Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku wakes slowly, painfully trying to claw his way back to consciousness.

It's a difficult action. Everything feels heavy and achy, which isn't unusual for him these days, but it feels like he's just gone fifty rounds with catch-a-Kacchan.

He knows that All Might would have stopped them before reaching that level though, and so this must be something else. Gradually and delicately, he pulls forth memories, trying to remember what the hell has happened to get him to this point.

The— the battle. The battle with Shigaraki.

Kacchan. Kacchan. Aizawa. Gran Torino. And — Todoroki. Dabi? No, not only Dabi. Touya.

More memories quickly flood back over him, just as he begins to panic over the memory of the battle. He remembers talking to the One for All users, and remembers seeing Tomura in the shadowy grasp of All for One. Remembers two backs turned on him, a golden wispy figure sitting beside One, and Nana Shimura.

Remembers waking up in a hospital with All Might beside him. Talking to Gran Torino. Hawks, Best Jeanist, and Endeavour all in his hospital room.

Remembers being on the run, the users beside him, all talking to him. En scolding him for trying to use Fa Jin for the first time in the fight against Lady Nagant, remembers her exploding, Hawks sweeping in to save her—

A mansion. Explosions. Being on the run, barely sleeping between places. Secured, short phone calls. Tonkatsu. Rain. Paranoia. Exhaustion. Desperation.

A crowd crawling over him. No, no, no in the back of his head soon after when he sees his friends, because they can't be here, because it's dangerous, because he'll only hurt them.

Desperation like never before, making his tired, tired limbs move. Fight. Remembers ice encasing him, trapping him. Rising to the sky, and then falling. A hand in his own, and tears covering his vision in a way he hasn't let them for a while now.

Remembers Kacchan calling him Izuku.

I'm sorry.

A crowd again. Danger sense going haywire, worse than it ever has before. Loud voices. Kind hands. Umbrellas and familiar faces and his mum. Let inside, only to be hauled straight to the bathroom. Kacchan splashing him, the name Izuku still strange on his tongue and strange to Izuku's own ears.

There were questions, though they all sound muddled to him now. He was already half asleep, warm and clean and almost safe for the first time in a long time. Remembers falling asleep on the couch, surrounded by friendly voices and familiar faces that he's missed so much.

And —

And that's all.

Is that why his body hurts so much now? Has all the damage caught up to him now, all the exhaustion and the injuries? His friends were ruthless and brutal and did anything to get him to come back home with them, but they did not hurt him. He knows this much.

So this must be his own doing, all those fights and endless nights, injuries he hadn't even noticed now finally weighing upon him now that he's deemed safe. But he's not safe, not even here, because Shigaraki and All for One will be regrouping, getting stronger, and they'll target U.A. They'll target his friends, and all the people in the shelter, and Izuku is in no state now to defend them all. His friends can do so much, but Izuku isn't sure that all of them will be enough to defeat All for One.

He can't risk their lives like this. They need a plan. They need Izuku to be fine, because he has to help them.

What has he done? He should have fought harder. Iida reached out for him, and Izuku — Izuku let himself believe. Let Iida take his hand and guide him down and let him take him back here—

He has to get up. He has to wake up, and he has to move. His friends will come with him, he knows this, but it'll be enough if he can just move now and get them somewhere else. There are too many people here at U.A. His mum. All their parents. They'll defend them because they have to, but Izuku would rather keep the battlefield away from all the civilians.

His fingers twitch against the fabric beneath him. It's not the couch, though he figures he must have been moved during the night. He's no longer sitting upright, but rather lying down, so someone must have carried him to his dorm room. It's worrying that he didn't wake up during this, but he knows he has truly just been running on fumes, so he's not entirely surprised by it either.

Everything feels like a distant dream, and he's almost not entirely sure he can believe it all happened. Did he even make it to U.A? Back with his friends? Back with All Might? He's lying down now, not on the couch where he originally fell asleep, and he's disoriented and confused and in pain.

There's a ringing in his ears, and he thinks there's a sound around him, but he can't quite hear it properly. His head aches, but he still activates a small field of Danger Sense — even if it splits his head open with pain, at least he'll have a better idea of who's around him. Just in case.

Danger Sense is nothing more than a quiet lull with no risk around him, and he tries to take a deep breath to calm his heart down. If Danger Sense doesn't pick up on anything, then he's around people that will not harm him, and so he must believe he's with his friends. That it all really did happen.

There's definitely someone beside him, which he hasn't let happen in many nights now, so it must be a friend. Maybe All Might, again, just like the last time he properly slept like this.

Well, he was more just unconscious and talking to the vestiges, but it's close enough.

A hand slips into his own, and it startles him for a moment. He's still on edge, too used to running now, and the comforting kindness feels like a treasure he can no longer hold. Not right now — not until everything is dealt with.

They hold tighter, squeezing his hand, refusing to let go. He tries to listen out for them, because he feels like they're probably saying something, but their voice remains lost in the murky muteness around him.

Unable to rely on his hearing, he tries to really focus on the feeling of their hand in his own. His sense of touch in his fingers has been damaged, his nerves no longer quite right, but he's able to feel just enough. The hand is too small for All Might's. It's rough, scarred as well. It's warm, but Izuku isn't quite sure how well he can rely on that sense right now as he doesn't know his own body temperature or the outside environment.

He's able to press his eyelids together, like he's trying to convince himself he can spring them open if he does it. It doesn't quite work, but there's an encouraging squeeze against his hand again. It gives him the motivation to try again, and he's eventually able to pry his eyelids open.

The white light above him immediately feels blinding, and he shuts his eyes again. It's still burning behind his eyelids, and it's a little easier now to scrunch his eyelids together than before. He knows it won't get any dimmer, though, and so he tries again before his eyes can settle back into the darkness.

It's too bright to realise at first, but everything is a little blurry. It takes his vision a while to settle, finally able to focus on just one of the tiles on the roof without them duplicating and crossing over and sending his vision spinning again. It's almost nauseating, but he manages to keep it together.

This is not the ceiling of the dorm.

"Izuku," a voice says softly, finally breaking through the ringing that's slowly begun to calm down in his ears.

Familiar, but — not entirely, either.

Slowly, as to make sure his vision doesn't spin out again, he tracks his eyes down. He realises he's in a hospital room, vaguely able to take note of the room decorations. Everything is white and sterile, and the room is achingly familiar to the one he woke up in after the battle with Shigaraki. Spacious, meant for privacy, with money that Endeavour and Pro Heroes can afford.

His thoughts are definitely muddled, and it's a struggle to hold onto coherent threads. A head injury, he's quite sure of now, but he's sure that these symptoms would've presented themselves earlier if he got them in another fight. And he knows no one in the class landed a blow against his head.

He must've done this, but he truly does not remember how or when, and that's worrying. Is this the reason he was moved from U.A to a hospital? Did he do something in the night?

Finally, he's able to see a glimpse of the person beside him. Izuku's vision is still swimming a little, slightly blurry around the edges, but he's easily able to make out the distinct contrast of white against red hair.

It's — longer, though? Isn't it? Or is Izuku's vision just stretching out the sparse pieces of colour in this room?

"Izuku, hey," Shouto says, though — that's different. That's not wrong, but it's not quite right, either. Shouto only ever calls him Midoriya.

He narrows his eyes as best as he can, trying to sharpen his vision even if it's a struggle for him.

Shouto's face is different. This is not the same face as the one he had seen just the night before, sitting beside him on the couch in the U.A dorms. His face is sharper, his hair definitely longer, and he's dressed in a black and orange sweater that Izuku has never seen him wear before. He's also holding Izuku's hand.

Izuku feels confusion and panic rise up in him. There's no one else that hair could belong to, and it's — it's the same eyes that Izuku knows, too.

This is Shouto, or perhaps his clone of an older brother. Does Shouto have another older brother?

But no. No. Those are Shouto’s eyes.

This is Shouto, undoubtedly.

But not... his Shouto?

His lips are so dry, his throat feeling scratchy and awful, and he tries to swallow but finds it difficult to do so. Speaking, he knows, is not within reach just yet.

"You're staying awake this time?" Shouto asks him. His voice is definitely deeper, a little more matured, but definitely his.

Even with his head spinning, questions wanting to burst free, he has no means of asking them just yet. So he communicates how he can, which is with a nod, because he does not think he's going to fall back asleep after seeing all this.

Shouto hums, eyes flicking to somewhere behind Izuku's head for a moment before they snap right back, staring intensely at Izuku like he's trying to stare straight into his soul. "Alright, I'll call the nurse."

Izuku can't quite make a valid argument against it, so he presses his lips together and watches as Shouto reaches out with his free hand, pressing something. It's out of Izuku's view, though he imagines Shouto is just doing exactly what he said he'd do.

However, when his hand comes back in Izuku's line of vision, he's also carrying a cup of water.

"I'm going to sit you up," Shouto tells him, though he waits for Izuku to nod before he configures the bed into a sitting position. Izuku groans a little with the movement, head pounding, but he grits his teeth and braces through it.

The sooner he can soothe his throat, the sooner he'll be able to ask questions and figure out just what the hell has happened.

Shouto looks down at Izuku's hands for a moment, contemplating, before he decides to just direct the cup to Izuku's lips himself. It’s kind of embarrassing, but Shouto isn’t making it a whole deal, and it’s not like Izuku can really do it anyway.

He tips it back slowly, not letting Izuku gulp it down like he wants to, but rather having to finish it in slow, measured sips.

It's a relief on his throat. Not entirely a healing balm, but enough to soothe some of the dryness that's scratched all of the inside of it. Shouto refills the cup, and Izuku drinks half of it before he feels like it's enough. He thinks he'll be able to speak now, and he swallows, testing it out. It'll come out croaky and raspy, he knows, but it'll hopefully still be enough.

Just before he can speak, he sees Shouto narrow his eyes at him. He leans forward, staring right in Izuku's eyes, and Izuku is taken by such surprise by their proximity that he feels the words crumble in his throat again.

Shouto's eyes widen a little with a type of dawning realisation.

"Something's not right," he says, though it's quieter, more for himself than Izuku. And then his head whips around at the door, like he's waiting for someone to walk through it. "Shit."

Izuku's not sure if he's ever heard Shouto swear in his entire life, but it slips through naturally for him, a familiar word for him. The sense of panic isn't familiar to him either, but it’s clear enough that Izuku can see it in his expression and in his frame.

Has he ever seen Shouto this worried or panicked before? Touya’s reveal kind of comes close, but these are very different emotions to that time as well.

Shouto turns back to look at him. He still has not let go of his hand.

"How are you feeling?" Shouto asks, tight and stern.

"Um," Izuku croaks out, trying to process everything happening right now. "Sore?"

"Obviously," Shouto huffs out, looking like he's barely refraining from rolling his eyes. Izuku's gotten to see Shouto become more expressive over the year, but this is a whole other level — it's basically clear enough to see in his eyes alone, that protective shield no longer thrown up around him. This is different, this is all too different. "What hurts the most?"

"Head," Izuku replies automatically.

"Shit," Shouto breathes out again. "Izuku, do you remember what happened?"

Does he?

"I don't think I do," Izuku whispers, stomach dropping with the realisation.

Something has happened here, and he does not know what it is.

Shouto is different. Changed. Older.

Shouto squeezes his hand and dips his head a little, and is about to say something, before the door to Izuku's private room opens up.

"I apologise for the delay," the doctor says as he walks through the door, talking to Shouto. And then his eyes widen with surprise as he sees Izuku, looking right back at him. "Ah, Deku, you're awake. We were waiting for you to. It's been a while since I've seen you, hm? Decided to really make a comeback for me, didn't you?"

He speaks with easy familiarity, like they've spoken before, but Izuku has not ever seen this man before.

He finds himself looking to Shouto uncertainly, trying to gauge anything more familiar about this situation. Shouto is looking right back at him, but then he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes, breaking their contact before he turns back to the doctor.

"Something's wrong," Shouto says, quiet and serious.

The doctor loses some of his ease, shoulders straightening up as he walks over. His eyes quickly scan over the monitors that are beside Izuku's bedside, reading out his vitals. By the small, confused twist of his mouth, he does not see anything out of the ordinary.

"He says his head hurts, and that he doesn't think he remembers," Shouto explains, and the doctor's brows furrow a little as he looks over Izuku.

"Ah," the doctor says with a sigh. "We did talk about this as a possibility."

Shouto nods, though he still does not look settled.

The doctor stands around the other side of the bed, not minding Shouto's presence and working around him with ease. He gets out a small light, instructing Izuku to follow it with his eyes. It makes Izuku wince at the brightness, but he does his best to follow.

"Mhm," the doctor hums to himself, turning the light off and placing it back into his pocket. If Izuku's reactions are not what he expected, then he does not share it. "How're you feeling, Deku?"

Izuku looks around the room, and the doctor is quiet and patient, giving him the time to collect his thoughts. "Okay, I think? Sore? Um, my head does hurt."

"Yes, that's to be expected," the doctor replies. "We can up the dosage of the painkillers, no worries. Tell me though, Deku, what do you last remember?"

"Um," Izuku says, stalling for another couple of seconds, still trying to sort through his thoughts. The muddiness of them is slow to fight through, making it difficult to sort through the stack of memories that have just fallen on top of him. He looks over to Shouto, because even though there's a deeply unsettled feeling about not properly recognising him like this, he still finds comfort in his friend. "I remember being taken back to U.A."

