Archive of Our Own ^beta

Disclaimer: Don’t own MHA or any of its characters. 

Guess who is back? FInally got to finishing this oneshot. I wrote this as a gift for someone so I hope they like it. Took me a long time just to get through it. Big thanks to all those who have left lovely reviews, bookmarks, and more. I sincerely appreciate it and have been looking at them while working through this. Now that I’m done with this story I can finally focus my energies on my other stories. Big thank you to aconstantstateofbladerunner and memequeen for looking over this fic. I really appreciate it. 

For those who don’t know, there used to be a really old fan theory back during the summer training arc of the manga that Dabi was Deku’s dad because he had fire powers. Of course that has been proven false but there is evidence online of people talking about it. This au is a homage to that. 

Hope you enjoy the fic!

Comic by me

This was it. His curtain call had finally arrived.

Dabi strolled forward with extended hands, flames licking his burnt skin like hungry hyenas. Each movement was deliberate, posing for the cameras he knew were on him. All of Japan was here tonight, whether they wanted to be or not. He would hold the world hostage for as long as it took, using their horror and revulsion as kindling. Euphoria flooded his veins. For the first time in ages, Dabi felt happy . Seen. No one could look away from him, least of all his father. Oh, how he relished the expression on the man’s face right now. So deliciously broken and guilt-ridden it made his heart want to burst out of his chest. Months of planning, dozens of black hair dye bottles, and an online theater course prepared him for this confrontation.

If the world were a stage then this would be the dramatic reveal, shocking the audience who hadn’t followed the foreshadowing evidence he left behind. Honestly, the fact no one else had figured it out yet was a great travesty. He knew he didn’t look as he once did but he’d still hoped his family would recognize him for the sensational flair. Ah well, this reveal was just as sweet at least. 

“What a reap-what-you-sow moment,” he mocked, laughing deeply from his diaphragm as his Theater Teacher taught him. “Let us fall together, Enji Todoroki. Come, dance with your son in h—”

Pain erupted from the top of his skull. A jolt went through his body as he lost feeling in his limbs. A look of surprise flashed across his face. As he fell, his eyes caught a single glimpse of his attacker. He expected another hero like Hawks or another powerful hero. Instead, a middle-aged man in a suit glared down at him, eyes crinkling with annoyance like Dabi just pissed in his cereal. Other than the shock of white hair and mismatched skin the man had no particularly distinguishing features. He was average in height and looked more akin to a salaryman than anything else. So then, how did he get the jump on someone like him?

Anger flared despite his descent into unconsciousness. How dare this man ruin his final stand? Who the fuck was he to ruin Dabi’s reveal? 

 “–ell a fuckin’ annoying. My turn, brat,” was the last thing he heard before sleep finally claimed him.

His attacker stared down at heroes, scarred face stretching wide as a hint of a familiar smirk emerged. 

After all, the world couldn’t have two Dabis talking, now could it?

Exhaustion was the last thing on Izuku Midoriya’s mind, no matter how much his body might have begged him to acknowledge it. Even though he was bruised and broken to hell and back, he still managed to get to his feet to survey the carnage, using Black Whip to balance himself. His stomach churned at the sight.

The attack in Hosu paled in comparison to Jaku’s destruction. Rubble and smoldering buildings covered the landscape, leaving no place untouched by the villains. His jaw tightened. It reminded Izuku of the memories the previous holders imparted upon him, of what sort of destruction the League could do to the rest of Japan if they weren’t stopped here.

Dabi’s reveal as Touya Todoroki was certainly a shock, though not as much as it had been for Todoroki and Endeavor. Their faces echoed one another’s in horror and sadness. But that wasn’t what brought Izuku back to his feet.

His gaze traveled to the newcomer’s form, eyes widening as far as they could go.

The man seemed more akin to a tired Salaryman waiting for his ride home than someone who just bludgeoned a villain with a headstrike. His features might have been handsome when he was young but age withered him into an average looking middle-aged male. His only outstanding features were his slightly off-color skin from his jaw downwards and the crazed look eerily similar to an accountant during tax season. But that wasn’t the important thing. No, the more Izuku stared at the man, the more familiar he became. 

“I’ve been waiting 18 years to come back to this point, to finish what I couldn't all those years ago,” the man said, his voice booming over the ruined landscape, putting Dabi’s voice to shame. 

Izuku had seen a lot of things in his short sixteen years of existence, from his favorite Hero all the way to the most detestable Villain. The image before him, however, took the cake. Unlike all his previous fights (minus Kacchan, of course), he realized exactly who the man standing above them was , much to his disbelief. He shot a quick look to Todoroki and Endeavor, their face mirroring a expression that could only be described as what-the-fuck-is-happening.

Izuku tilted his head from side to side, hoping that somehow the image in front of him might belay something else. Part of him hoped this was all due to blood loss. After all, it couldn’t be who he thought it was, right? 

“I may have been thrown into the past, but that hasn’t stopped me from ruining you, Enji Todoroki,” the man continued disdainfully. “You trusted Hisashi Midoriya without ever meeting him. You fool! I’ve emptied out your bank accounts, put your agency into bankruptcy, and sent bulldozers to your house as we speak! Now you will have nothing. I will–”

“Dad?!” Izuku shouted, wishing that perhaps this is another Hisashi Midoriya who dressed like an average businessman. 

Hisashi Midoriya paused. Peering down over Gigantomachia, his gaze soon found Izuku’s own. How long had it been since they’d last seen each other? Izuku couldn’t remember. Most of their conversations were over the phone or by text. To see him in person after all these years…Honestly, it was a little lackluster. 

“Dad!” He said, hoping his voice would reach him. “Stop, please! I don’t know what’s going on but this isn’t right.”

He could feel Todoroki and Endeavor’s eyes boring holes into his back. 

The man formerly known as Dabi stretched out a hand, fondness in his features. “...It’s been a long time since I last saw you, Izuku.”

“Dad, please.” Izuku wasn’t sure what was happening but he knew this had to stop. 

“Oh, this does bring back memories,” Hisashi remarked, familiar blue flames traveling down his arm. “So. Many. Memories.”

Dabi knew something was wrong the minute he opened his eyes.

For one, he could barely move, his body covered in enough bandages to make a mummy jealous. Secondly, four white walls surrounded him while a heart monitor steadily beat nearby to remind him that he was alive, somehow.

He released a disappointed groan. Damn it. There went his plans. He detected soft chatter at the doorway, a dead giveaway he wasn’t on the battlefield anymore.

At least he wasn’t in that stupid children’s hospital again. Even now, over a decade later, he still has nightmares about that fucked up place. Newfound family his ass . No doubt those weirdo brats ended up at All for One’s Build-a-Nomu Workshop in the end.A fate Dabi wonders is any better than the memories continuously haunting him of his brother. His jaw tightened as the fight appeared in his mind’s eye. The darker part of him wished he’d strangled the little peppermint-colored brat in his cradle, while the older brother side of him was actually impressed the little hero got one over him.

Dabi fixed his attention on the fancy equipment surrounding him and the big flatscreen on the wall. It reminded him of all the fancy equipment. All for One used to keep himself alive. That potato-looking bastard would never have afforded him such a nice room, however. His gaze flickered towards where most of the room’s light came from, a rectangular window with thick glass. A small, simplistic garden shaped in a circle met his vision, some ugly post-modern layout that was more concrete than grass. Doctors, nurses, and patients moved around like ants, filing in and out of the buildings.

He inwardly hummed at the predicament. A hospital then. Or an insane asylum. He silently giggled. They must be giving him the good shit cause he can't feel anything right now. Not that he felt much before, either. He lifted a bandaged arm. Much to his surprise, his arm seemed relatively decent considering the circumstances. He even felt the hair on his head. How long had he been out?

A heavy depression sunk its fangs into him as he realized all his planning was for not. His hands clenched into fists. Was it because he wasn’t strong enough? Would he ever be strong enough? His thoughts took a darker tone. Why did he have to survive? It would have been better to have gone out in a blaze of glory than to be stuck in this burnt, broken body.

He didn’t have much time to dwell on those thoughts, however. He immediately dropped his arm, eyes closing once more as footsteps approached his room. The door handle clicked open.Two people, he thought to himself. Through his eyelashes, he spotted the blurry figures of a short woman and, as Mr. Compress liked to say, a very well-fed man.

“You should wear a skirt more often. It’s very becoming,” a man complimented in a nasally voice. Even while Dabi was flying higher than a kite at the moment, he suspected that the comment was not meant for him.

“As I’ve said before, Doctor, please keep the comments to a minimum unless they’re related to work,” the woman stated softly, checking one of the charts near Dabi’s bedside. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to attend to his bandages.”

“I’m on my break right now and I wanted to spend it with you.”

“And I’m on the job,” she said, this time a little more forcibly. 

Dabi inwardly rolled his eyes at the entire situation. Where was Shigaraki when you needed him? Ah yes, probably being All for One’s lapdog again. He really wished the League would get in here and deal with this crap.

The man continued his sexual harassment with the nurse passively avoiding him. God, why did he have to live to just deal with this crap? Why must he be the one to act? Alas, once again, everything fell to Dabi. As the doctor drew near, he silently positioned his left hand off the bedside. He might as well have a little fun, right?

