Bakugou knelt there with his hand extended outward, tears in his eyes, blood splattering on his face, his clothes, and the concrete next to him. A hand came to rest on his head, but he couldn't care if it was malicious or not. He had known that this probably wouldn't work, but why did it always have to be his fault.

It was always his fault. Was that the point of all of this? To force him to see what he had done?

A hand waved in front of his face, and he wondered whether he deserved to die. Then a knee nudged his shoulder and he finally blinked away from Midoriya's body. Eraserhead, also with a few drops of blood splattered on his face, reached out a hand to help him to his feet. Instead, he used it to steal a hug and bury his sobs.

After the long, hard crying session, he was tired. But this bone-deep tiredness was something that had been building up alongside loneliness and self-loathing. It had been building up during each and every loop, until he could no longer deny that those were the emotions that drove him. And he had always stood back and let those emotions take the wheel, leaving himself prone to bad decisions in an attempt to receive validation.

But Midoriya was never like that. Bakugou had projected himself onto Midoriya and attacked him, all in a forlorn attempt to rid himself of his own hatred. And now Deku hated himself too.

He had to do this the right way next time. No more lying to himself. No more false promises.

The next loop had to succeed.

Bakugou numbly pulled himself off of the pro hero, "What... should we do now...?"

Eraserhead glanced at Midoriya's empty body sadly, "Come to my apartment tomorrow morning at the time I told you. Explain this everything, the loops, this plan," his eyes sharpened, "and everything you refused to tell me today."

Bakugou flinched.

"This isn't ideal but..." Eraserhead glanced at his watch, "I think there's something else we're missing here."

"Like, what?" Bakugou choked out.

"Would you say he was suicidal before the loops began? Was any of his behavior strange before the loops or has he always been like this? And don't deny that you know him well, he calls you Kacchan and you let him."

He fumbled over his words, "ah-I-um-well, he uh, we uh, I didn't notice anything. But... but I wouldn't say we're close... anymore..."

Eraserhead's eyebrow raised, but realization dawned in his eyes rather than all over his face like most people, "I see..." another glance at his watch.

Was it almost midnight, then?

"It seemed as though there was something more you were thinking about when I asked you when the loops reset. Would you care to explain?" Eraserhead pressed.

Another flinch, "It was... awful..."

"Ah," the pro hero looked mildly apologetic as he checked his watch once more.

"W-why do you care?"

"That's a loaded question. But I'm afraid that it doesn't matter, kid. Sorry about this," Eraserhead glared at him, his eyes turning red and his hair floating upward.

It took Bakugou a second, but then he realized what was happening, "Nonononononon-"

The world froze.

Then came the slow torture, pure agony ripping him apart. Piece by piece, atom by atom, it felt like it would never end. And for all he knew, it wouldn't. He was dragged in all directions, a constant tug-of-war where there was no winner, and he would just be pulled apart. Bakugou couldn't even register the fatigue that washed over him in waves as the pain grew to unbearable levels. Please just let him die, nothing was worth suffering this.

He wasn't sure how long his suffering lasted, only that he couldn't go through this again. He'd rather die.

Bakugou woke up two minutes before his alarm. His mind still echoed the pain of the last loop despite his body having forgotten it. He sat up in bed, but that simple motion took more effort than it should ever require. A headache made itself known to him, and his stomach growled at him angrily. He rubbed his face with his hands as he stared at his phone, feeling the signs of a headache beginning. What was he supposed to be doing, again? He couldn't remember.

He blinked and stretched out his shoulders and back. Ah, right. He needed to summarize his situation before going to Eraserhead's apartment. But why did he care about that, again? He didn't know.

Bakugou felt like he was floating in nothingness as he dragged himself out of bed. He couldn't find the point in anything, couldn't bring himself to want to do anything, but the echo of Eraserhead's voice gave him instructions. He could follow instructions. Yeah.

He settled at his desk with a notebook and pencil. Normally, he'd question where he was supposed to start or scream about being told what to do, but at that moment, he couldn't find the point of that. So he wrote. He numbly scribbled about what had happened, from the first day to the most recent. He flooded words onto the page, not bothering to make it organized or clean.

Bakugou gave context into their past history when it was necessary, but he didn't write it explicitly out of pure habit rather than any will to avoid getting into trouble. His future as the number one pro hero was all he wanted, but he couldn't seem to force himself to care. There was no point to that if he was stuck in this day forever.

He didn't feel any anger at Deku for causing his suffering, nor did he accept this. There was no sadness, no frustration, no self-loathing. Nothing. He just existed.

