizawa continued.

Half the room groaned.

“I don’t care.”

“Then why tell us??”

The groaning stopped with a simple glare.

“The information you are being given is information I have permission to disclose.”

The class sat straighter, and even Katsuki found himself paying attention against his will.

“The older student is Hina, and the younger child is Akira.”

Several students waved back.

“Hi!”

“She’s adorable.”

Aizawa continued before anyone could derail the conversation. “Both individuals are from the future.”

Katsuki stared at the two girls. The future??

 “The future!?” someone echoed his thoughts from behind him.

“Like actual future!?”

“Time travel is real??”

Their teacher looked one second away from expelling everyone.

“Settle,” he grit out. “Down.”

The room immediately quietted

“They were displaced through a quirk-related incident,” he said. “Their father is in this class.”

Nobody interrupted this time, mostly because everyone’s mouths were still open in shock. Katsuki stared at the two of them, and they didn’t look like any of the boys Katsuki knew at all. If anything, the younger one looked more like Uraraka.

“Until they return to their original timeline, Hina will be attending classes with you.”

Yaoyorozu was the first to snap out of the shock, raising her hand. “For how long?”

“We don’t know,” Aizawa replied. “Up to a week at most.”

Hina looked equally thrilled by the arrangement, which was to say not thrilled at all.

“She is enrolled in U.A.’s Hero Course in her timeline and is academically qualified to attend.”

Hina muttered something that sounded like, “That’s one way to describe my grades.”

Aizawa ignored it.

“Both of them will be staying in the spare dormitories with you until they go back to their timeline.”

“As for Akira,” he looked at the smaller child. “During school hours, she will remain under supervision.”

The classroom door slid open. The room collectively turned, and there stood Mirio with a grin on his face.

“Hey everybody!”

Half the class waved automatically, but not Katsuki.

Mirio waved back, then crouched down.

“Hey Akira! Ready to hang out today?”

Akira’s expression immediately changed.

“No.”

Mirio blinked. “No?”

“No.”

The answer came with surprising conviction. He laughed awkwardly, and Katsuki watched the interaction fold down, slightly entertained.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Eri-chan will be with us!”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Akira’s face scrunched up, then her eyes filled with tears. Katsuki had spent enough time around little brats during his licensing exam to know that it was a pre-cry face.

“Akira…” Hina started, slowly reaching for the child, but she was too late. 

She burst into tears. “I WANNA STAY WITH MAMA AND PAPA!”

The classroom froze, including him. Mama and Papa? Meaning both the parents were in the classroom?

The girl ran forward, straight toward Uraraka. She barely had enough time to react before a small child attached herself to her leg.

“Mama!”

Uraraka looked down at Akira, then at Hina, then back and forth between the two as realization spread across her face.

“…Eh?”

A beat. Then louder— “EH!? THEY’RE MY KIDS!?”

“I thought— Only the father— Here!?” she stammered, looking moments away from passing out. “My kids!?”

Akira nodded furiously, still crying.

Katsuki watched the chaos unfold with growing irritation and confusion. An even combination of both. So what if Uraraka was their damn mom?

Hina stood there, her arms slightly up from trying to catch Akira from running to Uraraka, not sure what to do, but all the attention was on Uraraka and the girl clinging to her. 

Katsuki’s attention, however, was diverted to a gasp behind him. He glanced over to see Izuku had gone completely still, and his eyes were wide. Really wide, and his mouth was completely open, his jaw practically reaching the floor. Like he’d just solved a puzzle— a really big puzzle.

His gaze turned from Uraraka to him, and their eyes met. His jaw dropped even further, pointing at him like he was the one who caused this ordeal.

“What…?” Katsuki stared back. Then around the room, more heads started turning one by one, like dominoes all towards him.

He looked around, then back at Izuku, who was still frozen, then around again. Why the hell was everyone looking at him?

“…What?” Katsuki demanded.

Nobody answered, and Aizawa sighed for the hundredth time that morning, like his carefully prepared explanation had just exploded.

“Fine,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I lied.”

That got everyone’s attention.

“Both the mother and the father are in this class,” their teacher admitted. “I didn’t want you all to make a fuss, so I lied.”

The room got louder even though no one was speaking anymore, and it seemed like everyone already knew and their teacher was just confirming it. Or everyone except Katsuki apparently, because clearly there was some kind of collective hallucination happening.

“I expect all of you to focus on your coursework regardless,” he continued. “I’m going to sleep. You all introduce yourselves now, because later today you will be having a training involving quirks.”

And with that, he pulled out his yellow sleeping bag and climbed inside.

Katsuki looked around again, and the entire class started staring at him again. Hina had this tired expression on her face, clearly stressed out but expected how this was going to happen.

Meanwhile, Mirio was still standing awkwardly near the door, trying—and failing—to convince Akira to leave.

“Come on,” he said patiently.

“No.”

“We can get snacks.”

“No.”

“We can play games.”

“No.”

“We can—”

Akira still clinged to Uraraka. “I wanna stay with Mama.”

Uraraka made a noise somewhere between a scream and a squeak.

“Akira, I’ll see you later,” she tried. “Go with him and Eri, it’ll be fun—“

“No.”

“Akira.”

“No.”

The argument continued for another minute.

Eventually, through what appeared to be a combination of bribery, negotiation, and Mirio’s supernatural ability to get along with children, Akira finally allowed herself to be picked up and brought out of the room. During that time, Hina sat down in the spare seat behind him.

Even when the door shut behind them, everyone in that damn classroom was staring at Katsuki. The hell was wrong with all these people? Every time he looked somewhere, somebody immediately looked away, like they had been caught. It pissed him off.

“Why the hell are you all staring at me?” he demanded.

Nobody answered, including Uraraka, whose face had become a shade of bright red. Everyone was being weird.

Before Katsuki could investigate further, Izuku spoke up, trying to be helpful and mediate the awkward silence that they all brought upon themselves.

“So, Hina.”

She looked over. “What?”

He smiled awkwardly. “What’s your quirk?”

The room quieted. That was actually a good question, which was something Katsuki would never admit out loud.

“Oh,” she said, looking surprised they hadn’t asked sooner.

“My quirk?”

Izuku nodded. “Yeah.”

“It’s called Grenade,” Hina shrugged. “Basically, if I touch something with all five fingers, it gets marked with an invisible charge.”

She held up one hand.

“Then later, whenever I put my fingers together—”

She demonstrated slightly.

“—the marked target or targets explode.”

Katsuki expected everyone to be in awe and fawn over it, but instead nobody spoke. A lot of them looked like their brains had just fallen down a flight of stairs. Which was most of the time, to be fair, but it was different.

“Oh my god,” Ashido whispered.

Kaminari looked like he was physically restraining himself from saying something, and Sero had buried his face in his hands. Hina was staring at him expectantly, clearly waiting for him to figure something out. Why were they all acting weird??

“Wow, guys,” Kirishima started, making Katsuki narrow his eyes. Whenever Kirishima used that voice and had a smile on his face, trouble followed. “That sounds like a perfect combination of Bakugo and Uraraka’s quirks.”

Yeah, so what? Katsuki looked at Uraraka, without even realizing why, and her face had become even redder, which shouldn’t have even been physically possible. That had to be some type of world record.

“Okay, new topic!” Ashido clapped her hands together. “What about your little sister?”

"What about her?" Hina asked.

"Does she have a quirk yet?" she asked, leaning forward. “Any explosiony—zero gravity type like yours?”

The question caught everyone's attention as Hina shook her head.

"No."

"Not yet?"

"Nope."

"How old is she?"

"Four."

"Oh."

That made sense.

Kaminari jumped in. "Do you have any other siblings?"

Hina nodded. "An older brother."

That got another round of interest.

"Oh?"

"Really?"

"How much older?"

Hina thought for a second. "A few years."

"What's he do?"

"He's a hero," she answered.

That got immediate approval from half the class.

"Oh,” Izuku said, completely interested in this conversation. “What’s his hero name?”

"Ground Zero,” she answered.

Katsuki was beginning to suspect the universe personally hated him. That was almost his name before he decided on Dynamight— only a few of his classmates knew that. Were random kids of his classmates copying him!?

"Ground Zero?" Kirishima repeated, staring directly at Katsuki now, not even trying to hide it.

"Yeah."

Hina shrugged. "He just graduated from U.A."

The class collectively looked like they'd just been handed another piece of a puzzle they absolutely should not possess. Meanwhile, Katsuki's headache was getting worse.

Beside him, Jirou turned slightly in her chair.

"So, Bakugo," she started.

He immediately hated that tone.

"What."

Jirou rested her chin on her hand.

"How do you feel about all this?"

Katsuki frowned. "About what?"

Jirou gestured vaguely toward the front of the room, mostly toward Hina, and then to Uraraka.

"I don't care,” Katsuki scoffed.

The answer came automatically. Because obviously, there was no reason for him to care. Why would he? It was just time travel nonsense. Not his problem.

A strange silence followed, and sitting directly in front of him, Hagakure gasped.

"Oh my god."

Katsuki narrowed his eyes. "What??”

Another gasp.

"He doesn't know."

“"He doesn't know what!?"

Nobody answered, and Katsuki was starting to get angry now.

"Hey."

Still nothing.

"Hey."

He looked around, and both Kirishima and Ashido looked like she was trying not to laugh, while Uraraka had completely covered her face with her hands. The rest of them stared at him expectantly, like it was obvious.

"What the hell are you all talking about?"

Because Mineta was unfortunately present, a voice came from the back of the classroom.

"That you fucked Uraraka and she popped out three kids, obviously."

Silence followed. Utter and complete silence, and even Iida froze. 

“Ew!!” Hina visually gagged, covering her face with her hands just like her mom.

"MINETA!" Iida shouted, launching out of his chair. "What is wrong with you!?"

The lecture started instantly, loudly with a lot of arm chopping as the rest of the class started screaming simultaneously.

"YOU CAN'T JUST SAY THAT!"

"Oh my god…"

"Mineta!"

"THAT'S NOT HOW YOU TELL SOMEONE!"

"There was no good way to tell him!"

"THAT WAS THE WORST POSSIBLE WAY!"

All the shouting and chaos started to blur together, and Katsuki found himself staring at absolutely nothing.

