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Izuku doesn’t realize anything is amiss until it’s too late, and really, why would he? His day starts out normal enough.
He wakes up to the cheerful “I am here!” of his All Might Alarm.
He dons his hero costume, waves to Rikkido as he grabs a quick breakfast from the dorm kitchen, and takes the train to Sir Nighteye’s agency. Once he’s there, he meets up with Mirio, and together they walk into Sir’s office for their assignments.
Their patrol should’ve been a normal one. Overhaul shouldn’t have been anywhere near them.
Instead, it was anything but.
Izuku runs into a scared little girl named Eri in a back alley. He is forced to let her go.
Mirio takes him back to Sir’s agency and Izuku lets himself be pulled along.
But with each step they take, Izuku grows more and more sluggish, until he finally passes out.
The last thing he sees is Mirio’s panic-stricken expression.
“Deku! Deku, please, don’t fall asleep,” he pleads fervently, but it’s too late.
Izuku’s vision fades to black.
Izuku wakes with a start, his All Might alarm on full blast. He rubs his head and yawns. What happened?
Whatever… yesterday? Whatever yesterday was, it felt far too realistic to be a mere dream. But what else could it be?
Izuku sways on his feet when he steps out of bed, staggering to regain his balance. For some reason, he has a headache the size of Japan.
Thankfully, Rikkido is down in the kitchen already, something Izuku can’t see sizzling on the stove.
“Morning!” Rikkido greets cheerfully.
Izuku waves in return, and peers curiously over Rikkido’s shoulder. He can’t see a thing; the pan’s lid is all fogged up.
“What’re you cooking?” Izuku asks quietly.
Rikkido, who’s picked up on Izuku’s tells, offers him a pill for the headache, and Izuku accepts it gratefully. “I’m making-“
“Pancakes!” Izuku exclaims, then slams his hands over his mouth. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I-“
“No you’re fine.” Rikkido tilts his head quizzically. “But you must have a really good sense of smell; most people can’t tell I’m making pancakes until they’re right in front of their face! Unless they’re chocolate chip, that is,” he adds.
Izuku blinks and tentatively sniffs. No, he doesn’t smell anything…
He doesn’t mention it, nor the odd feeling of deja vu, instead brushing past Rikkido to grab the bottle of orange juice. He can’t find it, though. That’s odd.
“Rikkido, have you seen the orange juice?”
“Don’t you remember?” Rikkido asks disbelievingly. “Denki finished it off yesterday.”
Izuku nods absently, though his mind is racing.
Wasn’t that two days ago? Wouldn’t someone have made a grocery run for that plus the other things we need?
He shrugs it off after another moment's thought; it’s not a big deal in the long run, and in any case he’ll survive without his glass of OJ. Tenya may not, though.
Izuku hangs around and makes idle chatter with Rikkido until the pancakes are ready, then nabs a few and ducks upstairs before his classmates can stampede.
Izuku takes a bite with every step, and he finishes just as he reaches his room. He gets dressed rather quickly— all too aware of the dwindling time before he needs to meet Mirio— and rushes downstairs, plate abandoned in his room.
Izuku steps outside and looks around. At first glance, Mirio isn’t here, but some unfamiliar urge tells Izuku to look closer, and he does.
When Mirio pops out of the ground an inch from Izuku’s face, he doesn’t even flinch.
“Good morning, Mirio-senpai!” he greets cheerfully.
Mirio groans and lightly smacks his forehead. “Darn! And I was so sure I’d get you! How’d you know?”
Izuku shrugs; he doesn’t know himself. Mirio tilts his head curiously, but brushes it off easily, instead looping his arm through Izuku’s. “Well, Deku? Let’s get going!”
Izuku lets Mirio tug him along, content to follow his Senpai’s lead. They reach the agency soon enough, and Izuku once again lets Mirio go first.
Sir Nighteye greets him with a cheery-eyed smile that immediately sours when he spots Izuku. He might chalk that up to something out of his eerie dream, but honestly? That’s every day at Sir’s agency.
Mirio makes small talk with him for a few moments before settling into business mode. “What’re we up to today, Sir?”
He leads the pair into the conference room, dragging Bubble Girl along with him, then starts, “We’re following up on a few of our leads on the Shie Hassaikai. “We have two paths to clear today, and we’ll be splitting off into pairs. Bubble Girl and I shall take the more dangerous route, going up through the south side,” he says, pointing to a line on the map, “and Lemillion and Deku will be going on the normal patrol— Lemillion, you’ll take the lead— and branching off into the Okinawa area, where some of Overhaul’s lower-tier subordinates have been spotted.”
It teeters just on the edge of familiar, oddly enough, but Izuku is honestly too tired to put thought into how he might know it. The tinge of dread that fills his stomach doesn’t help his mixed feelings, though.
There’s a bit more information given, and then Sir releases them into the wild.
Izuku is happy to let Mirio take the lead and chatter away today, although he normally likes to at least pretend he’s on equal footing. He doesn’t quite get what’s off, but Mirio, hero that he is, picks up on it.
“What’s wrong, Deku?”