Heat gathered in his palm. 

“Aw, come on. Don’t be like that. Besides, it’s not like this guy is gonna care,” the man yammered on, an act which Dabi took as permission to not give a fuck about the consequences. “He’s not even consci–Woah! What the hell!”

The smell of burnt cloth filled the air, followed by a long stream of curses. During the commotion, Dabi carefully secured his hand back in place on the bed. What looked to be a toupee was now precariously perched on the man’s forehead, threatening to slip at a moment’s notice. He struggled not to smirk.

“Please be careful, Doctor. You must have sparked a fuse from one of the medical instruments.  Go get the head of maintenance,” she advised. 

The man seemed to fumble for words but finally gave up, leaving the room in a hurry. His toupee, sadly, did not make the trip with him. A pity. Dabi had hoped to completely burn the man down to ashes but his heart just wasn’t in it today. He released a disappointed sigh. 

A long pause of silence ensued before the woman remarked, “You’re awake.”

Obviously, Dabi thought. Stupid female. 

“You two are too fucking loud,” he coughed, vocal chords as dry as Shigaraki’s shitty skin. 

“How are you feeling?”

“Is this hell?” he said. 

“Depends on the time of day and how much coffee is still left in the pot,” the nurse said, pushing a lock of hair behind her ear as she settled into a chair nearby. Up close, Dabi took in her features. She was somewhere in her twenties with a nice face but nothing to write home about. Boobs were average. She was shorter than Toga but taller than the Doctor. The only thing that stood out was her green eyes and hair. Something about her face was familiar, but he couldn’t put a finger on who. Maybe one of Endeavor’s sidekicks? 

“What is this place? Did All for One set this up?” Dabi said. 

“Jaku City West Hospital,” she replied. “I’m sorry, but what is ‘All for One’?”

The look of confusion surprised him. All for One was a well-known villain nowadays. His mind couldn’t help but settle on the place’s name, however. “Jaku?” Even under bandages, his brows pinched together. “I thought that place was destroyed. I was there.”

She shook her head, giving Dabi a look of pity. “Seems you hurt your head too. I’ll alert the doctor.”

“Wait” He grabbed her arm, mind racing through all sorts of scenarios. Had he been in a coma? Had his ass been isekai-ed into some alternate dimension? “What’s today’s date?”

The answer stole his breath away.

Two decades into the past. He almost cried–it was before he joined the League, before he lost control on Sekoto Peak, hell, even before Daddy’s Boy Shouto was even a twinkle in Endeavor’s eyes (though he would soon be once he figured out Touya was a dud)--all of efforts to destroy his father had been wiped clean.

“You look confused. How is your memory? What is the last thing you remember?” She asked. 

“I remember fighting for my life,” he mumbled, subdued by his new reality. “How did I survive?”

“Our medical team spent all day and night getting you back to a stable condition,” she explained with a smile. “The important thing is that you’re alive.”

“Easy for you to say. What future do I have if what I want is too far for me to reach now?” He moaned, dropping backward. The bed creaked underneath him.

For once in his twenty-four years of existence, Dabi was speechless. His younger self was probably laughing it up right now, blissfully unaware of his bleak future as Endeavor’s worst nightmare.

He couldn’t rely on his teammates. Most were either toddlers or teens, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to go running back to All for One anytime soon. None of his contacts were around. The Broker sure as hell wouldn’t deal him unless he got a new track record of burning people to death, which, while cathartic, would not solve his current predicament.

He was alone. He was weakened. Dabi had forgotten how suffocating those feelings could be. 

“Our doctors are some of the best in the country. Our head of plastic surgery even has a Quirk license. You’re in good hands,” the nurse encouraged, grasping his bandaged hand with her own. 

“This is absolute bullshit,” he stated, ignoring the woman’s soft gasp.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

Dabi stared at the wall, wondering how long it would be before he could leave. A large painting of an old ship caught amidst a terrible storm caught his eye, the people on board frantically trying to keep the boat running despite the chaos around them. It reminded Dabi of his previous exploits: trying to keep up with his father, trying to keep his position in the League, trying to control his Quirk despite his shitty genes—but try as he might, there was always a limit to his abilities.

He absentmindedly scratched his chin, blinking in surprise as he felt the sensation. The skin grafts were, admittedly, not too bad. The Doctor in charge did a better job than All for One’s, though one could still tell it wasn’t his own based on the different shades. Dabi secretly reveled in the small sensations: cold and hot, soft and sharp, whatever he could get his hands on. There wasn’t much else he could do in the hospital. Sinking into the couch, he sighed at his predicament. Everyone he hated was, much to his chagrin, still breathing. The Todoroki family had yet to experience his heartfelt rage.

A sad thought came to mind: should he abandon his quest for revenge? Had his goal in life truly been simply twisted hubris? 

Someone coughed. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

Dabi raised a brow. “Hm?”

The man behind the desk simply smiled. Dabi glanced at all the fancy degrees behind the doctor before turning a vague look of disinterest back at him. Hell seemed almost preferable to his weekly sessions in this place. Confronting his mental health was almost as bad as his confrontation with Endeavor, albeit much less exciting. 

“How have you been doing?” He repeated. 

“Bored. Tired.” Dabi shrugged. “Take your pick.”

“And why do you think that is?”

Dabi kicked his feet up on the desk. He had long grown bored of the cat and mouse game they had over his months here, so he went straight to the point. “You know damn well, why.”

“Ah, yes,” he said, adjusting his glasses with that stupid smile still on his face. “Your time-traveling escapade. Has there been anything new discovered?”

“No,” he said. He’d long given up convincing people he was from the future. It was a useless endeavor, much like his father’s parenting skills.  “That’s not the problem though.”

“Oh?”

“The longer I stay here, the more I think: what do I do now? I still want to kil—achieve my goals, but all my contacts and resources are gone. Do you know what a pain in the ass it was to put everything together?” Dabi leaned back, a deep sigh escaping him. “I was ready to accept death. I just–”

“Weren’t expecting to live this long?” The Psych interjected.

Dabi’s head drooped, rolling side to side as he tried to make sense of himself. Fuck, he hated introspective shit like this. The first time he’d awoken after burning himself to near-death he’d been a young teenager still hoping for his father’s attention only to have those hopes dashed like a broken toy for Shouto , the newer, better model. He’d been weakened then. Still, He pushed forward, destroying his Frankenstein body until the end because what else did he have to lose? Stain’s Will breathed new life into him, bringing out the best and worst parts of himself. But, like Icarus, he’d flown too close to the sun once more, unable ever to reach the heights of Endeavor or Shouto’s power again. He stared down his new hands. What once had been a fiery storm had been snuffed out into smoldering coals. “I look in the mirror and don’t recognize myself. My burns were part of me. I earned them. These skin grafts aren’t me, but…” He casually cocked his head right and rolled his eyes to a corner of the ceiling. “These whole feeling things again. My burns had deadened everything.  I’d forgotten how good a nice breeze felt, you know?”

“You’ve gone through a traumatic event. It’s not uncommon for people to struggle with their identities after something like that,” he said. 

Dabi let out a dry laugh. “Mine’s different from others.”

“Well, while amnesia is uncommon, but not unheard of.”

“Amnesia?” He paused, remembering the backstory he’d cooked up. “Oh, right.” Dabi tried casually glancing over at the clock, looking to change the subject. “How many more sessions do I need to go through before the Hospital releases me?”

The Psych tapped a pen against his board, squinting down at the paper before looking back up at him. “This is the last one. You’ll need to register yourself with the government once you leave. Preferably within the next month. I’m certain your case worker has gone over this with you already. Unfortunately, we have been unable to uncover your true identity.”

“Tragic,” he yawned. 

“Is it? You don’t seem very upset by it.”

“Why should I be?” He couldn’t be Touya anymore. That spot was taken by his younger self. “I don’t know how to feel. My dreams are gone. How can I restart?”

Eyes narrowed, the Psych gave him a pleasant smile, clicking his pen as he passed it back and forth between his fingers. “That’s up to you. I knew a man in my younger days who also wasn’t sure what to do with his life. He had been involved in villainous activities, you see, selling prescription meds on the black market and faking a medical degree.” He tutted. “Had a track record with the Police. One day he crossed the line with his boss one too many times and ended up fleeing. Sadly, the boat he was on accidentally capsized. None of the crew would ever be found. In the end, he washed up on a beach. Was found by a Pro-Hero to be exact. Of course, he could never tell the truth.” He paused an open hand to his heart, causing Dabi’s heart rate to skyrocket. “Why would he? So he claimed amnesia. No one questioned him because he looked and spoke fluent Japanese, after all. It was quite easy to fool people. Thus, he worked his way up from there, even got himself a nice job at a hospital as a psychologist.”

The muscles of Dabi’s face tightened. Several seconds passed between them. 

Finally, a wry grin emerged on Dabi’s face, mirroring the other man’s. “I’m not sure whether I should kill you or not,” he admitted. 

“Oh, I would rather you wouldn’t. The past is the past, after all, for you as well as myself.” He gestured to the degrees behind him. “Take my advice: just because your circumstances have changed doesn’t mean you have to give up your goals. You merely have to approach them differently.”