Everything clicked all at once, so suddenly that he felt dizzy from it. Really dizzy, actually. It’s a good thing he was sitting down.

The blonde hair, the red eyes, the explosions, the way everyone kept staring at him since it was revealed Uraraka was their mom, the way Kirishima had practically been beating him over the head with hints for the past ten minutes, all of it slammed together into one undeniable conclusion that he somehow hadn’t seen until Mineta had said it in the most blunt, idiotic way possible. 

It wasn’t just that the children were from the future. It wasn’t just that one of their parents was in this classroom. It wasn’t even that Uraraka was apparently the mother. The thing that finally settled into place was that the other parent was him. Those kids were his. Hina was his daughter. The little brat who had been crying for her mother all morning was his daughter too. Somewhere in the future there was apparently also a son who had already graduated from U.A., who was old enough to become a pro hero and had chosen Ground Zero as his hero name. That meant in around seven years or less, he and Uraraka would get together.

The realization should have felt ridiculous or impossible, something he could dismiss as a joke or some elaborate misunderstanding, but it didn’t. It felt so real.

These kids were his future. Uraraka was his future.

He genuinely had no idea what to think. Katsuki had never actually thought about this kind of future before. Whenever he pictured himself years from now, the image had always stopped at one thing: Number One. Every goal he had ever set for himself always lead to becoming the greatest hero. Everything else had always existed in the background, blurry and unimportant, like scenery behind the main event. He had never sat around imagining a wife, or children, or a family. Not because he thought he would never have those things, but because they simply weren’t relevant to the goal. There were more important things to focus on. 

His eyes looked across the classroom again, landing on Uraraka. She still wasn’t looking at him, which was good. He didn’t know how his expression might look like right now. But her face was bright red, her shoulders tense, her entire body language screaming that she wanted to be literally anywhere else.

If he was being honest with himself—and he hated being honest with himself about this particular subject—there was a reason the idea wasn’t completely absurd to him.

Out of all the girls in the class, Uraraka had always stood out. Not in the way Kaminari or Mineta talked about girls. No, not like that at all. He constantly made sure he wasn’t ever a dumb pervert like them. But the reason Uraraka stood out wasn’t because she was cuter than everyone else or because she smiled a certain way or because of any of the stupid reasons idiots his age usually obsessed over. Katsuki had never cared about any of that, though he did notice it. 

Uraraka wasn’t the strongest person in the class, but she fought like someone who refused to accept that as an excuse. She trained relentlessly and she threw herself into fights she had no business winning and somehow managed to make stronger opponents take her seriously. She hated being underestimated almost as much as he did, and there was something about that stubbornness that he couldn’t help respecting.

There had been moments, over the past two years, when he’d noticed things he shouldn’t have. Those thoughts always appeared unexpectedly and were always crushed immediately. He had never let them linger long enough to become anything. The moment his brain started heading in that direction, he shoved it back where it belonged and focused on something useful instead. 

He wasn’t going to waste time daydreaming or sitting around like a lovesick idiot or become one of those pathetic people whose entire personality revolved around who they liked. 

But the existence of those kids suggested Future Katsuki had looked at all of those arguments and completely ignored them. 

Somewhere down the line, some future version of himself had apparently decided that becoming the strongest hero alive and having a family weren’t mutually exclusive goals. More than that, he had apparently chosen Uraraka.

And she’d chosen him.

The classroom around him had completely dissolved into chaos by now. Iida was still shouting at Mineta, who was loudly arguing back. Everyone was talking over each other, trying to process the fact that future children had just appeared in their classroom and detonated several years’ worth of assumptions in the span of fifteen minutes. Katsuki barely heard any of it. 

—

Himiko spent most of the morning in chaos, something she was forced to get used to these past few days, in a classroom that felt both familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.  

All of her aunts and uncles looked younger than she was used to, not just in appearance but in the way they moved and spoke. It made her feel out of place. To make things worse, her own parents were among them, and didn’t know a single thing about her and were acting like complete strangers towards who had never shared a single important moment in their lives towards each other. 

Watching them like this was disorienting in a way she couldn’t properly explain, because growing up they didn’t look at each other the way they did now; they didn’t hesitate or stumble over words or act like they were acquaintances. Himiko kind of regrets constantly complaining about how in love her parents are, because it feels super uncomfortable watching them act like this.

Here, her mom kept overthinking every glance she accidentally made toward her dad, quickly looking away like eye contact was dangerous, while her dad acted like he didn’t care about anything happening around him at all, even though Himiko could tell he noticed everything anyway. It annoyed her how they knew they would eventually build a life together, but they were acting like that future didn't exist yet.

Eri, who was like a big sister to her, had suddenly become ten years younger than her instead of almost twenty years older than her.

Uncle Deku kept trying to stay calm and helpful, but he was doing so in a way that was painful to watch. She knew exactly how his energy would eventually settle into something more confident, but right now he still had that frantic curiosity in everything he did, like his brain was constantly running ahead of his words. 

Uncle Eijiro and Aunt Mina were… Well, almost exactly the same. At least that didn’t change. 

But now, everyone else around her had become obsessed with her without giving her a single second of peace. One moment she was trying to sit quietly and avoid answering questions that they would clearly freak out over, and the next she was surrounded by classmates who kept leaning in closer every time she answered something vague, like they were trying to extract a story out of her whether she wanted to give it or not. 

She still decided whether or not she should say her name is actually Himiko. It had been a name she made up on the spot, but it was slightly true because a few of her friends did actually call her that.

By lunch, she had given up on the idea of being left alone entirely. The entire class had decided she was now the most interesting thing that had ever walked into U.A., and she found herself seated in the middle of a chaotic circle of the younger versions of the adults she grew up around. 

Uncle Deku let out a small, slightly awkward laugh as he looked around at everyone gathered together and commented that they didn’t usually sit like this as a class, that it was kind of strange having lunch turn into a group interrogation without anyone planning it.

Himiko noticed the way he said it like he was half-amused and half-concerned, as if he was already thinking about how to manage the situation so it didn’t spiral further. Well he grew up around her dad, so she gets that.

“So, Hina,” Auntie Tsu started. “How did you get here, ribbit? You were hit a quirk, right?”

She lowered her eyes as she replayed the moment in her head. She was eating dinner, having made it for her and Akira, and her parents got home from patrol early.

“It was a villain attack,” she said quietly. “They broke into our home. It happened too fast to process properly, but I was able to fight all the villains with just a few injuries.” She gestured towards her black eye and the cut that had slightly healed. 

 “But you two,” she gestured to her mom and dad, who still refused to even look at each other, “told me to take Akira and run and call Uncle Deku.”

The room went quieter after that. She looked at Uncle Deku, whose brows furrowed.

“I thought I got away, but then this guy,” she said, “who I recognized, hit both of us with this time travel quirk.”

“Next thing I know I was in a random store,” she laughed. “And when I ran onto the street, Akira was in Uncle Deku’s arms.”

“Where was your brother when it happened?” Aunt Momo asked, which made her pause longer this time before answering.

“Out,” Himiko said simply at first, then added, “I think it was planned. The timing, I mean. It happened right after my parents got back from work early, so they were both there, but my brother wasn’t. I think they were just expecting it to be me and Akira.”

She frowned slightly as she spoke, like she still didn’t like how cleanly it all lined up in her head even now. “They were clearly waiting for the house to be half full, like they knew exactly when to strike. But what they didn’t know was that my parents were already home.”

A little later, when the conversation shifted again and someone mentioned their earlier class, Himiko exhaled slowly like she had been holding something in without realizing it. 

Right before lunch, they were learning history. It was kind of a bore, since she had already learned that, but she could use a refresher.

“What are you learning in your time, Hina?” Uncle Denki asked.

She thoughtfully put a finger to her chin. In her time, they were actually learning about the war. She was one of the kids who had some fun extra knowledge to those lessons, since her parents had large parts to play in the war.

“Actually,” she said. “We’re learning about you guys right now, and how you defeated All for One.”

“Ooh,” Auntie Mina leaned forward. “We’re in textbooks?”

“Like real history books?” Uncle Eijiro asked, his eyes sparkling.

“…Yes?”

“You said that way too casually,” Aunt Kyoka said.

“Because it is casual where I’m from,” Himiko quipped back.

Uncle Deku, meanwhile, had this expression on his face that looked like he had just been handed the greatest gift of his life. His notebook was already in his hands, and she hadn’t even seen him pull it out, it had just appeared.

“Hina.”

The seriousness in his voice immediately made several people groan, including her dad. She watched, slightly entertained and slightly scared for whatever question he was about to ask.

“Hina,” he repeated, his eyes practically glowing. “What’s public knowledge? What isn’t? Are there parts people don’t know about? How much detail do they teach?”

She blinked, taking a second to process his question.

“Midoriya,” Uncle Tenya warned. “You’re going to—“

“Well,” she started, thoughtfully tapping her chopsticks against the tray. “The short answer is that most of the major events are public knowledge, but the details aren’t. The textbooks teach outcomes more than processes. You learn who won, what happened, what changed afterward, but not necessarily how messy everything was while it was happening.”

Uncle Deku nodded, his pencil starting to fly across the page so fast it could create smoke. “Interesting…”

“Wow,” Aunt Tooru loudly gasped. “Anyone else besides Midoriya get that?”

“Not me,” Uncle Denki laughed. “Bakugo, Uraraka, your kid is smart.”

”Shut up,” Dad— Or she didn’t really know what to call him, because he’d refused to acknowledge her yet, snarled.

“What’s all the fuss?”

The cafeteria doors opened, and from the people she saw entering, it seemed like those were several students from Class 2-B.

At the front was Monoma. Himiko immediately recognized him, mostly because her father complained about him regularly. He looked exactly the same as the pictures and the short times she’d meet him, which was strange. He’d practically known her entire life, and he was standing there as a teenager. Well, all of the people around her right now, but that didn’t make it any less weird with a new person.

Monoma paused, noticing the crowd.

“Why is Class 2-A gathered like a cult meeting?”

“Future kid, time travel, quirk incident etcetera,” Uncle Denki answered. Pretty lazily, Himiko might sdd.

Monoma blinked, clearly confused. “A what?”

“Future kid.”

He stared, then laughed.