“I’m not sure,” Izuku says doubtfully. “I’ve just been getting this odd sense of, well… deja vu, I guess you’d call it.”
Like he’s lived through this day before and is back to tell the tale.
“A case of groundhog day syndrome, huh?” Mirio says, cheerfully clapping Izuku on the back.
“Groundhog what now?” Izuku asks, curious and wary.
“Groundhog day! It’s when you get stuck in a time loop, reliving the same day over and over until you’ve fixed something,” he explains easily.
“Fix something?” Izku repeats. “Like what?”
“Well, in lots of circumstances, there’s…” Mirio keeps talking, but Izuku can’t hear him anymore.
Not when his attention is so completely captured by the tiny waif of a girl who’s just run into him.
“Eri,” Izuku breathes in, and she flinches so hard that she may as well have jumped. He slaps his hands to his mouth.
How did he know that name?
Izuku hasn’t seen her before, hasn’t interacted with her before this very moment. He has no reason to know her name, yet he does.
His thoughts are yanked in the opposite direction when an all too familiar yakuza boss creeps out of the alleyway.
Chisaki Kai, otherwise known as Overhaul, strolls into view, a false smile creasing at the corners of his eyes. His clenched fists give away his displeasure.
“Ah, thank you for securing my daughter. She’s been running off quite a bit these days-- kids, am I right? I presume you’re heroes? I’m afraid I don’t recognize you,” he says, curious but for all the wrong reasons. And he’d claimed her as his daughter, something that strikes Izuku as blatantly false.
He can’t bring himself to answer, not with how fast his heart is racing and how panicked Eri’s the girl’s breathing is. Luckily, Mirio is as level-headed as always.
“Ah, no! We’re just on patrol,” he explains, the tightness in his voice nigh imperceptible.
“With which agency?” Chisaki inquires smoothly. “Heroes don’t often come around here, you see.”
“Well, Mister…” Mirio trails off, as if he doesn’t know the other man’s name.
“Overhaul,” he supplies, squinting. “And yours?”
“I’m Lemillion,” he exclaims with false cheer. “And this is my friend Deku!” He cuffs Izuku on the shoulder, a clear gesture for him to stand, but Izuku’s grown roots in the ground, Izuku is sinking, and the only thing keeping him afloat is the weight of the small child in his arms.
The pair continues on over Izuku’s head, but he’s solely focused on Eri.
“Hey there,” he says, softening his words. “I’m Deku, and I'm a hero. Do you know what that means?”
“No,” Eri admits, shrinking back even as he holds her.
“That means I help people in trouble,” Izuku says, and blinks up at her. “Do you need help, Eri-chan?”
“I, uh- I,” she starts uncertainly, only for Chisaki to interrupt.
“Come along, Eri. We don't want to bother the heroes too long, now do we?” he says menacingly.
Izuku reflexively pulls her into his chest, and Chisaki looms over them. “What’s wrong, hero Deku?”
Mirio is frantically gesturing at him from behind the villain, and Eri is sniffling, terrified in his lap, and Izuku can’t think .
Then Chisaki starts into the alley, tugging slightly at his gloves, and Eri darts to follow. Izuku is left with his arms outstretched, wondering why she would leave when she was so clearly terrified. Almost unconsciously, Izuku stands.
“Wait!”
Chisaki turns around. “Yes, hero? Eri and I really should be getting home… bad things tend to happen in the dark.”
“You-“ Izuku cuts off as Mirio squeezes his shoulder. A warning. He barely manages to grit out, “Get home safely.”
The pair disappears, and Izuku falls to his knees, nausea swirling in his gut.
How could he let them get away?
“Deku?” Mirio asks, openly concerned now that Chisaki has left. “Are you okay?”
Izuku doesn’t respond. Mirio puts a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay--”
“How could I let her go?” Izuku bursts, looking up to face his senpai as tears flood from his eyes. “She- Mirio, she looked so scared, she was terrified and I just let her go, I should have-”
“Should have what?” Mirio asks, his words harsh but his tone gentle. “Should have let yourself get killed to save her a few days earlier?”
“But-” Izuku starts, different options on the tip of his tongue already.
“But nothing,” Mirio says firmly. “Anything else you would have tried… Chisaki is dangerous. The fact that we ran into him when he was supposed to be halfway across town is concerning, to say the least. Now that we know about the little girl, that’s another way we tipped the scales in our favor.”
“I- yeah,” Izuku says, although he doesn’t really believe that.
What if Chisaki gets scared and runs? What if he kills Eri in retaliation? What if they go through with the raid and she slips through their fingers yet again?
Mirio extends a hand and hauls him up. “Let’s report back to Sir, yeah?”
Izuku nods, and they start the trek back.
They’re just a few blocks away from Sir’s agency when Izuku collapses to his knees.
“Deku?” Mirio exclaims, panicked.
“I- ugh,” Izuku groans, thrusting his head between his knees in a fruitless attempt to relieve the pressure in his head.
The pain spikes and Izuku lets out a wordless cry. His vision goes black.
