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Shouta hadn’t noticed anything off that morning.
He normally wouldn’t, but when getting slammed in the face with a villain's quirk the day before on patrol, he thought he would.
There hadn’t seemed to be any side effects so far — besides a mild headache as he tried to drift off.
To the dismay of all the heroes around him — including his husband, Hizashi — he refused medical treatment with the promise that he’d call if whatever the quirk was showed up.
It was enough to get them all off his back.
After his morning shower — which was so much shorter now that he had cut all his hair off after the special Class 3-A graduated — he got his hero gear on and left the house with everything he needed.
The teachers lounge was empty to his absolute delight, and he was able to get his coffee without a hitch.
His feet took him to the door of his classroom, only ten minutes late. He preferred being punctual, but his first year class this year was still getting in the swing of things and sue him, he was softer about timing now.
He opened the door, coffee in the other hand, when he paused.
This was Class 1-A.
His Class 1-A. From eight years ago.
Shouta’s eyes flicked over all of the young ones — eyes locking on Bakugo, who was sitting at his desk like he did at the beginning of the year, a scowl on his face that was barely as harsh anymore now that he was supposed to be twenty five.
Why was he in the past?
Things got worse when he looked to his podium at the front of the room.
That was… him. From first year. Long hair and all.
Oh gosh.
——
Aizawa sighed as he tried one last time to get his class to quiet down. It was only homeroom, but gosh was this year going to be hard. It was only the beginning, yes, but he could smell a few expulsions from here.
Before another word could leave his mouth, the door swung open.
Everyone looked over and-
It was.. him? But with short hair, a mug of coffee, a shocking lack of eye bags and the same hero costume.
Murmurs immediately broke out.
The other Aizawa stared at the class for a while, an indescribable look on his face, before his eyes locked on him.
This was fucking weird.
He sighed, walking over to the other version of himself.
“Iida, you’re in charge.” He said blandly, right as he pushed the other him out the door and shut it behind them.
It seemed like the other version of him knew what to expect as they made their way to the teachers lounge without communication.
It was thankfully empty, so he turned to the other him and sighed. That was all the other needed to explain.
“I believe I've come from the future,” He spoke. “In my timeline, I was hit by a quirk on patrol. It must be a time travelling quirk.”
“And you didn’t think to get it checked?” He snapped at future-him. Future-him gave a sheepish look.
“I know you’re not fond of medical attention after patrol, and I suppose I'll tell you that that hasn’t changed.” Future-Aizawa says, smirking just a bit.
He couldn’t help it, looking at the older version of himself. With a sigh, he pinched the bridge of his nose. The amused look on Future-Aizawa’s face told him that that hadn’t changed either.
He was forever going to be the same, apparently.
There was a moment of silence, Future-Aizawa slowly walking around. It must be odd for him to be thrown who knows how far into the past.
He cleared his throat. “How far into the future are you?”
Future-Aizawa looked at him. “How old are you?”
“Thirty.” He answered easily.
Future-Aizawa raised his eyebrows, huffing. “Eight years, then. I'm thirty-nine.”
Yeah, this was pretty fucking wild.
They discuss what they’re going to do about all of this, and when Future-Aizawa brings up Present Mic enough times to throw him off, that’s when he finds out they're married.
He married Hizashi? There’s no way.
It’s even worse because Future-Aizawa definitely knows he’s crushing on Hizashi. It’s him from the future! Future him totally remembers the crush he had on his husband back then!
It couldn’t be more unfair.
Future-Aizawa wiggles his ring finger. “Pull your head out of your ass, and it’ll be fine.” He says, as if it’s that easy.
His eyes roll without hesitation. Future-Aizawa only snickers, poking more fun.
He tries to move on as fast as he can, and luckily the older version of himself is willing to.
He’ll be staying in his own teachers dorm. It’s the same, he ends up telling him, so that seems to be a good thing.
With the older version of himself now contained, he goes back to homeroom — where he is bombarded with questions.
He can only manage to get a summary out before moving on and getting them to quiet down.
——
Shouta couldn’t believe he was back at U.A when his kids were in first year. It tugged at his heart in a way he couldn’t explain — almost like pride seeing how far they’d come.
Seeing them so young, so excited, sat in his homeroom class at the beginning of the year — having no idea what their years together would bring. He nearly wanted to cry (but he wouldn’t, obviously).
Even if he was told to stay in his dorm, he obviously wasn’t going to let his thirty-year-old self tell him at thirty-nine what to do. He had eight years on that guy — if he wanted to wander the U.A halls eight years in the past, he would!
Everything looked the same, the hallways empty from classes going on. Almost naturally, he brought himself to the training grounds.
To his delight, his past self was teaching their training session.
Shouta watched Bakugo paired up with Kirishima. The two had always had a perfect dance when they fought together — with Bakugo using his quirk in that exaggerated, passionate way he always did back then, and Kirishima's hardening counteracting it perfectly. The two were in sync already.
Midoriya looked a bit wobbly on his feet with OFA still. If he remembered, no one knew about the passed down quirk yet. It was a confusing time back then, but he could see the determination set in the kid’s expression as he set himself across from Tsu.
