Here's the second chapter - finally! Hope you guys enjoy this one - and sorry if there are any mistakes, I'm posting this at midnight and only edited it a few times. Fingers crossed that it's legible.

"Are you alright?"

Izuku scrubbed his hands over his face, taking a moment to dig his fingertips into his closed eyes, as if that could somehow drive away the brewing storm of emotions inside him.

He slowly let his hands drop away to lay limp in his lap. He stared at Aizawa bleakly, teeth sinking into his bottom lip. "Honestly? No. I'm not. You're telling me that I – or some version of me died and now I'm here and…" His fingers convulsed, twisting uncertainly. His gaze flicked away from those piercing dark eyes. "This is all wrong." He whispered.

Izuku was infinitely glad that Aizawa had released the restraints now, because the desire to move was growing steadily stronger with each passing second. He had always been a restless person and being confined never failed to make that burning energy inside him flare to life.

He leaned forward, thoughts running rampant, condensing and collapsing over each other into one gigantic mess. The disbelief was still clinging to the edges of his mind like a stubborn limpet, some part of him still rejecting the very notion.

Because he remembered that day.

He remembered the villain Aizawa was talking about. How the thick slime had run over his skin, how it had covered his face, how it had slipped over his eyes and down his throat until he couldn't breathe –

And he remembered being saved.

He remembered the fear on Bakugo's face, the glimmer of almost-tears caught around the rims of his eyes, and how his hands had clawed at the thick substance uselessly.

He remembered the heat of the pavement under his knees and the sheer, crushing relief at his hero's words.

Each moment was forever burned into his memory – because it was the day that changed everything. It was when he, some small, quirkless little kid, had been chosen as the ninth holder of One For All. It was the day that had rewritten his entire existence into something more.

And apparently it hadn't happened at all.

He reached up and curled his hand over his mouth as his thoughts spun on.

"But why? If this is really the past," Izuku muttered to himself, eyes darting rapidly before him as he tried to find the connections, "then everything should still be the same up until the USJ attack. I wasn't here to influence events before that point. I – my younger self – he should be here. He should still be –"

Alive.

The unspoken word sat heavy on the back of his tongue, but Izuku couldn't quite bring himself to voice it. He had always known how lucky he had been to survive that villain not just once, but twice. But it had never been more than a fleeting thought, constantly overshadowed by the glorious revelation that he could be a hero.

Izuku's hand moved up to run through his hair, dragging his limp fringe back from his eyes. He frowned, words dropping into a soft mumble. "Something else is going on here." He looked up sharply at Aizawa, eyes manic. "Is there a file, or something? Maybe I can figure out what happened. You…" he paused, hesitation and desperation shining through, "you're absolutely sure, right?"

His sensei looked back at him calmly, if with a touch of sympathy in his gaze. "I read the autopsy report."

Izuku's eyes fluttered closed and he strangled back the whine building in his chest. He pushed himself to his feet, finally giving into the pulse under his skin.

Aizawa crossed his arms, watching Izuku with hooded eyes and the same patient expression he had mastered over years of teaching rambunctious teenagers.

A distant part of him – the one he could never shut off, the one that ran the constant stream of information through his head, the one that had saved his life more than once – knew what Aizawa was doing. He had spent too much time with the man, completing missions and cases, learning whatever techniques he could, to be fooled by something this simple.

Izuku knew how frightening Aizawa's mind was, knew the inner workings of that dangerous labyrinth as well as he knew his own.

Letting Izuku go loose, giving him the ability to move, to have that illusion of freedom, all the while throwing unsettling information at him. It was to unbalance him, Aizawa's own little attempt to pump him for more clues without Izuku catching on.

A solid strategy, and one Izuku himself had employed many times himself. But it worked best against civilians and unstable, distraught villains. And neither of those categories applied to Izuku.

But even knowing this didn't change how he clung to the thin show of trust. It wasn't fair, in a lot of ways. This wasn't his Aizawa. This man didn't have the same iron clad faith in Izuku that Izuku had in him. All the two men shared was their face, and it hurt like a knife between the ribs to be stared at like a stranger by someone he valued and believed in and trusted.

It felt like a rope he hadn't known was holding him up had been cut, and now he was falling.

Izuku stopped pacing, eyes zeroing in on the darkened window and staring outside to distract himself. He could make out the headlights of cars as they zoomed past, the skyline illuminated by the city lights. The grounds before him were swathed in shadows, but he recognised the walls, and the garden easily enough.

Of course, they had brought him to U.A.

It was one of the most secure facilities in Japan, equipped with state-of-the-art security systems and a barrier that was almost impossible to penetrate. Plus, on any given day, the academy was teeming with heroes. Even at such an hour there would be any number of teachers living on the campus, fully prepared to respond to an attack.

Izuku pressed against the window, scanning. It hurt to look at, because it wasn't his in the same way Aizawa wasn't. Izuku closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the cool glass.