Izuku wakes up with a start, his All Might alarm on full blast and his head pounding. He sits up and groans.
Gah, what happened?
His memories from… yesterday? Last night? flood in, and oh.
The little girl-- Eri. Izuku failed her. Izuku left her with that villain, then collapsed before they even started the trek back to the agency. He’s clearly not in a hospital bed though, so Recovery Girl must have at least healed him.
Izuku yawns and stretches, then hops out of bed and heads downstairs. The entirety of yesterday he’d felt some weird sense of deja vu, but now that it’s a new day he’ll be fine. Thrown off by yesterday and scared for the small girl he’d abandoned to the villain, yes, but fine overall. Izuku is fine.
Nothing is fine.
Izuku has that same sense of deja vu throughout the morning, but it’s not until he once again predicts Mirio’s joke-- something he’s never done before now-- that he accepts the predicament he’s in. The whole train ride to the agency, he politely ignores Mirio and thinks.
It’s been two days. How does the saying go?
Once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, three times is a pattern.
Izuku is stuck in a time loop. Somehow.
Wait a minute…
“Mirio-senpai?”
“What’s up, my little kohai?”
“Well, yesterday you-- someone mentioned something called Groundhog day,” he starts, covering for his mistake at the last second. “What is it?”
“You don’t know what groundhog day is?” Mirio asks, surprised. “Every February, a groundhog comes up from its burrow and tries to see its shadow, and-”
“Thank you, senpai,” Izuku interrupts, “But I know what that groundhog day is. I meant the one that’s a… book, I think?”
Mirio gasps, looking mildly offended. “You’ve never seen Groundhog Day?”
“...no?”
“Oh, we’ll have to watch that sometime then!” Mirio exclaims. “Sooner rather than later.”
“No objections here,” Izuku agrees, though a dark voice in the back of his mind says there won’t be a later; for you, at least.
“But it’s basically about this dude who gets stuck in a time loop!” he explains. “In the original one, he was stuck reliving the same day over and over again until he learned to be nice.”
For a moment, Izuku panics-- is he really so cruel as to be stuck in time over that?
Then Mirio continues, “But there have been tons of spinoffs and sequels and whatnot and it can be for a lot of different reasons. I think it’s pretty interesting,” he concludes with a shrug. “Any particular reason you wanted to know, kohai?”
“Not really,” Izuku says, faking nonchalance. “I’m just curious, I guess.”
“Alright,” Mirio says, and shrugs again. “Nice.”
Izuku lapses back into silence, and Mirio let’s him, and the rest of Izuku’s train ride is filled with silent speculation of what he’s done wrong.
He can only come to one conclusion.
Eri.
She’s the key-- she has to be.
To test his hypothesis, Izuku forces himself to react the same way he did the previous times. He holds Eri when she runs into him, tries and fails to mouth off to Chisaki, and overall fails his duty as a hero.
He passes out on the walk back to the agency, and his theory is confirmed. (Mostly. He’s well aware there could be some other factor at play. Maybe he was supposed to help someone else? He’ll figure it out.)
The next loop, Izuku forces himself to act normal, to play out the script as it’s been looping, to listen to Mirio pleading with him to be complacent until they can get help, up until the moment he follows Chisaki into the alleyway ( to further discuss Eri, the villain continues to claim).
As soon as Chisaki tugs at his gloves, though, as soon as Eri tries to pull away, Izuku steels his grip and doubles back.
Chisaki lets an outraged scream escape, and Mirio makes a confused noise that turns into fear for Izuku.
Villains he assumes to be Chisaki’s subordinates, considering the similar masks, stalk into the alleyway.
“There’s more of them?” Izuku gasps, although he really shouldn’t be so shocked. Chisaki must have sent them around, dammit.
When will Izuku learn that he shouldn’t expect anything to go right? He didn’t even make it to the end of the tunnel, for crying out loud.
Izuku whirls around on his heels and comes face to face with Chisaki.
“Hand over the girl, and no one needs to get hurt,” he says, falsely calm.
“ No one will get hurt?” Izuku challenges, cradling Eri closer.
“Don’t try my patience, boy. Hand her over.”
Izuku opens his mouth to challenge Chisaki again, but the villain tugs slightly at his gloves and Eri practically flies out of his arms.
No. He was— he was so close, Izuku was so close.
Izuku's vision swims as the yakuza retreat.
“Deku!” Mirio says sharply. “What were you— Deku?” His annoyance at Izuku’s lack of patience gives way to concern, and he steadies Izuku by the shoulders.
“Hey— can you— you hear me?” Mirio’s voice fades in and out as Izuku collapses once again and his vision cuts to black.
The next loop, Izuku tells Eri to run.
He and Mirio are in the middle of patrol, and she crashes into his legs the way she has a dozen other times, and Izuku leans in close and tells her to run.
Eri blindly listens, she runs out of the alleyway and down the street Izuku and Mirio just came from.
She doesn’t even reach the corner before a stranger in a bird mask captures her. They drag her limp body into another alleyway.
It’s empty by the time they arrive to peer inside.
Izuku drops to his knees as the world goes black once again.