“Good one,” he rolled his eyes pointing at her while still looking at Uncle Denki. “This Bakugo’s cousin or something?”

He looked directly at her now. “You know non U.A. students can’t enter hero grounds. Just because you’re related to someone in 2-A, doesn’t mean you’re better and can bend the rules.”

Himiko did not want to deal with this. He technically wasn’t older than her right now, or a ranked hero, so she could be as disrespectful as she wanted to.

“Uh, actually,” she said, making direct eye contact with him now. “I am a student at U.A., so you can piss off now.”

That actually made both her mom and dad snort, along with the rest of this timeline’s Class 2-A.

“Clearly related to Bakugo,” he grumbled, his smile having completely disappeared. “Who even is she?”

“This is Hina,” Kirishima grinned with pride. “From the future.”

Monoma stared for another second, his eyes narrowing. “You look familiar. Not just from Bakugo.”

Himiko immediately looked away. Nope. Not doing this.

Behind Monoma, several Class 2-B students had also gathered.

Among them was Itsuka Kendo, she recognized. She was in the top twenty, but she couldn’t remember what ranking. Either way, she looked significantly more willing to accept the situation.

“Wait,” Kendo said. “Is this the time travel thing Eraserhead mentioned to Kan-sensei earlier?”

“You knew about it?” Aunt Mina asked.

“Not really,” she muttered. “Just overheard.”

Monoma was still staring. “You definitely resemble somebody other than Bakugo.”

“Oh no,” she muttered under her breath.

“You have the same expression as Bakugo when he’s annoyed, but,” he said, continuing to speak. “And your face kind of looks like—”

“Oh no.”

Monoma snapped his fingers.

“Uraraka.”

“Wow,” a silver guy, she recognized him as one of Uncle Eijiro’s friends, muttered. “Bakugo and Uraraka…? That’s…”

Himiko dropped her forehead directly onto the lunch table, regretting whatever led her to this. She ignored everyone’s complaints around her about how Monoma figured it out faster than he did, which turned into an argument about how 2-B is better than 2-A. 

Lunch ended quicker after that, faster than she would’ve liked. Not necessarily because she enjoyed being interrogated by half of her parents’ friends, but because the rest of the day had become painfully ordinary in comparison. The classes after lunch were mostly academic, and while she paid enough attention, she already knew how she’d get in trouble with Uncle Shota if she didn’t. 

It felt strange sitting through lessons knowing exactly how some of the concepts would eventually be applied in the field, stranger still when she occasionally caught herself recognizing future teachers’ names in textbooks that hadn’t been written yet. The entire day felt like that, a constant series of little reminders that she wasn’t where she was supposed to be.

The bigger problem, however, was her father. Or rather, the younger version of her father.

The realization had been sitting in the back of her head all afternoon. He hadn’t spoken to her. Not really to anyone, but she kind of expected him to cut some slack for his daughter.

Sure, he’d answered questions when directly addressed. He’d yelled at Uncle Denki and Uncle Eijiro twice. He’d threatened Monoma once. He’d gotten into a completely unnecessary argument with Uncle Shoto over something so stupid Himiko couldn’t even remember what it had been about.

But he hadn’t acknowledged her.

Not even once since figuring out who she was. That annoyed her far more than she wanted to admit.

Growing up, she had never questioned whether her father cared about her. That was as obvious as the sky being blue. 

He wasn’t the kind of parent who constantly talked about his feelings or gave long speeches or anything embarrassing like that, but she had never doubted it. Growing up, he always showed he’d cared for her in different ways. 

He remembered every competition she’d ever entered. Every test score, every injury, every victory and loss. Sometimes it felt like he noticed things about her before she noticed them herself, which was exactly why this version of him was so irritating.

He’d spent the entire day pretending she wasn’t there. Not even avoiding her, which would’ve required more effort.

She had seen recordings before. There were countless videos of her parents from their U.A. days. Interviews. Sports Festival footage, old social media posts, documentaries, hero analysis videos and more. The internet practically worshipped Class 2-A in her timeline.

She’d watched plenty of footage of her dad when he was younger. She saw the yelling and the attitude, the temper, and how he’d challenged everyone and everything around him. She’d seen all of it.

But watching old recordings and actually standing in front of seventeen-year-old Katsuki Bakugo turned out to be completely different experiences.

The videos honestly undersold it. A lot. She finally understood why her mother laughed whenever those clips resurfaced online.

As the last class approached, the mood of the class improved as they’d finally do combat training. Finally, something interesting.

The class gathered at Ground Gamma, students stretching and chatting while Uncle Shota stood nearby looking as tired, as always. That’s something that never changed. He glanced down at a clipboard. 

“You’ll be doing one-on-one combat assessments.”

The class collectively groaned. Not her, though. She was kind of excited to fight the people she usually wouldn’t have a chance to win against in the future.

“Not because I enjoy paperwork,” he continued. “But because I need to evaluate Hina’s combat ability and determine where she currently stands compared to the rest of the class.”

That immediately got everyone’s attention. A few students looked excited, while others looked nervous.

“We’ll rotate opponents, to not tire her.”

Himiko crossed her arms. That sounded straightforward enough.

“First match,” Uncle Shota stated as the class quieted.

“Hina.”

She stepped forward automatically. Across the training ground, several of her aunts and uncles immediately started whispering, mostly betting on who she’d get.

“Probably Midoriya.”

“No way, Todoroki.”

“Maybe Yaoyorozu?”

“Kirishima?”

Shota didn’t care about their theories.

“Hina versus Bakugo.”

”Oh,” Uncle Denki whispered, but she could still hear him from across the room. “That’s awkward.”

She slowly turned her head to see her father’s seventeen year old self looking completely unsurprised, but mostly no emotions at all. She could see maybe a hint of annoyance, though.

Uncle Shota glanced between them.

“Problem?”

“No.”

“No.”

Their answers came simultaneously. 

Himiko adjusted the gloves on her hands as she walked toward the starting area, trying not to think about how ridiculous this situation actually was. Somehow, after surviving a villain attack, getting thrown through time, and becoming the center of attention for an entire school day, she was now expected to fight her own father.

The younger version, anyway. Who still hadn’t properly acknowledged her existence and apparently intended to keep pretending none of this bothered him.

Both of them stepped onto the training field, and the second they did, the atmosphere changed. A few minutes ago, everyone had been joking around and placing bets. Now the class had gathered along the edge of the training grounds, watching with the kind of attention usually reserved for Sports Festival finals. Regardless of how awkward the situation was, everyone, including her, wanted to see it.

Bakugo versus his future daughter.

Neither Himiko herself or her dad looked particularly happy about it.

Uncle Shota raised a hand.

“Begin.”

The instant his hand dropped, her dad moved without any hesitation.

An explosion detonated behind him, propelling him across the training field at a speed that would’ve caught most people off guard. It didn’t catch her off guard, though. The second his shoulders shifted, she already knew what was coming.

She’d watched hours of footage of this. She grew up idolizing both her mom and dad, but she would spend studying her dad’s fighting style and training under him even before she entered U.A. She already knew the way he moved and built momentum. While she wouldn’t have a chance of winning against him, she could have a chance winning against his seventeen year old self. 

So when he came flying toward her, she was already moving. The explosion tore through empty air, and several of his classmates noticed.

“How did she dodge that?”

“She moved before he attacked.”

“No way.”

Her dad clicked his tongue, changing direction immediately. The field filled with smoke and debris as Himiko darted between attacks, closing the distance instead of retreating. She felt a grin stretch across her face. The closer the fight got, the more fun it became.

She was finally able to slip inside his range, and get five fingers to brush his forearm. Just for an instant, but it was enough.

She jumped backward, bringing her fingers together for the first time that fight, and an explosion that wasn’t his came out of nowhere on his arm.

He got sent backward, but quickly recovered using his own explosions. He got up fast, propelling himself directly in front of her.

She barely got her arms up before an explosion almost hit her.

The pressure doubled instantly after that. Explosions came faster and more aggressive. Himiko managed to avoid most of them, but not all.

One clipped her shoulder. Another forced her backward, then the next one’s impact sent her skidding across the ground, and the class winced.

Himiko immediately rolled to her feet, refusing to stay down.

”That’s the first time she couldn’t dodge his attacks,” she heard someone say from the background, but she couldn’t tell who.

For the first time since the fight started, she found herself struggling. She knew his habits and favorite moves and techniques, but knowing them wasn’t the same thing as stopping them.

She knew she wouldn’t get a lot of opportunities to get close to him, and she couldn’t dodge explosions forever. Even though he was her age, he still had a bigger advantage towards her. She needed to think.

Then she got an idea.

It was reckless, and some might say it’s stupid, but she remembered it from old footage she had seen. Not from a textbook or something either of her parents taught her, but from their first Sports Festival. It was a match that still got brought up, and her dad would later tell her it was the most memorable one he’d had. 

She remembered her mother standing across from her father, knowing she couldn’t overpower him or out-explode him, so instead she used the battlefield. 

Himiko’s eyes darted around the battlefield at the broken chunks of concrete and scattered debris. It was risky, because it could hit her too.

Even as her dad lunched towards her, a grin spread across her face again as she barely managed to dodge his attacks. He didn’t seem to notice her touching whatever she could around him and him when she could.

Once she slowly got more and more nauseous, she decided she had gotten enough invisible charges on whatever she could and backed away.

“Running away now?” her dad taunted, still in a stance. But she could tell he was getting tired too.

She shook her head, stepping closer and closer away from him.

”No, dad, but you should.”

His eyes slightly widened in confusion, and she slammed her fingers together.

“Release!”

The battlefield in front of her filled with explosions— plural. Not one, but dozens. Every piece of marked debris erupted, and dust filled the field as she saw him fall.

He disappeared into the battlefield with a cloud of smoke, and she saw several of her aunts and uncles physically jump.

For one brief moment, she thought she won, but then a shadow burst through the dust.

Her dad was somehow still moving, charging against her.

“Oh, come on.”

The words escaped before she could stop them. It was ridiculous.

A smaller explosion erupted from his palm, and the blast caught her center mass and knocked her backward.

She hit the ground, rolled twice, which made things even worse and skidded to a stop.

Uncle Shota glanced at both of them. “Match over.”

As she groaned and pushed herself upright, voices around her which had faded out seemed to fade back in.