Once he finished writing, the notebook had eight new pages pilled with text that didn't do his experience justice. But he couldn't care less, it served its purpose. He glanced at the clock again, deciding that he didn't have enough time to bother eating anything before leaving.

He stood up from the chair that he absentmindedly remembered killing Deku in and promptly collapsed as his knees refused to hold his weight. Bakugou almost didn't have the will to get up, but Eraserhead explaining what he had to do for the plan to work resurfaced again, so he slowly pushed himself to his feet. Bakugou dragged himself to the door and reached for the door handle, abruptly stopping. He blinked once, then twice. Right, he had pajamas on. He should probably change.

He continued to stand there for a minute, his mind blank, before turning around to change. Once dressed, he grabbed the notebook again and wandered downstairs. He knew he should say something to his father, but he didn't want to deal with anybody, so he just walked right out the front door without a word. He missed the alarmed expression that watched him from the kitchen.

He wandered through the busy streets, the morning commuters walking purposefully toward the train station. As Bakugou passed them, he stared at the blur of the crowd. As he numbly headed to his destination, he wondered how it was for every one else.

What it was like to have a purpose that wasn't predetermined? How did people choose their own futures? His quirk made it so he would only be worth something as a hero, that was the only thing people said he'd be good at. And the only way he could live was if he was the best. Anything less than perfect was failure after all. Failure was fatal. He was glad that nobody else remembered these loops, remembered the evidence of his failures, though the emotion was distant and fuzzy.

Something told him that it wouldn't matter anyway, because he would remember. He knew he was a failure, but it really didn't matter at that moment. Nothing did.

He continued walking to Eraserhead's apartment, not even questioning where his feet were taking him.

Bakugou blinked at the familiar door that rested in from of him. He checked his phone, patiently waiting for the exact time he was instructed to knock. He hadn't even noticed that he was staring unblinkingly for several minutes until he saw the digital numbers shift to the desired time and felt his eyes start to burn. Blinking and rubbing at his eyes, his heart swelled, and he felt relief. That was the first emotion he had fully felt all morning.

He knocked twice, waited, and knocked twice again. Taking a few steps back, Bakugou glanced around. He wasn't sure what to do, but he understood that Eraserhead was a tired person and would likely be grumpy and slow in the morning. Much to his surprise, however, it only took a minute for the hero to answer the door.

"What do you want," he growled tiredly, blinking the sleep out of his eyes.

Bakugou didn't say anything, instead deciding to just offer his notebook. He didn't really want to talk at that moment, so he didn't. The hero blinked in mild surprise before accepting the notebook and stepping back to let Bakugou inside his apartment.

He didn't bother to look around, having studied it extensively the previous loop, instead making a bee-line for the comfortable couch. If his behavior surprised Eraserhead, he didn't show it, so the teenager opted to continue his extended silence.

The tried man sat on a single couch across from Bakugou with crossed legs, beginning to scan through the explanation. The teenager stared off into space in the general direction of the clock, the small ticks of the seconds hand seeming to steadily grow louder the longer they sat there. Normally he'd break the silence, but he couldn't come up with a good reason to, so he just let time creep forward.

It wasn't as though he had to wait long, as it only took Eraserhead a few minutes to read through what he had written. It was a rambling mess, but it clearly had made sense to the hero, judging by the wide range of split-second expressions that flickered over his face all throughout. When the man finally sighed heavily and closed the notebook, anxiety was finally getting to him.

Eraserhead's gaze locked onto Bakugou's, grabbing him and refusing to let him go. The teen shrunk back on instinct, unwilling to bother fighting the knee-jerk reaction that he usually suppressed and hid under anger and false-confidence. The moment dragged on, but nowhere as long as the resets had, especially since they were so much more painful than this.

"Kid..." The hero trailed off.

Bakugou closed his eyes in absentminded acceptance. But instead of a denial of his experience, warm arms wrapped around his shoulders. His eyes shot open in surprise that felt much closer than even his relief or anxiety that he had felt before this. The hero pressed his head into his chest, sitting down beside the teen and murmuring soothing words awkwardly.

It was then that Bakugou noticed that he had begun to cry, small tears sliding down his cheeks. He let them fall silently without protest, melting into the comforting touch that he never seemed to receive. He didn't know that he had needed it until now.

Bakugou blinked up at the ceiling. He sat up on the couch, trying to remember what had happened after getting to Eraserhead's apartment. Had he fallen asleep?

"Shit! Fuck! Dammit! What a waste of time! Fuck!" he screeched.