Shouto's shock is quick and sudden. He looks stricken for a clear moment, a raging storm of emotions, before he shuts them all off. His face is purposely blank, not letting Izuku read him any further, settling back into the same kind of expression that Izuku used to remember towards the beginning of their year at U.A.

"U.A?" The doctor repeats in question, and Izuku finds himself looking back at him, now that he feels like he's pushed Shouto away entirely and made him react like this. Clearly, something is very wrong with Izuku's reply.

He knows there is. He knows this isn't right, that he's missing something. That he's missing a lot.

He has a head injury, and he is struggling to piece together the events that brought him here.

And Shouto is noticeably older than he remembers.

"Deku, would you mind telling me the date?" The doctor asks.

Izuku feels his eyebrows furrow. He lost track of time while being on the run, and he has little hope of being able to remember the actual day.

"I don't know the specific date," Izuku replies with a shake of his head. "I didn't before I... um, fell asleep, either."

"That's okay," the doctor reassures. "Just tell me what you know."

Izuku recites a month and a year, and he knows it's wrong by the way the doctor reacts.

Shouto's hand has slipped from Izuku's own hold. When Izuku glances over at him, it does not seem like a conscious movement, but rather something done out of shock. Shouto is staring blankly, swallowing heavily, not quite looking at Midoriya even though his gaze is still on him.

"I'm out by a few months, aren't I?" Izuku hesitantly says, breaking the ruminating silence around him. This — this is the answer to the question he's been itching to ask since he first woke up.

What happened? Why are you different, Todoroki?

"Approximately six years, in fact," the doctor answers, and this time Izuku is the one stunned into silence.

Six years.

Six. Years.

He's just... forgotten it? All of it? It's been six years since the fight with Shigaraki, since he was taken back to U.A, since he was reunited with everyone? Six years?

He takes in a sharp breath, though it upsets the earlier dryness that is still lingering. It explodes suddenly, rising up, and Izuku starts to cough, trying to get rid of the feeling of it. A cup is placed into his hand, which is then guided up to his lips, basically controlling his own hand to tip it back gently.

Shouto again. His other hand is rubbing up and down Izuku's back in a comforting manner, the earlier shock having fallen away as he tries to get Izuku's breathing back under control. The doctor watches closely as well, but the coughing is nothing that can't be fixed by a few sips of water and some finally steady breaths that he's able to suck in.

"Sorry," he rasps out.

"None of that," Shouto scolds quietly. He gently guides Izuku's hand back down, but does not take the cup from him once he's reassured that he has a proper grip around it.

"It's understandably quite a shock," the doctor says, once everything is a little calmer. "It is a significant amount of time to forget. We considered a short-term amnesia would occur due to the head wound and subsequent concussion you sustained in your last fight. Six years is a significant amount of time, however, and while I will make the early assumption that this is only temporary, we will run some additional tests, if you don't mind?"

"Um," Izuku says, staring as he tries to process everything. He thinks back to all his notes made about first-aid and rescue, most of his medical knowledge being used in the classes they talk about injuries that civilians may receive and may need to be dealt with.

Head wound. Check for a concussion. If there is one, make sure to administer the proper treatment. They will likely not remember the moment of trauma impacted on their head, and will be disoriented and confused.

He does not have any notes about memory loss that extends much further than the moment of trauma. No notes about what to do when someone has lost six whole years.

"I don't mind," he manages to say, somewhere between all of his thoughts.

"Okay," the doctor says. "I'll have to get that all in order, but it shouldn't take long. I'll be back soon."

The doctor looks over Izuku and his vitals again before he exits the room, which leaves only Shouto and Izuku in it again.

Shouto presses a hand over his eyes and takes a deep breath.

He's still struggling with his thoughts, trying to get through anything that isn't just the panicked revelation of realising he's missing six whole years of his life, but the guilt at seeing how stressed Shouto is because of this is cleanly slicing through his other emotions.

His mouth feels dry again, and he slowly takes another sip. His hands feel steadier now at least, and the usual pain he's gotten used to has actually seemed to have gotten better. He supposes six years of proper physical therapy will do that for him — or perhaps some type of healing Quirk, other than Recovery Girl's? He thinks it over as he slowly sips from his water.

"What's the last thing you remember, exactly?" Shouto asks him, surprising Izuku from his thoughts.

He hadn't even realised he's finished the cup of water, and he slowly lowers it back down. Shouto takes it from his hold and fills it up halfway, pulling the small bedside tray table closer so that it's within reaching distance for Izuku if he wants to pick it up again.

"Falling asleep on the couch in the U.A dorm," Izuku replies.

"The day we found you again?" Shouto asks, and Izuku nods in confirmation.

"Yeah," he says. "Is... is everyone okay? Did we do it?"

Shouto's expression softens just a little, a small smile tilting the corner of his lips up slightly. "We did. You did it."

"Oh," Izuku says, finding his eyes surprisingly watery when he blinks them. All he remembers is the fear and desperation and just hoping he'd be able to improve enough to be able to take on Shigaraki and All for One because anyone else got hurt because of them.

And now, suddenly, he's six years in the future, and Shouto is telling him that it's all okay. That he really did it.

"And everyone's okay?" Izuku asks again, just to be certain.

"Yes," Shouto says, though his expression hardens now, not letting Izuku see the range of emotions he's clearly thinking over. There's something — something definitely happened then, something that's making Shouto's words almost hesitate. But he shakes his head, like he's ridding himself of these doubts, and looks in Izuku's eyes. "Everyone's okay. We're all okay. I promise."

"Okay," Izuku breathes out, and the relief is so swift and sudden that he laughs for only a moment before he begins to cry.

"Ah," Shouto says from beside him. "I should've expected that."

"Sorry," Izuku says, managing to lift his arm to bury his eyes in his elbow.

He hears Shouto sigh. "Just as we got you out of the habit of apologising for it..."

Everything feels a little overwhelming, and Izuku isn't quite sure what to do about it all. The doctor says that he thinks this will be temporary, and so Izuku can assume he'll have his memories restored, but it's still a lot knowing that he's missing so much. That everything he remembers worrying about is now so far in the past, and everything is different. And everyone is okay.

"My mum and... and All Might? They're okay too?" Izuku asks, slowly lowering his arm so that he can gauge Shouto's initial reaction.

Shouto's looking right back at him, unwavering. "They're okay, yes."

"That's good," Izuku says with a watery smile. "I'm glad."

"Both of them have been asking for updates," Shouto adds, pulling out his phone from his pocket to check on it. He frowns down at it for a moment, before his face smooths out and he taps out a reply to someone.

"My mum is... asking you?" Izuku asks, trying to look over at Shouto's screen, though he keeps it angled away from him.

"She is," Shouto replies. "She's currently on a holiday, so I have been trying to dissuade her from buying any tickets home, because the doctors assured us it wasn't serious."

He's currently looking at Izuku like he's trying to find all the reasons now as to why that's a lie, and Izuku's watery smile turns a little sheepish. He didn't mean to lose six years of his memory.

"She's on holiday?" Izuku asks, and Shouto hums.

"She is," he confirms.

A holiday — something they were never able to quite afford, not with his mum working as the only income-earner in their household. If she's on holiday, far enough that she has to buy tickets, then that means she's finally had the time and finances to allow her to do so.

"She should stay there," Izuku says softly. "I don't want to worry her. And this will only be temporary, right? There won't be a lot she can do if she comes back here."

Shouto frowns like he disagrees, but does nod. "I'll let her know. Would you like to speak to her?"

"Oh," Izuku says, heart clenching. "Yes, um. If that's okay."

"Of course," Shouto says, and dials the number before he passes it over to Izuku. The phone is definitely a newer, fancier model than anything Izuku has seen, and he's almost so caught up in regarding the design that he almost misses the fact the call has connected.

"Izuku? Baby?" His mum's voice says tinnily, and he immediately presses it to his ear with a feeling of relief. It feels like just yesterday that he saw his mum again for the first time in so long, but the reassurance of her voice works wonders to calm him down.

"Hi mum," he says, finding himself smiling.

"Have you been crying?" She hurriedly whispers, immediately sounding worried. "Are you okay?"

"I'm okay mum, I promise," he reassures. He is, by all means — sure, he's missing six years and that's most definitely a big problem, but everyone is okay. His friends are okay, his family are okay, and that's all he needs to know right now. "Really. Sorry for worrying you."

"Oh baby," she breathes out. "You know I'm always going to worry, because that's literally my job. So you just woke up, then? Will you be discharged soon?"

"Um, I think so," he says. "They're being cautious because of my head injury, but I'm physically okay! Promise. I'm sure I'll be discharged soon."

He feels a little bad for the white lie, but he really does not want to worry her.

"Okay," she says, dragging the word out slightly, but there's a hint of relief in her tone. "I know they look after you well there at least. Promise you'll take it easier for a little while?"

"Yeah," he agrees, thoughts whirling with the fact that he's probably going to have to figure out just what the hell is going on now in his life, and how he'll be able to adjust to it. He's sure things are going to change to accommodate his new injury, if it doesn't quite fade in a very short amount of time. "How's your holiday going?"

His mum laughs a little, soft and sweet. "Oh darling, it's truly magical. I'll send you some more photos, okay?"

"Okay," he replies, thankful, even though there's now the realisation that he probably has a whole new phone, and that it probably contains a lot of his missing history.

"Make sure you rest up!" His mum hurriedly says over the phone, voice rising with determination. "I'm sure Shouto and Katsuki will look after you. And ah, I imagine Toshinori is already on his way to see you."

Shouto and... Katsuki?

Shouto is right beside his bedside now, looking after him just as his mum assumed he would, but the fact she's mentioned him directly means there's definitely some type of history development here. And considering his mum directly messages Shouto as well...

Six years is a long time.

Enough for Kacchan to be the person his own mum comes to expect to sit by his bedside, like Shouto is? Has their relationship truly healed that much after everything? He remembers Kacchan stumbling over the name Izuku the second ever time he's said it to his face, and then splashing him with water the moment Izuku tried to reassure him about it.

A long, long time.

What the hell has happened?

"Oh," he says, blinking at the wall, heart beating suddenly a lot faster. Say something before she panics again! "Yes, haha! Um, I should... probably give Todoroki his phone back. Um, have a good holiday!"

"Todoroki?" He hears his mum repeat, questioning, before he hangs up in panic and passes the phone back over, flustered.

Shouto takes it back with a questioning glance, but before either of them can say anything, the door opens again.

The doctor from earlier walks back in, along with someone else in scrubs beside him.

Shouto glances at them before he stands up, giving them some more space. He remains close, though, and neither of the medical staff say anything about it.

"You're in luck today my boy," the doctor says, gesturing to the woman beside him. "We have our resident telepath on call today at this hospital, so we will be able to check on the state of your amnesia. We will run some other tests, but for now this will give us a starting point."

"Hello," Izuku greets politely, doing his best to bow his head down in the bed. Both of them give him fond but amused smiles.

"It's not our first time meeting," the woman explains, stepping up beside his bedside. "But I'll have to reintroduce myself it seems. I'm Dr. Hirai."

"It's nice to meet you. Um, again. I've gotten other head injuries before?" He asks, wincing. No wonder his mum is so worried about him then.

She laughs kindly. "Oh no, fortunately not."

It's not quite an answer, but it's the only one he's clearly going to get, so he has to nod like he understands exactly what she means.

"Let me explain my Quirk," she says, giving him a warm smile. "I am able to see up to twenty-four hours of your past memory. With amnesia, I'm able to try and understand how severe it might be."

"Ah," he says, eyes widening. Immediately he starts to think of the practical applications of the Quirk, and how it would be useful in a medical environment. If victims came in unconscious, they'd be able to understand exactly what happened to make them injured. "That's really cool!"

"Thank you," she smiles. "With your permission, I can begin that process."

"Um, yeah, that's not a problem," he replies, finding himself sitting up a little straighter in anticipation. She nods, still smiling, and reaches a hand out for his temple. Contact, touch-based activation, he thinks.

Her eyes close, and he can see the movement behind her eyelids as her eyes scroll back and forth. She scrunches her brows momentarily, before he sighs and lets her hand drop as he eyes open. She catches his questioning gaze, and she hums.

"With amnesia, it's like looking into darkness. Sometimes, with concussions, there's little... holes of light, we can call them, which indicate that the amnesia is on the shorter end of temporary. Usually means the brain is already reconnecting memories together. At the moment, unfortunately, there's no glimpses of light I can see," she explains, hands waving slightly as she explains. "With six years worth of memories, usually there'd be something, but... for now, there are no reconnections to your memories."

"It's... permanent?" Izuku hedges, heart clenching.

She shakes her head. "I can't tell, unfortunately. All I can tell you is that this will likely last more than a day or two."

"There's no reason yet to believe it's permanent," the doctor steps in. "It just means we'll have to move forward with other testing. We'll do another MRI, just to make sure there's no injuries we missed near your brain, or any sort of other related trauma. Dr. Hirai's Quirk just informs us if we're looking at a process that may take longer than a couple days, that's all."

"I see," Izuku says, finding himself looking back at Shouto. Shouto's mouth is twisted, unhappy, fingers clenched a little into the fabric of his pants. He feels the need to apologise again, but he bites his tongue, knowing it is unwelcomed right now.

"How long will the testing take to have results?" Shouto asks.

"Hopefully before the end of the day," the doctor replies. "I was already dealing with the process of that before encountering Dr. Hirai, so it won't be too long until we can begin."

