I have the rest of this series planned out, I hope y'all're ready for the beginning of the end :)

Aizawa stared at the page in shock. It wasn't that he hadn't believed Tsukauchi, per se. He had a history of working with the detective and knew full well that the man made it a point to never lie, but still. To discover that the boogie-man of the Underground was in-fact quite real and was known by the Hero Commission was a bit terrifying.

Much less the fact that All Might himself was the one to off him in the end.

Despite the fact that this particular page claimed the man to be dead, the fact that All For One was even remotely connected to their current predicament was disconcerting at best and anxiety-inducing at worst.

The strange thing, at least to Aizawa, was that Tsukauchi had thought to mention him at all. It was supposed to be confidential, and yet…

With a sigh, the hero closed the loosely-bound book and stood up to stretch.

That wasn't the point of all of this. This could all be a complete coincidence, although he wasn't one to think in terms of coincidences and happenstance, but there was no proof that All For One was in any way, shape, or form connected to their current situation. There was no paper trail, no hints, nothing other than his name on a page that was listed as deceased.

If the man was really dead, it shouldn't be a problem for them. At the very most, this time loop could be some kind of consequence—indirect or otherwise—of something the villain had done years ago rather than anything threatening at the moment.

Rather reluctantly, he picked up the last book on the table and began scouring its contents for any clues. For some reason, instead of a factual account or some historical documentation, this book was some kind of fantasy novel.

And about two chapters in, he realized that it was a romance fantasy novel.

Aizawa blinked in surprise, awkwardly shutting the covers of the fictional piece that he held in his hands. With a heavy sigh, he dragged his hands across his face and rolled his shoulders. It felt like a joke, but he knew that the librarian wouldn't include something like this when he specifically asked for a topic in the basement.

So he forced himself to continue to read the god-awful, gross, and cringy book about love and magical abilities. And honestly? It made him want to slam his head on a table until he couldn't see straight.

Unfortunately for his dignity, it only took him about four chapters or so to be fully engrossed in the novel, despite hating every second of it. He couldn't help but slightly root for the main protagonist—a guy that was chasing after a single woman with all of his money and power. As the story progressed, the man continued to always do something wrong with each and every attempt to woo the lady.

Towards the end, the main character ended up with no money, no property, and no job. He had given everything for this woman that refused him at every turn. It was as though as time went on, he grew more and more obsessed with her, willing to go to completely absurd lengths to be with her. Similarly, the woman he was chasing after seemed to become more and more disgusted by him, rejecting him in increasingly cruel ways until it went way past the point of no return.

Just as he was about to sell himself as a slave to her, another lady suddenly appeared, begging with him to stop. He ignored her until she grabbed him to physically hold him back. The man whipped around and began beating her to within an inch of her life. After a few minutes, he froze in horror, only just realizing what he had done to this woman, all the ridiculous choices he had made to woo one woman that wasn't interested, and what he was just about to do.

The woman (who was clearly dying) coughed blood and told the man that it was all her fault. She had used her taboo powers to prevent him from getting the love of his life, because she loved the main character and wanted him for herself. She had manipulated time, resetting over and over again, each time making sure to foil his attempts. But for some reason, because she had used it so many times for the same reason and because of the same people, it had messed with their emotions and became out of control.

For some reason, Instead of being mad, the man just began to cry. Apparently, the woman had been a friend of his for a long time and he hadn't even considered her a love interest.

Aizawa internally groaned at the "plot twist." How cliche.

The book ended with the man pulling healing powers out of seemingly nowhere and saving her, deciding to marry the woman that apparently had ruined his chances with his first love.

What the hell was wrong with this book? Do people actually enjoy garbage like this? The moral of the story was basically that love justifies everything and you should overlook past mistakes in favor of love, apparently. What a toxic mindset to have.

As he finished the last page, he lightly hummed, trying to figure out why this book had been added to the pile of factual, historical documents. His eyes burned from reading for so long, so he put in his eye drops as he contemplated the novel. However, he couldn't for the life of him come up with a reason, so he just decided to leave it be.

In the end, this trip felt like a huge waste of time—although that wasn't necessarily something Aizawa hadn't prepared for when he first set foot outside of his apartment. He got some food for thought, found some confidential details that he wouldn't otherwise have thought to look for (or risked looking for, if he was being honest), and allowed himself a much needed break from the more emotional side of things that he experienced whenever he stuck with Bakugou.

Aizawa knew that sentiment was kind of horrible, but if he was to maintain his mental facilities for long enough to get them out of this loop, recharges like this were more than necessary. He just had to remind Bakugou to do the same when they met up later this evening.

