Takaki stood there for a few minutes after Bakugou had left, wondering if she had really just experienced that conversation or if it was some kind of dream.

But sure enough, the address typed into the notes app of her phone was still there, an address that she didn't recognize, so there was no way that she had typed it in herself. And when she went to look it up through a digital GPS and location service application, it turned out to be a fairly nice, if not low-end, apartment that was a reasonable distance from UA without being too close so as to be expensive for that reason.

The red-head allowed herself a heavy sigh before closing the application and temporarily turning off her phone and slipping it in underneath the elastic band of her underwear. She once again found herself cursing their school uniforms for not having pockets.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, allowing herself a second to pull herself together and gather her determination. She was going to face her father and to ensure that when she went to meet up with Baka-gou, she wouldn't do so empty-handed.

Her red hair whipped around her as she suddenly spun on her heel, strutting to her front door with false-confidence.

Fake it until you make it—that was the phrase, wasn't it?

So she took great effort to open the door how she normally did—not too fast, but not so slow that her father thought that she was upset. But her father was sitting on the couch angrily, facing away from the door but holding something that she couldn't quite make out.

His shoulder blades were moving as though he were petting something. But that was weird because they didn't have any pets and there was no way that her father had had any time to go out and buy one, especially without either her or Bakugou noticing.

Besides, he was never the type of dad to do that.

Sure, he would probably go out and hurt someone who hurt her, but actively comforting her? That would be a first.

For some reason, he didn't turn to greet her like he normally would, despite the door squeaking loudly on its hinges. He was supposed to fix it that morning since his next job wasn't for another three days, but apparently he hadn't bothered despite having several hours earlier that day to do so. After all, Bakugou hadn't gotten to their house until mid to late-afternoon.

His behavior was unsettling, so Takaki froze in fear just a few steps away from the couch, hesitant to get within arms length of him while uncertain of his current mood.

Takaki stood there, forcing herself to refrain from blowing the stray strands of hair from her face despite the slight itch.

"What," he started with a stilted tone, clearly with rage bubbling under the surface and ready to burst out given the right prompting, "the hell were you doing, speaking to Bakugou. Fucking. Katsuki?"

She flinched, "I-I wasn't-"

"Then what. Was. That. Outside?" he almost growled, finally halting his weird repetitive motion.

"Y-you had a conversation with him, so-so why can't I?" she squeezed her eyes shut and balled her fists, tucking her chin into her chest and waiting for the inevitable response. The teen could practically recite his words before he even said them, with how many times they've had this exact situation.

I'm sorry.

"I'm sorry," he slowly rose to his feet dangerously, his arms slowly slipping to his sides.

(He isn't.)

Who is the adult in this household?

He continued almost word for word, "Who is the adult in this house?"

(He was the adult in this situation, but he didn't act like it.)

I know what's best for you and yet…

"I promise that I know what is best for you, as you clearly do not, and yet…"

(Promises meant nothing and none of the random outbursts that ended in bruises felt like they were good for her.)

...And yet you always disobey me and get yourself hurt at every turn.

"And yet you always ignore me and find yourself hurt at every turn," he shook his head like she was some toddler that stuck her finger in an electrical socket for the twelfth time.

(She never ignored him, but he didn't like that she got hurt and had decided that it was all her fault. Nothing was ever his fault.)

I just don't know what to do with you.

"I just, I don't know what I'm supposed to do with you when you keep acting out like this!" he exclaimed, as though exasperated, but really she could just see the way he trembled with anxiety. There was something that Bakugou knew now that he didn't want her to know.

And she was going to find out if it was the last thing she ever did.

(She just hoped that it wasn't.)

But as her father lectured, following the same lines that he usually did, he had been slowly getting up. By the end of it, she could finally see what was in his hand.

Her eyes widened dangerously as she took in the sight of it, unaware that her father even had the thing.

A gun.

A shiny, metal handgun that she only just realized that he had been cleaning meticulously in preparation for its use, now obvious by the rag clutched in his other hand and the repetitive motion she had noticed as she had initially approached.

If she had frozen earlier, her blood might have completely stopped pumping now. She could feel the blood draining from her face as she paled and her hands began to shake.

For some reason, as her father turned around, abandoned the cleaning rag, and leaned over the couch to lightly grasp her chin, she couldn't move her eyes away from the—the gun—the weapon in his hand. It was so out of place, looming and threatening in a way that her father himself never was barehanded.