"Okay," Izuku says, as both doctors are now looking at him for his permission. "Yeah— that's okay. Thank you, doctors."

They both give him another smile before they head out of the room.

It's quiet, and though it doesn't look like it bothers Shouto as he seems to be thinking deeply, Izuku finds himself restless. He shifts a little on the bed, all too aware of the sound of the bedsheets rustling under him, and he winces a little.

He reaches out for another drink of water to try and calm his nerves. Sure, he's missing six years, and it could possibly be something he has to deal with for a while. Maybe permanently, if his brain isn't able to piece his memories back together.

He feels a twitch in his fingers, the same kind of one he gets when he wants to scribble out and write something in his notebooks. He needs information, he needs to sort out what he knows, needs to figure out where he can fill in the gaps on his own.

"Um, Todoroki?" He asks, though it takes Shouto a moment to actually respond. A look passes over his face, a quiet type of discomfort, but it's gone again in just a moment.

"Yes?"

"Do you have my phone, by any chance?"

Shouto grimaces. "No."

"Oh," Izuku replies. "Um, do you know where it is?"

"In pieces on the street. Again," Shouto sighs. "You forgot to pass it over to someone before you jumped into battle. So, no, I do not have your phone."

"Oh," Izuku says again, feeling a strange mix of embarrassment and guilt for actions that he doesn't even remember taking. "Oops?"

Shouto just sighs again.

"Even if I did, you're not allowed to look at it anymore in hospitals," Shouto tells him. "You have a tendency to bypass medical advice when you see the news, so by Doctor's orders, you're no longer allowed to have it."

"I... see...." Izuku replies.

"Do you want me to inform your father about the situation?" Shouto asks him, already pulling out his phone again.

"My... what?" Izuku splutters, now completely confused. God, maybe he just dropped into an alternate reality. Maybe this is all some type of unhinged dream, and he's really just back on the couch in the U.A dorms.

"He's already on the way here," Shouto continues, not even acknowledging Izuku's sudden reaction.

What the hell?

"My father?" Izuku says again, this time reaching over to try and poke at Shouto to get his attention. "What do you mean my father?"

Shouto stares at him, confused for a moment, before understanding dawns on him. "Ah, you don't yet admit to him as a parental figure. Right. I mean All Might."

Nope. Izuku is in a dream, there's no other way.

"Shit, Izuku, hey, calm down," Shouto says, his steady tone suddenly changing into a more worried one. "Hey, it's alright."

"I'm dreaming," Izuku declares, latching onto Shouto's jumper. "What do you mean I don't yet admit to him as a parental figure? Is that something I do now? Or do you... No, you must think he's still my father, right? That theory again?"

Shouto is not someone that hesitates, but here he is, right now, pressing his lips together and holding back the first thing he wants to say. Izuku can see him reconsider it, and then change his words entirely.

"I think it's a viable theory," Shouto says, which is not the words he truly wanted to say, and Izuku knows this. Still, he hangs onto them, because they're the only possible thing that makes sense to him right now.

"It's really not," Izuku breathes out, settling back down on the bed. He closes his eyes, like if he opens them again, he'll somehow be able to be back in his current timeline. The stress of it all must be getting to him. Sure, it'd be nice to imagine that the fight really is all over and in the past and that everyone is okay, but this is obviously some other reality.

There's just — there's simply no way Shouto just called Izuku's father All Might, and meant it. Said it in such a casual way that it seemed like Izuku would never refute it.

"Izuku," Shouto says, getting his attention. When Izuku opens his eyes again, it's only to the same view of the hospital room.

Izuku groans. Perhaps another reality?

"All Might is on his way," Shouto reminds him. "Do you want me to inform him of your condition?"

"How far away is he from the hospital?" Izuku asks.

"A couple of hours, maybe? He’s coming back from a trip out of the city."

"Is there any worth convincing him not to come?" Izuku mutters, though it's rhetorical because he knows all too well how hard it is to persuade him once he's got his mind on something.

"Doubtful," Shouto replies.

"Then... he'll find out anyway, I suppose," Izuku sighs. "Sure. Tell All Might."

Shouto's mouth does that funny little twist again, but he nods and focuses back on his phone, tapping away at it. He looks back at the door again, like he's expecting someone else to come right through it at that moment, before he mutters something to himself and shakes his head.

"What was that?" Izuku asks.

"I would've expected him to have bursted in here already," Shouto huffs, looking back down at his phone.

"All Might?"

"No," Shouto replies. "I guess the villain attack is taking him a little longer than I thought it would."

"Who?"

"Katsuki," Shouto reveals, and Izuku isn't sure how much more his heart can take today.

Of all the people to burst through to his room, it's Katsuki? Kacchan?

Is it so that Kacchan can yell at him for being an idiot on the field? Sure, Kacchan absolutely tried to yell at him when he was last in the hospital, but he did not expect that habit to remain after six years. Of all people, someone that Shouto expects to beat All Might to the door, it's Kacchan?

"Does he, um, do that often?" Izuku asks, and something in his voice must give, as Shouto stops looking at his phone and looks back at Izuku.

Shouto looks at him blankly, and then his shoulders hunch forward slightly. "I keep forgetting you're missing six years worth of memories."

Izuku sinks as much as he can into the bed. He feels awful about this whole thing, really. Shouto's here beside him, dealing with his friend that doesn't remember anything, and it's most certainly a lot.

"Um," he says, fingers pulling a little at the bedsheets beneath him. "If... if All Might is on his way, and the tests might take all day, then, um. You don't need to stay around, if you don't want to."

"I want to," Shouto replies, simply and easily.

"Oh," Izuku says, not quite sure how to respond to that certainty at all. "Um... are you sure?"

"Yes," Shouto says, just as assuredly.

"Okay," is all Izuku can manage to say, though it's more of a squeak than anything.

They settle into silence again, and Izuku focuses on just trying to not feel so jittery with everything. It seems like there's going to be no convincing Shouto to leave him to deal with everything in this hospital room, and though Izuku is definitely glad he has a familiar face around him in this terribly confusing turn of events, he does also still feel guilty for it.

"Stop thinking so much," Shouto says, breaking the quiet. "You're already dealing with a concussion."

"Right," Izuku laughs nervously. He's almost forgotten just how bad his head hurts in the confusion of everything, honestly.

The doctor comes back in before either All Might or Kacchan, pushing in an empty wheelchair, and says they'll take Izuku down now. Izuku manages to swing his legs off the bed, with Shouto's assistance as he takes his hand again and helps him remain steady as he sits up of his own accord.

His heart races a little, and there's a warmth in his cheeks that he really tries to ignore.

Shouto has changed a lot.

He is very, very handsome, and it's a realisation Izuku has been desperately trying to shovel down to the very depths of his mind. It's been kind of easy to do that in the wake of realising he's forgotten six years of his life, but it's a little harder now that Shouto is holding his hand and helping him remain balanced.

Taking a deep breath, Izuku focuses on moving over to the wheelchair. He's about to say he can probably walk, but when he looks up to say it, he catches the withering glare of both the doctor and Shouto, and he clamps his teeth together and decides it'll be safer to remain quiet.

It's a good thing, as Izuku's legs feel a little unsteady, and his vision is still blurring together. Once he's in the chair, it's an instant relief.

"We'll be back shortly," the doctor reassures Shouto, who nods in turn. He looks like he's about to say something to Izuku, eyes glancing down at him, but he catches it at the last second and just gives him a small inclination of his head instead.

Izuku does his best to give him a smile and a small wave, trying to reassure that he'll be just fine. Sure, he's still not entirely convinced this is actually his reality, but he can deal with this situation well enough now to handle it. He thinks, at least.

He feels better for already having activated Danger Sense, which means that One for All is still within his reach. It's a good reassurance, and certainty that he'll be able to fight and defend if he needs to.

As he's wheeled through the hallways, he's given smiles by nurses and doctors hurrying along. Some of them even call out, giving him a wave and a teasing remark, saying that Izuku almost beat his streak of visiting.

"They're not always your visits," the doctor wheeling him laughs, leaning down to say it close to his ear. "Between you and your partners, I think you're quite familiar with this place. But you three also have a tendency to bring the wounded straight to our door when it's needed, so, really, I can assure you it's not always your own injuries that bring you here."

"That's a relief," Izuku mutters, amused by the tone of the doctor. He seems friendly enough, and he's clearly comfortable enough to joke around with Izuku even in this state, and Izuku is quite glad for it. He feels like a comfortable presence, and it makes him feel a whole lot less anxious about the whole situation.

"Your condition is being kept strictly confidential," the doctor says, once he wheels Izuku into the elevator and hits a button to head a few floors up. "This is mostly so we're not inundated with even more media, but mostly so that we're not flooded with flowers and get-well cards. Your visits have filled the floor some days."

Izuku huffs in laughter, mostly in disbelief. The doctor laughs too, but this time it's definitely more at Izuku than with him.

Time passes, with Izuku getting scans with bemused but patient doctors, as well as some that scold him for getting injured like this. Some of them know about the amnesia, but most of them don't, treating Izuku like they're familiar with him. Izuku does his best to keep up with their personalities and tries to remember names, but there's almost too many. His head is basically spinning, trying to connect all these mystery threads together and wonder how they tie into his life now.

"Alright," the doctor finally says, coming back to get him after he's gone through yet another round of testing. "That should be it, we're just waiting on scans now. I'll take you back to your room, and you can try and rest a bit, hm? Perhaps something to eat as well."

Izuku finds he doesn't have the energy to even try and protest. He is tired, head tilting back in the wheelchair and almost wishing there was a pillow so he would be able to rest against it. Still, soon enough they're back at his room, and the doctor opens up the door.

Two figures turn to look back, and Izuku's mouth goes dry again. His heart thumps, pressing against his ribcage suddenly, and he feels short of breath.

Shouto is still in the room, but right beside him, standing tall with his shoulders squared and looking very pissed off, is one Katsuki Bakugou.

He's older too. Taller. Broader. His hair is shorter, and he's still in his hero costume, though there's been noticeable changes to it. Izuku's eyes are quick to notice the new items in the room — support gear items that are placed down in the corner, with Kacchan's usual colouring. He also can recognise that it's his hero mask pulled down around his neck, though there's differences to that too, from what Izuku can see.

He remembers Shouto talking about the fact he'd been dealing with a villain attack, but a quick glance over him thankfully shows no injuries.

Izuku remembers the fresh vision of seeing Kacchan's scar in the bath, the skin healed over but still brightly coloured and still quite new. He wonders how those scars have healed now, six years on, and what other ones he's acquired over that time. Izuku's noticed new ones over his own arms and hands, and he wonders about all the stories behind them.

"Hi, Kacchan," Izuku says weakly, already wincing at the expression he's levelled with.

"I cannot fucking believe you," Kacchan seethes, storming right up to Izuku in the doorway. Izuku feels like he could scramble right out of this wheelchair, and honestly he probably should, because it kind of feels like Kacchan is about to knock him over the head for this whole situation.

"Please do not harm my patient, Bakugou," the doctor sighs, entirely resigned, like he's said this a million times before. "Or else I will be revoking your usual jelly privileges when it is your turn in here."

"Fuck you Doc," Kacchan snarls, ignoring him, and then reaches over to poke Izuku's shoulder. He must be familiar with this doctor, as usually Kacchan has a little more decorum than this unless he's actually familiar with someone in this kind of field. His musings are cut short by Kacchan continuing, voice loud but not quite yelling yet as he directs his words back at Izuku. "You're a fucking idiot. You go in with no backup, some fucking distance away from us, and you get knocked on the fucking head!"

"Sorry," Izuku winces.

"You're apologising for something you do not even remember doing," Shouto's voice says, coming closer as he walks over as well.

"He doesn't need to remember to know that's exactly what fucking happened," Kacchan argues, but settles back on his heels and folds his arms, unhappy, sending a glare to Izuku.

"Please do not elevate my patient's heart rate, Bakugou," the doctor tries. "His mind is under enough stress; it will not do any of us well if his physical health is also placed under similar conditions."

"He's the one under stress?" Kacchan mutters, annoyed, but steps aside when the doctor wheels Izuku back over to his bed. Shouto comes over, hovering as Izuku stands and reaches for his bed. He places a hand down, but his eyes swim and he misjudges the distance, not shuffling his legs forward enough when he attempts to get back on the bed.

It's Kacchan's hands that steady him.

"Fucking idiot," Kacchan says lowly, but the words sound strange. Kacchan has sounded strange to Izuku since the moment he walked in, but he figured it was just weird hearing the difference in Kacchan's slightly lower and more mature voice.

But no — no, there's definitely something strange in the way that he says his words. In how he means them.

Izuku gets settled back on the hospital bed, and the doctor hooks him back up to the EKG machine. He sighs a little when he sees Izuku's heart rate, and Kacchan just huffs and turns away, not willing to take responsibility for it.

"Deku," the doctor says, giving up on trying to scold Kacchan again. "You can— ah, perhaps get one of them to order some food for you, if you're up for it. Your scans shouldn't take long at all, so just wait a little longer."

"Thank you," Izuku says.

The doctor whirls again, cornering Kacchan who's been looking at both of them. He waves a warning finger at Kacchan, who just rolls his eyes.

"Yeah, I got it, no elevated stress," he grumbles out, and the doctor nods before walking out.

Izuku reaches out for the cup of water that's still on the table, taking slow sips. He's honestly mostly trying to get some time to think, currently whirling over the fact he's now seeing Shouto and Kacchan six years into the future. Or — not future. Present? Six years from when he last remembers them, then.