A snort came from the kitchen, and he whipped around to retort. Except, he was greeted with a man wearing pink cat pajamas that read "I wanted coffee this morning. Unfortunately the only beans here are toe beans." with a picture of a cat showing off its paws in between the sentences.

He blinked. Eraserhead blinked back. How the hell had he not noticed those earlier?

"Hey, kid. I see you're awake finally," he deadpanned.

"Well, no shit, genius. Why the fuck did you let me sleep. We have shit we need to do, and we have a limited time!" Bakugou seethed.

The hero raised an eyebrow, "After what you've been through, you sure as hell needed it. Besides, as long as he hasn't died yet, the longer we go without you and him interacting, the better. From what I read, that seemed to be an issue multiple times..."

Bakugou grit his teeth and ground out, "Fine. What do you propose we do then, genius?"

"Get him to do something he enjoys, and he'd be too distracted to consider dying," he sighed, "But I don't know what he likes, any suggestions?"

Bakugou snorted, "He's a hero nerd, he scribbles away in his notebook all the time. He calls it "Hero Analysis for the Future" and I swear he could list every hero in the top five hundred for the past thirty years and tell you all about their quirks."

The other eyebrow raised to meet the first, "I wouldn't mind seeing this notebook of his, that level of dedication has potential."

"Ugh. He has more than one of those notebooks, probably has reached number thirteen by this point, all filled with crap about heroes. And what do you mean 'he has potential'?"

"I teach a heroics class. Analysis is a rarer skill, than most expect. Therefore, this Midoriya kid already has me impressed."

Bakugou spluttered, "How the hell does a nobody like you teach a heroics class? And h-he's quirkless, worthless. That's not good for anything, much less heroics."

The hero's eyes sharpened, "Maybe for mainstream heroics. But have you ever considered other kinds of heroics? Or maybe even just working as an analyst for a hero agency? Don't kid yourself, nobody is worthless unless they choose to be."

The teenager flinched and looked down. Eraserhead walked around the couch and sat back down in the single-chair, keeping Bakugou in his sights.

The man inhaled and opened his mouth, making Bakugou flinch in anticipation. Eraserhead narrowed his eyes at that reaction before sighing, "Kid, I'm not berating you, I'm just trying to help you understand why that statement was wrong. Are you planning to go into heroics?"

The blonde looked away for a moment and scoffed "So what if I am? With my quirk, it's the only thing I'm good for anyway."

"I believe the most important thing to heroics isn't your quirk. Quirks are tools, they don't define who you are. My quirk can temporarily cancel out quirks, so what if you had to fight me? You couldn't use your quirk, so what then? Heroes should be clever and resourceful. Strong, but still empathetic. Society is a mess, but don't let other people's problems define you," the hero stood up and rested his hand on Bakugou's shoulder in reassurance.

Meanwhile, said teen was struggling to rework his world view with those words in mind. His quirk wasn't what made him strong? It was just a tool? But then what about D-Midoriya? He didn't have a tool constantly with him, but he could if he tried. Knives and guns still kill hundreds of people every year, right?

Just a tool...

Well fuck.

Rubbing at his eyes furiously, Bakugou shook off the hero's hand and stood up, "Whatever, debating this shit isn't why I'm here. I just need you to help me, dammit!"

An uncomfortable silence settled.

"If you're sure. By the way, what's your name, kid?"

Bakugou spluttered, "Fuck, that's right. Urm, Bakugou. Katsuki."

"Alright then Bakugou, I'll go fetch your 'friend,' and I'll entertain him for as long as possible. Go find some place else to hang out for a while, because I'll probably bring him back here," A soft grin appeared on Eraserhead's face, and the blonde couldn't help but let out a 'tch.'

"Alright, I hear ya. I'll get lost," he turned and began to leave the apartment he paused, "I'm coming back here at 23:45, and you can't stop me. Got that, genius?"

And with that he slammed the door shut and stepped out of the apartment complex. Bakugou wondered where he should stay for most of the day.

He took a deep breath and looked at his phone battery percentage, 83%. Bakugou began to walk back towards his house.

Instead of taking the direct route, he took a round-about path that gave him more time to let his thoughts wander.

"Nobody is worthless unless they choose to be."

Did that mean Bakugou was worthless?

"Quirks are tools, they don't define who you are."

Then why was he always told that he'd be a good hero. Nobody ever said he'd be good for anything else, so how could that be true?!

Before these wretched loops, he thought he had known everything, and that everything was perfectly in place.

But here he stood at the crossroads where his house stood down the street. He hesitated for a second before turning and walking away from it.