Izuku wakes up a pounding head and the same All Might alarm. He can’t believe he’s saying this, but Izuku is tired of hearing his mentor's voice, at least when he knows it means he’s still stuck in this infernal loop.
He feels like he’s tried everything— he has— but there has to be some other options left unexplored, some route left untried.
He thinks about it as he makes his way downstairs, and it’s only when he meets his senpai outside that the thought occurs to him.
Izuku hasn’t involved Mirio yet. Sure, Mirio has talked to Chisaki and ran after Izuku, but he hasn’t really done anything yet these loops. Maybe that’s the key...
When they hop on the train into Kyushu, Izuku strikes up a conversation with the other boy.
“Hey, Mirio-senpai, do you have any siblings?” he asks conversationally.
He shakes his head. “Nope! I was more than enough for my parents to handle, ha ha. Do you have any?”
Izuku hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. Her name is… Itsumi. She’s only five or so.”
“Aw, cute!” Mirio coos. “I bet you’re wonderful with her. What’s she like?”
“She’s really small,” Izuku says, conjuring up an image of Eri in his mind. “Eri- Itsumi’s got the longest white hair, and she gives the best hugs. She’s pretty clumsy, though,” he says fondly, even as his stomach rolls.
( She’s just clumsy, Chisaki had lied.)
“She sounds adorable!” he exclaims. “You’ll have to bring her to the dorms sometime, or we could go out for ice cream, or—“
“That does sound fun,” Izuku says, nodding. His body goes on autopilot, conversing with Mirio while his mind races ahead. Has he said enough? Will the image of Eri/Itsumi in his mind be enough to convince Mirio to help?
Kami, Izuku hopes so. When Nighteye briefs them— the sixth time Izuku’s heard this lecture— he tunes the hero out, instead fidgeting with his hands, and when they start on their patrol he can’t help but cast his gaze around nervously. Villains of his imaginings lurk around every corner, and Izuku jumps at every hint of birdsong that echoes down the eerily empty streets.
When Eri finally crashes into his legs, he can’t help but exhale in relief.
“Eri— Itsumi— no,” Izuku stutters and pulls her close. He feels a brush of air as Mirio leans down.
“Is she… shit.”
“Surely a hero shouldn’t be saying such a crude word, now should they?” Chisaki’s voice echoes menacingly from down the alleyway.
Izuku pushes to his feet and gently shoves Eri into Mirio’s arms. “Take her. Head left. Go!”
“I’m— yes.” Mirio nods firmly and dashes off. Izuku watches him disappear around the corner, then turns back around to stare down Chisaki.
“Are you aware of what you’ve done, you wretched hero?” The man gripes.
Izuku grins viciously. “I’m well aware of what I’ve done, trust me. I’ve saved that innocent little girl from the likes of you.”
To his surprise, Chisaki snorts. “You think she’s saved? Well, hero, let me tell you. You’ve brought her nothing but pain .” On the final word he lunges, and Izuku rockets out of the way, cracking the concrete.
“You’re insane,” Izuku spits, turning midair and going for the gut. Chiskai dodges the hit and Izuku rolls to a stop, popping up just in time to see Chisaki’s approaching hand-- his bare hand.
Izuku can’t help but remember the USJ— Shigaraki had run at Tsuyu the same way, ruthless and violent.
Izuku lets his instincts take over.
He launches forward, ducking under his outstretched hand, and punching Chisaki in the throat.
“You brat !” he gasps, grasping blindly. He lashes out once again, and Izuku finally gives into the urge to kick him. It’s low, kicking someone while they’re already down, but as far as Izuku is concerned a villain like Chisaki deserves no better.
The villain collapses completely to the floor with a pained groan.
Izuku grins in victory, a moment too soon. He falls to his knees, shaking.
Mirio-- he got out with Eri. He succeeded, right?
But Izuku’s vision swirls into black, and he realizes that even his senpai couldn’t save her.
Shit.
The next loop (his seventh loop) Izuku tries something else— doing nothing. If he just stays out of the way so that Eri has no obstacles in her way, could she make it? (He ignores the way his stomach twists in on itself at the memory of what happened when he’d stepped aside to let her go.)
He drags his feet and slows them as much as possible while avoiding questions. Izuku is laser-focused on helping every sweet old lady and grumpy old man they come across until he and Mirio reach Eri’s street. Wary of the subordinates Izuku saw in an earlier loop, he glares down each alley, but they’re all empty.
Izuku looks down the alley Eri always ran out of.
Nothing greets him but the wind, carrying echoes of distant screams.
He collapses, and everything goes black again.
Izuku wakes up to the same damn All Might alarm.
Izuku wakes up crying. He drags his sleeve over his face, tries to calm down and stop sniffling. The last loop hadn’t been particularly bad, even. Izuku hadn’t been hurt, there was only the implicit threat of what happened to Eri. He should be fine, right?
For the first time since these infernal loops started, Izuku doesn’t meet Rikkido in the kitchen. He’s barely even outside in time to meet Mirio before his senpai leaves without him or, more likely, breaks into the dorms. Izuku apologizes, of course, and Mirio accepts without comment because he’s kind enough to see Izuku is struggling.