Shouto takes residence back in the chair he'd been sitting in when Izuku had first woken up. There's another one in the corner of the room, which Kacchan looks over at briefly, but remains standing. He's close to Shouto, leg almost pressed against the arm rests of the chair.

Shouto takes a tablet from the wall, clicking it on. There's a faint glow that illuminates his face, and he taps at a few things before he passes it over to Izuku.

"Pick what you'd like," Shouto says, clearing his throat a little.

"We fucking know what he likes," Kacchan grumbles out, watching the interaction.

Shouto gives a small shrug. "We know what he likes now, not what he might have liked six years ago."

There's something about that sentence that makes Izuku's heart feel heavy, overwhelmed again suddenly, and so he turns his attention to the tablet in his lap. He scrolls through the options, selecting one and then trying to navigate to make sure he properly orders it. Shouto reaches over and shows him how to, finalising the order. A small countdown activates, letting them know when the meal is to be expected.

"Woah," Izuku says, impressed.

He sets the tablet down, and Kacchan gets a look at it, and then snorts, elbowing Shouto in the side.

"Told you we know what he likes," Kacchan says, and Shouto just closes his eyes to hide the way he's rolling them as he sits back in the chair. Their easy conversation is different to how Izuku remembers it, but there's touches of familiarity that make him ache as he sees them in different bodies.

Shouto takes hold of the tablet, like he knows the screen is starting to hurt Izuku's eyes as he keeps glancing down at it. He sets it aside, and then looks at Kacchan. There's an unspoken conversation between them, which makes Izuku feel more out of the loop than ever, fumbling to catch any expressions he might know.

But this is clearly a familiar language between them, made over time that Izuku no longer remembers, and now he has no hope of following along and understanding.

"So, the last thing you really remember is going back to U.A?" Kacchan asks, tilting his head slightly as he regards Izuku.

"Yeah," Izuku breathes out. "Pretty much. Like, the bath, and then talking to All Might, and then... falling asleep on the couch, I guess?"

"You really needed that fuckin' bath," Kacchan says, shaking his head and scrunching his face like he's remembering the smell.

"I know," Izuku winces. "Trust me, Kaminari told me enough."

"He was damn right," Kacchan glowers, but doesn't seem to properly hold onto his annoyance at all.

"Your, ah, hero costume is different," Izuku notes, because he keeps glancing down to look at all the changes he can see. The material has changed, and the mask definitely has, and that's only from what he can see without his eyes swimming.

Kacchan's arms flex, ever so slightly, as he looks down at his own body. "Mhm? Well, six years does that."

He sounds bitter about it, like his words will be able to make Izuku's memories suddenly snap back into his mind, but there's no such luck.

"Hatsume's upgraded the gear," Kacchan offers, just after Izuku thinks they're somehow about to be silent even between Kacchan's annoyance and the mysteries surrounding Izuku's own memories. Izuku turns to look over the gear in the corner, trying to see it better. "Has to keep up with all the Quirk improvements I got now. Before the battle with Shigaraki, so... huh, yeah. Before I really found out what I can do."

"Katsuki," Shouto says lowly, like it's a warning. A delicate topic, then.

Kacchan tilts his head and looks over Shouto. He exhales out his nose, but seems to acknowledge the warning by the way he shifts ever so slightly on his feet.

"Your Quirk improvements?" Izuku tentatively asks, hoping it's not the delicate topic that there's suddenly red flags around. But it seems to be safe enough, as Shouto lets Kacchan take the lead again.

"Yup. Sweat isn't just outta my palms, you know?"

Izuku's eyes widen immediately, excitement stirring in his stomach. He sits up without thinking about it, spurred on by his sudden rise of curiosity. "Oh my god, you're able to fire off explosions from other parts of your body?"

Kacchan looks smug. "Damn right."

"Oh my god," Izuku says again, because he can only imagine the possibilities now of Kacchan's power. "Is there— is there footage? Or anything?"

"No screens for you," Shouto tells him, already shaking his head, which means he has picked up on the way that the light from them is straining at best.

Izuku groans, lying until his back hits the bed again.

"I'm not the only one with improvements," Kacchan says, which does lift Izuku's sudden drop in mood. He looks back, and Kacchan regards him for a moment like he's saying yes, idiot, obviously you, before he then jerks a thumb to Shouto.

"Katsuki," Shouto sighs.

"What? It's not like we're fucking spoiling anything. He already knows it, he just doesn't remember it," Kacchan replies, dropping his hand. "Seriously, it's fine. You know he fuckin' loves this shit. No stress here."

"No stress here," Izuku repeats, just because he really wants to hear about how Shouto's improved his Quirk since Izuku last remembers it.

Shouto relents, telling him about some of his more recent moves, while Izuku nods enthusiastically along and itches to write all this information into a journal. Holy shit, there's just so many new abilities and possibilities and damnit, Izuku really wishes his eyes would let him focus on a screen so that he could see all of it properly.

"Don't worry," Kacchan snorts at one point, when Izuku actually starts looking around for a piece of paper. "You already got all this info down."

There's a knock at the door, and Shouto goes over to it. He opens the door partially, and then closes it as he turns back around. In his hands there's a meal, and he places it down on the table beside Izuku.

Izuku sits up straighter, pulling the table down so that it goes across his body as a tray table.

"Do you want some?" He asks both of them.

"I got a meal while you had your scans," Shouto replies, shaking his head. "But thank you."

"Fuck no," Kacchan replies, head turning away from it.

"You're just annoyed he didn't order jelly," Shouto says.

He thought the doctor had been joking, so he hadn’t ordered it, but now he feels guilty for that.

"Oh," Izuku blinks. "I can, um, order it?"

"Just eat your fucking food, Deku," Kacchan says, hand gesturing to the tray in front of him. He goes over to the other chair and flops down into it, sitting down with a grunt. He starts to take off some of the other pieces of his costume, properly removing the mask and placing it down with his gauntlets, and then zipping down some of his shirt.

Izuku really can't help but stare. He's intrigued by the new costume, and — sure, other things, like how goddamn wide Kacchan's shoulders are now. Izuku figures he can take the pass for it today after everything.

Kacchan catches him staring, but he only raises an eyebrow at him, daring him to say something. Izuku ducks his head down and focuses on putting the food in his mouth.

"How far out's All Might?" Kacchan asks, directing the question to Shouto.

"We're in the same group chat," Izuku hears Shouto mutter, but he still pulls out his phone and checks anyway. "Maybe half an hour."

Kacchan grunts in acknowledgement, and then tilts his head back and closes his eyes, looking like he's doing his best to take a nap right there in the chair.

Izuku really doesn't know what Kacchan is doing here. He's yelled at Izuku, and surely All Might will now be able to provide updates for both Shouto and Kacchan if they want to head home.

But Kacchan has made himself comfortable somehow on the chair, looking like he's not willing to move in the slightest. Except there's also the fact that Izuku can manage to spot the stress that's lingering on Kacchan's frame as well, a taut wire, ready to snap at any moment if Izuku pushes his luck too much. So Izuku just eats silently, and the only sound between them all is the sound of the heart monitor beeping in a steady rhythm.

He's so curious about so many things, basically bursting with questions. He wants to know where everyone out of his class ended up, what agencies they're working for, who they're working for and working with. He wants to know the current Hero rankings, he wants to know who's still working, who's only just started.

And he wants to know about Shigaraki. Could he help, in the end? Was he able to save him?

What about All for One?

Touya? Toga? What happened to them?

"Stop fuckin' thinking," Kacchan's voice grumbles out.

"Already told him that," Shouto mumbles in agreement.

Izuku feels himself flush, and he can only fill up the silence with a few more bites of food before it's all gone. He must've been out a while, because this kind of hunger is similar to the one he remembers not too long ago, too few meals for a body he'd been pushing past the limits of.

"Ah," Shouto says some time later, after Izuku has put the empty bowl aside, and Izuku looks over. "All Might will be here any moment-"

There's a timely knock at the door to interrupt Shouto, and Kacchan is the one to call out: "Yeah yeah, come in, old man!"

Izuku watches as the door opens, somehow almost sheepishly, and then there stands All Might.

The six years do not look so different on Toshinori as they do Shouto and Kacchan. He's still tall and lanky, cheeks still gaunt, but he looks good. The six years have also done him well.

His eyes meet Izuku's, and they basically light up as he smiles.

"My boy! It's good to see you awake," he says, voice booming in the room. He enters the room properly, shutting the door behind him. Shouto gets up from his seat immediately, and heads over to stand with Kacchan, bracing his hand on the back of the seat.

It's telling that Kacchan lets him, even moving slightly — still slouching in the chair, but moving just enough to let Shouto's fingers rest without getting crushed.

It's all Izuku takes note of before he turns back to Toshinori, and he finds that same flooding relief crashing over him.

"All Might," he whispers out, and finds his damn eyes watering again.

He knows it's been six years, and that in his memories, he's just made up with him again, but he needs to say it.

"I'm really sorry about the tonkatsu," he says, not able to raise his voice any louder than it's already gone. He just — he needs to say it again, guilt still fresh in his mind.

Toshinori is confused for a moment, stopping in his tracks, as he tries to figure out Izuku's meaning. He seems to remember then, as he softens, and hurries as he walks over to Izuku's bedside, and he opens his arms and gives Izuku a hug, as best as he can with Izuku still in the bed.

"Oh, my silly boy," Toshinori laughs. "You did not ever need to apologise to me for that."

"I did," Izuku whispers, holding tightly onto his clothing. "I really do."

"Okay," Toshinori says, because he's always been able to understand that sometimes Izuku just needs to say these things. "My boy. It's okay. It's always been okay."

Izuku hasn't really felt okay at all since he's woken up, and suddenly been told he's missing six whole years, but right now, in Toshinori’s arms and Shouto and Katsuki in the corner of his room, maybe it is. Maybe he just will be.

"It's really good to see you," Izuku breathes into his clothes, neither of them willing to separate just yet from each other.

"And it is always good to see you," Toshinori responds. "Though sometimes I wish there were a few less times in the hospital, hm?"

Izuku laughs, and it's a little watery, but it's okay.

Finally, they pull away from each other, though Toshinori takes the seat beside Izuku's bedside and clasps his hand in reach.

"I hear you are suffering from a bit of amnesia," Toshinori says gently, and Izuku hums, looking down at their hands.

"I am," he confirms, biting down on his lip. "Six years. Um. Sorry?"

Toshinori’s breath is close to laughter, but it's not quite. "Ah, my boy. It must've been quite a shock waking up in the hospital then?"

"You all look quite different," Izuku confirms, and Toshinori smiles.

"As do you, if you have not seen yourself yet," Toshinori says, though it's bordering on a question.

"No, not yet," Izuku replies. He's not sure what he'll do if he looks in the mirror and sees someone unrecognisable staring back at him. "It all feels like, um, quite a lot."

"I can imagine," Toshinori says sympathetically. "I am glad young Todoroki was here with you when you woke up then, at least. He told me that it might help, if I came down."

"I really appreciate that you did, thank you," Izuku replies, truly grateful. Toshinori has always been a reassurance for him, and he's truly making this whole situation feel a whole lot more bearable right now. Even if he looks different, even if he's struggling to remember the time that Izuku remembers so freshly, his presence is truly helping. Just as he always is.

"Of course, my boy," Toshinori says softly. "Anything, whenever you need."

Kacchan and Shouto have been talking quietly between themselves, but now Kacchan's sharp rise in volume has caught both of their attention, falling quiet as they listen.

"What do you mean, what are we going to do if they discharge him? We take him, and—" Kacchan cuts himself off, taking a deep breath like he's trying to contain or hold in all his anger, and then glares at Shouto. "You didn't tell him."

"No, I didn't tell him," Shouto hisses back, only because he hasn't realised that Izuku and Toshinori have paused in their own conversation to listen. "How would that have been appropriate to bring up?"

"It's kind of fucking relevant!" Katsuki snaps back, and that's when they realise that they've had an audience. "Fuck," Katsuki groans, running a hand through his hair. "Fucking... god. Fuck."

Toshinori clears his throat.

"It seems like the three of you have an important matter to discuss," he says, almost apologetically. His hand squeezes Izuku's, and then loosens. "I will go get some coffee. My boy, I'll be back soon enough. Please try not to send the EKG machine into a breakdown, okay?"

Toshinori taps his hand, though only slips from his hold entirely when Izuku hesitantly nods in understanding. He's completely lost now, and he really wants Toshinori to stay, but it's clear that there's something that needs to be discussed.

And Izuku has been dying to get more information, more answers, trying to fill in the impossibly large gap. It sounds like this is a big deal, and he wants to know why and what it is.

"Okay," Izuku says, laughing nervously. "I'll, um, try not to?"

"That's all I ask," Toshinori replies, though he sends him a reassuring smile and a thumbs-up. "It will be okay, my dear boy. Just remember to breathe."

"Sure," Izuku whispers, more to himself. "Sure, okay. Breathe. Yes."

The door shuts behind him, and then it's just Izuku, Shouto, and Kacchan in the room.

Izuku is reluctant to tear his gaze away from the door, but he does when he hears movement. It's from Kacchan getting up and out of the chair, and Shouto following.

This time, Kacchan takes the chair by Izuku's bedside, and Shouto hesitantly lingers by the foot of the bed before Izuku decides to move his feet as much as he can, giving room for Shouto to sit. Shouto gives him a small smile and takes the invitation, though he's careful not to bump against Izuku at all.