He needed to calm down. He was an emotional mess on the best of days, but losing his hard-won control right now was not an option. He had to think, had to figure this out, weigh his choices and decide his next move. He had to get Aizawa on his side – properly, not this push and pull thing happening between them right now.

Izuku tapped his head against the glass once before sighing, clenching his fists in determination, and turning around. He leaned back against the window and stared at his not-sensei pensively.

"What's going to happen to me now?" He asked stiffly, addressing the most pressing issue. "You don't trust me. Not enough to let me go free and unsupervised."

The easiest way to get through this would be to cooperate. Answer what he could, be as truthful as possible, and try not to screw anything up worse than he already had. His gaze dipped to the unmarked area of skin under Aizawa's eye.

If the man was bothered by being called out, or the intense scrutiny, he didn't show it. "You're right." He said instead, brutally honest. "There are a lot of anomalies around you, and you're definitely convincing – but so are a lot of liars. I need something more concrete that I can base my assumptions on. You've told me plenty, but I need a second opinion."

Izuku nodded thoughtfully. It was only logical, after all. Aizawa couldn't be the total authority on this situation. His rank as a Pro Hero certainly gave him a lot of power, but this was too big to be handled by just one man. There was always going to be more people involved.

"You're thinking about Naomasa, aren't you?" He asked, already knowing the answer.

Aizawa blinked languidly. "You're familiar with him." It was less a question and more an observation. Izuku shrugged in response.

"We've worked together before. The three of us –" he stopped, unsure if the information would be welcomed. But Aizawa nodded at him. "The three of us had a habit of consulting each other on cases. You two would often call me in if things got a little dicey." He smiled softly to himself, a little bitter, a little fond at the memory of some of their escapades. "You used to call me the 'sledgehammer'. Said I was as subtle as one, and did twice as much damage."

He huffed a chuckle as he brushed some of his hair out of his eyes again. Aizawa remained quiet, though his expression pulled into something odd at Izuku's reminiscing.

"Sorry." Izuku said, biting his lip lightly. "I know this must be weird for you, talking to someone who knows you so well, when you don't have a clue who I am."

Aizawa tilted his head, "I imagine this is worse for you." He said gently – or as gentle as a man like him could be.

Izuku chuckled wetly, rubbing at his face and hating the sting in his eyes. "You have no idea." He replied tiredly, eyes blinking slowly, feeling wrung out. "I was supposed to have dinner with my mum."

OoO

Shouta felt the knot in his chest grow tighter at the whispered confession. There was a very real sense of loss in Midoriya's voice, an aged kind of resignation, like he was used to being screwed over by the universe at this point.

It was painful to see on someone so young. To see the bleak acceptance in those green eyes, the slight downwards twist to his lips.

He cleared his throat to break the tension that had dropped between them. He pushed himself to his feet, carefully masking whatever flicker of compassion was starting to gnaw at his gut.

Interrogate and verify, first. Plan and assist, second.

"I'll get in contact with Tsukauchi in the morning and see when he's available to question you. For now, I think you need some rest." As he said the words, Midoriya swayed on his feet, his eyes growing distant and clouded.

The boy nodded, carefully picking his way back over to the bed. He practically collapsed onto it, and Shouta watched as the other flopped around gracelessly. It was a far cry from the nimble movements he had seen him perform, but he supposed after their talk it could be expected.

Midoriya settled into the bed and looked up at Shouta silently as he bent to reattach his restraints.

The kid had already pointed out Aizawa's lack of trust, and he hadn't bothered denying it; but he couldn't help but hate himself a little as he redid the straps.

Midoriya's expression was guileless and open as he stared up at him. Like there was nothing Aizawa could ask that he wouldn't agree to. Christ.

He stood over Midoriya for a moment, just staring down at the kid and taking him in. Midoriya sat through the examination without a hint of discomfort. He looked like he was used to being stared at – used to the specific weight of Shouta's gaze. He remembered the look on Midoriya's face when he spoke of working on cases together.

There was a strange feeling prickling in his chest. Some faint realisation that if this kid was telling the truth, then in another time and place, he would have been his student. Shouta would have taught him, would have seen him grow from a little first-year into a proud Pro Hero. That he would have seen something in him, enough to rely on the other to assist with his work.

That some version of him had trusted and liked this kid enough to let him get that close.

The air felt uncomfortable, and the cold spark in his gut that told him Midoriya wasn't a threat grumbled in disappointment as he stepped away from the bed.

He wanted, inexplicably, to apologise to the kid, and Shouta almost scowled at the irrational thought. "I'll be back tomorrow. Try to get some sleep."

Midoriya's lips twitched with wry, subdued amusement. "I will if you will." The knowing lilt in his voice should have annoyed Shouta – having some stranger be able to read and understand him so well should make him itch – yet all he could do was shake his head and try not to roll his eyes at the comment.