“That was insane!”

“She almost got him!”

“That would’ve beaten anybody else!”

“No wonder she’s his daughter.”

Across the field, her dad looked equally exhausted, even if he’d rather die than admit it. Dust covered both of them, and the battlefield around them looked like a warzone.

Himiko brushed dirt from her sleeves as she walked over, and he met her halfway. The class instantly quieted. This was the first time all day they were actually talking. Well, besides that interaction earlier. 

He jerked his head toward the destroyed battlefield. “You copied the Sports Festival.”

Himiko grinned at him.

“You noticed?”

“Of course I noticed,” he scoffed, his eyes narrowing slightly. “Your mom’s old trick.”

Her grin widened. “It almost worked.”

“Not on me,” he crossed his arms. “But it would’ve worked on half these idiots.”

Several classmates immediately protested.

“Hey!”

“Rude!”

Her dad ignored them, and after a second, he smirked.

“Not bad, kid.”

Himiko rolled her eyes immediately. “I’m literally your age right now.”

“You’re still my kid though,” he shrugged.

”Did Bakugo just make a dad joke…?” Uncle Eijiro laughed, walking to them along with everyone else.

“Oh my god, that was such a dad joke!” Aunt Mina laughed, catching up behind them.

“It was not a—“

Her dad didn’t even get to finish his sentence, because she spun around and stumbled several steps away from the group.

The adrenaline that had been carrying Himiko through the fight suddenly vanished all at once. One second she was rolling her eyes at her father, and the next, her stomach dropped and a headache started to overpower her thoughts.

The familiar feeling hit her like a car. She felt the color drain from her face, dropping her knees beside a nearby bush. 

The sound that followed made the entire class collectively recoil.

“Oh.”

“Ohhhh.”

“Okay.”

“Yeah.”

“She’s throwing up.”

“No shit, Dunce Face.”

Several people rushed forward all at the same time.

”Hina!”

“Are you okay?”

“Do you need Recovery Girl?”

As Uncle Deku instinctively crouched down beside her, she saw in the corner of her eye Aunt Momo already creating a box of tissues through her arm, and Uncle Tenya looking even more concerned than Uncle Deku.

“HINA, ARE YOU INJURED?”

“No,” Himiko groaned miserably.

She remained hunched over for another moment before wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

The nausea was already beginning to fade, which meant she was fully aware of how embarrassing this was. She shoved the feeling back down her throat, something she apparently couldn’t do for her stomach acid and breakfast. These guys will change her diapers when she’s born in around ten years, what’s a little vomit to them?

After another minute she finally raised her head up, a little shaky.

“I’m okay, guys,” she insisted.

“You sure, Hina?” Uncle Deku asked.

“Yeah.”

“You’re just like your mom,” Uncle Hanta awkwardly laughed.

A few of the class snapped their heads towards him, reprimanding him. It was true, though. She’d gotten that quirk drawback from her mom.

“Physically too, I might add,” Mineta pointed. “Y’know.”

Nobody knew, until they followed his finger towards Himiko, who was still slightly hunched over the bush.

“Eww!”

“MINETA!”

“Oh my god!”

“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?”

“Dude…”

Both Aunt Kyoka and Mina looked ready to kick him into orbit and her mom, who looked horrified, looked ready to help.

Uncle Shoto looked confused for half a second before understanding, then looked disgusted.

Mineta, meanwhile, seemed very proud of himself.

Right up until an explosion detonated beside his head.

The tiny grape-haired boy screamed, and several students jumped. A small crater appeared where he’d been standing, and Mineta was now lying face-down several feet away, smoking slightly.

The entire class slowly turned and her dad stood there with one hand raised. His expression was murderous. Himiko internally shuddered, recognizing that expression. The last person he’d given that to was her first boyfriend.

“Say something like that again,” he snarled.

The threat hung in the air, and Mineta did not move nor respond.

“He’s dead,” Uncle Denki whispered.

“He’s not dead,” Aunt Kyoka replied. “He might be soon, if he makes another comment to Hina.”

“Anyway,” Uncle Eijiro said, redirecting everyone’s attention. “That was awesome.”

Several people nodded at once.

“No seriously,” Uncle Hanta agreed. “You almost beat him.”

“That’s not exactly a normal achievement,” Aunt Tsu added. “You lasted way longer than most people would’ve, and you had him on the defensive for a while, ribbit.”

“The battlefield setup was really smart,” Aunt Momosaid thoughtfully. “You spent most of the match preparing without making it obvious.”

She looked at her mom, who was smiling.

”You copied me, towards the end.”

“Yeah,” Himiko laughed. “I watched it when I was little.”

Before she could have any heartfelt moment with her mom, Uncle Shota chose that moment to walk to them now. Which meant evaluation was coming, and evaluation meant criticism. The class and her instantly quieted and straightened.

He looked down at his clipboard, then at her. 

“You did well.”

That alone surprised her.

“You adapted quickly,” he said, glancing down at his notes. “Your battlefield awareness was good. You used your surroundings effectively. You understood your opponent’s tendencies and exploited them.”

Several students nodded. That sounded about right.

“You also demonstrated good quirk control,” he added. “Your use of delayed activation made predicting your attacks difficult.”

Himiko tried not to look too pleased, then he sighed, which meant the good part was over.

“However.”

There it was.

“You were reckless.”

Himiko internally groaned.

“You used nearly every resource available to you.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but Uncle Shota continued.

“You exhausted your battlefield setup.”

Her mouth closed again. He wasn’t wrong.

“You detonated almost every charge you had prepared.”

“Because it was cool,” Uncle Denki whispered.

“Quiet.”

He immediately shut up, and Uncle Shota looked back at her.

“If that had been a real villain encounter, what happens next?”

Himiko thought about it for one second. “…Nothing?”

Uncle Shota and the rest of the class stared.

“If that had been a real villain encounter,” he said patiently, “there is no guarantee the fight ends after your final attack.”

Oh. Right.

“The villain could have allies.”

“The villain could get back up.”

“The villain could retreat and attack again later.”

“The villain could be stronger than expected.”

Each point landed harder than the last.

“You used all of your strongest options at once.”

Himiko slowly nodded. She could see where this was going.

“You overworked, and your quirk drawback activated,” he continued. “You became physically compromised immediately after the fight.”

A few students winced. Wow, they really weren’t helping. “If a second threat appeared at that moment, what would’ve happened?”

“…I would’ve been in trouble.”

“You would’ve been helpless.”

The bluntness stung, but it was true.

“Power isn’t just about output,” he told her, his eyes moving briefly toward Bakugo, then back to her. “It’s about sustainability.”

That sounded familiar. Like something her father had told her before.

“You need to learn when to hold resources back.”

Another note on his clipboard.

“Especially because your quirk rewards preparation.”

Himiko nodded. That criticism felt fair. Then he flipped the page, and she wanted to leave already.

“There was another problem,” he stated. “You relied too heavily on prior knowledge.”

That surprised her.

“What?”

Multiple classmates looked confused too.

“You knew how Bakugo fights.”

“Yeah?”

“You expected him to behave the way you remembered.”

She frowned as Uncle Shota pointed toward the battlefield.

“The first half of the match worked because your predictions were accurate,” he said, then he pointed toward the second half. “The second half worked against you because he adapted.”

“Oh.”

“You spent too much time fighting the version of him you already knew.”

She went quiet, because that was actually a really good point. She had heard that past criticism before, from similar people, but never something like this.

“Real opponents change,” he folded his arms. “The moment you assume somebody will continue behaving the same way, you’ve already made a mistake.”

Himiko looked down, nodding once.

“Your future knowledge is an advantage,” he finished “But if you become dependent on it, it becomes a weakness.”

Annoyingly enough, it was probably the most useful advice she’d received all day.

“Alright,” Uncle Shota turned towards the rest of the class. “Uraraka and Jiro next.”

—

Eijiro wasn’t actually very surprised that Uraraka and Bakugo had ended up together.

He knew something weird would happen that weekend, but he didn’t expect meeting his future goddaughters at all. Well, not to make any assumptions, but he’d assume he’s their godparent, because Hina calls him Uncle and he’d label himself as Bakugo’s best friend.

At first, when Hina and Akira were revealed to be from the future, it had felt like one of those absurd situations that Aizawa occasionally dumped on them without warning, something so strange that it almost couldn’t be processed properly until after the fact. 

But as the day went on, and as the class slowly adjusted to the idea that these two kids were literally connected to them in ways none of them could fully wrap their heads around, Eijiro found himself remembering small details he had brushed off earlier.

He did notice that Bakugo had been looking at Uraraka a lot more recently, even before his two kids got warped here. It wasn’t constantly or in a way that was obvious enough for Bakugo himself to notice or admit, but in those quick, almost instinctive glances that lasted a fraction too long to be meaningless. He didn’t really see it as anything at the time, but now, hearing that their future somehow led to kids didn’t shock him as much as it probably should have. It mostly just made him think, yeah… I can kind of see it, actually.

Maybe a year ago, he would’ve been really surprised, but over time he noticed a few things like that.

As for Hina and Akira themselves, Eijiro found that he didn’t really know where to place his thoughts yet, which was unusual for him because he normally liked having a pretty clear read on people. Akira had this temper on her, and that could be placed down as tantrums children have, but he likes to think she got it from Bakugo. Hina was basically like a perfect mix of the two, though. She looked almost exactly like Bakugo, with the same shade of hair and eyes. Her temper wasn’t really snappy like his, but more witty and vicious.

That alone was unsettling, but what stood out more to him was how she carried herself after the fight ended. She wasn’t arrogant about it, not even a little, even though she absolutely could have been. Other than that, they were both pretty awesome.

The common room was louder than usual that evening. It wasn’t by much, but Eijiro noticed it the moment he walked through the door. Normally, after training days, everyone scattered. Some people went straight to their rooms, some studied and some watched TV. Bakugo usually disappeared.  It was rare for the entire class, including him, to gather in one place without being forced to.

Tonight, though, almost everybody was there, which wasn’t really surprising. 

Eijiro stood by the counter, eating some microwavable pizza as a post-dinner snack. Akira was sitting cross-legged on the couch, surrounded by what looked like half the class. She had convinced Tokoyami to let Dark Shadow play with her, which was probably the strangest thing he had seen all day, and considering the day they’d had, that was saying something.