His eyes moved from student to student, his heart swelling in his chest. To know that these kids had already graduated for him and were now some of the top heroes in the world, was something he couldn’t believe but knew it felt so right.
And it was secretly an honour to him to have helped them get there. He's so glad he didn’t expel any of them.
At some point, young Kaminari pointed up to where he was in the viewing area, and everyone waved. They seemed to like him, which was oddly reassuring (enough so that the glare younger-Aizawa gave him didn’t even matter).
——
Dinner was unavoidable. His stomach was growling every so often and he knew he couldn’t not eat. So he went to the common room kitchen.
Shouta knew he should’ve expected to find 1-A in there eating their own dinners, but he didn’t for some reason.
Students swarmed him, fascinated.
“Your hair is so short, Mr Aizawa!”
“How’d you even get here?”
“Are you staying?”
“Do you have the same quirk, or do complete alternate dimensions exist where quirks are different?”
He held up a hand, calm, and the voice slowed.
“I am the same Aizawa, but from the future.” He explained easily. Murmurs followed.
“How far ahead?” Kaminari spoke up, chopsticks in hand even though he wasn’t sitting at the table and instead in front of him.
“Eight years, Kaminari.”
Murmurs broke out louder, completely enthralled with the idea of their teacher from the future.
He sort of loved it.
He told them that in his timeline, he got hit by a quirk on patrol, and it must’ve thrown him into the past with a time travelling quirk. The scribbling Midoriya was doing only warmed his heart, as did the excited expressions they all held.
As they raved about it, Shouta managed to get his own dinner, finding a spot at the table between Ochako and Yaoyorozu.
“So, the future?” The voice of Mina spoke up. “What can you say? Am I a star pink alien queen yet?”
Her question started a theory of many, which he quieted.
“I don’t think I should share much.” He said honestly, picking up his chopsticks. “It could mess with the timeline of things, and I want you all to succeed on your own.”
His words seem shocking — which is funny because he knows and remembers just how harsh he was back then. Expulsions were like a reminder to drink water back then, and it sort of makes him cringe to remember.
He clears his throat. “But I can indulge.”
That's when it starts.
“Are we heroes?”
Kirishima's question makes him smile, looking down at his food. He nods.
“You all are, you’re in your mid-twenties. You’re also doing very well, Kirishima.” he informs. “You're loved by everyone. Students, little kids, adults, elders, shopkeepers, all of them. You’re like.. a symbol of strength. It's quite impressive.”
His words make red eyes light up, his future shining bright already — Shouta can see it still.
“What has changed about the world?” is Ochako’s question. A little deeper, and not about anyone in specific.
“Quite a bit.” Shouta nods to himself. “Heroes aren’t as needed anymore, and they have more time. But you, Ochako, made a massive difference for quirk discrimination. You started quirk counseling for people struggling with their quirks. It is something that was, and is, definitely needed.”
Her eyes brighten in their own way. Shouta knows it’s right up her alley, and he can see that that factor is already something she’s determined to do now just looking at her.
He doesn’t tell her that she started it because of Toga’s death, giving over all her blood during the war.
With each question, he keeps one thing to himself — Bakugo dying, Midoriya becoming a vigilante, Todoroki's supposedly dead older brother actually being part of the biggest league of villains. There's things to share, and things to keep to himself.
Even when he looks to Hitoshi Shinsou at the end of the table, he bites back a smile knowing that that boy is his and Hizashi's son. He knows it’ll happen in a year's time where he is now in the past, and that warms his heart.
He can see the weight of the secret of what his father is doing to him in his shoulders. Shouta wants nothing more than to tell him to trust the people around him, but he knows Hitoshi and he knows him well.
So his mouth is shut, and lets them indulge in knowing that they will grow into successful people without giving them the recipe to get there. They would have to work for it.
——
Twenty-four hours later, Shouta wakes up in his bed like he did yesterday.
His hair was still short in the mirror (he couldn’t believe how much of a topic that was the day prior), and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Just like yesterday.
As he was making breakfast, he reminisced about the experience.
Seeing his class of kids so young again squeezed his heart in a way he didn’t think possible. Seeing them training and starting from square one without the experiences of their three years following them intimidatingly was a relief and something he’ll forever cherish.
He knows he’ll never get the experience again — never go back to year one again, and he doesn’t quite think he wants to.
Shouta loves seeing his kids on the TV — whether it be an ad campaign, a magazine cover, a calendar, shoe and clothing collaborations, or anything else, he loves it.
They’ve come so far and fuck if he isn’t proud.
His smile must be obvious, because Hizashi is looking at him from the entrance of their kitchen.
“You okay? What’s on your mind?” His husband asks.
Shouta can only shake his head, the action fond and content. He moves his breakfast off the stove.
“Yeah. Everything is okay. The quirk’s gone.” He informs.
The smile on his husband’s face shows relief. “Thank fuck. You need to start seeing medical care after patrol, Shou.” He warns loosely as he drops a kiss to Shouta’s cheek.
Shouta’s shrugs. “Maybe. But it was all good.” He says softly.
“It couldn’t have been better.”