Kacchan and Shouto look at each other, both of them engaged in that private language again, before they seem to come to a conclusion. Kacchan huffs, folding his arms, and inclines his head to Izuku.

Shouto takes the gesture.

"Midoriya," he says, ignoring the way that Kacchan makes a very pointed noise about that beginning. Izuku's not sure what it's about, though no look to Kacchan helps him figure it out.

"Um," he laughs, nervously. "Everyone's okay, right?"

He really isn't sure what to make of Kacchan and Shouto's earlier conversation, though it's clear that there's something big they haven't brought up to him. If Toshinori thinks he's going to be stressed about it, then he truly does fear what this possibility is.

"Everyone's okay, I told you that," Shouto replies.

Izuku nods. He believes it, but — but, everything's different. "Yeah. So..."

Shouto clears his throat with a small cough. "If you get discharged in your condition, you'll find out anyway," he says, reciting Kacchan's earlier words. "You see, at this current time, you live with us."

What, Izuku thinks immediately. Why?

No, there's plenty of reasons as to why. Plenty of heroes do this, when they work together, especially if they're in the same agency. Sometimes it's easier with their workloads, their shifts, and accessing the same materials. Easier to get to work.

It's good for heroes to have strong support networks. Perhaps Izuku needs it. Perhaps Shouto does. Perhaps even Kacchan does. Maybe all of them, and that's why they came together. They've been together for a while now, especially close after their internship with Endeavour, and so maybe their bond only got stronger after the battle with Shigaraki.

Maybe Izuku gets injured so much that medical professionals will only discharge him into the care of people that will, very willingly, drag him back to hospital. The very people that dragged him back to U.A, who know his limits, who know him.

So there's plenty of reasons, right? This isn't a reason to panic at all.

"That's fuckin' underselling it," Kacchan huffs. "Jesus. Right, okay. Let's just fucking say it now, while he's in hospital, and that way if he does freak out, at least he's got medical attention."

Right. So it's probably none of the reasons that Izuku just thought over then?

Still, despite Kacchan saying it, he doesn't actually speak any further. It's like the conversation has halted on dead tracks, neither of them quite willing to set it back into motion. Not sure how to.

"You're right," Shouto eventually says, pressing his lips together before he looks at Izuku. "Midoriya, you should know that we are in a relationship."

What.

"What," he croaks out, entirely in shock.

Okay, so. It’s too big to digest at once, so he has to break it down mentally.

‘We’ are in a relationship.

Shouto and Kacchan are in a relationship?

Maybe. Izuku could be their housemate. Perhaps the rent is cheaper. Of course he was going to find this one out if he was discharged back to their — their house.

Okay. Okay. Izuku can kind of see it. It makes sense. Kind of.

But then Shouto is staring right at Izuku, and Izuku kind of hates the way his mind flickers with the hopeful: us? Am I dating Shouto Todoroki?

Except... that doesn't seem right.

The last combination is Kacchan and Izuku, but — it's the same thing, then. That doesn't make sense, not with Shouto in the room with them.

No, he realises.

That's not the last possible combination.

"All of us," Kacchan adds, like he knows Izuku is questioning what the combination is, and confirming Izuku's final possibility.

Except— how? How?

"You've stressed him out," Shouto dryly notes, though his voice almost sounds like it's underwater for Izuku. When he manages to process the words, he takes note of the way his heart rate has increased, ringing out quickly in the room.

"I've stressed him out? You're the one that should've mentioned it earlier!" Kacchan argues, though his tone is considerably quieter. He's also half-standing out of his chair, hands hovering over Izuku like he's not sure if he's allowed to touch him or not right now.

"Dr. Osaki is not going to be happy about this," Shouto remarks, though his expression is pinched with a tight kind of concern.

Izuku feels like he's truly just been dropped in a hole that transcends a different dimension. It feels like he's still falling through it now, tumbling helplessly through the air, nothing quite within reach that he can grapple onto. He's falling, falling, not knowing where or when he's meant to land.

"Hey, nerd, fucking breathe," Kacchan tells him, hand coming down to press on Izuku's chest. "What did All Might tell you, huh? Breathe, idiot."

Izuku sucks in a sharp, ragged breath. Kacchan's hand stays pressed against him, pushing down when Izuku forgets to exhale on the breath he's holding onto.

A blanket of cold suddenly washes over his fingers, and he notices that it's because Shouto is reaching for his hand. He's got a piece of ice, Izuku thinks, pressed against his palm, shocking him back into the moment and out of his tumbling thoughts.

"There you go," Shouto soothes, when Izuku is able to get back into a proper rhythm that doesn't feel like it's leaving him gasping frantically.

Izuku calms down enough that Kacchan is able to slip his hand away from Izuku's chest, and Shouto's hand warms up as it continues to grasp over his own fingers.

"Jesus, of course you'd panic more about this than the fact you're missing six years of memories," Kacchan grumbles to himself as he sits properly back down on the chair.

"It is a lot to take in," Shouto points out, giving Izuku a sympathetic glance. "Don't pretend like either of us wouldn't be so volatile with such information."

"Yeah yeah," Kacchan grunts, waving a hand. "I get it."

It falls quiet, though Izuku is distracted from falling into an abyss of his own thoughts by the fact that Shouto keeps hold of his hand, and Kacchan has decidedly kicked back in his chair, placing his feet on the bed near Izuku's legs.

"Would answers to your questions help?" Shouto asks after a few moments, and Izuku swallows heavily.

He's not sure. He still feels like he's tumbling, and he's not sure if having answers will work to give him platforms to hang onto, or if it'll just make the abyss even deeper to fall into.

Kacchan's feet knock against him, and it snaps him back to attention.

"We got together two, almost three, years ago," Kacchan tells him, taking the option out of his hands.

It's the right call — it does help to give Izuku something to latch onto, something that begins to slow the fall.

"At the same time?" Izuku asks, looking between both of them.

Kacchan's hand flaps between Izuku and Shouto.

"Nah, not really," Kacchan replies. "You two were together first."

"We didn't make it official until we also had Katsuki in the relationship," Shouto says with a small shrug.

"It was pretty goddamn official," Kacchan mutters, but just looks away when Shouto looks at him challengingly, daring him to say it louder.

Izuku can't quite imagine it. So — so three years from the point he remembers now, he'd gotten with Shouto? Maybe not officially, but with him in some capacity, and then they'd only declared it a relationship when they had Kacchan as well?

"That's, um. Oh," Izuku stumbles over his words, unable to properly figure out what he wants to say. He's not even sure what to think. "So you both... um.... like me?"

Kacchan snorts, turning his chin away from Izuku as he stares at the opposing wall. Shouto's fingers tighten in Izuku's grip.

"We do," Shouto says, with such conviction that it makes Izuku feel almost breathless. Shouto truly believes in it, wholeheartedly, entirely. He likes Izuku.

Kacchan isn't looking at him, though his feet knock against Izuku again.

"Don't ask dumb questions," Kacchan eventually says, like he can feel Izuku's questioning stare. "What'd be the point of a relationship if you don't like 'em?"

"So... the three of us..." Izuku trails off, looking between them again. "It... it works?"

"It does," Shouto says, just as certain.

Izuku just... can't imagine it, really. "How?"

"It just does," Kacchan snorts, finally turning back to look at Izuku. "It's always just... I don't know. It works because we're us."

Kacchan usually does not admit when he doesn't know something, and Izuku has a good feeling that he does, actually, know. He's just not willing to say it right now.

It must work, right?

They live together, apparently. It works well enough that they are in the stage of living together, sharing a house, sharing their lives, and — probably sharing beds.

"You're stressing out again," Shouto sighs, fingers turning a little bit colder in Izuku's hold.

"How— how long have we lived together?" Izuku asks.

"Mhm," Shouto hums, taking a moment to think. "You came back from America when you were... 19? You stayed with me, and then we decided it just worked, so you never really moved out. Then we got a new place, and all moved in together... mhm, a year ago now?"

He looks to Kacchan for confirmation, who gives him a nod in reply.

"I was in America?" Izuku decides to ask, because the only thoughts he has around living with Shouto and Kacchan revolve around the fact that oh god, they probably do share a bedroom, or at least a bed, and they probably— which means—

So. America it is.

"After we graduated," Shouto answers. "You were there for a few months."

"Oh," Izuku says. It's just — he can't imagine it now. Graduation. After everything? After he dropped out to work alone, he really — he really did go back to U.A? Things returned to normal enough that they could resume classes, and they made it to graduation? He made it to graduation?

"When was... when was the fight with Shigaraki?" Izuku asks, because he suddenly needs to know more about the timeline of events.

"Not long after you got back," Kacchan replies, though his voice has a careful edge to it, warning Izuku of the topic.

Okay, definitely a sensitive topic. They didn't lose anyone, but clearly the damage was extensive enough that it's a touchy point.

So, it really did happen then, close to the point he remembers. A few days, maybe?

He breathes out, trying to come to terms with the fact that something that feels like it should be in the future is suddenly six years in the past.

He looks over at Shouto. "Um. Touya?"

Shouto exhales, pushing his hair back from his face. "Placed in the prison's correctional facility. He's..."

"He's annoyin', that's what he is," Kacchan fills in, when Shouto trails off.

So... they're familiar with each other? Kacchan is familiar enough with Touya to talk about it like this, in present tense, meaning he still encounters him?

Shouto inclines his head in a way that signals that he agrees with Kacchan, which is bemusing to see.

"We're allowed to visit, so we do sometimes," Shouto explains. "Mum and Natsuo hold out hope for him still. I do too. But he's... difficult to talk to."

"He fuckin' hates it. It's fuckin' funny seeing how pissy he gets when we visit," Kacchan says.

"We... visit?" Izuku tentatively asks.

"I tend to go every couple of months, you've both come along in that time," Shouto replies. "I don't think he minds. He likes insulting me in front of other people."

"Okay," Izuku drags out, blinking in surprise at the dynamic being talked about.

There's a knock at the door, and Kacchan tilts his head back to yell at them to come in.

Toshinori walks back in with a tray of drinks, hesitantly at first like he's not sure what he's approaching, but then relaxes and walks in comfortably. On his tray there are three coffees and one bottle of an ionic booster. He puts the booster on Izuku's tray, and then passes out two of the coffees to Shouto and Kacchan. Kacchan stands up again, and when Toshinori goes to protest, Kacchan just points a finger at him.

"I need to stretch my fuckin' legs, don't think I stood up just for you," Kacchan says, even though it's pretty clear to everyone in the room that's exactly why he stood up anyway.

Toshinori takes the seat without pointing that out though, his coffee cupped in his hands.

"My apologies for the drink," he says. "But I imagine your head is spinning enough without the caffeine."

"Yeah," Izuku admits with a sheepish laugh. "Kind of."

Toshinori reaches out a hand to ruffle Izuku's hair. "You should rest anyway."

"Mhm," Izuku says, considering it the moment it comes to mind. He reaches out for the drink that Toshinori got him, not wanting to be ungrateful for it, and he drinks around half of it before he decides it's probably enough.

He lets his head drop back, and his eyes begin to feel heavier. His blinks get longer without even realising, and he finds himself drifting soon enough, stuck somewhere between.

He feels the way that Shouto tugs at the medical blanket that's under his legs until it frees up from the way it's been tucked in, and it's draped over him with Toshinori’s help.

"Young Eri offered to use her Quirk," Toshinori says, his voice an almost distant rumble in Izuku's mind. "But it really only works on the physical state, not the mental state. It likely won't be able to help much with his memories."

Eri, Izuku thinks, heart aching. Six years, almost double the age she is now. She'd be a newly-turned teenager, about to finish up in middle school, likely looking at high school opportunities. Almost the same age Izuku had been when he'd first met All Might.

There's something thick in his throat, a tightness wrapped around it that he can't quite swallow down.

Shouto's hand squeezes his own, and Izuku feels like he's able to exhale a proper breath.

Right. It's okay — it's okay. Izuku might not remember the six years, and it might be literally an overnight change for him, but this is time that he has lived. He's seen Eri grow up, even if he doesn't remember it.

"Rest, idiot," Kacchan's voice quietly mumbles to him, close to his ear. Izuku feels his hair being brushed back, a soft brush of something pressed on his temple, and Izuku knows he's safe.

It's like his body knows this on instinct. Even if he does not remember it, this is muscle memory. This is instinctual.

He relaxes, and he lets himself fall asleep properly.

He's not asleep long, he doesn't think.

He stirs groggily. It takes him a moment to remember why he's in a hospital bed.

For a moment, he's hopeful. But then he looks down, and he sees Shouto's long hair spilling out slightly from the way he's tied it back — too long. Six years in the future.

Or Izuku is just the one six years in the past.

Enough time has passed that he realises there's now three chairs in his room, close to his bed. Shouto's head is buried into his elbow, resting near Izuku's hip, and he's breathing steadily. A glance to his other side shows that Kacchan is there, in a similar position, though he's now dressed in more casual clothes. He's wearing a green jumper, suspiciously close to Izuku's hero costume.

Or — or his old one. Izuku wonders what it looks like now.

Toshinori is not as close to his bed. He's off to the side, his chair angled so that he can see the television, facing the same way Izuku is. Like he can feel Izuku's stare, he turns, and then gives Izuku a warm smile. He turns off the television, not allowing Izuku the time to properly look at it.