He stopped again about a house-length down the street and looked around for any bystanders. When Bakugou didn't see any, he hopped on top of the stone fence that bordered all of the houses on their street. He ran on top of it until he reached his backyard. Hopping down onto the grass, he looked up to the window of his room.

The teenager jumped up onto the wall, gripping small hand-holds that were unnoticeable unless someone knew they were already there. Pulling himself up, he opened his window from the outside and crawled inside. Flopping on the floor indignantly, he looked around until he spotted his phone charger.

Bakugou grabbed the cord and searched around his desk for a mobile battery that he swore he had but couldn't remember when he got it or the last time he had used it. Luckily for him, he had left it on its charging station so it was fully charged and ready to be used.

He poked his head out of the window and wondered if it was worth it to try and get back down. In the past, he had only used it to sneak back inside after spending too long training in the forest or at that stupid trash beach that one time. Which was a mistake, never again.

Deciding, no, he'd rather not die today, he cautiously opened his door and listened for his parents.

His mother should be at work by now, his father too, but he couldn't be sure. His mother was a tricky kind of asshole, always keeping him on his toes.

When he felt like the coast was clear, he tip-toed down the steps, skipping the squeaky ones and setting each foot down delicately. To anybody else, it would probably look like an intricate, unnecessary dance, but it was just something that he did.

Bakugou paused once he reached the bottom of the stairs, looking around the empty house. A sense of sadness washed over him. It felt as though this empty house was his life, and that it would always be him trying to live up to what was expected of him. All alone, and never enough.

Ignoring his stupid emotions, he silently walked to the back door and retreated back the way he came.

Aizawa had experienced many things in his lifetime. But time travel? That was new.

When this stranger showed up at his door right at the exact time he begins to allow his close friends to bother him, his suspicion was peaked. And, the miserable kid that greeted him was enough to wipe away any disgruntlement.

His first thought was that someone (probably a vigilante he had worked with previously) needed his help (again).

But then he had opened the door and his second thought was: oh shit.

The kid, who was obviously younger than any of his students, looked at him as though Aizawa was his last hope.

How could he, as a pro hero especially, deny a child like that his help?

And then the kid gave him a notebook, and holy shit was it messed up. This kid had been through utter hell and all he had to show for it was being on the verge of breaking down and mental scars that would last a lifetime.

After reading it, the urge to give this kid a hug was so great that his awkward, pro-hero self couldn't resist. And sure enough, one embrace was all it took before the kid cried himself into exhaustion.

After lying the kid down to rest, he went into the kitchen to make coffee and a light breakfast. Halfway through, he realized that he was still wearing his pink cat pajamas. Fuck, he hoped that the kid was too tired to notice.

After a few hours of trying to keep his hands busy while his mind was trying to come up with a solution to the time loop. He wondered whether the kid looked that pitiful during their first meeting. He wondered why this kid's friend was targeted specifically. Nothing was explicit, but it seemed as though there was some issue between this kid and his friend.

It didn't matter though, he just had to eliminate the variables until the odds were in his favor.

Bakugou wandered around in the forest. Everywhere he went seemed to have some memory of Izuku associated with it. Hide and Seek, Tag, Heroes, and dozens of other children's games.

It was as though he was being haunted, even though Izuku was no longer dead. As though every loop where Izuku had killed himself, a piece of him had died and remained to remind Bakugou of his failures. It was something he already did himself, but these failures that he hadn't even known he had committed until it was too late seemed to be worse than the rest. Because he wasn't the one who had paid the price.

Who continued to pay the price.

And that's what hurt most of all.

After shooing the kid—Bakugou—from his apartment, Aizawa ran a hand over his face. He checked the time (11:48) and looked up the school office information online.

From how Bakugou described his school, it was a shitty place full of boot-licking administration that didn't really want to teach kids but ended up working at a school anyway. So, even though he didn't have any official paperwork or documents that would allow him to remove Bakugou's "friend"—Midoriya Izuku—from school, he was fairly certain that flashing his hero license would suffice.

That was not a good thing for their institution, but it worked in his favor in this case, so who was he to complain. (He was absolutely going to complain to one of his contacts in the police about this, allowing a kid to be removed by someone who wasn't in their official file as family or emergency contact wasn't okay. Even if it was by a pro-hero.)

Regardless, Bakugou's notebook offhandedly mentioned that Aizawa was able to remove Midoriya from school without issues in the previous loop, so that wasn't his biggest worry.

The worry was whether Midoriya would still be at school when he got there.

So, he decided to call the principal to make an appointment.

In the end, Bakugou found himself at the damned creek.