“I’m here for you,” is all he says, and he loops an arm around Izuku when they’re sitting on the train. Izuku just smiles gratefully and leans into his side.
While Nighteye briefs them on the Chisaki situation-- this is the seventh (eighth?) time Izuku’s sat through this, and he’s tired-- Izuku nearly nods off. The only thing keeping him awake are Mirio’s occasional prods.
Nighteye scolds Izuku over his general air of tiredness, but he tunes it out easily. He’s so tired.
He and Mirio head out on patrol, the streets as quiet as they always are, save for Yamamoto-san and her clumsy cat. Mirio’s small talk patters out quickly as he realizes that Izuku still isn’t up for talking, not really. This time, when they reach Eri’s alleyway, it’s as if the world is holding its breath.
The birds are quiet. Mirio’s footsteps slide silently on the sidewalk. Izuku can’t even hear his own breath.
And then a small pattering of footsteps emerges from the same alleyway Eri runs out of, and Izuku is so tired of doing the same thing every loop.
This time, he anticipates Eri crashing into him.
Izuku snatches Eri up close.
Izuku runs like his life depends on it, despite the way Mirio calls after him.
Izuku runs , his heart beating thrice for every frantic slap of his feet against the pavement. He’s practically flying, with Eri in his arms and his muscles on overload and his brain full of escape routes.
Izuku flies until his wings are cut short.
He crashes into one of Chisaki’s subordinates, and he can’t help but fall to the floor.
Fucking shit, he turned down the same way he saw Eri get caught in an earlier loop.
As fiercely as he tries to build a safe haven with his arms, Eri is wrenched from his grip as Overhaul approaches.
A gloved hand reaches out and grabs Izuku under the chin, forcing him to look up.
“A better hero would’ve known you don’t kidnap people’s daughters,” he says derisively. Izuku snaps his teeth and misses Overhaul’s thumb by a millimeter.
Fuck.
The villain retracts his hand immediately and makes a face. “Chronostasis. Take care of him, would you?”
“Yes, boss,” he replies swiftly. Chronostasis stalks forward, a sharp strand of hair stabbing and paralyzing Izuku.
At that moment, there is no one else in the world. Not Overhaul, not Mirio, not even Eri.
It’s just Izuku and Chronostasis.
The villain's hands wrap securely around his throat.
Izuku is helpless to do anything but choke on his own blood as Chronostasis squeezes the life out of him.
Izuku wakes up screaming.
Todoroki is the first one to enter, knocking the door down with a barrage of ice that melts just as quickly with a wave of his hand.
“Midoriya!”
“Todoroki, what’re you—“
“Deku-kun!” Uraraka exclaims, darting to his bedside.
“What happened?” Iida asks, the concern in his voice clear as day.
“Who do I need to kill?” Todoroki asks, dead-serious.
Izuku sits up and waves his hands about. “Ah- no one! I was just— it was just— I had a nightmare, okay?”
“Oh, Deku,” Uraraka says sympathetically. “I know the feeling.”
“Would you like a hug?” Iida offers kindly.
Izuku hesitates, but nods, and Iida and Uraraka swarm.
He almost doesn’t notice the other boy slipping out.
“Todoroki-kun! Where’re you going?”
“To murder the League,” he says flatly.
Izuku startles and flaps his hands nervously. “Todoroki-kun, that’s illegal!”
“So are they.”
Uraraka laughs, but Iida is less than amused. “Todoroki-kun, you know why we can’t do that.”
He sighs, downcast. “I guess,” he mutters, and wanders over to join in the cuddle pile.
“You know why?” Uraraka repeats, confused.
They all nod and refuse to explain. She’s about to go feral, Izuku can tell, but then Aizawa-sensei bursts through the hole where the door used to be and all four of them are ensnared in a second.
They make various noises of confusion and panic, but Aizawa doesn’t let them down immediately.
“What’s your favorite flavor of jam?” Aizawa grits out, straining under their combined weight. Izuku recognizes that it’s the code question Aizawa made with Class 1-A, because, as he put it, they get into too much chaos as is, and with Toga and Twice on the loose, they need to have some way to verify identities.
“Strawberry,” Izuku answers dutifully.
Uraraka, Todoroki, and Iida all share their code words, and Aizawa releases them with a sigh.
“Great job, problem children. We’ll have to switch the code now that you know each other’s.” They exchange sheepish glances.
Aizawa had picked a different word for each person, both so that it could be something easily memorable for each person, but also in case there was a situation like what happened over the summer. Kacchan couldn’t have given the other 1-A members away, and as much as they all hate it, 1-A knows it’ll happen again in the future.
“I’m sorry we messed up, Aizawa-sensei,” Izuku says.
Aizawa holds his stern facade for a moment longer, then softens. “What happened? Yaoyorozu ran to find me, said something had happened?”
“I had a nightmare,” Izuku admits. “I didn’t think I’d been that loud, but I guess I was.”
“Ah,” Aizawa nods. “Well, just be glad you didn’t wake Bakugou and most of the others.”