Izuku looks down again at Kacchan and Shouto, both resting on his bed like this, and he looks back at Toshinori with a question. Is this real?

All Might's smile just grows, and he nods. He gets up from the chair, and though he's silent about it, the movement still manages to get Shouto and Kacchan to stir. They look up, both of their eyes widening a little when they see Izuku awake again.

"They've been a little delayed in processing the scans," Toshinori explains to him. "They had a villain attack closeby, so they're just dealing now with some of the injuries. I don't imagine it'll take much longer."

"Okay," Izuku croaks out, then clears his throat. Shouto and Kacchan both stretch, heads tilting side to side as they get rid of any cricks in their necks.

"Are you hungry?" Shouto asks.

Izuku shakes his head. "No, I'm okay, thank you."

Kacchan makes a displeased kind of huff but doesn't push it. Izuku reaches for the drink he's yet to finish, trying to wash out some of the taste in his mouth from his short sleep.

"Who dealt with the villain attack?" Izuku asks, because it doesn't look like Shouto or Kacchan have really bothered to move. Perhaps Kacchan did, Izuku muses, considering he's changed his clothes.

"Kaminari and Jirou," Shouto replies for him, quickly checking his phone again like he's confirming it.

"Oh! They work together?" Izuku asks, eager to know more about what his classmates are now up to.

"Yes, same agency," Shouta says.

Izuku's about to ask more, and just as he opens his mouth to do so, the door to his room opens. He almost groans, because he really had been looking forward to finding out answers about his friends, but he pushes it to the back of his mind. He can ask later, and he can hold onto the faint hope that he'll remember everything before he needs to.

"Apologies for the delay," Dr Osaki says, shuffling in with a folder of documents. He stands at the foot of the bed, addressing all of them. "We've gone through our scans, but there's unfortunately no sign of anything that might be impacting your memory more than the initial injury. All your activity looks normal, and there's nothing strange we can find."

"So, we just have to wait?" Kacchan asks, leaning forward in his chair, fingers tightly digging into the arm rests.

"Unfortunately," Dr Osaki responds. "Right now, we don't know how long this amnesia might last. It might be three days, it might be three months, it might be... a lot longer. At the moment, we can't tell."

"Fuck," Kacchan grits out, sitting back in his chair. Shouto also looks stressed by the news, but he takes a deep breath.

"Thank you for the information, and for all your help," Shouto says, bowing his head forward slightly.

Dr. Osaki sighs. "There's not quite much else we can do for you, at this rate, Deku. We can discharge you, and I heavily advise that you do not return to the field while you adjust to this. This head injury must be treated delicately, and we don't want to risk further aggravating the amnesia."

"Of course," Toshinori steps in to say, because it seems like the rest of them are still trying to process the information. "We will look after him."

"I know," Dr. Osaki says, though he sounds distracted as he flips again through the papers. "I will get your discharge organised. Please try to follow them this time, Deku."

"I'll, um, do my best," Izuku replies, and the Doctor gives him an amused smile but doesn't quite seem to believe him.

Dr. Osaki exits the room, and Kacchan stands up from his chair and stretches.

"Looks like we're finally headin' home, thank fuck. Old man," Kacchan says, looking at Toshinori. "Are you comin' back with us then?"

It already sounds like Kacchan expects him to, but he's just prompting Toshinori to start moving. All Might looks at Izuku, contemplating, before he reaches out to pat Izuku's arm.

"This is up to you, my boy," he whispers to him. "I can come back with you if that's what you wish."

But, Izuku hears. But, but. Toshinori trusts Kacchan and Shouto to be able to handle it.

Izuku lives with them. Perhaps it'll be awkward to bring Toshinori to their home — more Shouto and Kacchan's home right now than it is Izuku's, and he should respect that, shouldn't he?

Besides, he trusts Shouto and Kacchan too. Toshinori makes him feel better about the situation, undoubtedly, but Izuku knows he will also be okay heading back with just Shouto and Kacchan.

Like he knows it, Toshinori just smiles and pats his hand again, and then stands up. "I'll come to visit, but I will head home tonight. I’ll go inform the nurses you’re ready to leave."

Kacchan whirls, surprised, narrowing his eyes at both Toshinori and Izuku. But then he nods, settling back on his heels, and folds his arms.

Shouto stands up and picks up a bag from beside his chair, rifling through it. He pulls out a change of clothes, and Izuku can quickly infer that they're meant for him.

"Think you can stand?" Shouto asks, raising the clothes in demonstration.

Izuku does feel better — the short sleep has done him well, and he feels much better now. He nods, swinging his legs out to the side of the bed. Shouto passes the clothes over to him, and gestures with his head to the small attached bathroom.

"Don't fuckin' trip and knock your head!" Kacchan calls out right before he shuts the door behind him. A retort dies on Izuku's throat as he can hear the worry in Kacchan's voice, something he rarely — if ever — lets slips through.

He thinks of Kacchan standing before him, bowing his head, apologising to him. Asking him to come home.

He takes in a deep breath and focuses on the clothes. The medical gown is easy enough to slip off, and he gets changed into the outfit that Shouto has given him.

The clothes fit too well, he notices immediately. They are, undoubtedly, his own. They're worn in, the jumper clearly well loved.

It's a dark navy blue, and there's stripes on it that remind Izuku of Shouto's costume that he last remembers. It's a merch jumper, he realises excitedly, looking at the tag for any further information. But it's rubbed off, faded completely, and he sighs.

He slips on the jumper and the pants, which are loose enough to be comfortable, and then the socks. They're undoubtedly Kacchan's merch, matching the style that Izuku had seen him wearing. He puts on the shoes, though they're plain enough and with no hint of merch on them.

Until he looks at the soles properly and sees a design that's reminiscent of Ingenium's costume. He grins, admiring it for a moment — the tread is worn down, but the symbol is visible enough thankfully. It means Tenya is still operating as a hero then, if the shoes are new enough that they're not too worn in.

Even though the clothes are not familiar to him, they fit him well and comfortably, and it's a relief to be in them. He’s avoided looking in the mirror, but there’s one right here in the bathroom now, and he can’t quite help his curiousity.

It’s weird.

It’s really weird, looking into a mirror and not quite recognising himself.

His face is sharper, he notices quickly. A lot more mature. His eyes are still bright, less shadowed than they’d been when he first returned to U.A. There’s more scars though, small ones over his jaw and cheeks.

And his shoulders.

Kacchan and Shouto aren’t the only ones that bulked up, then. He turns around in the mirror, looking at himself in different angles, raising his arms up like he expects the reflection to move differently.

It’s him, but it’s also not, and the difference is almost unsettling. He backs up away from the mirror, and opens up the door, trying not to feel too embarrassed about everyone turning and looking at him. He places the gown down on the bed, and just as he does, the room's door opens.

A nurse steps through, smiling politely as she goes over the medical sheet in her hands. She goes over the discharge with him, his expected treatments, and what to avoid. She passes the papers to Izuku, who tries to look but his eyes strain with the small font.

Kacchan snatches the papers from his fingers and reads it over. He eventually nods, passing it to Shouto to examine as well.

"There's a script there for some painkillers you can take," she explains to Izuku, realising he's not looking it over himself. He nods in thanks, and she tells them they can head out when they're ready.

"Let's go," Kacchan says immediately, already striding to the door. Shouto and Toshinori flank him as he walks out the hospital door, staying right beside him. Kacchan leads them to the desk on the hospital's floor, taking charge in getting Izuku cleared from the hospital. In no time at all, they're heading back to the entrance, though Kacchan stops and whirls on his heels.

"The fucking vultures," Kacchan hisses, jerking his head back to the entrance doors.

"Damn," Shouto says, likely coming to the same realisation.

"What?" Izuku asks, and Toshinori’s hand comes down to clasp his shoulder.

"Ah, my boy. You're quite the celebrity," Toshinori leans down to mutter into his ear. "It seems like your extended visit today is news for the media."

"Usually we can get through them okay, but..." Shouto trails off with a sigh, rubbing his temples. "You have a way of dealing with them well, but it's of course not expected of you right now."

He's popular enough to warrant media attention like this?

Oh, of course he is. Right. The leaks of One for All were just starting to slip through, and he could hear them on the street. Undoubtedly, the secret has come out. The media would of course be interested in someone with All Might's power.

He swallows nervously.

"Let me fucking at 'em," Kacchan leers.

"No," Shouto immediately says. "Fuck no. That's just going to do more damage."

Izuku is kind of caught up in the fact that Shouto is swearing outwardly, which distracts him momentarily.

Kacchan glares but backs down, folding his arms.

"Ah," Toshinori says, straightening up. "I will see what I can do. Make sure you hurry him out of here, hm?"

"Of course," Kacchan snaps, and Toshinori just smiles and leans over to ruffle Kacchan's hair. He doesn't even bat him away.

"I'll see you three soon," Toshinori farewells, stepping out from Izuku's side, and he does everything he can to resist the urge to reach out for him again. "Take care, my boys."

Toshinori walks out, and Kacchan and Shouto lead him a little closer to the doors, where he can see how the reporters have gathered around. They're behind a barricade, making way for all medical staff and other patients, but they almost clamour over it as All Might himself steps through the doors.

He raises a placating hand, and they can't hear what he's saying, but Izuku watches as all the camera flashes cease. The photographers don't lower their cameras, but they do stop blinding everyone at least.

"That's our cue," Shouto says, and Kacchan grunts an unhappy agreement. Both of them step either side of Izuku.

"Just smile at them," Kacchan tells him, though he's very angrily glaring at the doors, attempting to vaporise all the reporters before they even get through the doors. "Don't say anythin'. Just shut up and walk with us."

"Okay," Izuku says, and that's all he manages before the doors are open.

Toshinori manages to wrangle them well enough, but there's still plenty of shouting.

Deku, over here!

Deku, how are you?

Are you cleared for Hero work?

How are you feeling? Are you okay?

Deku, hey, look here!

It's like a tsunami, making him breathless as it all slams into him. There's so much shouting, his name being called over and over, louder and louder. The reporters move with them, once they're past the barricade, but Shouto and Kacchan make sure they don't get too close.

"We will release a formal statement later," he hears Shouto tell one of the reporters, who thanks him profusely for the information. Kacchan just snarls at anyone who tries to yell at him.

He's led to a car, and Kacchan's hand settles on his back as he pushes Izuku to the passenger side. Shouto takes the driver's seat, while Kacchan then slips into the back.

It's a relief to be sitting down, but he feels stunned from what just happened. Shouto turns on the engine of the car, and the reporters back away, giving them some space.

"What about All Might?" Izuku manages to ask, piecing his thoughts back together.

"He's already slipped out," Shouto says, gesturing with a hand as they pass the entrance when they're on the road. He's right — when Izuku looks, there's no tall figure standing there, caught up in the storm that's just happened.

Relieved, Izuku settles into the seat. He looks at the reporters, all of them still crowded around, but now beginning to pack up their equipment.

"They were... all there for me?" Izuku asks in disbelief.

"Your fight was pretty public," Kacchan grunts out. "A lot of people saw you go down."

"Oh," Izuku says. "Did I, um, get the villain?"

"You did," Shouto says, shaking his head a little. "You always do. You didn't fall until you were sure he was down."

"Okay," Izuku replies, a little more reassured by that at least.

"Usually you're out of the hospital pretty quick too," Shouto says. "So they've been waiting around, expecting some big news."

"Amnesia to this extent is some fuckin' big news," Kacchan leans forward from the backseat to get closer to the conversation. "Deku out of the field is going to cause a fucking hellstorm."

"We'll deal with it," Shouto says, dismissive and also reassuring. "We don't need to mention the amnesia anyway."

Kacchan must agree as he settles back in his seat, no longer leaning forward into the front. Izuku looks around and in the interior of the car, surprised by how luxurious it is.

"Is this your car, Todoroki?" Izuku asks, hesitantly running his fingers along the armrest in the passenger door.

"Yes," Shouto replies. "But it's technically all of ours."

"I see," Izuku says, wondering if he's gotten his driver's licence. He definitely won't be able to make use of it if he does anyway, because he has absolutely no memory of driving, which is almost a shame in a car as nice as this.

He looks out the window and tries to place all the familiar locations he can spot. It's almost dark out now, making it a little more difficult to see things, but it's easier on his eyes at least now. There's small changes, different signs, new stores that he doesn't recognise.

A lot of it is the same, at least. There's a lot he still recognises.

Shouto drives for a while, and when Izuku starts to realise where they're heading, he sits up in surprise.

He pays more attention, just waiting for Shouto to turn off somewhere else, but Shouto keeps on the path that Izuku is most surprised by. It's in a wealthier area, approaching buildings that Izuku knows usually serves as areas for wealthier Heroes and celebrities.

There's a private gate that Shouto has to put a pin into, and Izuku is in complete shock as he looks out the window. There's an apartment building, though there's also some more traditional houses spread along. It's one of these that Shouto pulls into, parking in the driveway.

"We... live here?" Izuku asks, stunned.

"Yep," Kacchan says, and then unbuckles his seatbelt and swings his door open rather violently before Shouto can even turn off the car.

Shouto sighs but follows him inside, locking the car once Izuku steps out and shuts his door. He stares at the front of the house, legs not willing to walk him any further. He lives here. He lives here?

"No way," Izuku breathes out, looking around and almost expecting some kind of camera crew. This — this has to be a prank. God, has he been hit by some kind of Truman Show Quirk?