Stacking the piles of books neatly, he shuffled out of the basement and, with a nod to the librarian who looked nervous on his behalf, made his way to his apartment.

Maybe he would spend a little time with his cats before he had to get serious again.

The Takaki-fucker flinched violently at his distressed question. Bakugou scrubbed at his eyes, hoping that the burning feeling he felt behind his nose wasn't a sign of tears deciding to come fuck up his day. He forced himself to stare at the man head-on, searching his face for any hint of lying or hiding something.

Instead, all he found was a shocked expression quickly morphing into one of horror.

Well, clearly the man had no idea about that little detail. So what the hell was going on here? What kind of fuckery was this, when the quirk user didn't even understand?

"W-what do you-" he stammered, "You mean that-that kid keeps-"

For some reason, the purely innocent (though still horrified) expression on Takaki's face and lacing his tone pissed Bakugou the hell off. Maybe it was the way that the man immediately lost all bravado when he found himself in a situation he didn't want to deal with. Maybe it was the way the man decided to blame everyone but himself, even going so far as to yell and spit insults at fucking teenagers that were having to deal with his mistake.

Or maybe it was the way that the man hadn't hesitated to hurt Deku in the previous loop and did the exact same thing right in front of Bakugou in this one. Either way, he couldn't help himself as he burst out, spitting vitriol.

"What the fuck do you mean, th-th-that k-kid? OF FUCKING COURSE IT'S HIM! AND IF YOU WEREN'T SO FUCKING USELESS WE WOULDN'T EVEN BE IN THIS SITUATION!"

For some reason though, like the flip of a switch, the man straightened up and his expression hardened. It was as though getting yelled at and blamed was some kind of trigger for the man, switching from his meeker, weak personality into the abrasive, aggressive manner.

It almost reminded Bakugou of the way his own anger would suddenly boil over at the smallest thing even when he had been in a good mood just a second prior. But he was nothing like this bastard! He fucking wasn't!

"Shut the fuck up, brat. I told you that I don't fucking know how this happened! I barely know shit about my quirk and it's not my damn fault that you're so hopeless that you can't save one kid from himself! Weren't you supposed to be fucking friends or something? And yet you told him to leave and left him to his own devices. While also apparently knowing that he's suicidal and keeps doing it! How stupid can you be, you bitch!" Takaki retorted.

This time it was Bakugou's turn to flinch, his mind processing exactly what the man said.

It-it was true. He was right. Bakugou had just abandoned Deku, leaving him by himself just so he could avoid telling him about the stupid loops. Sure, Deku would wake up again in the next loop, unaware of anything that had happened, but it was the principle of it. Bakugou knew that Deku had died, and that was what mattered.

The tingly burn behind his nose and eyes grew stronger as the man stood up and began manhandling Bakugou toward the door. The blonde could only struggle a little as he was dragged away, too deep in his mind to really focus on getting out of the man's strong, rough grip.

"I don't know anything else, so fuck off and deal with it yourself. Good. Fucking. Bye."

Bakugou stared blankly as the door slammed shut right in his face.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Midoriya, admittedly, wandered for a bit before heading back toward the school. He felt almost pathetic for not going directly there, but school was technically still in session and he didn't really want to face anybody there. Especially considering that he had just skipped class.

He didn't really want to know what they would do to him for that, even if he hadn't wanted to in the first place, but he couldn't very well tell Kacchan no. He couldn't generally in most situations, but especiallynot while he was making that face.

So he wandered, both his mind and his body escaping his grasp. But did that really matter? Probably not. Did anything matter at this point? Not school, not his future… that was right. Kacchan mattered.

He wasn't really sure how long he had been wandering, but enough time had passed that the sky began to darken and his legs began to ache and burn.

He had probably waited long enough to avoid having to face any of the administration or students. Despite that being his intention, he couldn't help but wonder about how their interaction would go if someone caught him before he made it to the roof. As he slinked his way back across town toward the school, he could feel tears pooling in his eyes at the scenes his mind had come up with.

He could see so clearly the way his classmates would laugh at him and jeer at him, mocking him for taking so long to finally come to a decision and do what he should have done a long time ago. He couldn't help but imagine the way that his teachers stared at him with nothing but contempt and relief that he was finally going to be a weight off their shoulders, a problem finally taken off their hands.

From there, he couldn't help moving on to his mom, imagining the way she would cry. But in the end, it would be better for her. He wondered if his dad would even come to the funeral, or if they even bothered to have one for such a worthless Deku. Maybe his mom would go live with his dad in America.