A smart man might have chosen to set his father on the right path, turning things around for the Todoroki family and preventing Touya and Shouto’s injuries. Maybe even work up his way into being a well-known vigilante rivaling Stain’s popularity.

A wise man would see leaving Enji with the Todoroki family was like keeping lighter fluid next to gasoline and properly reporting him to the police with evidence of his child and spousal abuse. A satisfying end to the Endeavor legacy, allowing his family to heal without their father’s influence.

Unfortunately, Dabi was neither of those things. 

He rubbed a hand over his face. He couldn’t be Dabi anymore. Not this world’s anyway. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t ruin his father’s life in another manner. His eyes lit up in devilish delight as new ideas began to form. 

“That’s…not a bad idea. Revenge is a dish best served cold after all,” he said, getting to his feet. He knew what he needed to do now. The perfect surname came to mind “Thank you, Doctor. Your words have given me a lot to think about. So much so that I think I’ve finally figured out a new name for myself.”

“Let’s hear it,” he remarked, hands closed together like a man in prayer. His sleeves rolled back, revealing a hint of tattoos Dabi knew covered most of his body. 

He grinned, a sinister look crossing his features.

“Hisashi. Just call me Hisashi.”

It will be a long while before I get to see you again, father , Dabi thought, but I’ll make sure you won’t forget our next meeting. 

The apartment was quiet when Hisashi wasn’t around, Inko realized amidst her cleaning. She peeled off her gloves then opened the window, letting the fresh air in. She never would have done so a year ago, too afraid of someone sneaking in should she have her back turned. This part of the city had a rough reputation but it had been all she could afford at the time. The break-ins and robberies had dropped considerably and the local Yakuza had skipped town a month ago after their place burned down. Now, there had been a few arsons but even those had tampered off as the block grew safer. She no longer dreaded coming home at night. In fact, she looked forward to it, especially if Hisashi was there. 

As much as she hated to admit it, Inko had a thing for men like Hisashi. Despite his rough personality and lack of manners, he was a go-getter, pushing his way through obstacles like a bulldozer, no matter the repercussions. His piercing blue eyes sent shivers down her spine in the best way. It reminded her of the men on the cover of her romance novels, except less attractive and more like an angry cat with mange. 

It was part of the reason she’d invited him to live with her after his apartment burned down. Such a tragedy. Thankfully, Hisashi appeared to take it well enough, moving his meager valuables in immediately. It took a few months to understand each other’s schedules but ultimately she thought they had become good friends, if not, perhaps something even more?

Her face flushed at the idea. Hisashi didn’t seem interested, no matter what she tried. Dressing sexy hadn’t worked. He merely looked her up and down and asked what she was making for dinner. Even walking around in but a scant towel got nothing more than a surprised blink before he scuffled away, much to her dismay. Was he not interested in women? Was that what prevented her from gaining his affections?

No, that couldn’t be it. He would have told her if he was. Perhaps he was playing hard to get. Could it be because his multiple jobs were getting in the way? Hisashi’s odd working hours made it difficult to get to know him on a more personal level. The only time they really had together was over the weekends, something she greatly cherished. Part of her hoped he never got his memories back and just stayed with her forever.

“What are you doing, Inko?” She said aloud, shaking her head. “What if it’s a repeat of last time?”

Her shoulders dropped in remembrance. Most of her exes had been deadbeats, living off her salary to gamble and drink before she ended up kicking them out. Hisashi wasn’t like that though. He worked. He gave her money for rent. He even complimented her on her cooking!

The door chimed, drawing her attention. Excitement rushed through her as he walked through the threshold. Finally! She practically threw her cleaning supplies back into the closet in order to greet him. As he leaned forward to take off his shoes a small object fell out of his pocket. Her eyes widened as she realized what it was.

Of all the things she’d seen him bring home she never in her wildest dreams expected a diamond ring. She nearly jumped for joy. Yes! Her intuition hadn’t been wrong! A waterfall of tears left her eyes. 

“Oh, Hisashi,” she said, quickly rushing over to pick up the ring and place it upon her finger. Inko admired it on her hand. Mitsuki will be so jealous, she thought giddly.  It was a bit big, but they could always resize it later. “Yes, I do.”

Hisashi threw her a look. “You do what?” 

“You’re such a kidder.” She laughed, marveling at the new jewelry. “Where did you get a ring like this? Did you finally get yourself a full-time job?”

A series of expressions passed over her new fiancee’s face before he finally answered, “Yes, I did. The job…is a full-time position. Very long hours but the pay is good.” A dark smirk crossed his face. “Totally didn’t steal this off a corpse or anything.”

“Very funny.” She threw her arms around him, ignoring the way his body froze up. It had been a long, arduous year of yearning but she finally had a man to call her own and who wasn’t some layabout. 

Time really does fly by , he inwardly mused. 

Dabi had only been Hisashi for the last two years or so. Not a long time in the grand scheme of things, but, much to his surprise, he actually enjoyed the identity he’d crafted. Dabi was a disfigured loner, burnt by his past, and driven by revenge and a burning hatred for heroes. Hisashi, on the other hand, had built a relatively comfy life as a ‘salaryman’ with a decent house and a housewife who did all the cooking and cleaning so he didn’t have to. Sure, the revenge aspect was still in motion, as was his burning hatred, but he’d come to terms with it over time with the help of the counselor his former psych recommended.

The room was mostly plain with mismatched chairs that had seen better days. A few fake plants sat upon the windowsill which reflected an equally boring outside of gray buildings. The only thing that stood out were the rows and rows of children’s photos upon the wall behind the counselor’s blue chair, smiling and watching him as if waiting to see what Hisashi might do. At its center sat the counselor himself, a small wrinkly gentleman on the bad end of middle-aged, balding and sweaty despite the chill in the room. There was a nervous smile on his face, one Hisashi knew all too well. 

But that wasn’t important. No, what was important was his mental health journey. Inko was right about him needing to talk about his feelings with someone. It had taken him months to come to that conclusion and many months more to get to this one. 

“So,” Hisashi said, tapping his pen against his open palm. “To summarize, what you’re saying is my father-complex is what drove my hatred and, due to my abusive upbringing, I am repeating the cycle by hurting others like how my father hurt me?”

The man tried to respond, “Hm, I’m not so sur–”

Hisashi interjected, “But it makes sense. I was never able to connect to League like the others. At the end of the day they were more tools for my revenge than true friends. I mean, we all did use each other to further our goals, but the others worked more as a unit while I initially distanced myself. Toga and Twice. Shigaraki and Spinner. I was so focused on my revenge that I failed to make any deep relationships.”

The counselor nodded fervently, sweat forming along his brow. “Indeed.”

“Man, the Todoroki family really is fucked up,” he said wistfully, looking back at his childhood in a new light. “Not just my dad but mom was a neglectful bitch too. I mean, part of me did feel sorry for her, but she wasn’t without agency. She could have done something about it. Or maybe not? My dead old man did send her to the funny farm for a decade after she freezer-burned his favorite.” He threw the pen up, catching it in mid-air as he reflected over his memories. “But my siblings…maybe I shouldn’t have blamed them. One could say they were simply victims of abuse like I was. That doesn’t excuse them from not recognizing me though.”

“I-I-I concur,” the other stuttered. 

“Maybe that’s why Stain’s speech resonated with me so much,” Hisashi said, rising to his feet to pace around the room. “Heroes like my father were all about personal goals: money, fame, power–bullshit, you know? Real heroes are supposed to be selfless and the fact that most of them weren’t meant something is wrong with this society. Because villains don’t just come out of nowhere,” he explained, eyes widening as his realizations took form. “They come from the cracks that society neglects: the poor, the mentally-ill, the outcasts, the forgotten—at the end of the day, Pro Heroes are merely reinforcing Japan’s police state mentality that separates those who are acceptable and not acceptable according to them.”

Hisashi whirled around to face the counselor.

The other man gulped. “Well,” he said, “That is an interesting viewpoint on the matter.”

A slice of teeth emerged on Hisashi’s face, widening into a dark grin. Hisashi moved as fast as a viper behind the man’s chair, resting his hands on the other’s shaking shoulders. 

“I would consider it the true viewpoint. But back to my old man. Even if he had his little change of heart , that doesn’t erase the years of emotional abuse he put me through to create the perfect hero. I wasn’t the failure. He was.” His lips lowered into a sharp frown. “But he still gets to play the hero afterward, despite the shit he’s pulled because he’s got a powerful quirk. I’m pretty sure if he was some unranked guy they would have thrown his ass to the wolves,” he said, hands tightening around his counselor’s shoulders. “No one could touch him either because of how much money he had. He had an entire level in that stupid building of his specifically for his legal team, the lucky bastard.”

Past Dabi spent years studying the man’s hero company to find a way in. From the people who worked there down to the layout of the building, Hisashi was an expert on all things Endeavor-related. Even now he was keeping tabs on the man through the internet, stalking his social media accounts from time to time. 

“That does seem difficult,” the counselor said shakily. “Money and power certainly seem to go hand in hand.”