Somehow, something always drew him back to this place any time he entered the forest. Even though he had spent hours training his quirk on his own here, the only thing he could think of anymore was Izuku's hand reaching out to grab his. The concerned eyes that only wanted to help a friend whether said friend had needed it or not. He couldn't remember what was going through his head, but that didn't matter anymore.

What had been done, was done. What had happened, happened.

Bakugou carefully walked down the bank and sat at the edge of the small stream. He stared at the water as it swirled around the rocks and sticks that tried to block it, watching the flowing water carry the immobile leaves and pebbles with them rather than leaving them behind.

He set a timer on his phone and set it aside.

He pulled his knees to his chest and observed sadly as a pebble tumbled onward with the flow while a leaf got stuck on a branch and left behind.

The principal was undoubtedly a boot-licker that needed to get his head out of his ass. Not, that Aizawa would say it out loud, but he felt as though it should be noted in his informal report. Maybe he could go directly to Officer Tsukauchi, and he'd verify the truth of that statement, ha.

Pushing those thoughts away, he wondered if making the appointment for 02:30 was the wisest decision. But it didn't matter now, because it was set and he could only hope that having a set meeting time would prevent Midoriya from doing it before school was over.

With a heavy sigh, he went to go get ready and make himself more coffee. He knew he was going to need it by the weird-ass day he'd had already. He truly hoped that this kid had some kind of support system to help him. There was no was he was equipped for this kind of emotional shit.

Several hours later, the pro hero drove up to the god-forsaken middle school clean shaven and dressed nicely as he would for home visits. The important part is making a good impression and holding a posture befitting of a hero. That way, no questions would be asked and he could get this over with. Aizawa stepped out of the car.

He wasn't even three meters from his car when a man, probably the vice-principal or something, walked up to greet him. Aizawa exchanged fake pleasantries and tried to push down the nauseous feeling he got from how fake this person was.

As he was escorted to the office, Aizawa could have sworn that he'd heard the entire school's history and every little achievement possible. It almost made him want to die, but he had to make sure this Midoriya kid wouldn't die first.

When the finally arrived at the office (he swore that the vice-principal took him on the long route to the office just to be able to talk more in a pathetic attempt to impress him with their school's practically non-existent "achievements"), he was ready to tear down the school in its entirety. He had seen at least five different counts of quirk usage in the classrooms they had passed, and a few of them were from teachers, not just students.

He honestly felt bad for all the kids this school had failed, but first, he had to focus on the task at hand and get his head out of the clouds. Focus.

"Ah, Mr. Eraserhead, how nice of you to join us today," the principal bullshitted.

Aizawa was already tired of his voice and done with his shit, "Yeah. Where's Midoriya Izuku, he was supposed to be here," he deliberately refused to let the principal introduce himself just to spite the bastard.

"Ah, well, about that. He is very behind on his studies, and his teacher thought it would be best if he finished his classes before meeting with us today. I apologize for the inconvenience, but a hero such as yourself must understand the importance of education, no?" the principal continued to spew crap at him with a straight face.

"Of course..." the hero eyed him suspiciously.

The principal faked a timid smile, "But while we wait for him, could I ask you a few questions? I'd like to inquire about heroics for a certain student of mine. He has stellar grades and is physically the best in the school. I believe a great hero such as yourself would know his odds at making a hero school, and what that would mean for ou-his future."

"Now," the hero put on a fake smile that had a dangerous glint to it, "we both know that isn't true."

The principal shivered a bit but still tried to fake it, "W-whatever do you mean?"

"Drop the act, I'd like to see Midoriya right now. His studies can wait, this is a much more important matter. I need to take him out of school early today, it's for an investigation. And, if you get in my way, it might not end well. Understand?" The 'for you' wasn't spoken, but it was heavily implied. Luckily for him, the principal wasn't a complete idiot. He just incorrectly assumed that all heroes were susceptible to flattery.

The principal flinched and waved his hand at his secretary to go grab him from his class. The awkward silence dragged on for a couple minutes, but Aizawa didn't break his gaze from the principal once, watching the man squirm uncomfortably. Intimidation always works on these fools. It was almost sad.

Finally, a knock sounded at the door. The secretary walked back in with a skinny, timid kid with green hair that hid behind her as though he were in trouble. But with how dead-inside the kid looked, it seemed to be an ingrained habit rather than any current anxieties.

"Ah, Midoriya, welcome back. I didn't think I'd see you back here so soon, but this hero here needed you. You aren't in trouble..." the principal murmured quietly, though Aizawa still heard it, "for once..."