Did he… did he plan to kill her for 'disobeying' him one too many times? Or… or was this for Baka-gou?

She didn't want to find out.

But instead of shoving the gun in her face, he let a soft smile grace his face as he forced her chin up so she had no choice but to meet his eyes. At first, she felt as though she couldn't afford to look away, keeping her eyes on the glinting silver. But as she tried to keep her eyes locked onto his hand, her head began to pound and her vision began to blur.

She tried to push through it, even as her father lifted her face higher and her eyes were forced to tilt further down in her eye sockets to maintain her gaze, but then the nausea hit her and her eyes began pulsing dangerously.

Takaki was unsure of how long she held that rebellious line of sight away from her father, but he didn't seem to try to stop her. He just watched quietly as she stared at his hand.

But at one point, she had to look away because she began experiencing hot and cold flashes up and down her spine and her knees began to shake in warning.

So she turned her gaze to face forward, now staring at her father's face—his nose in particular, as she could never really bring herself to meet his eyes. But his face was graced with a lazy grin that created a creepy juxtaposition with the unhinged gleam in his eyes.

Even though Bakugou had been dangerous and terrifying at certain points, with his painful, perfect quirk, he had never quite managed to master that sickening expression that her father made so effortlessly—this one that sometimes gave her nightmares. There wasn't anything that could exactly compare to the horrible feeling she got at the sight of it.

And here it was again.

She hadn't needed someone to "protect" her from bullies so much as she needed someone to take her away from her father. But he would never understand that, because in his mind, he was the only person standing between her and this cruel society.

Don't get her wrong, she would never deny that it was indeed cruel and callous, but there was nothing she could do except to continue to do her best and survive. Maybe one day she could find someone and finally live like a real person, but until then she had only one objective.

But he couldn't seem to accept that no matter what she said or did.

And his version of protecting? It was probably the illegal kind, if the gun in his hand and borderline insane expression told her anything.

"Finally, you're looking where you're supposed to," he hummed and let the grin slip into a more flat smile, "You don't need anyone else. Just listen to me and you'll stop hurting, I promise. Daddy's going to make everything better."

She had to physically restrain herself from showing the disgust on her face, but one glance at the gun in his loose grip made it a bit easier.

"Everything is going to be better…"

Somehow, she couldn't believe that.

"What…" she whispered, immediately regretting speaking up at all, "What did you talk with him about? Earlier, I mean."

The grip on her chin tightened painfully, and she somehow became more rigid, if that was even possible at that point. She could only imagine how the grip on the gun mirrored the one he had on her face, and she prayed to any deity that may or may not have existed that either his finger was off the trigger or the safety was one.

Or both. She wasn't sure if she could handle having a gunshot in her nightmares as well, especially while she was being restrained by his painfully tight fingers and were slowly inching up her cheeks and towards her eyes.

But none of that seemed to matter in the end, because he let go of her and stopped leaning over the couch.

As he stood up straight, she instinctively rubbed her chin as some kind of subconscious reflex, but that was enough to make him angier. He quickly deprived her of her short reprieve of stress by slapping her with the back of his palm, his knuckles smacking against her cheekbone painfully.

He was strong enough to force her neck to turn violently and painfully. But that was obvious by the way her cheek started stinging and throbbing, a bruise clearly already beginning to form. Her neck ached as she stared, resigned, at the other wall of the living room.

It was so nice, such a clean and pretty wall…

It was funny how easy it was to hide things behind a pretty exterior, whether it be a house, an act, or an appearance.

Maybe that's what was up with Bakugou.

Each day at school was all just an act, bravado put up because that was what people expected of him each and every time he showed his face in front of 'lesser' classmates with weaker quirks that weren't suited for heroics.

But none of that mattered as her father jumped the couch and pushed her onto the floor, only to stomp on her ribs and shoulders.

Nothing seemed to crack, but she could feel the way her bones jutted uncomfortably into her organs and muscles when pressed against her father's boots and the hard, wooden floor. Over and over, in a way that implied he was doing it as lightly as possible.

Yet his version of light was still certain to leave bruises for days.

She wasn't sure how long that lasted, as she curled up on the floor a little and tried to angle herself in a way that he wouldn't crack something sensitive. But at one point, he picked her up gently and carried her to her room, before locking her in from the outside.