“Money and power…” His brows crossed as a new idea formed. “That’s it. If I can’t defeat him through my power alone, I have to try another method: going after his money. If I bankrupt that bastard then he’ll have no leg to stand on afterwards. I can finish him off much easier that way. The problem is how to implement it.” He stroked his chin as the plans began to form in his mind. After a minute of thinking he broke away from the counselor, heading for the door.  “Thanks Doc. I never would have conceptualized my goals and dealt with my trauma if it hadn’t been for our monthly meetings.  Now I can move on from my self-inflicted hatred and suicidal nature.”

“S-s-so you’ll let me go then?” He asked. “Please, I’m innocent!”

“No.” Hisashi casted another look at the wall of pictures. Every single one of them couldn’t be more than 16 at most. Hisashi wouldn’t speculate what happened to them but he had an inkling based on the information he’d gathered. Honestly, he really should thank his old psych for the recommendation again. “No, you’re not.”

It doesn’t take much energy to create a fire, Hisashi had come to find. He made sure to cut off the flames before they grew too hot, throwing his scorched gloves once finished. As his counselor screamed he checked his palms, relieved to see only reddened skin instead of burn marks. He would be more careful this time around.

As the flames worked their ways to the wall he threw one last look at the room. The smiling children’s eyes seemed to burn right through him, perhaps delighted in the retribution for their suffering. Or not. At the end of the day, this was all part of the job after all. 

He dipped before the first siren rang, walking through the throngs of people that had come to see what all the excitement was about. No one paid a single mind to him, his average appearance blending into the group. As he made his way to the metro his phone buzzed. He checked the device, noting six missed calls from the woman. Sighing, he picked it up to answer.  “I’m a bit busy right now, Inko. Can I talk to you later?”

“I couldn’t wait!” She exclaimed. “I just had to tell you as soon as I heard!”

He rolled his eyes. “Alright, let’s hear it then.”

“We’re pregnant!”

A normal husband or wife might have shared in her exuberance. All Hisashi could muster was, “The fuck.”

Suffice to say, he did not get to sleep in the house that night. 

When he pictured babies he thought back to his youngest brother; he imagined something with tiny hands, pink cherubic cheeks and a propensity to steal the hopes and dreams of its older siblings. In short, the golden child all parents hoped for after screwing up the first couple of times. The kind of infant that made parents’ hearts explode with love and affection. 

His son had none of that.

When the doctor handed him the boy he thought there had been some sort of mistake, that perhaps it was one of the Doctor’s failed Nomus or something. The nurse must have noticed his expression because her next words were, “They get cuter after a few months.”

Hisashi was dubious. No, he thought, clearly, fate has saddled me with an ugly child . That was the only explanation. He lacked the attractive Todoroki genes.  The boy would be average-looking at best and horrifyingly hideous at worst. Maybe if he put a paper bag over his face it wouldn’t be so painful to look at? 

His eyes narrowed. Something about the baby was familiar. He just couldn’t place it. He didn’t have much time to dwell on the thought as the little gremlin cried. Quickly, he placed the creature back in his wife’s arms. Soon enough the potato-shaped child fell asleep, much to Hisashi’s relief. 

He…wasn’t sure what to make of the whole situation. Having children was not on his Revenge Bingo card. Then again, neither was getting a wife or a mortgage either.

“Isn’t he beautiful?” She gushed. 

“Ah, yes, like Picasso,” Hisashi said underneath his breath. 

“Pardon?” She asked. “I didn’t quite catch that last part.”

“I mean, yes, like my pop. Really, the resemblance is uncanny,” he quickly replied. 

“What should we name him?”

Hisashi shrugged. He never imagined himself as a father or a husband but somehow ended up with them in this life. Who would of thought? “Don’t look at me. You were the one who wanted one of these things.”

“But it’s his name. It’s going to be with him forever,” she stressed. 

“Not necessarily. He could decide to leave his name behind in order to forge a new identity in order to destroy his father’s legacy,” he explained. 

Her eyebrows pinched together. “That’s oddly specific.”

“Well, you never know what could happen. Just choose something simple.”

“Hmm.” She reached down to move a lock of curly green hair from the baby’s eyes. “How about Izuku?”

“Izuku?” Hisashi paused, thinking over the suggestion. Another feeling of deja-vu.  “Huh. That name sounds familiar.”

Really familiar. Damn, it was on the tip of his tongue too.

“That’s because he’s named after you, Silly. I derived the name from your own,” she said cheerfully. 

He lifted a brow. “So you just made it up?”

“I think it suits him.”

“Then let’s go with that,” he replied, leaning back in his chair as he watched his wife coo at his son. There was that strange feeling again. His heart felt tight at the sight of the two of them. Was it discomfort? Heartburn? He wasn’t sure and that bothered him. So many unknown variables with these two. 

Well, it was unlikely to interfere with his goals at least. Inko and Izuku had no connection to his revenge against Endeavor. And if he didn’t remember them from the future then obviously he must have changed the timeline. He was sure that weird deja-vu feeling would go away in due time. 

He surveyed the burnt corpses of his most recent work. He hadn’t personally killed them but he was tasked with cleaning up after the ones who did, a job that was becoming quite common as of late. Should he open a janitorial business for villains? He thought about it for a moment before shaking his head. Nah, too much work. He normally didn’t do work this close to home but the deal had been too good to ignore.

While heroes manned most parts of Japan, there were still areas no one with a brain-cell would enter. Fukuoka was heavily populated but lacked enough strong heroes to provide for every neighborhood. In a decade or so it would be different, especially with the arrival of one feathery bastard he wouldn’t name. For now however, it was one of the few places in Japan he could do work without the heroes noticing.

“You really should visit more,” his wife said, her voice crackling over the phone. 

“I really wish I could,” Hisashi replied, silently yawning as he walked away from the carnage. “But you know how it is. Work needs me in New York.”

“I thought you said you were in Los Angeles?”

“I’m needed there too,” he said hastily. A loud crash down one of the alleys interrupted his train of thought. His brows slanted into a frown. Had someone been following him?  “Hold on, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He followed the sound, walking quietly and between the shadows until he found the source. A scruffy drunk was beating down on a child. He had feathers coming out his jacket like a strange chicken but that was the most noticeable thing about the forgettable man. “Stupid little shit. Do you have ears?” The man hissed, shaking the kid. “Fuck, you’re as useless as your mother.”

Something inside Hisashi flared up. He spoke before his mind could stop him. “Hey!”

They turned to the noise but seemed unsurprised by his presence. The man flipped him the bird, sneering, “This ain’t any of your business, old man.”

Hisashi stiffened as though he had been struck. Old? “Excuse you, I’m not even thirty. You’re blocking the way. Move it, dipshit.”

“Give me your wallet and maybe I’ll let you pass,” the man said, a dangerous glint in his eye as he reached into his pocket. 

In a flash Hisashi grabbed him by the arm and twisted it behind his back. The knife clinked to the ground as Hisashi applied heat to his hands. Not enough to burn but certainly enough to feel uncomfortable. 

“You know,” he said, kicking the man behind the knees so he would buckle. “ I was already having a pretty shitty day and you’re not helping matters. Every time I take a step forward I get hit with something else. My new job fell through, my stock portfolio recently took a nosedive–”

“Oi! Oi! That hurts!” The man yelled. 

“–-And now I have to deal with some bitch ass rooster-looking motherfucker who is beating on his kid in the middle of the damn day in an alleyway and no one is doing shit all about it,” he finished. A hint of flame escaped his mouth. 

“Are you going to kill me?”

“I will if you don’t leave,” Hisashi said, releasing the man.

“I don’t–”

“Ten. Nine. Eight,” he stopped his countdown once the man disappeared from sight, leaving the child behind. So much for fatherly love , he thought darkly. 

“You didn’t have to do that,” a young voice said. 

Hisashi turned his attention to the kid. He reminded Hisashi of a burrito, wrapped up in a puffy white winter coat that had long gone gray with age, the hood pulled tightly across his face in what Hisashi assumed was a way to hide the bruises. The clothes didn’t detract from the kid’s sharp gaze however, watching his every movement like an injured beast. It reminded him of his younger self too much to be ignored. Hisashi might be a bastard but he wasn’t completely heartless. He did put up with babysitting the League after all.  

“No, I didn’t,” Hisashi said with a shrug. “But I know what it’s like to have a crap father.”

A petulant look crossed the boy’s features. Hisashi chuckled. His son did the same thing whenever he ate something sour. “I don’t need your help,” he said. 

“Good, I’m not offering it. He’s probably gonna beat the shit out of you when you get home so you should stay someplace else for a bit,” Hisashi recommended. 

The kid’s face tensed, turning to the side. In a soft voice he mumbled, “But I don’t have anywhere else to go.”

Hisashi groaned. Still, his conscience wouldn’t allow him to leave without doing something. He pulled out his wallet, throwing some yen notes at the kid’s chest. It should pay enough for a hotel tonight. 

The kid gawked before scowling. “I’m not some charity case.”

“Then consider it a loan.”

After a moment’s hesitation he reached down for the cash, scooping it up and stuffing it in his pockets. Once finished he looked back to Hisashi, cocking his head to the side like a puppy. “Why are you doing this?”