Dark Shadow was currently making little shadow animals on the wall, and Akira was fascinated.

“Again!”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Fine.”

Dark Shadow made another one.

Akira cheered.

Across the room, Hina sat at one of the tables with a textbook open in front of her. He was pretty sure she wasn’t studying, because every few minutes somebody sat down beside her and asked another question, and she slowly realized the way to get people to leave her alone was to pretend to be busy.

Eiiro didn’t know why she couldn’t just go to her room, but he guessed she wouldn’t want to be lonely. It sucks, being transported all the way to the past. He’d hate it and probably freak out.

A sudden shriek pulled him out of his thoughts.

“AKIRA NO.”

Mina lunged across the couch, falling onto the floor with a large ‘thump’ sound. Eijiro watched as Akira ran around the room, Kaminari’s phone in her hands.

“I found pictures!”

“Akira, those are private!”

How were three teenagers unable to catch a running child…?

“Why do you have so many selfies?”

Eijiro watched as the entire room laughed, and then turned his head to Hina again. 

She stood up, her long blonde hair swinging as she walked angrily. Her and Akira’s eyes met, and Hina gave her a look Eijiro recognized from his own mom. 

Akira slowly took a step backward, still clutching Kaminari’s phone.

“Handover the phone.”

“No.”

“Akira.”

The little girl immediately pointed at her, and the words that would leave her mouth probably shocked Eijiro up until she was born in the future.

“Fuck you!”

Everyone in the room went silent. Uraraka sat on the couch, her jaw dropping and beside her, Tsu’s jaw dropped too. Both Kaminari and Mina froze, their eyes locked on her. Even Bakugo looked mildly surprised.

Hina looked absolutely horrified, clearly not expecting it and inhaled deeply. “That’s it, you little shit.”

The room collectively winced, including Eijiro and Akira gasped. Her eyes filled with tears, looking absolutely devastated as her lip wobbled. Uraraka sat up now, close to intervening.

“Uhh, guys, let’s—“ Eijiro started before getting interrupted.

“No no no no,” Hina immediately said. “Don’t cry.”

“You’re mean.”

“I’m trying to stop you from stealing,” Hina sighed tiredly. “Akira, I saved you from villains a few days ago—“

“I hate you.”

“You do not hate me.”

Eijiro looked to the side to see his cutlery floating from the table. Did Uraraka touch it…? No, she was all the way on the couch.

Then a notebook near the coffee table lifted an inch off the floor. Then another. Then the pencil beside it, then a pillow.

The room slowly went quiet, beginning to notice everything.

“Uraraka, are you—“ Mina asked, looking around at the floating objects.

“No…!” Uraraka responded

The objects continued rising. A remote control drifted upward, and a backpack followed. Kaminari’s phone slipped from Akira’s hands, and instead of falling, it floated.

One by one, more objects began lifting into the air.

“What…” Kaminari looked upward, and the ceiling fan remote drifted past his face. “…the hell?”

More objects floated, and half the common room now looked like it had entered outer space.

Nobody moved, until people started started rising too.

“AAAHHHH!”

“KAMINARI’S FLOATING!”

“WHY AM I FLOATING?!”

A chair drifted upward, and a second chair followed, then the coffee table once all the objects were off it.

Mina grabbed the couch in fear as she started to float as well.

“What the hell is happening!?” Bakugo said, clearly irritated now as he started to lift off the ground.

“Akira’s getting her quirk!” Hina gasped, running towards her before she started to float as well.

Todoroki watched in interest, clinging onto the bottom of the floor to avoid going up to the ceiling.

As Eijiro started to float too, Midoriya had started to grab everyone using blackwhip.

Uraraka was staring at Akira, completely frozen. The look on her face was unmistakable. Eijiro saw recognition flash across her face.

Tsuyu pointed. “She has your quirk, Ochako.”

“Not exactly,” Uraraka whispered.

That was true. This wasn’t Zero Gravity, not quite. The entire room was floating, even though Akira hadn’t touched anyone. Everything in the area around her floated.

“Akira,” Hina said, using a small explosion to go towards her. “Release us, please.”

Akira blinked through her tears. “I can’t!”

Eijiro watched Uraraka make her way towards Akira, a calm smile on her face.

“Yes, you can,” she said. “Just put your hands together like this, and say ‘release!’”

She put her fingertips together, and Akira watched and slowly shook her head.

“Everyone will fall,” she argued.

“No, Uncle Deku has everyone and will make sure they won’t fall, see?”

As Akira nodded, he saw Bakugo gesture wildly to Midoriya under blackwhip’s hold.

“Izuku, the TV, you dipshit!” he hissed, clearly not trying to interrupt Uraraka.

“Ah, right!” Midoriya whisper-yelled, grabbing the floating TV with blackwhip. “Sorry, Kacchan!”

“Okay,” Akira exhaled softly, bringing her fingertips together. “Release.”

And with that, gravity returned to them.

The effect was immediate, everything that had been floating began dropping to the floor at once. Fortunately, Midoriya anticipated this happening and the tendrils slowly lowered everyone (and the TV) down onto the floor before they could fall awkwardly or slam into furniture.

“Thank you, Midoriya!”

“Thanks, Deku!”

“No problem, guys!” Midoriya laughed nervously. “Is everyone okay?”

The objects nearby weren’t as lucky. Eijiro stared in horror at the broken plate on the floor, shattered glass around his pizza.

“My phone!” Kaminari wailed, diving across the room. 

His phone sat in the middle of the phone, absolutely demolished now. The screen looked like a spiderweb and the case had popped off completely.

“He was so young!” Kaminari dramatically dropped to his knees as both Eijiro and Mina burst into laughter.

“Kaminari, it’s a phone.”

“I had photos…”

“Of yourself?” Jiro quipped, covering her mouth with her hands as she giggled.

Across the room, Akira still looked upset. The crying had stopped entirely, but now she looked like she was moments away from starting again. Her eyes moved from the broken phone to Kaminari.

“I broke Uncle Denki,” Akira pouted, her lip wobbling

“It’s okay, Akira, I needed a new one anyway…” Kaminari laughed, trying to reassure her

Akira, meanwhile, looked completely serious. She suddenly turned and buried her face directly into Uraraka’s stomach, wrapping both arms around her.

“Sorry,” the little girl mumbled into her shirt. Eijiro watched Uraraka’s expression soften almost instantly.

She crouched down, one hand moving to the back of Akira’s head. The gesture looked instinctive in a way. “It’s okay.”

Akira shook her head. “I broke stuff.”

“It’s okay.”

Eijiro glanced around the room, his gaze moving to Bakugo now, who hadn’t said a word since he got back to the floor. He was watching Uraraka specifically, and he had known Bakugo long enough to recognize when he was paying attention to something important.

Most people wouldn’t have noticed it. The expression was too subtle, but Eijiro did. Bakugo wasn’t looking at them the way he usually looked at people.

He wasn’t annoyed or judging this time, he was just… watching.

Hina hovered nearby Uraraka and Akira like an exhausted older sister, and the image looked strangely complete. Like a family photograph somebody had accidentally taken years too early. The thought made Eijiro blink.

Despite how insane the entire situation was, despite the time travel and the future kids and the floating dorm furniture, Eijiro found himself realizing something. They all naturally seemed to fit together, and the idea of Uraraka and Bakugo started to make more and more sense. Judging by the look on Bakugo’s face before he quickly glanced away and clicked his tongue, he had probably realized that too.

—

Tsuyu had never disliked Bakugo in the way some of their classmates had at the start. At least, not exactly. She had found him exhausting, loud and needlessly aggressive. During their first year, she probably would've ranked him near the bottom of the list of people she'd voluntarily spend time with.

That wasn't particularly unique, though. Almost all of the class would've, probably with the exceptions of Midoriya, Kirishima, Kaminari and a few others. Bakugo had a talent for making himself difficult to like.

Over time, however, she'd come to respect him along with everyone else. Especially after the war, but Tsu likes to believe it was once she apologized to Midoriya.

Even though he was still rude and still yelled and acted like every conversation was somehow a competition, he'd also changed in ways that mattered.

He listened now and learned to take accountability. Tsu learned that he really did care about people, even if he expressed it in the worst possible ways. And most importantly, he'd become reliable.

When things became serious, Bakugo was always someone she trusted to do the right thing, even if he'd complain the entire time or didn’t want to. He treated everyone the same and never mansplained or treated girls like they were below him— Well, he treated everyone like they were below him, but he made it equal.

Which was probably why the future children surprised her less than they seemed to surprise everyone else. Not because she'd expected it— She definitely hadn't. If someone had asked her last week who Bakugo would eventually marry, she probably would've stared at them for several seconds before admitting she had absolutely no idea. But now that she knew? Now that she'd spent the whole day watching Hina and Akira? She started understanding it more than she'd expected.

Ochako balanced him, and he balanced her. That was probably the simplest way to describe it.

Bakugo pushed, Ochako pulled. Bakugo charged forward, Ochako stopped to think. Bakugo bottles up his emotions and hides them through confidence and angry yelling, Ochako bottles up her emotions and hides them through smiles and hard work. Both of them need someone who would push them to their best, and they would do just that for each other. Neither of them were weak and neither of them needed saving, but together they somehow covered each other's blind spots.

The more Tsuyu thought about it, the more natural it felt. Beside her, Ochako was still crouched next to Akira, who remained firmly attached to her side after the quirk incident.

The little girl looked perfectly content now, as if she hadn't accidentally turned the entire common room into a zero-gravity disaster ten minutes ago.

The rest of the class had recovered surprisingly quickly. Mostly because they were all too fascinated by the new information.

"So your sister got her quirk today? This has never happened before?" Kaminari asked, his broken phone resting beside him like a fallen soldier.

Hims nodded. "Uh-huh."

"That's cool."

"It's terrifying," Iida corrected.

"It can be both,” Mina added.

"Fair point."

Across the room, Midoriya had already pulled out a notebook. Nobody knew where he kept getting them.

"So her quirk affects an entire area instead of individual targets..."

He was muttering now, and Tsuyu could practically see Hina preparing herself for the incoming interrogation.

Unfortunately, she was right. Midoriya looked up.