Eraserhead's eyebrows shot to the roof. Well damn, he hadn't thought it was that blatant.

The secretary pointedly ignored the conversation and went back to her desk (which Aizawa had noticed was running a nice game of solitaire). Midoriya stood there dejectedly before looking up at the word "hero."

And then it came without warning.

"Y-y-you're Eraserhead! Wow! I never thought I'd get to meet you, because you're an underground pro hero and all. Wow this is such an honor, I admire your fighting style and how you deliberately focus on the worst districts and purposefully avoid media attention! Wow, okay I'm so shocked and honored, but wait why are you here again? You're here for me? No that can't be right I'm just a..."

Aizawa was taken aback, but also remembered Bakugou mentioning Midoriya's hero knowledge. He just hadn't expected the kid to go rambling out of the blue like that.

Without missing a beat, Eraserhead stood up from his chair, "So, if you don't mind, I'll be taking Midoriya here out of school for the rest of today, and he'll be back tomorrow morning on time."

Midoriya just blinked in surprise.

"W-w-well, I do mind! You can't take him out of school without being an emergency contact or family! And this idio-kid only has one person on his form, his mom!" the principal refuted, irritated that the hero had disregarded him entirely.

Aizawa groaned internally, this man was really going to be petty and difficult now of all times, "Really now, you would impede an investigation? This is an emergency, I don't have time to deal with logistics."

He activated his quirk for the intimidation factor, and walked over to grab Midoriya by the wrist, "We're leaving."

Without a beat, he left the room, Midoriya in tow, in the route he had been guided previously.

About halfway down the hallway, Midoriya spoke up again, "H-hey, um... Mr. Eraserhead, sir?"

"Yeah, kid? And drop the titles, just Eraserhead is fine," Damn, this kid was a stuttering anxiety-ridden mess. Not that it was the kid's fault, but wow.

"Ah! Um, i-if you're su-s-sure I, uh... sorry, I wouldn't want to be rude..." Midoriya stuttered out, "but uh, there's a q-quicker way to get-to get out of sc-th school..."

Aizawa was glad that he at least had the heart to correct him (and he was pissed that the vice-principal had indeed led him around the long way, but he wouldn't tell the kid that).

He softened his expression, in hopes that it would calm the kid's nervousness, "Thanks, kid. Lead the way."

Midoriya looked surprised and was apparently so startled he flinched, but didn't hesitate to let Aizawa's grip drag himself along behind him. Eraserhead had honestly forgotten that he had grabbed the kid's wrist, but he supposed it was probably too late to let go now.

In record time, after taking probably twelve shortcuts that probably weren't normal shortcuts, they made it out the front of the building. Finally, the hero released his grip and led the way to his car, gesturing for the kid to get in the front seat passenger's side.

The kid looked even more nervous getting in, but didn't verbally protest. He drove to his apartment in silence, unsure of how to explain the situation to Midoriya, and Midoriya unwilling to ask questions out of fear.

When they finally arrived and Aizawa parked the car, he rolled his shoulders and noticed Midoriya flinch from the corner of his eye.

It was horrific how jumpy this kid was. Going from what Bakugou had said, however, it made sense. He had probably been bullied by kids, and ignored by teachers. That doesn't make for a pretty combination, especially for a trash school like the one they were at.

Ignoring his thoughts for now, he got out of the car with a simple, "Kid, follow me."

The green-haired kid followed cautiously, but didn't bother to protest. They walked up to his apartment and he opened the door with his key and gestured for the kid to go inside.

Midoriya walked in warily, looking around and noting his surroundings. It sincerely impressed Aizawa, and he was almost feeling giddy while waiting to talk about this kid's analysis. He had a feeling that it was going to be more impressive than Bakugou had let on.

Eraserhead sat down at his kitchen table, aware that he'd have to make food at some point for this poor stick of a child, "Midoriya, you can sit. I'll make us some food later, okay?"

Midoriya blinked in surprise before sitting down slowly.

"You're allowed to talk, ask questions. I'm sure you have plenty," tossed out casually, carefully gauging the kid's reaction.

"Ah-ah um... well uh..." he squirmed in his seat, "W-why did you p-p-pull me out of-o-out of school? N-not that I'm ungrateful or anything, um I mean not that there was any reason to be grateful but also it's not like I don't appreciate you driving me, even if I didn't know where we were going, I assume this is your apartment? Well that doesn't matter I just-"

"Kid, Midoriya, calm down. I'll answer. You don't have to worry about offending me. I promise you can't say anything worse than the lame insults that most villains shout out in the middle of a fight," Aizawa joked. The kid snorted and he mentally smiled at the success.