Just as he was about to answer with something snarky he froze up, finally thinking over his actions. Why was he doing this? Was it because of his issues with his father, or was it because he now has his own son? Perhaps it was a toss-up between the two or simply a whim. Either way, Hisashi felt no need to tell the brat, merely answering the question with a shrug, walking past as he intended to do in the first place. No more side quests today—fuck, now he sounded like Shigaraki. 

The kid wouldn’t let him leave yet, however. He grabbed Hisashi’s sleeve. “Wait, what’s your name? Are you a hero?”

Hisashi shook the kid off, continuing on his journey. In his pocket, his phone began to buzz several times. It was a good sign. Hopefully one of his contacts found better work. It wouldn’t be long before he forgot about the kid months later, just another face in the crowd of people he’d dealt with over the years.

But the kid never forgot. No, Keigo Takami promised himself he wouldn’t forget this moment as he watched the mysterious stranger disappear into the night, his long business coat billowing behind him like a cape. It was at this point in time, years later, that Hawks would look back on. A single person standing up for him when no one else had done it before. It was the place where his hero journey began, along with his less-than-healthy attraction to broken, fire-wielding, middle-aged assholes.

The deja-vu feeling never went away.

Hisashi racked his mind for reasons. Outside of his family and the League, he didn’t really pay much attention to the names and faces of others because to him the rest were just filler. Maybe it was brain damage? It wouldn’t surprise him if he had fried his brain a bit in that final battle. Did his son remind him of someone then? He recalled one of Endeavor’s lackeys had green hair, but that was where the similarity ended. Still, his son was around Shouto’s age, so that could pose a problem. His family didn’t live too far away from UA either. Perhaps Izuku would be a student there? Was that why he looked so familiar? Hisashi tried to recall the important faces from the school but other than the teachers like All Might and Eraserhead and that explosive blond brat, no one else came to mind. Memories really do fade with age , he mused.

Fortunately, Izuku grew into his features as he aged, no longer the weird potato creature he was born as. Unfortunately, he inherited nothing from Hisashi in the face department. Height was a toss-up between both parents as neither were very tall. Not that Hisashi cared all that much. He made sure to spend time with the boy on his visits home, but not too often. It wouldn’t do for the boy or the mother to get attached if his plans failed.

Then there was the issue of time travel, since there were now two Touyas in the world. It was possible Izuku didn’t exist previously or he existed in some other form, which brought up a new question: how much had Hisashi changed in this timeline? Would it affect his revenge against Endeavor? A heavy dose of doubt washed away his fears. There were millions of people in Japan. It would be a miracle for his old and new families to ever meet. 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by his toddler son’s babbling. For a moment, Hisashi’s lips pulled up into the smallest of smiles.  Izuku was quite amusing in his expressions and actions; it reminded Hisashi of a panda at a zoo. Cute and fluffy but would probably die in the wild if not for its caretakers. Nothing more than that, Hisashi inwardly reasoned as he lifted the boy into his arms, this was just something to do during the lull. 

The boy began to pout, cheeks puffing out like a squirrel as he pointed to Hisashi. He tried to grab the man’s lips but Hisashi was faster, leaning back from the kid’s grabby hands. “What’s that? Use words, Izuku.”

“Papa Quirk,” Izuku insisted, patting his mouth and blowing air out at the same time. “Quirk!”

Hisashi rolled his eyes but complied. What had once been a party trick while drinking with the League  was now his registered Quirk. The kid loved it though and it usually got him to shut up so it was two birds with one stone. He puckered his lips, placing his forefinger and middle finger on each side of his mouth in the shape of a V. He took a deep breath then released, the air between his fingers catching fire. Izuku clapped maniacally, his expression, for once, closer to Hisashi than his mother’s. The insanity infected him, causing the man to giggle along, much to the discomfort of those who passed them by.

After their laughter died down, he continued their trip, eager to get there before the crowds. He ignored the looks from the other parents as he and the brat walked into the playground. Even though his surgery scars healed his skin still had a mismatched appearance. Not as bad during his Dabi days, but certainly not what people considered normal.

Izuku began to wiggle out of his arms. Hisashi sighed, releasing the little heathen onto the ground before settling on one of the nearby benches. The boy immediately wreaked havoc on the sandpit, much to Hisashi’s great amusement and others’ horror. 

“Can I sit next to you?” A woman asked. 

“Sure,” Hisashi replied, not looking up as he flipped through his phone. He was more focused on the details of a new job offer than anything else. The pay was good. Damn good, actually, but it would involve him being in All for One’s detail, and despite the man’s high-paying jobs, the risks weren’t worth it. Plus, that Potato bastard didn’t even offer any vacations or benefits. Dabi might have accepted such a deal, but Hisashi was no common wage slave anymore. He had standards. 

But money was money and his current check would only last so long. He needed to get a move on with his plans. Capital and contacts were great, but it would take more than that to ruin Endeavor. He needed a way inside, some sort of in–

“It’s a nice day today,” the woman said, breaking his train of thought. “Is that one yours?”

Hisashi paused. Something about her voice was ringing an alarm in his head but he couldn’t understand why. Hisashi looked up at her hand pointing toward some white-haired nobody, then shook his head. “Nah, mine's the green one,” he said.

“You mean the one that’s eating sand?”

“He takes after his mother,” he amended. He couldn’t help but chuckle fondly at his little weirdo. 

“I hope you don’t mind me asking, but have we met somewhere before?”

Hisashi swallowed. The alarms began ringing louder. He slowly shifted his attention towards her. 

She let out a soft sigh, the same one she used when he had overworked himself during training. “I swear I’ve seen you, I just can’t place it.”

He didn’t have to look to know who it was. Her voice had been imprinted on his memory no matter how much he wished to rid himself. Old and new feelings erupted in his chest as their gazes met. There were less wrinkles around her eyes and she didn’t look quite as depressed, but everything else was the same. 

Rei Todoroki smiled innocently, completely unaware of her son’s inner turmoil.

Part of him wondered if he should interfere with his younger self’s destiny, but he threw away the idea. Younger Touya would not reap the benefits Older Touya had worked so hard to achieve. Plus, he really didn’t want to deal with babysitting his little bitch self. Izuku was feral enough as it was. 

It didn’t help matters that Shouto was there in all his toddler glory. Even though he had mostly gotten over his defeat, seeing the little perpetrator in the flesh was another thing altogether. His future murderer glanced up from his juice box as if he too could see a resemblance. Instead of saying something the kid burped, throwing spit up onto Hisashi’s shoes.

Hisashi could feel his Cain instincts rising. He stuffed down the desire to strangle his little brother as he tried to figure out a good response. Fuck, fuck, fuck , he inwardly panicked. Outwardly, he laughed, replying in what he hoped was a steady voice, “Nope.  I guess I just have one of those faces, you know? It’s fairly common in my line of business.”

“Oh? What do you do?”

Overseas hitman. “Accountant.”

Her eyes lit up. “An accountant? How nice, my husband has been looking for one. He recently expanded his business.” 

“Is that so?”

She looked away, balancing Shouto in her lap. There was a melancholy to her features that gave Hisashi nostalgia.  “Not that I’m involved in his work or anything. He’s very meticulous. Sorry, maybe I’m overstepping–”

“Not at all,” he interjected, giving her a professional smile he practiced daily in the mirror. He couldn’t let this opportunity pass him by. “I’ll send you my resume. What’s your number?”

Fate must be at his side if it offered him this. Soon he would slip into Endeavor’s financials like a corporation into a politician’s pocket and then the rest would be a matter of time.

It doesn’t hit Hisashi until much, much later, who his son truly was. 

The day started off as normal: he took a shower, brewed his coffee, and took the trains down to Manhattan for work. It had taken him some time to worm into Endeavor’s business but once he did he had his fingers in every department. He was lucky his father was too busy with destroying his baby brother’s childhood to see how little capital remained in the Hero Agency, spread so thin a single touch could topple the organization. It was over a decade of work and Hisashi was damn proud of the utter fuckery he committed. He even had an overseas office and a secretary. 

It would be the financial scandal of the decade, but not yet , he mused in his chair, squeezing the little stress ball as he went over Endeavor’s recent charity event. His hand formed a tight fist around the ball, nearly breaking it before he released it. If only he had one of these things growing up. 

Hisashi leaned back, muscles aching as he did so. Much like everything else in life, things changed as time marched on. Hisashi wouldn’t have minded if someone told him how much being middle-aged sucked . He didn’t mind the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and mouth but the crick in his neck and the way his bones creaked when he got up were a pain in the ass. His thirties went fine, but once he hit the big four-oh, it was all downhill from there.

Despite the downsides, however, spite still carried him forward. He wouldn’t be here without it. Age may have worn at the sharp corners of his anger but it allowed him to reflect on his goals and desires. Once this was done he was going to have a nice long vacation in Hawaii, maybe bring Izuku and Inko over as well. It wasn’t like he had anyone else to invite.

Hisashi swerved around in his chair. So many things to do in such a short period of time. The Dabi part of him longed to contact his old cohorts. The League would be forming soon, he thought with an air of fondness, and while he had no interest in returning to All for One’s hands, he did miss the devil-may-care attitudes and thrill of it all. Realistically, it was a stupid idea, however. Living as Hisashi for over a decade had given him the wisdom to avoid that trainwreck. There was no saving his younger self or the other members of the League, at least not without jeopardizing his mission.