“Believe me, I am,” Izuku says fervently.
Uraraka and Todoroki chuckle, and Iida just shakes his head.
“Alright then,” Aizawa says. “Just-- for now, you all can stay here. It’s nearly morning anyways so just. Don’t be loud.”
“Hai, sensei!” they chorus in unison.
“And Midoriya?” Aizawa starts. Izuku blinks. “I know you have your work study today, if you’re feeling well enough, but tomorrow after school we’ll talk about this.”
“Hai, sensei,” Izuku agrees quietly.
Tomorrow. What a concept.
Aizawa quietly slides out of the room, leaving the four alone once again.
Izuku pulls Todoroki in closer, nuzzles his head into Uraraka’s shoulder, and sighs.
Iida rubs his back and hums softly, “Go to sleep, Midoriya-kun. We’ve got you.”
He tries to stay awake, truly, he does, but drowsiness pulls him under.
When Izuku wakes up again, he’s alone with nothing but his All Might alarm for company.
He groans and rolls over and nearly falls asleep again, but this time he forces himself to stay awake. Izuku has already wasted one loop, and despite how seemingly endless they are, he doesn’t want to cement a try like his last one.
As nice as the break from the rough and tumble was, Izuku can’t leave it like this. If he does nothing but sleep the day away with his friends, what will become of Eri?
It’s with her in mind that he dons his hero costume and heads downstairs.
On the train ride over to the agency, he contemplates.
This whole time, he’s been thinking of Eri. Letting Eri run away. Avoiding Eri entirely. Trying to hold Eri close instead of letting her run back to Chisaki.
What if Izuku focuses on Chisaki instead? Would that even make a difference?
“Would what make a difference?” Mirio asks, interrupting his thoughts.
“It doesn't really matter,” Izuku says, even though it does. It matters so much that the fear of what terrors this loop could bring has him shaking.
“If you’re this concerned about it, it does matter,” Mirio says, and places a hand on Izuku’s shoulder. “If you don’t want to tell me about it, I get it, it’s fine, but don’t dismiss it as nothing either.”
“I- okay.” Izuku glances away, and Mirio gives his shoulder a comforting squeeze but doesn’t press.
Izuku exhales sharply and tries as best he can to come up with a plan. By the time they’re exiting the agency, Sir thoroughly ignored, Izuku has one mostly-formed in his mind's eye.
If only he’s able to go through with it.
He moves robotically through patrol. For the first time, Yamamoto-san hesitates under his gaze. The old men he helps cross the street hesitate. Even Mirio, who is known for his ever-present grin, falters.
Izuku can’t, though. No. Izuku has to be the strong one, Izuku needs to have his hero brain on, Izuku needs to get this done.
When Eri finally crashes into his legs, it’s the cruelest sort of relief. Izuku crouches down and meets her eyes.
“Eri-chan,” he says, sympathetic as she flinches. “I need you to stay with my friend Lemillion over here, okay?”
She doesn’t respond, just glances up at him distrustfully, but that’s okay. Izuku carefully sweeps her into the air and thrusts her into Mirio’s arms just as Overhaul approaches from the alleyway behind him.
“What are you doing with my daughter?” he inquires smoothly, even as his eyes flare with anger.
“She’s not your anything,” Izuku says, and motions for Mirio to run.
Overhaul grinds his teeth. “Why, you insolent little—“
Izuku launches forward and nearly kicks him in the jaw, Overhaul dodging out of the way in record time and wheeling around.
He’s faster than I thought, Izuku reflects briefly, before he’s forced to dodge an attack. Overhaul’s gloves have come off, quite literally, and Izuku can’t afford to be sloppy.
The next minute is a blur, as Izuku ricochets from wall to wall and Overhaul attacks.
But then disaster strikes. Overhaul lands the hit, and Izuku’s leg just unravels. He doesn’t see it happen— no one could— but it burns like fire swallowing him whole.
Overhaul’s ugly mug appears overhead, and he gloats, “Guess you’re not ‘all that’ after all, huh?”
“Kill...me…” Izuku croaks, his throat dry and cracked, tears streaking down his face.
Overhaul smiles cruelly. “If only I were so kind.”
He walks away, leaving Izuku alone and sobbing until his vision finally, finally cuts to black.
Izuku wakes up on fire. His pillow barely seems to muffle his screams.
--
Later, once he and Mirio have arrived at the agency, Izuku tries to convince Sir to take the route planned for him and Mirio. He’s rather gung-ho about it honestly-- at this point, what does he have left to lose? He’s lost his leg, he’s died, and nothing else has worked so far, after all.
It takes him a fair amount of persuasion and earns him more than a few odd looks, but Mirio backs him up and the hero gives in.
“What was that all about?” Mirio asks, glancing at Izuku sideways. “I went along with it, but--”
“Call it a premonition,” he responds vaguely.
“But I--” Mirio protests, and Izuku sighs.
“I promise, I’ll explain all this if we make it to tomorrow.”
“If?” Mirio echoes, concern painted across his face.