"Come on," Shouto says, and Izuku catches the way he goes to reach for Izuku but then stops at the last second. He stuffs his hands in his pockets instead, head gesturing to the front door.

Kacchan is already inside, groaning as he stretches up his arms. Izuku peels off his shoes in the doorway, and the inside of the house already feels like way too much to look at, so he focuses on staring at the shoes by the entry.

There's some he'd place as Shouto's style, some heavier, darker boots as Kacchan's, and then — yeah, his own style. Plenty of hero designs on them, messily kicked aside like he's rushed to put them there.

They're undoubtedly his, but they feel strange to reach out and touch, so he just tries to kick them back into an orderly line-up instead as subtly as he can.

When he can't put it off any longer, he looks up. There are shelves lining their entry hallway, decorated with photo frames.

Shouto's waiting for him at the end of the hallway, but Izuku finds himself stepping up and looking at the photos. Inside of them, he sees himself — some of the photos not long after he last remembers, but there's some that look more like what he saw in the mirror today. His hair is long at one stage, and then short, closer to his current length.

There are various pictures of the three of them. Some of them are in hero costumes, but most of them are not.

In one of them, Izuku is standing between Shouto and Kacchan, his arms around both their shoulders, pulling them in to smile for the photo. They're on a beach, the sun shining high above them. Shouto is in the midst of eating an icy-pole, and Kacchan has sunglasses pulled low on his face, looking away from the camera. All three of them are smiling though, happiness clear even on Kacchan.

There's photos of some of their friends, too.

Izuku sees some of them for — for the first time in six years, and it knocks the wind out of him.

Ochako's hair is longer now, or had been at some point over the six years. She's got all three of them in a hug. Tenya is in the background of the photo beaming with clear fondness, reaching for them to join in the hug as well. Izuku's eyes linger over it, and then he moves along to the next photo.

There's a photo of Kaminari, Elijirou, Jirou, and Mina, all surrounding Kacchan. They're giving the camera varying symbols, thumbs-up to peace signs, while Kacchan has the middle finger up. He's smiling wide, in a type of smug satisfaction. They're dressed up for Halloween, though it's pretty clear that it wasn't Kacchan's idea for all the facepaint on him.

Then there's a photo of Shouto with his family. His siblings are smiling, and his mother looks happy. Endeavour is distanced slightly from them, not touching any of them, but he looks happy enough to be there.

Behind this photo is another one, this time a selfie taken from Shouto. He's got a straight blank face, and Touya is behind him sneering for the camera, giving the camera the middle finger. It's strange, seeing the white hair on Touya, closer to the boy Izuku remembers seeing in the younger family photos that Shouto had shown him.

Izuku and Kacchan also have photos with their own families, though Izuku is reminded of Shouto's words of his 'father' when he sees Toshinori standing next to his mum, both of them standing behind him and smiling proudly.

There’s a photo of the three of them with Rody Soul and his siblings, who have definitely gotten so much bigger. A photo of Koda on Izuku's shoulders, almost too big to be there. There's a photo of the whole class, this time at their graduation, which makes him stop walking entirely. Stop breathing, almost, as he sees all their smiles and happiness and all their new differences. They're all surrounding Aizawa, who's placed in the middle, doing a terrible job at looking like he's disgruntled to be there.

Just beside it is another photo. This one is calmer, none of them really paying attention to the camera. Taken by someone close, but far enough to get the shot, Izuku sees himself on the ground. There, on a picnic blanket with him, is Eri. She's older, undoubtedly, probably somewhere between 10 to 12. Her hair is shorter, shoulder-length, half of it tied back in braids. Behind her, laughing, is Mirio. Close to them, on a park bench, there sits Aizawa and Toshinori.

"Shinsou took that photo," Shouto tells him. He startles Izuku, who hadn't even realised he’d been coming closer. Shouto's face flashes with an apologetic expression, but he smooths it over, clearly intent on not acknowledging the fact he's accidentally just startled Izuku.

"Oh," Izuku replies, after he manages to swallow past the thickness in his throat, and it sounds watery. "There's, um. There's a lot of photos, huh?"

"There are," Shouta says, humming as he looks around like he's also taking them all in for the first time. "You quite like collecting them."

Izuku nods, because he suspected as much — in all of their selfies up on the shelves, it's usually Izuku holding the camera, and so if these photos were any of their doing, it was probably his own. Placing them right here in the opening hallway, greeting them with the reminder of love every single time they step through the door.

"The fuck's taking you two so long?" Kacchan asks, walking back to the entry of the hallway. He pauses in the way he's stretching out his arms, a small and almost unnoticeable 'ah' leaving his lips.

It kicks Izuku into gear at least, letting him continue forward and away from the walls of photos. All the evidence of the last six years, displayed right there for him to see. It begins to sink in, then, that this seems all too goddamn real.

It's more than just the bubble inside the hospital now. He's seen his friends, he's seen the kids he used to know, all so much different. Everyone's changed in such a drastic way from the way that they — that they were, that he last remembers them being.

For the first time since waking up in the hospital, Izuku begins to feel frustrated. The photos stay behind his eyelids, almost like a taunt, reminding him of the life that he's had and yet can't fucking remember.

"Hey," Shouto says, and this time he does follow through when he reaches out for Izuku. His fingers clasp around Izuku's upper arm. "Sorry, we kind of forgot about those. It's a lot, right?"

Izuku breathes out through his nose, trying to calm himself.

"Yeah," he admits breathily. "It... it really is. Sorry. I think it's kind of hitting now."

He laughs, and then it hitches up, and his laughter turns into a type of sob.

"Oh jeez," he hears Kacchan sigh, but then also hears him step closer. "Come on, nerd, sit down."

He's guided through the house until the back of his knees hit something soft, and he's gently pulled down.

His vision is blurred by his tears, which is probably a good thing, because it stops him from focusing on all the small details of the house, wondering whose items they are, why it's placed there, what it means.

He catches a glance of four framed articles on the wall, and he turns his head away purposely. He's pretty sure he's currently at a limit of what he can consume, and he does not want to push that any further than it's already been stretched.

Shouto sits down beside him, while he hears Kacchan walk away. On instinct, like his body is just following a natural movement, he almost reaches out for him and pulls him back. He stops himself before he can, but it's a strange sensation.

Shouto's hand runs up and down his back soothingly. Izuku is glad for the contact — and it's with his cold hand, which is helping to ground him from all his whirling thoughts. He really tries to switch his focus away from the photos, but his brain is really trying to latch onto them. Comparing the photos from the last time he remembers seeing them.

It feels like he's just... jumped ahead six years, and missed everything in between. He knows that realistically, that's not what's happened — he's just forgotten, which means he can remember, but right now it all just feels a little too overwhelming.

"Here," Kacchan's gruff voice says, and something is forced into one of Izuku's hands, making him unclench from the way he's digging them into his pants. It's a glass, he realises, cold to the touch like it's been iced over.

He blinks away some of the tears in his vision, letting them drop from his eyelashes and down his cheeks. He sniffles, pulling his hoodie's sleeve over his hand not holding the glass to try and press at the tears running down, but tissues are forced into his hand before he can do that. He blots at his face, scrunching the tissues in his hand and not letting either of them take them.

It's embarrassing, crying like this in front of them. It feels like all he's done is cry, especially after pushing down his emotions, trying to starve them, trying not to feel anything because it meant he might have slowed down, meant he might have made mistakes, meant someone could have been hurt. They've already bursted free, when Kacchan bowed his head. When he was accepted back into U.A with all of his friends supporting him.

Sure, that might have been six years for Shouto and Kacchan — and Shouto hadn't seen his second breakdown at the time either, but it still feels like he's cried way too much in front of them lately for him.

"Sorry," he blubbers out, having to press the tissues to his cheeks again as another wave of tears fall.

Kacchan just tch's, and Shouto makes a noise that sounds a bit more like a sympathetic hum, but neither of them tell him to stop. They just sit here with him, pressed against his sides, staying close and letting Izuku just ride out his emotions.

"Take a drink before you shrivel up," Kacchan tells him, when Izuku manages to calm down a little. Izuku listens without argument, taking a tentative sip from the glass. It's cold and refreshing, and it makes his throat feel a lot better.

He finishes half the glass, over some time. He's not sure how long it's been, but it feels like a while for him to properly calm down enough that there's no longer tears falling every time he blinks. Shouto's hand falls away from his back suddenly, and he sits a little rigid, like he's now not entirely sure of what to do with his limbs now. Kacchan stands, knees cracking with the movement.

"'m gonna make something," Kacchan says, stretching up. "No complaints about the menu."

"You sure we shouldn't order?" Shouto asks, and Kacchan whirls and glares at him.

"I just had to eat shitty hospital food, fuck no, I'm getting a homecooked meal," Kacchan replies, and then jerks his thumb back to Izuku. "And considering he's definitely forgotten how to cook at a respectable level, I'm the only one capable of doing it."

Shouto looks like he might try and argue it for a moment, eyeing Kacchan up and down in a way that shows he's trying to look for any cracks in his armour — trying to see if he actually has the energy to do it tonight. Eventually, Shouto seems to clear it, as he nods and settles back on the couch. "Alright."

"You better sing my fuckin' praises after eating that hospital food," Kacchan barks, turning back around and then heading into the kitchen. Izuku opens his mouth to say the hospital food had honestly been okay, he hadn't minded it at all — he's tried worse, eating some of Mina and Kaminari's attempts at cooking when they were in the dorms, but the words die on his tongue.

Kacchan moves around the kitchen space with familiarity, and Izuku has to try and deal with the fact that it should be familiar to him as well. It was, at some point. Likely was for his body a mere 24 hours ago.

He breathes out a steady breath, and then turns his head away. It's probably better not to linger on these kinds of thoughts tonight, if he can help it.

Shouto reaches for the remote that's sitting on the coffee table, but then he looks over at Izuku and thinks better of it, sitting back again.

"How're you feeling?" Shouto asks.

"Better," Izuku replies with a self-deprecating type of laugh. "Sorry, again. Um. It's a lot for both of you two, right?"

He sees, in the corner of his eyes, Kacchan snap his head up. Izuku's resolutely staring down at the coffee table though, not looking at either of them.

"What we feel doesn't take away from what you're going through," Shouto tells him firmly. "Don't apologise to us just because you're worried about how we feel."

"Okay, well, I'm apologising for crying," Izuku replies, tightening his grip on the tissues still in his palm.

"Why? It's understandable that you're upset about the situation," Shouto says. "And we truly do have a lot of photos. It's understandable that you feel overwhelmed by them. Honestly, we should apologise for not taking them into consideration before you walked in."

Izuku shakes his head. "You don't need to change or hide anything. This is your house."

"Yours, too," Shouto says, though he sounds a little sadder now. "You'll remember soon enough."

"Yeah," Izuku says weakly. "Yeah, I'm sure I will."

The mood is strange, and Izuku’s starting to become aware again of the fact he’s on a couch that is apparently his own, but it isn’t, and he’s probably going to start freaking out again in a moment.

"God, you tellin' me that we have to deal with teenage angst in this household?" Kacchan grumbles loudly from the kitchen, currently mixing a bowl of something together. It manages to get Izuku’s attention, pulling him out of his spiral.

"We never stopped, considering you live here too," Shouto retorts, and Kacchan snorts.

"Yeah? Says you, with your fuckin' family shit," Kacchan argues.

"Invite your parents over, and then we'll see who acts like a teenager," Shouto replies, still not backing down. It's honestly almost bewildering, watching both of them go back and forth like this in such a casual way while firing shots that should be deep cuts, but seem to be glancing off both of them. They've probably bickered about this before.

At the way they’re both sounding, they probably bicker about it daily.

"Yeah, fuckin' you," Kacchan says.

The corner of Shouto's lips lift slightly — not for Kacchan to see, but for Izuku. "You forget I wasn't allowed to be a kid, or a teenager. You know, being raised to take over as number one and all."

"Fuck off with that shit, every damn time. You've got daddy and mommy issues, and then murderous brother issues, do not try and come for me," Kacchan's voice isn't rising with annoyance. His tone is gruff, but he's not actually really arguing for the sake of being angry. Honestly, he sounds more amused than anything. He probably likes that Shouto is replying to him like this, matching his energy.

"What is going on right now," Izuku mutters to himself, because he really can't believe they're just talking about these things so openly. It's because it's still all fresh for him, Touya's reveal still such a recent wound trying to divide the population and cause harm to Endeavour.

"Katsuki's trying to distract you, that's what," Shouto's voice lowers to the same volume as Izuku, not letting Kacchan overhear them.

"Ah," Izuku says, and then feels like the rug has been pulled from his feet again, because he really just does not know what to do with the fact that Kacchan is looking out for him like this. Able to read Izuku's moods, and know all the subtle ways to get away with helping him.

Would Izuku have known, 24 hours ago, that Kacchan created that argument just to distract him? Would he be familiar with it?

Their dynamic is different now than to what Izuku currently remembers it being. There's six years of growth and history here, a whole new path laid out behind them, except Izuku's suddenly been yanked off the trail and spun around in a circle, and the same path no longer exists for him to walk down again.

Something sizzles from the kitchen, and the smell wafts over to him. Izuku's eyes widen in recognition, and he can't help but turn to look at Kacchan.

"Katsudon?" He asks, tentatively hopeful.

"Yeah, and you can appreciate it by eating all of it when I'm done," Kacchan says back, looking back over his shoulder for a moment to speak, pointing a utensil threateningly at Izuku.