“Mr. Midoriya, you have another call,” his secretary voiced through the intercom. “It’s your son.”

“Put him through,” he said. He couldn’t help but raise a brow. Izuku never called him unless it was for more All Might merchandise. It probably had to do with that fight Inko mentioned. Probably something to do with that Bakugou brat. How his son was ever childhood friends with that pain in the ass he will never understand. 

A moment of silence passed before his son sheepishly admitted, “Mom told me to call you.”

“Yeah,” he started. “I heard you got the shit beaten out of you. Do I need to come down to Aldera to straighten things out?”

He normally kept his hands off his son’s education, leaving it to Inko. Still, tales of bullying weren’t uncommon. He thought it would be over after that spiky-haired brat got deep-throated by some slime thief. Or was it a mud-man? Hisashi couldn’t remember only something his wife mentioned. Still, the event made him uneasy. 

“That’s one way of putting it, but no. It didn’t happen at Aldera,” he explained. In a quieter voice, he added, “It’s nothing, really. The exams were a lot harder than I anticipated, and I wasn’t expecting the giant robot to come out or that girl getting caught in the rubble.”

“Wait, what exams?”

“My entrance exams for UA. Didn’t mom tell you?”

“You’re going to UA?” He slowly blinked, the information settling in his gut like a heavy cement block. 

“Probably not since I blew the last part. I didn’t get to hit any of the other robots.” Izuku sighed. “Stupid, stupid, stupid! I should have trained harder. Maybe if I had more time with my Quirk–”

“Wait,” Hisashi interrupted. Something vaguely familiar turned up in his mind’s eye. “You have a Quirk?” 

His eyes widened as memories resurfaced. People don’t just get Quirks after four or five. Izuku wouldn’t have contact with All for One. Hisashi made sure of that. There was only one other answer. 

“Well,” Izuku started. “So, a funny thing happened. I got my Quirk right before my Entrance Exam. I used it during the practical test but I broke my arm. It got healed though!” He laughed weakly. “Pretty sure I failed.”

“Broke. Your. Arm. Izuku, what sort of Quirk do you have?” He asked, dreading the answer. 

It was so damn obvious: the green hair, the forgettable face, the Quirk that breaks bones—Blood drained from Hisashi’s face, his skin nearly the same color as his hair. How did he not foresee this?

“Oh, um, it’s a strength quirk,” he amended the answer with a more detailed version, “It releases energy but the power is really strong so I haven’t mastered it yet. Think of it like a stockpile of energy that enhances one’s physical abilities but you have to channel them. But don’t worry, I will! I have All M–I mean Mr. Toshinori helping me with my training.” He paused. There was a slight hitch in his voice as he added, “I don’t know if he’ll teach me anymore if I don't get in though.”

Hisashi rubbed his temple, trying to starve off the headache that was forming as he took in all this new information. “No, he will. He’s All Might.”

His son was Duku or Dike or whatever that kid’s Hero name was. Hisashi frowned, brows furrowing as he mentally looked over the past decade and a half. Had his quest for revenge against Endeavor clouded his eyes from the truth of his son’s identity?

Impossible. 

“Right!” He affirmed before the words sank in. A strangled noise resounded before his son began backtracking, “Wait, what? H-h-how do you…Ha, ha, ha! You’re joking. Mr. Toshinori and All Might have blond hair and blue eyes but that’s the only coincidence.”

This wouldn’t do. His son being a hero would complicate things immensely, not just for his plans but also for his insurance benefits. And yet…Hisashi couldn’t deny his son the dream of becoming a hero, not like his father had and Hisashi refused to ever be like that bastard.

“I see.” He released a soft sigh. Everything would need to be revised in order for this to work. His gaze traveled over to his spreadsheet. It would take a bit of time but he could probably stretch Endeavor’s expenses through another year without Endeavor noticing. That meant he couldn’t stay overseas anymore, however. Nothing was going to get done without him there. Noticing the awkward silence, Hisashi replied, “I’m planning to come back soon.”

“Really?”

“Work is calling.” He looked out the window. How he would miss the New York skyline. “We’ll talk soon, okay? I have a lot to tell you.”

“But—” The line died. 

There went his weekend. Hisashi grabbed his stress ball. Unfortunately, much like his dreams, it burst into flames in his hold, leaving behind ashes and the smell of burnt plastic. He tossed the remains in the bin as he got up, walking back and forth to keep from exploding. 

Everything in his plans would need to be reworked, which meant he needed to get involved. As loath as he was to admit it, the kid had grown on him, like his mother. They may not be close in a traditional sense but they were his . His eyes rolled to the ceiling as the weight of his convictions grew heavier on his back. He couldn’t protect Izuku from certain fights but he did know of one he could.

Hisashi just hoped he could find him before the kids did. 

He watched his son throw his broken body at his younger brother like a bag of rocks, taunting him to use his fire. Other parents would be horrified to see their child in such a state. Hisashi was, of course, of a different mind. A heavy dose of pride rose up in his chest at his boy’s proverbial middle finger to the other Todoroki. Sure, it was at the kid’s expense but Hisashi already knew the kiddo would get better. Besides, at this point no one would be able to convince his boy otherwise.

That didn’t mean Hisashi would do nothing, however.

The trip to Hosu was uneventful until he heard the scramble for officers on his police scanner. Right on time, he thought.  Hisashi had enough experience in tracking people to make for the alleyways to get to his destination. It wouldn’t do for him to be exposed right now.

He knew where to find the Hero Killer, after all. The man was messy, leaving a trail of blood for Hisashi to follow like some twisted fairy tale. At the turning of the corner he spotted him standing over the body of a crumpled hero. A younger, more inexperienced him would have shot a wall of flames towards Stain, wasting energy for strength in hopes of overpowering his opponent. 

Hisashi preferred a simpler method. Taking out his pistol, he shot three bullets. Two embedded into the wall while the third hit Stain in the side, stunning him. He jumped away from the body, giving Hisashi a furious glare as he held his bleeding abdomen. Hisashi blew the smoke off the gun and then pointed it again at the man. 

“Who are you? Some sort of hero?” He ground out as though he were menacing to someone like Hisashi. “What sort of hero uses guns?”

Hisashi ignored the question, keeping his eyes trained on the other as he walked closer. “Chizome Akaguro. You’re not easy to track down. I will applaud you on your use of burner phones and different aliases, but everyone has a digital footprint.”

“What are you getting at?”

“Run…Save…yourself,” the defeated Hero said, his voice muffled by his helmet. Hisashi sidestepped the red pool around the man, unwilling to get his shoes dirty.

“You, shut up. You’re not making any of this easier on yourself,” he said towards the fallen hero, who groaned miserably in response. Hisashi rolled his eyes. What a drama queen. 

“You’re wasting my time,” Stain remarked spitefully, raising a knife to his tongue as if trying to threaten him. 

“I could say the same thing,” Hisashi retorted, his open hand motioning at the villain. “You know, I used to worship your ideology. I was committed to the idea of cleansing society of false heroes, that the current society’s way of thinking needed to be burned to the ground. And, in a way, you weren’t necessarily wrong, just misguided in your execution.”

Stain threw him an affronted look.“Excuse me?”

“I’ll try and be a bit more eloquent then,” Hisashi began. “You’re a delusional middle-aged weirdo with a sword and a blood fetish. And hey, I get it. We all like to commit a bit of murder sometimes, but your philosophy isn’t doing anything to reform the system. You’re attacking heroes at random, and for what? Internet points? To send a message to society like some Hollywood film? Instead of acting through or around the system to change it you’re blindly banging your head against society’s wall like it’s going to suddenly see the errors of its ways like a fucking toddler. In short, you’re an idiot, and I am ashamed I ever made a shrine for you in my bedroom.”

“What?”

Hisashi released the energy he’d been building up since he stepped foot on his home soil once again. The area around them grew unbearably hot as smoke steamed from his mouth. Hisashi wouldn’t dare use his flames in such an enclosed space lest he risk severely burning himself, but Stain didn’t know that. “I’ll roast the flesh off your bones if you don’t leave this city. Consider it my only mercy.”

“Not if I kill you first.”

Hisashi shot another round of bullets at the man, causing him to flee. He smiled smugly, cracking his fingers while he basked in his own brilliance. “And my job here is done.”

“Great,” the hero said. “Can you call an ambulance?”

“Now to get back to work,” Hisashi exclaimed as he turned around, returning to the alleyways, he came from to avoid any police. Satisfaction ran through him. Now Izuku would be safe from Stain at least. 

“Are you seriously leaving me here?”

Tensei Ida released a litany of curses as the man walked off, completely ignoring his broken, bleeding body. Today was just not his day, was it?

Hisashi was a simple man. There were few things he disliked. His father was at the top all on his own, one of the only things he was number one at by his own power. Green peppers were a close second, tied with his younger brother and the rest of the Todoroki clan. But, up amidst the group, there was a third but equally rage-inducting category: Losing control. 