Takaki laid on her carpeted floor just wheezing and hoping that not too much time had passed.

Even if she hadn't gotten any answers out of her father—only a beating while he wasn't completely rational (he must have been in his silent violent mood, it was her fault for not reading the atmosphere soon enough and opening her big, fat mouth).

She allowed herself enough time on the floor to force her breathing to return to a normal, generally okay pattern and depth before she peeled herself off the soft carpet and all but dragged herself to her bathroom.

Takaki took one look in the mirror and sighed.

She might be late to her meeting.

Aizawa narrowed his eyes in suspicion as the girl stepped further into his comfortably small apartment. She looked around with curiosity, but there was no trace of animosity or hostility in it. There was nothing notable in her gaze, yet that somehow put him more on edge.

It was frustrating because he knew that it was an effect of the weird feeling that was caused by this loop.

Takaki took one glance at the kitchen before suddenly whipping around and plopping on the couch. She slipped off her shoes and pulled her knees to her chest and hugged them. She tucked her chin into her knees, but as she did so, he noticed a strange flash on her face.

He took a few steps forward, to get a closer look, but she quickly tucked her hair in front of her cheek. His heart clenched when he recognized the cheap sheen of make-up under the harsh light of the lamp next to her.

But Aizawa had also noticed how she flinched as he approached. He silently hoped to himself that she wasn't actually in that kind of situation, although it seemed very likely, because it would create all kinds of problems for their plan, and he frankly wouldn't wish that on anyone.

Much less a teenage girl who should be worrying about her grades in school and her future career, not avoiding beatings and mood swings.

However, it was clear that she wasn't willing to open up about that at the moment, so he forced himself to sit on the couch opposite her and released a refreshing, heavy sigh. (He really had been doing that too much in these loops. Maybe he should take a break after this, just so he didn't end up doing something that he regretted. Or at least, something else that he would come to regret.)

"So, if Bakugou asked you to come here, that means that you know something. Don't you?" the pro hero opened, trying to encourage her to share in the most non-threatening way possible. But by the anxious look on her face, he failed miserably. Why had he become a teacher again?

Takaki shifted in place a bit, settling into a more comfortable position that seemed to be more reserved than before, before beginning to speak, "Uh, um. I don't… I don't know how much I can help. Baka-gou seemed to think that I could, but I'm not really sure…"

Aizawa choked at the nick-name the girl gave the angry blonde: trying and failing to stifle his surprised laughter.

The red hair flipped around suddenly as her head shot up to stare at him in surprise. After a few moments, her face reddened to match her hair—he could only assume that she had finally realized exactly how she had just referred to Bakugou.

She quickly buried her face in her hands and mumbled, "C-can we forget that I uh, that I said that?"

Aizawa allowed himself a small smile, "Sure thing, kid."

"Um, well…" once she finally removed her hands from her still-flushed cheeks, she decided to bring up her original question, "I don't.. I don't know my father's quirk but… Bakugou made it seem like he—and by extension you—know. So… could you…"

Aizawa blinked, "He didn't say anything specific?"

She shrunk in on herself and looked away, "N-not really. He said that he had something to do…"

"Well he didn't mention any such thing to me, so I don't know what to tell you about that."

Takaki just closed her eyes and let out the most depressingly acceptent sigh he had heard in a long time.

"We aren't sure if it's your father's quirk necessarily, but…" she perked up a bit at that, a glimmer of curiosity briefly flashed across her face.

"Bakugou and I have been stuck in a time loop for a while now," he said blandly, opting for his usually blunt and to the point method.

Takaki completely uncurled and brought her feet off the couch and onto the floor, her back straightening and her jaw opening in surprise.

"A time loop?" she blurted out, "My dad's quirk creates time loops? But then…"

Aizawa raised an eyebrow, trying to prevent any evidence of disbelief from showing before motioning for her to elaborate.

And she talked, describing the things she had noticed over time, the side effects and weird emotional swings that he seemed to get and the way that some days she would just feel off for seemingly no reason at all.

Takaki explained—a bit embarrassed and clearly attempting to gloss over the fact that she had skipped school—what she had done today, and mentioned seeing Bakugou and Midoriya walk past the park. She explained how she thought that her father and Bakugou must have had a conversation, but she had no idea what they had discussed.