Izuku throws up his hands in surrender. "I will, I will!"

Kacchan huffs and turns back to focus on the food. Shouto shifts on the couch from beside him, but when Izuku goes to look back at him, his face is carefully stoic.

Is Izuku able to read his moods, when his expression is this purposefully blank? He'd been getting good at it, able to pick out the subtle expressions and emotions that Shouto couldn't perfectly conceal. But now Shouto's face is different from what Izuku remembers — more angular, sharper, older. Izuku doesn't quite know where to look to find those tells anymore.

It feels like a loss, and Izuku has to look away as his heart begins to ache in his chest.

He'll be determined tomorrow, probably renewed with vigour and positivity. Telling himself that he'll just learn, all over again, if that's what he has to do.

But right now Izuku is tired, and he's sure as hell overwhelmed, and he's just lost.

He sits back on the couch and tells himself to just focus on anything. Back straight. Hands in his lap. They begin to wring around each other, and he thinks about the texture of his fingers. They're rougher, coarser than before. There are small scars lining his fingertips, and a more recent scratch on his hand that's only just begun healing.

He wonders what it's from. It could've been a nail, something small. Maybe a cat? Rescuing it, perhaps? Or maybe one of his friends'? One of them would probably have a cat by now. Maybe a few of them.

He's struck by the question of wondering if any of them have children, now, or are soon planning to.

It's a thought that almost knocks him right off-kilter again, and he clenches his hands and holds on. The table in front of him is glass. There is a small plant on it. Two magazines. He can't quite see the covers of them, but he's glad for it — if he sees any of his friends on that cover, he doesn't think he'll be able to hold off another spiral.

There's a rug under the table. There's DVD's and books under the TV, and some of their titles are familiar to him. All Might move titles sit there, right next to a pop figure he hasn't seen in a while. He left it in his dorm at U.A, and he wonders if it's the same one.

If he's six years into the future, then surely there's new All Might films and content? The thought is one that excites him, rather than scares him, so he lets himself wander with that thought as best as he can.

"There's three new movies, one TV show, and... five or six documentaries, depending if you count the small amount in the sixth one," Kacchan's voice interrupts his thoughts, and it takes Izuku a moment for him to catch onto what he's talking about. Izuku looks at him, but Kacchan is only looking back at the collection that Izuku has been staring at. He places down three bowls on the dining table, and then properly looks back at them. "Hurry the fuck up and come sit, you ain't eating on my couch."

"We eat food on the couch plenty," Shouto replies, but stands up. He holds out a hand for Izuku, and Izuku takes it on instinct and lets himself get pulled up. He hesitates, waiting until both Shouto and Kacchan choose a seat.

The problem is, they sit opposite each other. There's six chairs in total around the table, two on each side, with one at each end.

Izuku most likely has a regular seat at this table, but he does not know where it is now. He's frozen in place, until he sees Kacchan's hand move on the table. He taps once at the bowl on the end of the table, the seat between him and Shouto.

Right. Of course — Izuku should've caught that. He thinks he would've, if everything wasn't just so... Well, different. Overwhelming.

He sheepishly takes the seat, but he's distracted from the way he's embarrassed by his hesitation by the meal in front of him. It's still warm and steaming, and it looks almost as good as his mum's.

It's been a while since Izuku has gotten to eat a home cooked meal, and with other people that aren't just the vestiges keeping him company during the far and few meals he managed to eat in peace.

"Thank you for the meal," he says like a prayer, and he's so grateful that it pretty much slips out without thought. Kacchan grunts, ignoring proper etiquette and tapping his chopsticks down on Izuku's own that are beside his bowl.

"Just shut up and eat," Kacchan tells him with a half-hearted snarl.

"Right," Izuku says, picking up his chopsticks, remembering the deal. It smells so good, and it feels like his stomach should be full — it was rare to get two meals so close together when he was on the run, and it's like his mind is still stuck there.

His body does not remember the same, as he finds himself easily able to eat all the food without worrying about getting too full too quickly. It's the perfect portion, really, filling up his stomach and making that drowsiness slam into him the moment he actually puts his chopsticks down, finished.

He thinks he could cry again, really, but he genuinely does not think he has had enough water to warrant it. But he could. Truly.

He's at risk of it, staring down at his bowl, appreciating the fact that Kacchan has just given him a home cooked meal, and he's been able to eat it without fear of looking over his shoulder. He's gotten to eat it with company — granted, quiet company, and Izuku feels like that probably isn't a usual staple at this table with all three of them, but it seems like they're all trying to figure out how to handle the change.

"I'll wash up," Izuku says, already gathering the dishes together.

"No," Shouto tells him, surprisingly quite stern, taking the dishes from him.

"You don't even know where the shit goes," Kacchan adds, slapping at Izuku's hands when he still goes to try and pack up the remaining ones.

"Kacchan," Izuku sighs. "You cooked."

It's a habit, he thinks, of the way it goes — how it went — in the U.A dorms. Those that did not cook meant that they cleaned, and that's just how it goes amongst them.

"Just leave it for us to deal with tonight," Shouto says, standing up from his chair. "Really, it's no worries. You usually fight us to cook and clean anyway."

"'sides, we aren't the ones stinking the most of shitty hospital disinfectant," Kacchan says, also standing up from the table. "Come on, I'll show you where the shit is to wash up."

Izuku lingers at the table, looking at Shouto carrying the dishes back, but Kacchan has already started walking and absolutely will leave Izuku behind. He gives Shouto an apologetic and thankful smile, and then hurries after Kacchan as he walks down the hallway.

Kacchan's basically striding down the hallway, not looking back at Izuku. Something about it isn't quite right — the way Kacchan is carrying himself.

This is strange for him, too.

It must be weird to lead someone who's lived here just as long around, pointing out to him all the things he once knew. It makes Izuku wince, feeling bad again for making the two of them go through this.

Kacchan opens up a door, leading them into an expansive bathroom. Izuku looks around, curious, spotting different towels on the rack.

"You keep fuckin' insisting on wrecking my home decor palette," Kacchan huffs, both of them staring at the very out of place All Might towel that's hanging up. It's bright and a very stark contrast to the muted, more earthy tones in the bathroom.

"It's an All Might towel, though," Izuku says, finding himself stepping closer to look at it. It's just his emblem, printed over the entire towel.

"Yeah yeah, Todoroki got it for you anyway, so it's both of you fucking with my decor," Kacchan huffs. "Whatever. Anyway, look. This is your toothbrush, toothpaste, uhh- fucking bodywash, though you usually just steal whoever's. Got it?"

"I think so," Izuku says, entirely stunned. Kacchan's casual use of 'your' is a dangerous word that just about sends him right over that tumbling cliff, but he manages to keep it together. "Um, yeah. Yeah, I'm good, thanks."

"Uh-huh," Kacchan says. "If you need anythin' just yell it. Clothes will be outside the door when you're done."

"Sure, thanks," Izuku says, and Kacchan almost seems like he's about to linger around, but he just exhales and walks out the bathroom, leaving Izuku to it.

Izuku pointedly ignores the mirror again. That's my mirror. How much have I looked into that mirror, watching my face change over all that time-

Nope. No mirror.

He goes to turn on the shower, and then his hand suddenly freezes in mid-air, reaching for the taps.

Oh god. Oh god. How the hell does the shower work?

It's fancy, with a whole panel of settings, and he lets out a deep breath. Okay. Nope, he is not going to get overwhelmed by this. He is going to figure out how to turn the water on, which should be absolutely the most simple, easiest thing to do. Absolutely. He can do this. He's dealt with everything else today, has apparently won against Shigaraki and every other battle in six years, and he is not going to be defeated by a shower.

Except that he almost is.

The shower is slightly too cold, and he can't turn it up without burning, so he just grits his teeth and bears with it as he stands under the spray. It's also set to an extremely hard pressure, which he's sure he's accidentally turned on, but he's not going to mess around now with the settings. Water. Bodywash. Toothbrush and toothpaste. That's all he needs right now.

It's a quick shower, because he really isn't a fan of the cold water pounding down sharply on his back. He steps out and wraps himself in the All Might designed towel, taking a deep breath as he presses it up to his face.

Okay. He survived the shower. He can do anything now.

Just as Kacchan said there would be, there's clothes folded outside the door. He doesn't quite know what to do with his other set of clothes, and so he holds onto them and wanders out of the bathroom. It's disorientating, coming out of the bathroom, with no one to lead him back down the hallway. The house is big, bigger than anything Izuku really ever dreamed of owning. He wonders if he's gotten used to the feeling of it.

Shouto and Kacchan are talking quietly between themselves, leaning over the kitchen counter to do so, though it ceases as Izuku steps into the room.

"Ah," Shouto says. "I'll show you the washing machine."

"Thanks," Izuku says, trailing after him. It's right next to the bathroom, in its own separate room and everything, and Izuku loads the clothes into it.

"Are you tired?" Shouto asks him, leaning against the doorway of the room.

"Yeah," Izuku says, right around a timely yawn. Shouto smiles slightly in amusement, and then beckons for Izuku to follow him. He leads Izuku into a room, flicking the light on as they enter.

Very clearly, it is not Izuku's room — he knows himself too well, and from the towel alone, he knows that there would be more memorabilia spread around the room if he owned it. It's a rather plain bedroom, done with basic interior but with little personality.

"A guest room?" Izuku figures, peering around it curiously.

"Ochako used it last," Shouto says, also looking around the room. "So if you find any hair ties, that's who they're from."

"Like you don't leave yours everywhere," Kacchan's voice complains from behind them, and Izuku turns to see him standing behind, folding his arms as he leans against the wall. Kacchan has an eyebrow raised, though it's a question he's directing towards Shouto.

"We figured the room would be less overwhelming," Shouto explains, switching his focus to Izuku.

Izuku's glad for it — if he's right, then all three of them share a room, share a bed, and Izuku does not want to displace them. He knows it'll be too awkward for all of them to sleep together tonight — honestly, Izuku doesn't think he'd be able to deal with it right now, so he's glad to have a separate room. And he's especially glad that they have a spare room to allow it, otherwise he'd never accept making Shouto and Kacchan leave their own bed.

They probably know that too.

"Yeah, thank you," Izuku breathes out, shifting on his feet, not quite sure what to do with himself now.

Kacchan walks out of the room, only to come back in less than a minute later with another glass of water and a packet of painkillers which he puts down on the bedside table.

"Take two," he instructs. "If you feel any worse, do not fuck about. Come get us. Two doors to your left, we'll leave it cracked. Got it?"

"Got it," Izuku confirms, mentally reciting two doors to the left so that he remembers. He really hopes he does not need to use that knowledge tonight.

"Alright, we'll let you sleep," Shouto says, and Izuku catches the quickest glimpse of Shouto's hand brushing against Kacchan's arm, gently trying to get him out of the room as well. "Goodnight, Izuku."

The use of his first name sends another thrill through him, back straightening as he tries to hide the way he shivers.

"Goodnight. Um, thanks. Both of you," the words rush out, fuelled by embarrassment and guilt. "For looking after me. And, ah, sorry about everything."

"Just get some sleep, idiot," Kacchan says tiredly, and leads the way out of the room. Shouto looks behind him, back at Izuku, like he's going to say something. But then he just presses his lips together and gives him a tight smile, and then walks out of the room.

Izuku basically falls as he sits down on the edge of the bed. He puts his head in his hands, and tries to remember what it's like to breathe normally.

It works, sort of. After a while, at least.

Eventually, he manages to get back up, and he turns off the lightswitch. The room goes dark, but not completely, light still spilling in from the faint light in the hallway. He climbs into the bed, only remembering to take two of the painkillers just as he's settled down.

He's so comfortable he almost disregards it, but then he knows that they'll be able to tell that he hasn't if they're not missing from the packet, so he groans as he pulls himself up and quickly downs two of them. He has a couple more sips of the water, just as he knows his hydration levels are probably lower than they should be, and then settles back down into bed.

It's big. It's a double — or more, possibly. Bigger than the one back in his dorm.

There are more pillows on this bed too, stacked up against each other. Usually, he doesn't hold something when he sleeps, but he finds himself grabbing one of the pillows and pulling it down as he turns on his side. He holds it close to his chest, like he's trying to use the softness to help with all the jagged pieces that feel like they're lodged in his lungs.

It helps to ease some of the ache, but not all of it.

It's like his body knows this isn't right. That this bed is too big. Too lonely.

He sighs and rolls over, bringing the pillow with him.

It's hard to fall asleep.

Despite his exhaustion, it's like he's too wound up, unable to properly relax. He clenches the pillow tighter, like the harder he grips it the quicker he'll fall asleep, but nothing can quite convince his mind to shut off and let him rest.

It's like his mind is still caught up in the time he'd been running, escaping Shigaraki and All for One's attention as best as he can, not letting them pin him down. He's barely able to stop himself from activating Danger Sense, which he usually did just as he was falling asleep. Usually, it just wound him up further, like he was just waiting for it to go off in warning.

He's still stuck in that mindset, and it's hard to get rid of the habit even though he's in a whole new bed — in a whole new time. Shouto and Kacchan wouldn't have brought him back here if it wasn't safe anyway.

He hears low tones conversing, and he can't understand the words — he's glad for it, as he'd feel like he's intruding if he could. But now they're just a type of noise breaking up the echoing and expansive silence, and he focuses on the sounds of Shouto and Kacchan's voices.

That, and only that, is what finally allows him to rest.