Touya lost control of his powers and lost everything. Dabi lost control of his powers and lost everything. Hisashi refused to do the same. He crawled out of the hole he came from to repeat his mistakes. His work was controlled. It was precise. He never lost his patience as he did as a hotshot twenty-something. Age had given him a perspective his youth had not. But none of that meant shit right now. No matter what he tried to do,  Hisashi’s actions were mere pebbles in the stream of time, unable to divert the ultimate course, much to his great frustration.

How the hell did All for One do so well behind the scenes? Hisashi tried sabotaging Shigaraki several times, but that asshole had nine lives and a sugar daddy to protect him. He took down Overhaul, but only after the neat freak and Izuku beat the shit out of each other in a police raid, which, Hisashi must say, he definitely did not permit as an extracurricular activity. What the hell was U.A. teaching these kids? Fucking police-state bullshit, no doubt. The amount of money that school charged him was criminal in itself. No wonder most people who went into professional heroism were either loaded or on scholarship. His wallet wept every time his boy went off on those wild incursions. The medical bills from I-Island, that weird class internship that ultimately meant jackshit to the timeline but still cost him up the nose, the time when his son was accused of murder in a foreign country while externing under Endeavor—nothing Hisashi did behind the scenes went the way he wanted it to go.

It sent him into a tailspin of emotions. Was this what it felt like to be useless? Oh god, this must be how Inko felt every time she looked in the mirror. 

Maybe it was the thought of her that led him back to the stairs to his home. He slumped onto the steps, head between his hands as he contemplated what he should do. Behind him, the door creaked open, followed by a soft yelp of surprise. He felt her soft fingers grip his shoulder as she brought herself down to his level.

He looked over. Age had not been kind to either of them. 

Her soft fingers turned hard as she gripped his cheeks, exasperation riding her brow as her lips pulled downward. “What are you doing here? I thought you wouldn’t get back until next week. I would have prepared something if you did.”

“It’s over,” he lamented with a long sigh, leaning into her touch. 

“What’s over?”

“No matter how much I try and interfere,” he continued, “I can’t change anything. What if that kid dies because of me? What sort of father am I if I can’t protect my kid from my past?” His face grew hot as a newfound horror enveloped him. “Shit, I’m worse than Endeavor.”

“Izuku dying? Wait, start over,” she said. 

“There’s so much you don’t know about me.”

She bit down on her lip. After a second of silence, she said, “Hisashi…I know you’re not a salaryman.”

“You could never—wait, what,” he said, switching between moaning about his issues to what she just revealed. “How?” 

“I always had a thing for bad boys. Even though you weren’t always around, you provided for us financially and for that I thank you.”

Hisashi thought back. She had always been pretty lenient with him, now that he thought about it. “Why are you telling me all this?”

“First, tell me what this is all about. Start from the beginning.”

Hisashi blinked, stumped at her words. He had only revealed his past to two people, one of which was retired and the other burnt to a crisp. Dare he tell his wife the same? He licked his bottom lip, staring at his hands as he contemplated what to do. While he was never able to love Inko the way she would like, he had grown fond of her over the years.

The words stumbled out like a drunk from a bar. Slowly, they became sentences that formed something of a timeline of who he was and how he came to be. He didn’t leave a single detail out. He even told her of what was trying to do behind the scenes and his failures, something he had never revealed to anyone.

It felt good, though, as if someone had released all the stress inside him like a cork of a wine bottle. Was this why people had spouses to emotionally dump all their burdens on them? If so, damn, what an amazing concept. He should have married her sooner. 

A few minutes passed between them before Inko responded to his explanation with, “Hisashi, I never married you for your intelligence or your looks. Frankly, you’re a horrible husband and an absentee father. This explains a lot.”

“Ouch,” he said, holding his chest. Where was his spousal support from earlier? 

“I married you for your tenacity,” she explained. “You never give up. I always envied that. It’s that very same tenacity that I see in our son.”

“Yeah, that kid sure is a wild card,” he said in bemusement.

Izuku had wormed his way into Hisashi’s cold dead heart over the years. Even when they found out the kid was Quirkless he never doubted the kid’s desire to be a hero. The kid was just that insane. 

Her expression grew fierce. “You’re the only one who can stop whatever this is, so get off your ass and do what you set out to do. Whatever is going to happen you need to protect our son, no matter what. If you don’t come home with my boy alive then don’t come home at all.”

“But nothing I’ve done so far has worked.”

“Hisashi, you’re a drama queen, not some shadowy behind-the-scenes manipulator. Use your head. You love being the center of attention when it falls on you,” she explained in a matter-of-fact tone. 

She…by god, she was right. A light bulb went off in his head. Technically, he could kill two birds with one stone if he did it right. His mind traveled back to the drama classes he took so long ago. It would take a bit of preparation but with the war in Jaku right around the corner, he could get everything done in time. A manic grin spread emerged on his face. He got to his feet, dusting off his clothes as his mind was made up. 

“That’s not a bad idea,” he mused. “ Fine. I’ll do something, but you better make me something to eat when I get home.”

Even for a fat, middle-aged housewife, she was right in the end. He had been playing in the shadows for far too long. It was time he made his grand entrance. Sure, it was different from the one he originally planned, but he could wing it. 

He was Hisashi Midoriya, after all. 

“Make it yourself, you old coot,” she retorted, climbing back up the stairs and shutting the door loudly behind her. 

He laughed.

Izuku Midoriya was not expecting his father to be here, much less the center of attention after knocking out Dabi and going into a long backstory monologue. At least his father had an eye for detail? He tried to look on the bright side of this disaster of a day but couldn’t find anything else. 

Finding out Tomura Shigaraki now had All for One was horrible but manageable. Finding out Dabi was Touya Todoroki was shocking, but looking back seemed rather obvious. Finding out his Dad was previously Dabi—no, that was simply too much for his exhausted mind to wrap his head around. It was the truth, however, as much as he would rather it not be.

It wouldn’t be false to say Izuku’s relationship with Hisashi Midoriya was…distant. He wasn’t around while the boy was growing up, but he did provide financial security and an endless amount of All Might merch, the latter of which he would greatly appreciate. Nevertheless, he grew up with the man as a background character in his life, existing but not really participating in ways as his mother and All Might had. Now, seeing his father’s past self passed out on top of Gigantomachina gave him an odd sense of relief he didn’t grow up under his father’s direct influence. 

He looked back to the other two, hoping for some sense of support. Sadly, Endeavor and Shouto were frozen in place, faces akin to Munch’s The Scream . Even the Villains were shocked, not moving as they tried to process what just happened. Izuku fumbled past them, body growing exhausted as his adrenaline fell like a stone. 

The question hung in the air like a dangling carrot. Izuku was the only one to ask it, however. “Why did you do all this?”

His father paused mid-speech, looking down with a frown. “I spent the last thirty minutes going over my backstory. Were you not listening?”

“No, I mean, Yes, I listened but…” He shook his head, trying to put his thoughts into words. “I want to know your reason. You’ve told me why Dabi wants revenge, but you didn’t come here just to one up and kill Endeavor, did you?”

“Well, I might have wanted to get revenge on Shouto too for beating the shit out of me–”

“Dad,” he stressed. 

“Fine,” he sighed. “I was going to finish what I started back then but you just had to get yourself involved.”

It took him a moment to process the words. While he couldn’t understand his father’s drive for revenge, he did understand the desire to protect. Strangely, despite all the reveals, it didn’t shock him to know his father, for as much as he was able, cared about him. “So you’re here for me then?”

“Yeah,” he admitted, rubbing his neck. “In a way, I guess I am.”

“Then what are you going to do next?” He frowned, glancing over at the other two. “If you kill the Todoroki family I’ll never forgive you.”

His father’s jaw tightened. Izuku gulped. Even if the man was his father, there was no telling what the man formerly known as Dabi would do. A war of expressions played across his face before they finally settled on reserved annoyance that Izuku disapproved of his desire for murder. 

“First off, take this thing,” He said, throwing Dabi down to them. Endeavor caught his past self, falling to his knees as he weeped. Hisashi slid down Gigantomachia’s back with ease, landing not far from Izuku.“I’ll get rid of you two another day,” he grumbled underneath his breath, albeit half-heartedly. 

“You must have known who I was before all this,” Izuku stated. 

His father looked away as he scratched the back of his neck. “You would be surprised how memories fade as you grow old.”

“But you couldn’t have forgotten about this. Why didn’t you stop this war if you knew it would happen?” Izuku asked, his frustration and anger leaking through his words. “So many people could have been saved.”

“Time isn’t something you can easily change. Believe me, I tried,” he replied, looking over the devastation with an air of indifference. “I had to do something drastic to get here.”

“Like beat yourself up?”

“Exactly.”

Izuku wished he had the energy to roll his eyes. Instead, he just sighed. He could almost hear the other OFA users screaming in his head at the insanity that was his father. Maybe that was a good thing. Clearly, some version of Dabi had the capacity to be good, such as knocking out other Dabi before anyone got seriously injured. Whether that would hold up or not remained to be seen. Still, his father gave up killing the Todorokis for him today. 

“Ugh, what the fuck is going on?” A raspy voice said. 

His breath seemed to solidify in his throat as he recognized who spoke. 