She went over their conversation and all the oddities she had noticed there, seemingly not noticing the way that Aizawa had been becoming visibly more stressed throughout her entire explanation and observations.

For some stupid reason, Aizawa couldn't help but make parallels between some of the aspects of that god-forsaken fantasy novel he forced himself to read at the library and some of the supposed "side effects" of the quirk.

There was no way that it had been anything but a coincidence, but some of the points made in the ending suddenly gave him a new perspective on their current situation. He was practically kicking himself mentally for not reaching these conclusions during his initial read-through.

"But how would he use this quirk for a job, and what kind of job would he have?" Aizawa couldn't help but muse once he realized that even the younger Takaki had no idea what her father did for a living.

But given by their drastic and sudden increase in his income and their standard of living matching up with when he claimed to have realized that he did indeed have a quirk, it definitely played a huge part in it.

Suddenly, a knock at the door broke them out of their stupor. It was another knock that didn't follow the pattern that Aizawa had given to Bakugou, so the pro hero found himself on edge once more. Frankly, all the stress was starting to get to him, but he had no choice but to motion to Takaki to keep quiet and stealthily make his way to the door.

He took one look through the peephole once again, only to be met with Bakugou's pitiful blank face that was reflecting the dim light of the hallway bulb, outlined by the darkness of the sky behind him. (Aizawa hadn't even realized that it had gotten so late.) Something must have gone horribly wrong for him to look like that and forget the knock that he had been so careful about using each and every time they met at Aizawa's apartment.

So the hero quickly swung the door open and watched as Bakugou flinched backward a bit before hobbling in and collapsing on the floor only a few steps in front of Aizawa.

"What…" the tired man started, yet found himself trailing off and unable to continue asking his question. He was finally beginning to reach his emotional limits here, he could feel it. It was only a matter of loops until he became completely useless.

"B-Bakugou," Takaki continued where Aizawa could not, "Wh-what happened t-to cause...?"

The blonde looked up, his dead stare shifting from the floor to meet her tear-filled eyes.

"You know?" he whispered before turning his head to look back at the pro hero, who nodded his assent.

Bakugou let his head drop, loosely hanging and making no effort to hold it back up, "What's the point. Nothing is going to change no matter what we do."

His voice was practically grating with how scratchy it was—probably from crying, from what Aizawa gathered. Takaki seemed completely distraught at seeing Bakugou this way, yet the pro hero was unfazed. He had slowly become desensitized to the kid's suffering, and that fact tore him up inside.

But they had to focus, the emotional recovery and shit could come later.

"What happened, Bakugou?" the teacher strode forward and crouched next to the heap of a teenager on his floor.

"He's just… going to do it no matter what, isn't he? And it will always be my fault," the blonde finally raised his head so that Aizawa got a good look at his completely wrecked and totally distraught expression.

And Aizawa was so, so very guilty to realize that he had gotten used to this expression too.

"Wh-what do you mean, your fault?" she whispered, a pitiful tremor running through her words, "What did he do?"

Bakugou just shook his head, "It's too late now. We're about to start all over again. Again. Again. It never ends and at this rate it never will unless I just fucking let him. But I can't-"

Aizawa rested a hand on his shoulder, "And we won't let him, just-" he cut himself off once he glanced at the clock.

The silence seemed to bring the blonde out of his angst stupor. The continued lack of words had the kid following his gaze to the clock, realizing that they were only about ten minutes from midnight.

"We'll discuss this tomorrow," was all Aizawa said before quickly shuffling over to Takaki.

"Sh-should I go home…?" she questioned timidly before Aizawa expertly hit certain points that knocked her out.

"Wh-what did you do th-that for?" Bakugou all but whimpered.

"We don't know yet how I got caught up in the time loop, so there's always a chance that she might have. And I don't think you would want her to experience that… that thing."

Reluctantly, the blonde nodded mere seconds before the pro hero—without warning—painfully knocked him out as well.

Aizawa released a shaky sigh, before quickly running to the medicine cabinet in his bathroom where he kept sedatives (of questionable legality) that he had once persuaded a doctor to give to him. The pro hero had no idea if they would kick in and knock him out in time to avoid the pure hell at midnight that was probably the loop resetting.

He sat down tiredly on the tile floor, trying and failing to ignore the rising anxiety in his gut as he wondered if the meds would work in time or not.