Unfortunately, the kid immediately went to apologize, "Ah, sorry it just kind of sort of slipped out, you know? Well, you're an underground pro hero, so you probably go undercover a lot so you probably don't know or you'd be dead, so... wait ah! Sorry I'm sorry! I need to get this rambling under control, ahahaha..."

"Don't apologize for being yourself. You won't get anywhere like that. Regardless, I pulled you because I'm doing an investigation on your school," A white lie, but he decided to after this time loop mess anyway, so was it really a lie?

This seemed to genuinely surprise Midoriya.

"I picked a random kid and tried to remove them from class. And sure enough, that idiot of a principal let me by pure intimidation. And it seemed like he had a special kind of distaste for you, specifically. So he'll probably end up with his teaching license revoked."

"Um... I don't t-think he ha-he has a teaching licens-cense...at all..." Midoriya trailed off.

Aizawa didn't know what to say to that, so he decided to move on, "So, because of your inconvenience, would you like to pass the time? Is there anything you'd like to tell me about yourself?"

Trying not to cringe at himself, he gauged the kid's reaction again, "Well, I uh, there's not much special about me you know. I just. I-I..."

"You recognized me as an underground hero earlier. How'd you know me?" Aizawa probed, hoping that the kid would slide over to talking about his hero analysis. He wanted to read those books Bakugou had mentioned.

"Oh! Sorry if that was rude, I'm really sorry I just get really excited about heroes, they're so cool and awesome and they save people. They get to help people as their job and that's amazing. I mean, so do doctors and policemen, but heroes are allowed to use their quirks and fight tooth and nail for the safety of another... that's all I've ever wanted to... do..."

This kid was passionate about helping people it seemed. That was a rare trait in a hero. Most heroes are doing it for the fame and fortune rather than to help people. And this poor kid didn't win the lottery of life that would have allowed him to act on his genuine desire to help others. How sad. Society was really fucked up.

The green-haired teen waved his hands in front of his face frantically while looking away, "B-b-but sorry! You didn't want to hear that rambling about nothing important. Basically everybody my age wants to be a hero, so I'm not exactly special."

"You don't have to be special to do good. Plus, I believe being special has nothing to do with it. You can achieve almost anything if you put your mind to it. And, you didn't answer the question," Eraserhead deadpanned.

"O-oh, sorry!"

"Like I said, kid. You don't have to apologize for everything you do. You haven't done anything wrong."

Midoriya looked to be on the brink of tears, "R-right. Well, um, I have these notebooks that I analyze heroes and write information about them. It's nothing impressive, but heroes are really cool! And I figured that if I figured out how they do things, then I'd have a better shot at heroics. I was wrong... but it's kind of a habit by now, ahahaha..."

"Can I... see? This notebook of yours?" Aizawa wanted to smack this kid for being so oblivious, but also he realized that the kid might not want to share something so personal.

"Oh! I um, w-why would yo-you wan-nt to see s-s-s-something dumb li-dumb like th-that?"

"Somehow, I doubt it's dumb. And even if it was, it's worth a look. I can also give you pointers if you wanted?"

"Really?!" all of the apprehension on his face was wiped away and replaced with pure joy.

"Uh, sure, kid."

Midoriya scrambled to get his notebook from his backpack and bowed deep while extending it to Aizawa.

After scanning through it, he could absolutely say he was stunned. This kid was brilliant. Had he gotten it all from just watching? Damn.

When he was done, the kid was bouncing his leg anxiously and staring at him in anticipation. He sighed and set the notebook down.

"Look, kid. There's nothing I can tell you except maybe re-write your notebooks in order to reorganize your thoughts. They're brilliant and accurate, but it's sporadic and hard to follow in some places. You did good," Was that how one gives compliments? How the hell do you give kids compliments?

"R-really?" Midoriya looked like he was about to cry in happiness.

Wow, he really needed someone else to handle this emotional crap, "Yeah. I wouldn't lie. Would you like to tell me about some of your favorite heroes?"

The kid looked like he had just hung the stars in the sky.

Aizawa was too logical to handle this, he wished he had Hizashi or Nemuri, dammit.

Bakugou startled to the sound of his alarm. His eyes were burning, but the sky was very dark. He checked his phone battery (87%), apparently the mobile charger had died sometime during the afternoon like the useless piece of shit it was.

Huffing to himself in an attempt to push down his growing anxiety, he pushed himself to his feet and started walking to Eraserhead's apartment.

By the time he had reached the apartment, his legs were shaking.

He took a deep breath and knocked twice, paused, and knocked twice again.