"What about your brother?"

"Oh yeah," Hina said. "My brother."

"What quirk does he have?" Midoriya asked.

Hina hesitated.

"Why are you making that face?" Todoroki asked her.

"Every time I answer one question, you people ask twenty more."

"That’s true," Bakugo added. “You all hound her like a bunch of vultures, like she’s interesting.”

“She is interesting,” Kirishima said. “She’s your daughter, Bakugo.”

"That's how conversations work, though,” Todoroki shrugged.

Hina dramatically let out a long sigh, pointing at her palms.

"He can create explosions."

Tsu nodded. Makes sense. 

"But not like Dad,” she said.

"Oh?"

Hina held her hands out in front of her, like Iron Man aiming a laser blast. Tsu had binged all the movies in her free time with Ochako, so she was a pretty big fan too.

"He compresses explosive energy into a single point."

Tsuyu immediately sat up straighter, interested. Her classmates around her did too.

"It comes out of his palms."

"Ohh,” Kaminari said.

Understanding spread through the room.

Hina nodded.

"Like combustion man,” Kaminari said, earning silence from the room. “You know, those old Avatar cartoons?"

Everyone still stayed silent, and Tsuyu had no idea who he was talking about.

“The one with Zuko?” Kaminari tried. “The one who looks like Todoroki?”

The room collectively nodded.

“Ohh.”

“Oh yeah, that show!”

“Yeah, yeah, Combustion Man!” Hina pointed. "Basically that."

"That’s so cool!"

"He fires concentrated explosions instead of creating blasts around himself," Hina explained. "They're smaller, but way more focused."

She made a motion with her hand. "Imagine a giant explosive beam."

The conversation quickly dissolved into everybody beginning to argue about which of the three siblings had inherited the strongest quirk. Tsuyu didn’t join, only watching things unfold.

“Uncle Shoto—“ Hina said before stopping herself, because he blinked in surprise. “Oh— sorry. I didn’t really ask if I could call you guys that, huh? I guess I’m just used to it.”

She nervously laughed, and Todoroki smiled calmly.

“It’s alright, Hina, I was just startled,” he said. “We all call you by your first name, anyway.”

Tsuyu saw a hint of guilt flash across her face, and it seemed like she was the only one who noticed it, so she didn’t say anything.

“…Yeah,” Hina nodded, looking away.

Meanwhile, Akira had somehow fallen asleep leaning against Ochako's side. Probably exhaustion from using her quirk for the first time. Nobody noticed at first, except Tsuyu. And Bakugo, apparently.

She caught him looking over. Just once. He wasn’t really staring, but at the same time, he was.

His gaze lingered on the sleeping little girl for a second, then shifted to Ochako. Tsuyu could’ve sworn she saw his eyes soften for a little before he looked away.

By the time the common room had finally emptied out, Tsuyu was exhausted. The day had felt about three times longer than normal.

Between meeting Hina and Akira, everybody freaking out about Bakugo and Ochako, the long battles, Akira getting her quirk, and the near destruction of the common room, she was surprised Aizawa hadn't simply expelled any of them.

Now, however, things were quiet and peaceful. The television had been turned off, the lights were dimmed and most of the class had already gone upstairs to bed.

Only four people remained.

Tsuyu, Ochako, Hina and Akira.

Hina sat curled up on one of the couches, looking far more relaxed than she had earlier.

Ochako sat nearby with Akira sleeping in her lap. Tsuyu watched as she gently stroked her hair.

The three of them had mostly been talking about random things for the last hour. Nothing important, just regular conversation.

Tsuyu watched Hina for a moment. The more time she spent around her, the more she understood why Akira followed her around everywhere.Hina acted annoyed constantly, but spent most of her time taking care of everybody around her.

It reminded Tsuyu of somebody. Several somebodies, actually. Eventually a thought occurred to her.

"Hina."

The blonde girl looked up. "Hm?"

Tsuyu tilted her head. "Who are your godparents, ribbit?"

Hina looked genuinely surprised. "That's such a random question."

"It is."

"I was wondering too!" Ochako immediately said.

Tsuyu glanced at her.

"You don't know?"

"Well, not specifically."

Hina laughed.

"Mom, you literally picked them."

"Future me picked them."

"Same person."

"I don't know about that."

Hina rolled her eyes, then leaned back into the couch. "Well..."

She paused.

"My brother's situation was kind of weird."

Ochako leaned forward, carefully though, to not wake up her smaller daughter.

"My brother wasn't exactly planned."

Ochako made a choking noise. 

Hina continued talking, either having not heard hee or chose to ignore her. Tsuyu believes it was the latter

"He happened pretty early compared to me and Akira."

Ochako's face immediately turned bright red. "Hina."

"Hm?"

"We don't need to discuss this."

"I'm not discussing anything."

"You literally just—"

"I'm giving context,” Hina said, and both of them watched Ochako sink lower into the couch. "Anyway, nobody was really prepared when he showed up."

Ochako completely covered her face. "Please stop saying it like that."

Hina blinked, then shrugged.

"So his godparents ended up being people that you and dad were sure to trust."

Tsuyu found herself curious now. "Who?"

"Grandma Inko," she started.

That made sense.

"All Might,” she added.

Also made sense.

"And Uncle Shota."

Tsuyu nodded. That definitely sounded like something their homeroom teacher would begrudgingly agree to and regret forever afterward.

"And for me,” Hina continued. “You're one of them."

Tsuyu didn't know what to say. "Me?"

Ochako smiled. "Future us apparently thought so."

Hina nodded.

"So it’s you, Uncle Eijiro, and Uncle Izuku."

The three names together actually made a surprising amount of sense. All three of them were either close to Bakugo and Uraraka, or in Midoriya’s case, both of them.

Tsuyu sat quietly for a moment, trying to imagine it. Years from now, she would be Hina's godparent. It felt strange. Not unpleasant, but strange in a good way..

Tsuyu suspected she was imagining the future, like she was. Hina seemed to notice too.

"What about Akira?" Ochako whispered, a little quieter now, making sure to not wake her up.

Hina shrugged. "Actually, I don't know all of hers, but I know two."

Tsuyu waited.

"Uncle Shoto."

That made sense. Todoroki was probably one of the safest people to ask.

"And Eri."

Tsuyu smiled, imagining a tiny Eri they had rescued old, being someone’s godparent.

"Eri?" Ochako asked.

Hina nodded.

"Akira loves her,” she said. "They're really close. Even right now, even thought they're the same age, Akira doesn’t even realize it but she loves her.”

After that, the room shifted into silence which lasted for several minutes. Occasionally, they would bring random topics up, but Tsuyu was perfectly content sitting there. Ochako seemed to be as well, having gone back to observing her smaller daughter, head on her lap.

Hina, meanwhile, had become strangely quiet. At first Tsuyu didn’t think much of it, she chalked it off to her being tired. The girl had spent the entire day being interrogated by nearly everyone she met, eventually anybody would run out of energy.

But then she noticed something. Hina wasn’t relaxed. She was clearly nervous. She kept tapping her fingers against her leg, stopping and then starting again. She’d open her mouth like she’d want to say something, then close it like she changed her mind.

Ochako noticed too.

“Hina?”

Hina looked up, taken away from whatever her mind had drifted off to. “Hm?”

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” she said quickly. A second later, she sighed. “No.”

Both Ochako and Tsuyu waited. Hina stared down at her hands. Now, she looked less like the confident future hero everyone had met and more like a teenager trying to figure out how to explain something awkward.

“There is something I should probably tell you.”

Both girls waited.

Hina winced. “Nothing bad, not really.”

Tsuyu remained silent.

“So, ” Hina began. “My name isn’t actually Hina.”

“Your name isn’t Hina?” Ochako asked, raising a brow.

“No.”

“You’ve been lying to everyone?”

“A little,” she sighed. “I felt bad, well, it’s a nickname, but none of you guys will call me that in the future.”

Tsuyu wracked her brain for why she would lie, considering the circumstances. She couldn’t think of anything, but she was sure Hina had a good reason to.

“Does Aizawa-sensei know?”

Hina nodded. “Yeah, I told him eventually. No one else here knows, though.”

“He didn’t tell anyone?”

“He said it wasn’t his business.”

That sounded exactly like their teacher.

“So what’s your real name?”

“Okay, don’t make a big deal out of it,” she said, running a hand through her hair.

Both Tsuyu and Ochako nodded. Tsuyu had no idea where this was going, but Ochako had this look on her face that made her feel like she knew, or at the very least had a slight idea of what it was.

“My name is Himiko,” Hina— or Himiko, admitted. “Only a few of my friends actually call me Hina, and all of you usually call me Himiko.”

“I first lied to Uncle Deku and Uncle Shota about it when I got here, because I thought revealing who my parents were might mess up the timeline,” she continued. “But the quirk doesn’t work like that. I don’t know why I continued to lie to you guys.”

Tsuyu nodded, turning to Ochako. Tsuyu had her varied thoughts about Himiko Toga, but she had no doubt in her mind that Ochako had some sort of love for her. 

She watched her face morph into understanding and recognition, not really any hint of shock but something else Tsuyu couldn’t place her finger on.

“Oh,” Ochako whispered, the single syllable coming out so quietly Tsuyu almost didn’t hear it. “You’re named after her.”

Hina smiled softly, not her usual, very familiar, sarcastic smile that Tsuyu had seen on Bakugo hundreds of times, but a much fonder smile that was familiar in a different way. She’d seen that same smile on Ochako hundreds of times.

Hina shifted slightly on the couch. “When I was little, I used to think she was one of your classmates.”

That got her a small laugh from Ochako.

“Then, I got older and realized most people don’t tell bedtime stories about former villains. But what I did notice is how you and Dad would tell different stories.”

“How so?” Ochko asked.

“Well, Dad told the story with more emphasis on his wife’s amazing quirk awakening,” Hina slightly laughed as Ochako made a small flustered sound, turning red. “But you told the story with emphasis on Toga, how she was misunderstood.”

Tsuyu stayed silent, watching Ochako’s expression soften.

“That sounds like something I’d say,” she smiled sadly, looking down at Akira, still on her lap.

“That’s probably why I’m not completely like Dad,” she said, shrugging. 