Unfortunately for him, just as his eyes began slipping shut against his will, everything around him froze, and the sensation of being slowly ripped apart began.

Bakugou woke up with his heart pounding and sweat beginning to pour down his face. He sat up quickly, vision blurry and head throbbing painfully as he tried to orient himself. The blonde just stayed there trying to calm himself, only moving to turn off his alarm when it went off exactly two minutes after he woke up.

There hadn't been much progress made in the previous loop, but at the very least he knew where he was going and what he shouldn't do. He wouldn't have to go after Deku to figure out where Takaki's house was, since the girl had reluctantly given him the exact address to plug into his phone's gps.

But that didn't change the fact that he would be leaving Deku all on his own for hours, who knew what he would do. And if he did in fact convince the Takaki-fucker to either fess up to knowing how to end the loops or actually end the loops this time, there was the risk that Midoriya would already be dead.

Yet he couldn't afford to miss this chance. Bakugou couldn't waste his time at school, but he couldn't afford to spend time babysitting Deku to keep from offing himself whenever the hell he fucking felt like it.

Although, the teenager wasn't exactly sure what Aizawa had been doing in the previous loop now that he thought about it. And they had only just began to discuss what he would do in this one before the hero had fucking gone and sucker-punched him.

He understood why Aizawa had done it—he sure as all fucking hells didn't want to go through that horrible, awful whatever it was again—but that somehow didn't make it any better.

Despite his honest help and constant support, Bakugou couldn't help but be suspicious of the pro hero.

He had started off by doing an illegal thing to get the blonde out of school and didn't hesitate when doing the same thing to essentially kidnap Deku under the guise of helping. What was stopping him from doing something worse?

Obviously his pro hero license was at stake, but when nobody but them two remembered the loops? Would he take advantage of it in a way that Bakugou wouldn't support?

Who knew…

But the one thing that Bakugou did know was that he couldn't afford to let this go to waste. He was running out of time and he could feel it.

That was such an odd thing to consider while stuck in a time loop—running out of time—but his emotions were all sorts of out of whack and clearly Aizawa was no different. Takaki had apparently had the same problem for some reason, which made absolutely no fucking sense at all, but whatever.

That meant that this was all some effect of Takaki-fucker's quirk. The quirk that nobody knew he had and the quirk that he was using to do shady business, according to his daughter.

But aside from that, there was nothing new. No breakthrough or idea that would somehow get them out of the loop. Even telling Takaki that his quirk instigated a time-loop hadn't garnered any new ideas from the girl.

They were stuck, so all he had decided was to try again, but this time he was equipped with a list of faux pas for interacting with Takaki's irrational dad.

Somehow though, Bakugou was sure that this wouldn't end well, regardless of how much preparation or thought he put into his every word. He was too abrasive and there was too much at stake and he couldn't even trust his own mind to not falter and break under the pressures of his heightened emotions.

And even then, the man was unreasonable and didn't seem to give two shits about Bakugou or this strange mishap with his unstable quirk. Normally, someone would be afraid or worried if their quirk was acting up in strange ways, but this guy just brushed it off and pretended like there wasn't anything about this situation that mattered.

It was suspicious and Bakugou had begun to wonder if it actually had been on purpose and intentional and the man was just doing this to torment him. But the pure confusion and anxiety that wracked the man's face when the blonde had first approached him was unmistakable.

Of course, that was also to an inexperienced teenager such as himself. Only Aizawa would probably be able to tell if he was a liar or not.

But Aizawa.

Wasn't.

Here.

He was doing something off on his own and that fact left Bakugou with trepidation and a twinge of anger. But now was not the time for this.

"KATSUKI! IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR OBNOXIOUS ASS DOWNSTAIRS RIGHT NOW, YOU'RE GOING TO BE LATE FOR SCHOOL!" his mother screamed at him.

Bakugou couldn't help but snap back at her annoying yells, "IF YOU WANT TO TALK TO ME, YOU OLD HAG, THEN WALK UP THE DAMNED STAIRS FOR ONCE IN YOUR MISERABLE LIFE! I'LL BE JUST FINE SO FUCK OFF! I CAN HANDLE MYSELF YOU WITCH!"

"OH YEAH? I'LL SHOW YOU HANDLING-" she cut off, clearly her husband got to her first.

The blonde teenager grinned with tired vindictiveness. Served her right.

He had shit to do.