Aizawa honestly believed that this kid could be a professional analyst for a hero agency, if given the chance. And if Midoriya really wanted to be a hero like he said, he could even go underground.

But that wasn't the issue at hand, and he needed to stop getting ahead of himself.

Mentally slapping himself, he checked his watch.

Damn, when did it get so late? He was glad that they had stopped to eat something and for Midoriya to call his mom and spit out some lie. He was impressed that such a kind and earnest kid could so easily lie to his mother to make her not worry. It was alarming, actually. But that wasn't the point here.

"Alright kid, are you good with staying the night? You can text your mom that you're staying the night with whomever you used as an excuse earlier, and that was you don't have to bother her with all this, yeah?" Aizawa hated every word that spit out of his mouth. What bullshit. What kind of teenager would agree to something like that. This kid, apparently.

The kid looked nervous, but he did as Aizawa had suggested.

"So-" Aizawa began before being interrupted by two knocks, a pause, and two more knocks. Shit Bakugou was here already? Fuck, the kid has no idea what's going on yet. Even though that was the plan, he was hoping to get this over with. Fuck, fuck, what to do.

Midoriya looked at him with scared eyes as Bakugou called out through the door, "Open the damned door, you bastard."

Internally, Aizawa cringed. Dammit Bakugou, way to lack tact, dammit. Fucking shit.

Midoriya whipped around and glared at the pro hero, "Why is Kacchan... h-here? Was this some trick?! Did Kacchan put you up to this? Even I didn't think he'd go this far but to have someone pretend to validate me just to rip it away last second. Why would you agree to that! Money? I can't believe Kacchan would do this? What's next? He'll tell me to jump off a roof and hope to be reincarnated with a quirk?! What the f-"

In a moment of panic, to which Eraserhead would never admit, he whipped around and nailed the pressure point on the teen's neck. Instantly, Midoriya was out.

Bakugou continued yelling at the door, but the hero ignored it for a second while trying to process the impulsive thing he'd just done.

"-going to blast your door down if you don't open this damned-oh," Bakugou stopped mid-threat as Aizawa finally got to the door.

"Get inside you fool," Aizawa hissed. In his mind, he wondered why he was so mad, and why he had acted so impulsively, so instinctively, so emotionally.

As soon as he saw Midoriya lying on the floor, unconscious, Bakugou recoiled and started whispering 'no' repeatedly with increasing speed.

"Kid, Bakugou, he's okay. I only-kid!" Aizawa watched as the teen dropped to the floor and started shaking and hyperventilating. His 'no's started to blur together. Fuck, shit, dammit. Bakugou's having a panic attack. Fuck, okay. He knew how to handle this. He trained for this. He had panic attacks himself. Ground him, help him, help him, help him.

Everything hurt. It hurt to think, it hurt to feel, it just hurt.

"Kid, breathe with me. Match my breaths." Maybe doing what this voice says would make it not hurt?

So Bakugou tried to breathe.

It hurt, but it hurt less.

So he continued.

After what felt like days, the voice continued.

"Kid, tell me five things you see."

Five... things? But everything was blurry... oh there's a thing.

He felt himself ramble out random things, not really sure if he was saying anything coherent.

"Good, good. Tell me four things you hear."

Hear? The voice, the breathing, the cat meowing... Eraserhead had a cat?

"Yeah, she likes to hide in the pantry."

Oh.

"Moving on then, tell me three things you can feel."

A hand, the sweat on his arms, an itch on his ass.

The voice snorted, "Well then, how about two things you smell."

Sweat, and catnip.

"Pfft- one thing you taste."

Bakugou blinked, "That weird gross morning breath. It's awful."

Eraserhead gave him a wry smile, "Then I'll steer clear of you for the next few minutes. Besides, I need you to stay calm and listen to me, got that?"

Bakugou nodded tiredly.

"You startled Midoriya, he started accusing me of things that weren't rational and so I had to knock him unconscious. Don't be impulsive like that, that's probably why you had so much trouble previously. You need to take a second, and think through whatever you were planning to do," Aizawa sighed. He was such a hypocrite.

Bakugou checked the time on the clock and quickly crawled the rest of the way to Midoriya. He completely ignored Aizawa and focused on Izuku... no he didn't have the right to call him that either. Midoriya didn't do their relationship justice either. He would have to suffer until he made amends to Deku.

With relieved tears in his eyes, he rested his cheek upon Deku's chest, rising and falling steadily in his sleep. He had finally done it. He had saved Deku. Just as the clock, reached 23:59, his eyes drifted shut.