“It’s… complicated,” Izuku says, and glances away. “Please, just trust me?”
Mirio frowns in thought, then nods slowly. “Okay. I’ll hold you to that, though. You’re going to tell me everything.”
“Tomorrow,” Izuku agrees.
They waltz through the patrol route easily. Izuku stops a purse thief, and Mirio rescues cats from trees, and it’s so strange to be met with no resistance. Kami, he hopes Nighteye succeeds.
Izuku only makes it halfway through the patrol before he’s pushed to his knees by some unseen force. His head pounds; his palms are sweaty.
Nighteye didn’t succeed.
Nighteye, a seasoned Pro with decades of experience under his belt, didn’t succeed.
“Deku?” Mirio exclaims, stepping forward reflexively. “Hey, are you okay-”
Izuku bats his hand away. “I’m fine,” he lies through his teeth.
The last thing he sees before his vision fades to black is Mirio’s panicked expression.
Izuku wakes up with a newfound sense of determination. Fuck it. If Nighteye, a seasoned Pro, can’t save one little girl, Izuku will just have to be better. He can’t abandon Eri, he can’t give up now, when he’s tried so many things.
Izuku’s done the impossible before-- from obtaining One for All to surviving Shigaraki Tomura to defeating Muscular against all odds, Izuku was born to defy fate.
He’s the only one that can, it seems.
“I can do this,” Izuku huffs under his breath. “I can do this.”
In the kitchen, he drinks the smoothie more intensely then he ever has before (which Rikkido certainly notices), and on the way to the agency he stoutly avoids engaging with Mirio. He loves his senpai, yes, but Izuku needs to concentrate. He’s all Eri has. He’s the only one who can save her, and he can’t do that if he’s busy placating Mirio.
At Nighteye’s agency, Izuku forces himself to pay attention. He’s heard this lecture so many times, but maybe he’ll learn something new?
He doesn’t. If anything, Izuku feels like he’s lost information. He’s lost time, certainly.
Should he have skipped the meeting and gone entirely rogue? Maybe, but Izuku will never know. (At least, he hopes not. Kami, Izuku hopes he's enough.)
After the meeting, Izuku jogs to catch up to Mirio’s long strides as they take their ‘first’ steps out on patrol.
“You okay?” Mirio asks, gently bumping his shoulder against Izuku’s. “You seem kind of… out of it.”
“I’m fine,” he answers tersely. Mirio squints doubtfully, and Izuku glances away and admits half of the truth. “I’m just… worried about Overhaul, I guess.”
“Ah, that explains it,” he says, nodding sagely. He slings an arm around Izuku’s shoulder and ruffles his hair. “Well, no need to worry, my little kohai. Sir and Bubble Girl are going to be taking care of him today. We’re just scoping out the area and helping out anyone in need!”
That’s a thoroughly optimistic take (not that Izuku would expect anything less from his senpai), but Izuku doesn’t bother to refute it.
He just pastes a smile on his face and walks on. Izuku is careful to keep his strides long when they’re just keeping an eye out for any sign of trouble, though he’s of course polite when they have to help Yamamoto-san rescue her cat, and anyone else with a minor grievance. ( Everything seems minor, compared to what Eri is surely going through. Izuku doesn’t know specifics, can’t know them when he’s stuck reliving the same ten hours over and over .)
This time, when Eri crashes into his legs, Izuku scoops her up like his life depends on it. His sanity certainly does.
“Deku?” Mirio yells, confusion coloring his tone.
Izuku doesn’t waste his breath on a reply; it’s already stolen by the villains sliding into view two alleys down. The villains were supposed to be waiting the other direction, his mind insists.
But Izuku knows all too well that the world isn’t fair, has never been fair, and so his feet carry him into the single unoccupied alley without a moment’s hesitation. He sets Eri down at the far end, turns around, and raises his fist for a fight.
For most people, taking the inevitable confrontation into an alleyway would be suicide, but it suits Izuku just fine. He has more maneuverability bouncing off the brick walls, and he can keep Eri safe behind him.
The first trio of yakuza run into the alleyway, and Izuku kicks the front man in the face before he’s even gathered his bearings, which in turn knocks over the other subordinate.
He bounces off the wall behind him and boomerangs to attack the other yakuza, but they duck out of the way with reflexes quicker than Iida’s then slam their fist into Izuku’s face. It makes sense they’re on the offensive-- with Eri’s weight, they certainly wouldn’t be able to run as fast, and they must not want to risk Izuku outpacing them-- but it catches Izuku off-guard nonetheless. He curses and tries to come up with a plan, but he’s hit twice before he even catches his breath.
Screw it, he thinks, and lets his instincts take over.
It's just like fighting Iida, he lies to himself. Just like Iida.
A second flood of villains comes in just as Izuku pins the yakuza to the ground and knocks them out cold.
“What did you do to Takeshi, you bastard?” one cries and charges at Izuku, outraged further at his seemingly unfazed state. He roundhouse kicks the villain in the face, One for All powering it to a near-explosive point, and she collapses.
“The fuck?” Izuku hears one of the other three murmur, and he whirls around.