It would be better for everyone involved.

Before he knew it, Midoriya found himself stumbling at the school entrance. He easily swung the front doors open, as the administration always left it unlocked because they were too lazy to check if anyone else was in the building, so they just chose to leave it open at the end of each day. His feet carried him onward even though his mind was fuzzy and it hurt to even think.

He ignored the way the familiar hallways brought up familiar memories of blood, bruises, and pain pain pain. He pretended that he didn't feel the huge burst of panic for no reason as he shuffled past the closet where the cleaning supplies were kept.

Soon enough—and with a deep breath—he began his final trek up the stairs and to the roof that he had almost fallen from just that morning.

He mindlessly opened the lock with the key that was not-so-cleverly hidden (taped) under the hand railing at the top of the stairs. The door flung open despite his care in opening it slowly, the wind much stronger than it had been just that afternoon. Midoriya stared up at the steadily darkening sky, letting the wind caress his face and flow through his short hair.

The buildings in the distance were like a work of art, beginning to be shadowed by the setting sun. All the city noise of cars driving and sirens blaring faded away as Midoriya closed his eyes.

He liked this sensation, taking in the world around him just as it was and how it was.. It felt… nice.

Perhaps… he thought to himself, perhaps he could stay like this, for just a bit longer before he left forever.

So Midoriya carefully shut the door behind him and casually threw the key behind him as he ambled his way to the fence. He curiously leaned over the edge of the fence, keeping his grip on the railing as tight as possible. (He may want to die, but he only wanted to do it on his own terms… not by accident.)

The ground looked so dizzyingly far away, but he couldn't bring himself to look away. Instead, he imagined what it would look like when he finally jumped…..if Kacchan… no, Bakugou didn't catch him, that was.

He wondered absentmindedly about how many bones he would break on impact, whether one of them would be his neck or spine. He could practically see the way his blood spurted out of him and began to pool around his unmoving body.

There was no way to explain the sick satisfaction he felt at even picturing his demise in gruesome detail, conjuring the way it would look and feel and how all of it would be deserved in the end. Especially how it would be the end.

That was the best part.

He reluctantly pulled himself upright again and sank to his knees. He threaded his legs through the railing posts and shimmied himself until he was right against the only structure that was preventing him from meeting his high-anticipated demise.

Midoriya closed his eyes and let himself enjoy the breeze alongside the repeating image of himself making a beautiful swan dive from the rooftop onto the harsh, cold concrete below in his mind's eye.

He excused his procrastination with the fact that Ka-Bakugou wasn't here yet, and he would have to wait until then. But the selfish part of him didn't really want to be saved. It was that same part of him, however, that prolonged his existence because he enjoyed sitting here doing nothing while the weight he normally bore had finally been lifted off of his shoulders.

Either way, it shouldn't matter… right?

Just a bit longer…

Just as he had decided, Aizawa flopped onto the couch as soon as he returned to his apartment. His cats quickly scrambled over to greet him with their normal sniff and re-scent routine before they settled down in the most uncomfortable positions on top of him as possible.

Damn, he loved his cats.

He ignored the anxiety that plagued him and pretended that he hadn't noticed the three failed attempts to place a tracker on him before he left the building, the seven tails he had picked up after setting food outside the library, and probably the dozens of rumors that began to spread through whispers in the nearest blocks as he strode away with a purpose.

All of it wouldn't matter later… or so he tried to tell himself.

Frankly, the stress of it was almost enough to give him a heart attack, but everything would be fine. It wouldn't matter that they now knew where he lived (not, that his address was difficult information to find if they already had his given name), nor would it matter that Bakugou would be seen entering his apartment so soon after searching for this information.

In the end, nothing would come of the fact that most crime organiziations in the area and possible outside of Musutafu would have access to their connection and information and—a sharp pain in his kneecap startled him out of his panicked thoughts, snapping him away from the train of thought that had begun to send him spiralling.

With a blinked, Aizawa stared at the cat who had just bit his kneecap through his pants, apparently decided it was a bad idea, and began licking it instead. His other cat let out a pathetic 'mew' to let him know that she didn't appreciate him flinching, before setting back into a ball tucked into his elbow.

He allowed himself to huff in fond amusement as he watched the cats settle back down and attempt to take a nap. He hadn't even grabbed their favorite fluffy blanket, yet they still stayed with him, and it was nice.

Aizawa felt the tension in his frame relax as his cats began to purr; one of them so soft that he could only just barely hear it over the borderline aggressive motor purr of his other cat. In the moment, he let himself drift off to sleep in the comfort of his cats.