“Shigaraki’s awake!” Mr. Compress shouted as if they hadn’t already figured it out. 

“You heroes are in for it now!” Spinner cried out.

Hisashi looked over his shoulder at the man. The other remaining villains seemed energized now that their leader was starting to wake up. They had no clue the hell that awaited them after this if it continued. They believed themselves puppeteers when really they were puppets on a string for the Demon King himself to do with as he pleased. In a twisted way, Twice was lucky to die in the heat of battle then to become one of All for One and the Doctor’s playthings. Hisashi saw the Doctor’s reports. 

He closed his eyes for a second before springing into action. 

“Not for long,” Hisashi said, lifting a hand. Blue flames burst to life. He focused it directly into his right palm; the energy gathered already creating blisters on his skin. Once the heat became unbearably hot, he impressed his rage into a single point, then released. It roared past the others, targeting his former boss within seconds. 

Sorry Shigaraki, Hisashi thought as his fire swallowed the League’s leader; there’s  only room for one asshole’s redemption in this life. 

The remaining conscious league members watched silently, horror written on their features. Hisashi had planned to use this technique on his father at some point, knowing that even a man as fire-resistant as him would fall to such heat. Now, all he could do was hold his burnt hand and look at the flames. Soon, all that was left of the poor bastard was a pile of dust. A poetic end , Hisashi reasoned, for a person like him . It wouldn’t be long before the rest of them fell like dominos. Without Shigaraki, they would be finished.

Izuku gave him a stricken look. “Do you think he could have been—”

“No,” he said, facing his boy. “Tomura Shigaraki was set in his ideals. Just as I am. Just as you are.”

“You didn’t have to do it,” he said quietly. 

“Should I have let you do it instead then?” He joked before throwing a somber look at the smolders. “No, I’m not making my child a murderer like me. This is my burden to carry, not yours.”

If there was gonna be something good that came out of his rotten soul, it was gonna be the kiddo. Hisashi would make sure of that. 

They stared at each other. He accepted that his son wouldn’t approve of his methods. At the end of the day, Hisashi had never been a hero. 

“This all feels rather anti-climatic,” his son finally said after the tense staredown. “I thought you would have extended it like Dabi did.”

Hisashi waved him off with his uninjured hand. “I don’t do big battles anymore. Too much effort. I’ll leave those to you.”

“How generous of you,” Izuku snarked, stumbling from what Hisashi presumed was the blood loss. Hisashi grabbed him before he fell, setting him back to his feet. “I thought my father might have been All for One or something,” Izuku said, carefully examining his father’s appearance. “We don’t have anything in common.”

“You’re not entirely wrong. You may have inherited your mother’s looks,” Hisashi explained as he patted his son’s head, much to the boy’s displeasure. “But that little tendency to injure yourself and excessive monologuing during fights come directly from me. Besides, that wrinkled potato wouldn’t touch a woman with a ten-foot pole, much less an idiot like Inko.”

“Hey!” Izuku slapped away the hand. “My mom is not an idiot.”

“She married me, didn’t she?” He pointed out. 

Izuku tried desperately to come up with a response, mouth opening and closing before he switched the conversation back to time travel. “How are you both here at the same time? Wouldn’t you and other Dabi cease to exist if the past has changed?” 

Dabi paused, carefully thinking over his answer. Looking over at his younger, unconscious self and then back, he finally answered, “Time Travel is like Quirks, just some stupid deus-ex-machina shit no one can exactly explain. It just fucking works.”

“That’s a terrible explanation,” the boy groaned, leaning into his shoulder. 

“I’m sorry, do you have a better one? Hm?”

The kid scrunched his nose, stewing over Hisashi’s words. 

“The police and remaining heroes will be here soon. Pretty sure most of Japan is watching this whole thing right now. I wasn’t expecting you to kill Shigaraki. Weren’t you two friends or something?”

“Allies in arms, and trust me, in comparison to what happens in the future, this death was a mercy. His friends will survive at least, even if they hate my guts.”

Better to die a villain than to die an old man’s toy , he thought with an air of melancholy. All for One was probably furious by now. He had to stifle his chuckle with a cough, though inwardly he was quite giddy at getting one over on the alleged Demon King. 

“I don’t know what to think right now. I’m probably going to pass out from blood loss soon. Will you take me to one of the ambulances when it gets here?”

“Of course.”

Izuku jolted up on unsteady legs, looking around frantically. “Oh no! What if the police arrest you?”

Hisashi carefully pulled him down. “I just did the Japanese Government a huge favor and it’s all on primetime.”

“But your crimes–”

“They can’t convict me for something the Dabi of this time did, especially since he’s still here,” he pointed out. “Fuck, this has probably created a separate timeline hasn’t it?”

Izuku rolled his head to the side. The boy looked like he was going to pass out at any second now. “So…you’re using yourself…as a scapegoat?”

He nodded. “That’s the plan.”

“Why did your other self use hair dye?” He asked, eyes unfocused and half-lidded. 

“Dramatic effect,” Hisashi exclaimed. 

“So stupid,” he mumbled, head tilting to the side as exhaustion claimed him. “I wish All Might was my dad.”

“Kid, we all wish All Might was our dad,” Hisashi said, totally ignoring the verbal stab to his heart. He tossed an arm around the kid to keep him from falling over. Ambulance sirens sounded in the distance. His gaze rose toward the sky. “The Universe doesn’t give a shit about what you or I want, though, so you’re stuck with me.” 

Finally, after everything he had gone through, it was over. 

But alas, nothing ever went his way, did it?

Saturday morning started well enough. Hisashi put on his favorite slippers and bathrobe to go brew coffee around dawn, bones creaking as he settled into his favorite armchair. The caffeine soothed his old bones, allowing his body to relax as he read the morning news on his phone. Inko followed not long after, placing several helpings of rice into the steamer and taking some natto out of the refrigerator along with some of Hisashi’s favorite sides. He winced as his burned hand knocked against the table to reach for a bowl. The doctors had tried to save it, but it was unlikely he would get much more use out of it apart from ordinary tasks. 

Hisashi smirked into his coffee as he came upon the newest hero news. The media was up eating his father’s dead career like vultures. Endeavor’s house had to be sold off to pay off his debts and legal fees. He chuckled in delight. Watching the bulldozers destroy the bastard's home was the cherry on top of his ice cream of vengeance. 

Even when the doorbell rang, he thought nothing of it, more interested in the new article about the Endeavor Agency’s recent insolvency. He took a bite of some natto toast Inko prepared, its cool texture bringing up fond memories of his father’s dismayed face.

Revenge truly is a dish best served cold, he thought in devilish delight.

The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and spring was just around the corner. What more could he ask for? Even when the doorbell rang he wasn’t angry, rising to his feet to answer the door.

It was the worst decision he could have made. 

Hisashi looked the newcomers up and down, disgusted by the sight before him. Their winter scarves and hats did little to hide their identities. Hisashi scowled. How the hell did the Todoroki family know where he lived? He crossed his arms. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“We’re moving in,” Shouto stated plainly, gesturing to their bags as if he hadn’t gotten that from the get-go. “I want to share a room with Midoriya.”

“Like hell you are,” Hisashi said, blocking the door with his arms. “I traveled back in time and ruined your credit scores for a reason. Go sleep on the streets, you beggars.”

“I invited them,” Inko interjected, sipping her tea. “They are family, after all.”

“Thank you for letting us stay, Ms. Midoriya,” Fuyumi added with a cheerful smile, standing between Hisashi and the rest of the Todoroki family. “We truly appreciate it.”

Hisashi threw his wife a venomous look. She responded with a cheerful smirk, humming as she returned to the kitchen. Hisashi followed, not willing to make awkward smalltalk with any of them. Just his luck that by driving his old family to bankruptcy he ends up having to house their poor asses in the end. Inko and Izuku wouldn’t let him kick them out either.

He went through the cupboards for a bottle of whiskey, pouring a decent amount into his coffee before shuffling back to the TV, ignoring his father sitting anxiously on the sofa. 

Endeavor started to open his mouth, but Hisashi shot him a look that promised things worse than death. The man scuttled off soon after, retreating into one of their guest rooms like a guilty dog. As the door clicked shut, Hisashi groaned, sinking into his armchair as reality weighed upon him. He was sure his other self was laughing it up in whatever psychiatric hospital they tossed him into. Hisashi almost wanted to join him. Well, not really. Hisashi liked his creature comforts too much to give them up for a straight jacket and a padded cell.

His gaze lingered on the windowsill. Shigaraki was literally and figuratively toast, Dabi was institutionalized, the majority of the PLF was jailed, and any remainders like Toga were probably seeking out Hawks for vengeance or something. Not my circus, not my monkeys, he inwardly resolved. Hisashi took a long sip of his drink, basking in his brilliance before spitting it out as he suddenly remembered the one person he should have gotten rid of in the first place. 

Damn it all to hell. 

He forgot to kill All for One.

Shit. 

Check out this amazing comic for the fic by Fruitloopchan 

Here is a link to my discord if you want to talk about this fic or my others: LINK. We also talk about MHA and other stuff on there too. We probably need to do another Hunger Games event to kill people's characters.