“Whatever,” another one says, “let’s just get the girl and go.”
“No!” Izuku exclaims furiously. He dives in front of Eri in time to catch the yakuza’s attack— a brutal acid spray that tears at his calf. Shit .
He looks over a bit, meaning to predict their next attack but instead finding a taser.
Izuku throws his arm up so it still halfway shields Eri and grabs for the weapon. His fingers finally find purchase, and he shoves and holds the taser against a villain's leg with no hesitation. They convulse for several seconds, and slump to the floor, and Izuku turns his gaze to the other two, half-manic.
“Would either of you like a taste of this?” he jeers, buzzing the taser for emphasis.
“Like that puny thing’ll hurt me,” one of them cries, then goes down in a second. Their skin is practically grey , Izuku notes with apathy. Their quirk might make them more susceptible to these sorts of attacks. Interesting.
The other yakuza turns on their heels and runs.
They try to, at least.
“I do so hate doing the dirty work,” Chisaki says disdainfully. “But someone has to deal with the riff raff.”
The blood drains from Izuku’s face. To do that to his own subordinate… it just further cements what Izuku’s known-- Overhaul is insane.
“Just hand over the girl, and I’ll let you go,” Overhaul lies.
Izuku scrambles into a low crouch and pulls Eri onto his back. “I’d never surrender Eri to a bastard like you!”
“Do you really think that I would ever let her go?” Overhaul hisses, rising to his feet once more.
Izuku wipes the blood from under his nose and glares at the villain. “You’ll have no other options,” he promises.
Overhaul laughs. “Oh, really?” Then he shoves his hands into the concrete, and the earth itself turns into Overhaul’s playground.
Izuku nearly gets impaled as he leaps into the air. He jumps from spike to spike, forced to climb higher and higher as Overhaul builds bigger and bigger weapons.
Eri’s grip tightens around his neck.
Izuku can’t look at her, occupied as he is, but still he reassures, “Don't worry, Eri-chan! I’ve got this.”
She nods into his back, and Izuku glances down again.
Those spikes are the main problem— Izuku’s running out of room, and while he would love to just dart out of the situation, that really isn’t an option.
Overhaul would always be Eri’s boogeyman (Izuku has no doubt that Overhaul would flee to some hideout to regroup and evade the authorities, given the chance). He would always be the monster in her closet, the villain hiding just around the corner.
“You think you can save her, Deku? ” Overhaul jeers. Izuku grits his teeth.
He has to put an end to this, here and now.
He glances down again, and notices something peculiar. Dodging the spikes, he was already pretty high up, but to fuel them, Overhaul dug a huge hole for himself— literally. He’s several meters below where the concrete would be.
Izuku has an idea.
“Hold on Eri,” he whispers. Her grip tightens, impossibly, and he kicks off the wall. Heading straight for Overhaul. The villain is clearly caught off guard, and although he tries to manipulate the spikes, Izuku manages to dodge each and every one. He kicks Overhaul straight in the chest, etching cracks into the concrete where he falls, then knocks him out cold for good measure. Thankfully, since he’s in his hero costume, he has a pair of cuffs on hand that he uses to restrain Overhaul.
Izuku exhales heavily, then twists his head to face Eri. “Are you okay to climb down, Eri-chan?”
She hesitates, then nods, and he leans back so she can dismount with ease. Eri slides backwards, and Izuku lets her.
“I’ve got you now,” he says sincerely. “I won’t let Overhaul, or any other villain, take advantage of you again!”
Eri sniffles and looks to Izuku with big, wide eyes.
“He’s really gone?” she whispers at last.
Izuku’s features soften. “He is. I promise, Eri-chan. I’ve got you. I won’t ever let you get hurt. I’m here now.”
His name is Deku-san. Eri knows this because it’s what Chisaki-sama called him by. His name is Deku-san, and he might just be the kindest person she’s ever met.
Eri was being a bad girl, she was trying to escape, and she was too clumsy to avoid running into him. But then Deku-san scooped her up with gentle arms and whisked her away, and he said he’d protect her and he did.
Eri isn’t sure what she did to deserve him.
And now he’s telling her that she’ll never be hurt again , that she’s okay now, that he is here!
Eri might just cry.
She twists away, as if avoiding the source of her turmoil will quiet the whirlwind in her head.
But then Deku-san calls out to her; croons really, concern etched deep into his tone. “Eri-chan… are you okay? Were you hurt?”
Eri shakes her head, her hair swishing with the motion, and he sighs with relief. He doesn’t say anything else, though, and she flinches. Is he mad?
She turns to check— if he is, she still has time to try and flee— but he isn’t frowning. Instead, he looks almost…
The words don’t come to Eri.
How does she describe something kind and gentle when cruel words and sharp smiles are all she’s ever known?
But Deku-san doesn’t look at her like that. He’s soft smiles and warm arms, he’s going to protect Eri, he’s a hero.
Eri hesitates one single moment longer, then dives into his arms. He holds her tight and murmurs gentle comforts that are unlike anything Eri’s ever known.
For the first time in her short life, Eri feels safe.