Tsuyu was about to retort that she was basically a female version of Bakugo, all the way down to appearance and fighting style, but she stopped herself, because that wasn’t completely true. Hina had this hint of kindness, not that Bakugo wasn’t kind, but Hina had her clear differences from him.

“Dad taught me a lot of things,” Himiko continued. “How to fight. How to stand my ground. How not to care what people think. How to keep moving even when things suck.”

There was obvious affection in her voice, and Tsuyu felt this weird pride for both of her classmates that they were both able to raise a caring and, well, badass girl. Just like them.

“But because of Toga, because of the stories you told me about her…” She glanced at Ochako. “You taught me something different.”

Both of them remained silent, and Himiko smiled.

“You taught me how important it is to understand people,” she said. “Not agree with them. Not excuse them. Just… understand them.”

Growing up, every time someone did something stupid or selfish or hurt somebody, you always asked why first,” she smiled. “It was kind of annoying, actually. You constantly overused the phrase ‘Put yourself in their shoes.’”

Ochako laughed, slightly scoffing. “Now I know to annoy you extra when you’re born.”

Hina laughed before her eyes drifted toward the sleeping Akira on Ochako’s lap, then back up to her.

“I think naming me after her made sure I never forgot that, though,” she told her. “To always consider how people grow up, how their environment affects them and why they do what they do.”

Tsuyu watched Ochako genuinely smile and say something about Bakugo, but she didn’t really process it. She thought about her future goddaughter and what the future had in store for her.

No, she hadn't expected any of this. But looking at Ochako and her daughters now, it made sense.

—

It had been a long damn week for Ochako.

And she didn’t usually swear, so that said something.

It had started with Deku being sent out to buy snacks. That was it, it was supposed to be a completely normal Saturday with a movie night and maybe board games. But as everyone hung around in the dorms waiting for him to come back with food, he’d returned about an hour later with a teenager and small child instead.

One had blonde hair and one brown, but both were red-eyed and looked vaguely familiar.

Her classmates were posted up against the window, calling for everyone else to come look. At the time, she hadn’t thought much of it. Well, she had thought something of it. It was pretty weird, and no one seemed to notice that the two girls looked weirdly similar to Bakugo. Ochako didn’t say anything about it, though. She’d just observe for now.

Since Deku and Bakugo had known each other since they were little, she’d assumed Deku had just ran into Bakugo’s cousins or something and already knew them. She hadn’t really thought that hard about it until Deku came back empty handed and acting so suspiciously that everyone became more interested in him than the girls.

Every question they asked him had been met with a nervous laugh, and every attempt to get information out of him failed, even from Mina. And Mina was the gossip queen— if she wanted to get something out of you, she would.

By Sunday evening, half the class had become convinced he had a secret girlfriend, and the other half he was hiding a witness in some kind of villain investigation. Todoroki, for some reason, thought the child was his secret kid. It was dismissed immediately, because that would’ve been at least three years ago. No way he got into U.A. and fought a war with a whole child, especially considering the girl’s age.

None of their theories had been correct, including Ochako’s about the two being Bakugo’s cousins and/or Deku’s old family friend. Monday morning arrived, and their teacher walked into class with the mystery girl— about their age, she had observed— and the mystery child following behind him. 

The older girl had a U.A. uniform instead of the black tank top and sweatpants she had when she saw Deku and her outside the window. Her black eye was almost gone and it seemed like her cut on her arm was too, and she looked much less distressed compared to when Ochako first saw her.

Both girls’ resemblance to Bakugo had been even stronger up close, which was exactly why her first thought was still that they were definitely cousins or relatives of some sort.

Then Aizawa started talking, saying how they were in the future and how the father was in this class right now, and their names were Hina and Akira. While the cousin theory died a violent death, a new theory of hers was reborn, that they were Bakugo’s daughters even though not explicitly said by their homeroom teacher.

She stared at Bakugo, who was quietly observing the two girls, not seeming to realize they were his kids yet, then at the blonde girl, then the smaller child, and finally at Iida, sitting in front of her.

“Those are one hundred percent Bakugo’s daughters,” she whispered to him, leaning forward towards his desk. 

“Uraraka,” he whispered back sharply, adjusting his glasses. “You should not make assumptions based solely on appearance.”

”Iida, look at them, and look at Bakugo.”

He did as he was told, glancing toward Bakugo and then back toward the girls.

”While I must admit there is a resemblance,” he whispered. “It is not for sure confirmed.”

Ochako took that as a victory, and before she could continue, the classroom door slid open. Mirio entered, a smile on his face like always.

Everything happened pretty quickly after that. Mirio crouched down and Akira refused to go with him, he tried again and she refused even more, then started crying. 

She shouted that she wanted to stay with her mama and papa, and before she could process what that meant, the child ran toward her.

Ochako didn’t even register what was happening as something small clung to her leg. Mama and Papa? So both parents were in this class? So—

“Mama!”

Ochako looked down, the realization of who the mother really was she almost floated out her chair and onto the ceiling.

She couldn’t really decipher what words came out of her mouth, because all her thoughts came out incoherent and jumbled together. She felt heat rise all the way to her ears, and she looked around as the rest of her classmates realized it as well.

Things got worse as Ochako was trying to process the fact that she apparently had children in the future— two children, with Bakugo, everyone else started asking her questions as Aizawa went to sleep without a care.

Bakugo, meanwhile, had no idea what was happening even as Kirishima threw the answer right in front of his face as Hina explained her quirk.

Then came the fact that the two girls had an older brother, so she had three kids with him. Three kids. That’s at least three times they—

She shoved the thought out of existence, and as attention started to focus on Bakugo still clearly not even realizing they had children together, she couldn’t really process what was happening. Her thoughts, which were flying around her brain were interrupted by a voice shouting from the other side of the room.

”That you fucked Uraraka and she popped out three kids, obviously.”

Hina looked just as horrified as she felt, Iida immediately stood up from his chair and started loudly reprimanding Mineta, and Bakugo had finally figured it out.

Looking back now, days later, sitting quietly in the dorms while everyone slept upstairs, Ochako could still remember the exact expression on his face when the realization finally hit him. 

That entire week only became more ridiculous from there. After the shock wore off, after the explanations ended, after Ochako got to know Hina and Akira and accept that they were really real, she had been left with a much bigger problem.

Bakugo hadn’t even looked at her, which annoyed her so much. Were things embarrassing and weird between them the whole week the second Akira announced it to the entire classroom? Yes, absolutely.

But after the initial shock wore off, after she had a few days to get to know Akira and Hina and think about everything, what surprised Ochako the most was that it didn’t feel impossible. It was one-hundred percent unexpected, but not really impossible.

The thing was, if someone had asked first-year Ochako if she would someday marry Katsuki Bakugo, she probably would’ve laughed and she would’ve assumed they were making fun of her. Back then, Bakugo was loud and angry and impossible to talk to, and she’d spent most of her time either being intimidated by him or trying to stop him from yelling at people. If somebody had told her that one day she’d apparently have three children with him, she would’ve asked if they’d gotten hit in the head.

But she wasn’t in her first year anymore. Somewhere between then and now, things had changed. She hadn’t noticed it at the time because it had been gradual, but looking back now it seemed like such a big change. She couldn’t even pinpoint when exactly she started seeing him differently. 

Maybe after the war, or maybe before that. Maybe during one of the countless fights against villains where she’d watched him throw himself directly into danger without hesitation, or maybe when she realized that despite how much he complained, he was always one of the first people moving when somebody needed help. 

Whatever the reason, admiration had come first. That part she was sure of.

It wasn’t the same kind of bright and inspiring admiration she felt for Deku during their first year that made her want to become better. 

She’d looked at him and seen somebody she wanted to emulate, but Bakugo wasn’t like that. When she looked at Bakugo, she didn’t think about becoming more like him.

Ochako actually wasn’t sure anybody could survive becoming more like him and go through the things he went through. He had literally died and came back to life.

What she admired, though, was his certainty and confidence. She admired the way he refused to stay down and how he never seemed to doubt himself even when the world was falling apart around him.

There was something magnetic about it.

Because of that, she’d noticed herself paying attention to him more than she used to. Not intentionally, if she could stop it she would, but then she found herself noticing when he entered a room or when he wasn’t there. She’d notice when he was having a particularly bad day, or when he was in one of his rare good moods.

She’d started recognizing the subtle differences that most people missed. The difference between genuinely angry Bakugo and mildly annoyed Bakugo. The difference between a real insult and whatever strange form of affection he showed his friends. The difference between when he was yelling because he was frustrated and when he was yelling simply because he enjoyed yelling.

The realization that she’d developed a tiny crush on him had been mortifying. One day, she caught herself looking at him during training and just knew. She also knew that Bakugo had no interest in her.

It was inconvenient. Not him having no interest in her, Ochako could live with that, but that she had a crush on him. It was inconvenient. She was trying to become a hero and the entire country was recovering from a war, people had actual problems, and so did he. She did not have time to be developing a crush on anyone.

The second time she’d realized it was during one of the girls’ conversations in the dorms. They were all in Tsu’s room, and Mina had turned their discussion into which boys in their class was the most attractive.

Most of the answers had been predictable. Constantly Todoroki, and a little bit of Deku and Kirishima. Ochako made sure to stay silent during the discussion, even when Bakugo’s name was brought up.

”He’s attractive until he opens his mouth,” Jiro had said, and everybody agreed.

Except her, but she didn’t say anything because admitting it would’ve been pretty humiliating. 

She found his confidence attractive, and actually really handsome. 

She had planned to stuff that feeling down and not let anyone know about her feelings, until the fact was revealed that she had three children with him in the future. And there was even proof. Three. The number still made her feel dizzy.

Even as she got to know Hina, her resemblance to Bakugo became more and more obvious and harder to ignore. Even though she rolled her eyes and complained about him constantly, there was clear affection and especially trust. Complete trust in him, the kind that existed only when somebody had spent years proving it.

Whatever happened in the future, whatever path led them there, Hina and Akira had never once doubted that their father would protect the, and it was clear that Ochako would have that trust for him in the future, too.

So why wasn’t he talking to her or even acknowledging her? He spent the past few days avoiding her like this whole ordeal was somehow her fault, and she was starting to get annoyed.

Ochako huffed in annoyance, grabbing her phone from the coffee table as she plopped down onto the couch.

”Uraraka?” Deku asked, looking back from something he was grabbing from the pantry. “You okay?”

“Oh,” she said, blinking in surprise. “Uh, yeah, sorry! Just thinking, you know. This week’s been pretty crazy.”

That was all true. It had only been Wednesday and the week has been chaotic, and not in the way it usually was.

Todoroki nodded, filling his water bottle from the dispenser. Everyone was still washing up or just having their alone time after class, so it was just the three of them in the common room.

Before Deku could say anything, Hina (or Himiko) walked into the common room with a towel draped over her head.

She looked around, frowning.

 “Have you guys seen Akira?” she asked.

All three of them looked up. Todoroki shook his head, and Ochako sat up straighter.

”No?” Deku answered.

“Why?”

Hina pulled the towel off her head, still frowning. “She told me she was going to the common room, then I started showering.”

She glanced around again. “That was like, forty minutes ago. You guys haven’t seen her at all?”

Deku frowned, shaking his head. 

“Okay, now I’m worried,” Hina said, running a hand down her face.

Now they were all concerned. Akira wandering off wasn’t really a huge problem, but considering how the villains could be after the two girls, it might be.

Todoroki stood up, immediately taking action. He set his water bottle down on the table, walking towards the elevator.

”I’ll check downstairs,” he said.

”I’ll check outside,” Deku added, the two boys already heading towards the elevator.

”Mom, you go ask dad,” Hina said. “I’ll go ask Uncle Eijiro.”

”What?” Ochako sputtered, shaking her head. “Why me?”

”Because, everybody else is already looking,” Hina countered, already walking towards the stairs. “Plus, it’s weird not even seeing you talk to dad at all. It would be nice for you two to even interact.”

”We don’t— He’s the one—“ Ochako tried to argue before sighing in defeat.

”There’s like a seventy percent chance she’s with him if not downstairs,” Hina added, already running up the stairs. “See ya!”

Before she could come up with an excuse or tell Hina that they can switch, she was already gone and left her standing there alone.

”…Great.”

Ochako stood in front of Bakugo’s dorm room, wondering if she should just text and ask if they found Akira yet so she could avoid this interaction. She wasn’t even sure why, nothing had happened and it wasn’t like they were avoiding each other.

Well, maybe a little.

Ochako sighed before knocking.

A few seconds passed before she heard his voice on the other side.

”Come in.”

His voice sounded completely normal, and that made her feel even more nervous.

“Hey, it’s me,” she said, opening the door. “Have you seen—“

She stopped mid-step at what she saw.

There was Akira, asleep and curled up on the side of his bed, head on her lap. Bakugo stood there, looking completely unbothered as he sat against the headboard of his bed, his phone in one hand.

”Don’t start,” he sighed.

She laughed, her eyes drifting back toward Akira. The blanket covering her was tucked perfectly around her shoulders, like it was done carefully. It was the kind of careful that a four year old couldn’t do herself, that was for sure.

”Huh,” Ochako said, narrowing her eyes. “How’d she even get here? She told Hina she was going to the common room.”

”Shitty Hair brought her here,” he shrugged. “He said she wanted to see me or some shit, and just left. Then she fell asleep.”

His expression suggested that this was the most annoying thing that had ever happened to him, and that says something, because he’s literally been kidnapped before. But looking at the blanket, Akira certainly hadn’t fallen asleep tucked in like that.

”Everyone’s looking for her, you know.”

“That’s not my problem.”

“It kind of is,” Ochako argued back. “She’s your kid.”

“Our kid,” he shot back. That was the first time he’d acknoledged the whole thing to her.

She blinked in surprise before making a quick recovery. “You could’ve told Hina, ‘yknow.”

”Dont go nagging me, Cheeks,” he sighed dramatically. “We aren’t even together yet.”

For that statement, Ochako didn’t recover very quickly this time. His room all of a sudden felt really warm, and Bakugo’s eyes widened very slightly. No one else would’ve noticed, but she did.

”…Yet?”

He glared at her like she was the one who just said that, then shrugged and looked away towards Akira, who still remained blissfully asleep through their whole conversation.

Ochako stared at him, and neither of them said anything. She smiled and turned back towards the door so he wouldn’t see it, even though he wasn’t even looking at her.

“I should tell Hina we found her,” she said.

Bakugo grunted, which she took as agreement. As she stepped into the hallway, she glanced back one more time. He was still looking down at Akira, expression unreadable.

When the class realized Himiko and Akira were going back to their timeline soon, it had been the next day, on Thursday during their Foundational Hero Studies. Aizawa had left them to do work, but most of them had already finished early.

“Hina, you look kinda transparent today,” Kaminari noted.

”Huh,” Ojiro murmured. “Kinda like Hagakure when we saw her…”

“Can’t we forget about that?” she groaned. “But you do, Hina. What’s happening?”

Hina’s brows furrowed, looking down at her hands. “I guess that means I’m going back to my time.”

Her eyes widened, and her head snapped to Aizawa.

”Wait, Uncle Shota, when we get back, does that mean we’ll automatically go back to where we were?” she asked. “I was running from villains when we got here.”

Aizawa sat up in his sleeping bag, shaking his head. “Tsukauchi said the quirk doesn’t return people to the exact location they occupied. It returns them to the nearest safe location.”

“Oh.”

”Victims have never reappeared in moving vehicles, collapsing buildings, or in your case, active combat situations.”

Ochako put a finger to her chin. That would actually be a perfect rescue quirk if used properly. She thought about what that villain went through to use his quirk like that. But at least her daughters would return safe.

”Aizawa-sensei” Mina gasped dramatically. “Can we have Akira here before she leaves?”

”No,” Aizawa deadpanned at her. “She’s with Mirio and Eri—“

”But we won’t see her for another thirty-ish years,” Mina sighed. “Let her see her parents, pretty please?”

Ochako for sure thought he would say no, but maybe he grew fond of them sometime after the war, because his eye twitched, and he concluded with an annoyed, “Fine.”

And with that, a call was made to Mirio, and Akira was brought to them within ten minutes. Once the classroom door opened, Akira spotted Ochako right away.

“Mama!”

The entire class smiled as she sprinted across the room, and Ochako barely had enough time to brace herself before a small child collided with her legs. Beside the doorway, Eri waved shyly as the class waved back.

The two girls looked surprisingly upset to be separated despite only knowing each other for a few days. Eventually, Aizawa forced the class to stop treating the situation like a farewell party.

He had everyone go to training, ignoring half her classmates’ complaints. They arrived at Ground Gamma, and the class changed into their costumes. Hina had been loaned training gear by U.A. since her own costume obviously didn’t exist in this timeline. Akira and Eri sat together on a viewing platform chatting with Mirio, and everything felt normal.

The exercises started and pairs were called, but every once in a while, Ochako would glance at her daughters. Every time she did, they seemed a little more transparent. Ochako couldn’t help but get emotional, even though she only technically knew them for a few days.

The joking slowly stopped and the atmosphere changed, and eventually it was clear that Hina and Akira would be brought back within the next twenty minutes.

Eventually, Aizawa called for a break, and the class gathered together, along with Akira and Eri to say goodbye.

”Himik— Hina?” Akira looked up at Himiko’s fading arms, then down at her own.

”It’s okay, Akira, you can call me Himiko now,” Hina laughed, but Ochako could tell she was sad about going back.

”She can call you what?” Jiro raised an eyebrow at the familiar name.

”My real name isnt Hina,” she explained. “It’s Himiko. I told you guys Hina to make things more simple.”

She watched Bakugo’s eyes narrow, but he didn’t say anything. Ochako wondered how he felt about his first daughter being named after a villain who kidnapped him, but he knew how much Himiko Toga meant to her. She wondered if he carried any resentment by it or if he understood. That was a discussion for the future.

Akira’s eyes filled with tears, and Hina quickly knelt down to comfort her. 

“Hey, it’s okay.”

“I don’t wanna go.”

Hina laughed weakly. “That’s too bad.”

One by one, the class began approaching. 

Kirishima was first. He grinned, pulling Hina into a side hug.

“You’re pretty badass, kid.”

“Thanks, Uncle Eijiro,” she said, rolling her eyes. But she was smiling

Mina tackled her next, wiping at her eyes. “Give future me a hug when you see me, okay?”

Everyone each gave a heartfelt goodbye, even Todoroki. Deku was one of the last, and he was clearly trying very hard not to start crying.

Beside them, Bakugo quietly crouched down in front of Akira, waiting for her to finish her hug with Eri.

She held her arms up and without any hesitation at all, he picked her up.

Akira buried her face into his shoulder.

“I don’t wanna leave.”

“I know,” he answered, and it was the gentlest she’d ever heard from him. 

He turned towards Hina, who was grinning.

“See ya, old man.”

“Shut up, brat.” Bakugo scoffed as several of their classmates laughed, and she smiled wider.

Hina hugged him, and Ochako watched him freeze, only for a second before one hand awkwardly landed on top of her head.

”Be safe,” he said. The words came out rough, and if she’d only heard the tone, Ochako would’ve assumed he was saying an insult.

Himiko pulled back. “Always.”

She turned to Ochako after, and everything around her seemed to disappear.

”Thank you, mom,” she muttered, pulling her into a hug.

“For what?”

“For everything,” she answered.

Ochako smiled, thinking about the thirty years worth of memories she didn’t even have yet. But Himiko and Akira had a few. She couldn’t wait to experience everything.

When they pulled apart, Ochako turned to Akira, who was patiently waiting for her turn. By then, she was almost transparent. Both of them were.

”I’ll miss you, mom,” Akira sniffled, burying her face into her shoulder. 

“You’ll see me soon, Akira,” Ochako laughed. “But I’ll miss you too.”

Ochako put her down, and she ran to her older sister, holding her hand.

”See you later,” Hina said confidently, smiling at the very emotional class 2-A. It wouldn’t be a goodbye, but it sure did feel like it.

Both Kirishima and Kaminari wiped at his eyes, earning a laugh from everyone, and Aizawa sighed from where he’d been watching.

“Break’s over.”

Half the class protested and groaned. Ochako laughed, and Tsu put a hand on her shoulder. Somewhere, thirty years from now, two girls had returned home. To her and Bakugo.