"'Night, Aizawa." Midoriya called as he walked to the door. Shouta hesitated on the threshold, glancing back to see that the kid's eyes were already drifting closed. There were still lines across his forehead, and the skin around his mouth was tight. He wasn't going to have a restful sleep.

Shouta closed the door and stood there, mind buzzing away with all that he had learned tonight. He closed his irritated eyes, sighing through his nose.

He definitely hadn't expected any of that. There was so much to unpack from Midoriya's story, so many things he had to cross-check and process and confirm before he could even make his first step.

He remembered the quiet sorrow etched onto Midoriya's face.

"Fuck."

Why was it always the innocent ones? Why were the ones with the brightest eyes always the ones getting run down the most?

He scoffed, scratching at his chin, and started to make his way back to his office. The lights in the halls were dulled, since no one sane was ever up at this hour.

Shouta knew Nezu probably was, but the principal always got this vague air of disapproval whenever Shouta showed up at his office at an ungodly hour to report something. He would just have to wait until a more reasonable time to go and tell him what Midoriya had revealed. No doubt Nezu would want to be included for Tsukauchi's interrogation.

Shouta opened the door to the communal office and paused just in the doorway. He blinked at the figure sitting at his desk. "Hizashi." He growled when he saw the other's hands hovering over his computer's keyboard. "What have I told you about touching my things?" He closed the door with a flick of his wrist.

He wasn't even surprised to see the other was awake. He had known Hizashi had been on patrol tonight and judging from the fact that he was still in his costume, the other had only just returned.

HIzashi didn't even bother looking up from the computer screen, but his lips quirked into his signature grin. "Not to?" He offered, like they both couldn't recall the lectures. "Oh, come on, Shouta. You can't really blame me. It was just sitting here."

"I distinctly remember closing my files and logging out." He said as he drew closer. He rounded the desk and looked at the screen. The police report he had been reading before was splashed across the window, along with a number of news articles about the attack that had claimed Midoriya's life just a year ago. "Why are you snooping?"

Hizashi leaned back in the chair, his arms crossed. "Because you never tell me anything if I don't." He cocked his head to the side, his glasses sliding down his nose enough to catch Shouta's eye and reflecting the glare of the computer screen. "Is this what I think it is?"

Shouta looked back at the computer in feigned disinterest. "Looks like an old villain attack."

Hizashi frowned at him. "You know what I mean. That kid that helped you at the USJ, I didn't get a good look at him, but he had green hair, didn't he?" Hizashi gestured at the picture of Midoriya Izuku in his middle school uniform, smiling out at them awkwardly. "Is this him?"

"No." Shouta answered honestly, propping his hip against the edge of the desk and staring at the screen.

"Come on, Shouta, don't try to lie about this."

"I'm not lying." He said, "This kid isn't the same one that helped me."

Hizashi drummed his fingers on the desk, a frown sitting over his face as he squinted up at Shouta in confusion. "Care to explain?"

Shouta sighed again, louder and sounding more annoyed than he actually was. "I'm still figuring it out myself, but here." He held out Midoriya's card and watched with interest as his friend plucked it from his fingers and studied it critically.

After a few moments, Hizashi looked at him. "I'm still confused, are we…is this a trick or something?" He brought the license up and held it close to the school picture of Midoriya.

"I wish it were." Shouta muttered. "I've checked it, and it's valid. Ignoring the fact that there's no file for him on our systems, and the incorrect date, I wouldn't know the difference."

Hizashi handed the card back, still frowning. "What are you going to do then? If this is some time-related quirk, then we have a serious problem." Hizashi brushed a loose strand of hair back absently.

"I'm calling Tsukauchi in to talk to him. If everything checks out, we'll see."

Shouta pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes again as the pain flared up once more.

"That's a good idea. Here." Hizashi pressed the bottle of drops into his hand. Shouta mumbled a thanks and quickly set to fixing his dried eyes. As he did, Hizashi hummed quietly to himself.

"We'll need to be careful with him, if he really is from the future, or," Hizashi glanced at the computer meaningfully, "wherever it is he's from. He's obviously got a strong quirk."

"I'll keep an eye on him." Shouta said, slipping his drops into his pocket and reaching over to sign out of his computer again. "If he does anything suspicious or dangerous there are plenty of places we could put him where he couldn't hurt anyone."

"You think it'll come to that?"

Hizashi stood, pushing the chair in and heading to the door with Shouta.

The question niggled at him, and Shouta contemplated his answer. There was a significant part of him that wanted to say no, that Midoriya wasn't a threat to them, that his actions at the USJ had certainly pushed him firmly out of the enemy slot. But his more logical side knew that 'not an enemy' was hardly the same as 'ally'.

Midoriya had saved some of his students. He had stepped between Shouta and that abomination. He had even taken a hit for Shouta without a second of hesitation.

But he was still an unknown in this whole situation. And until Shouta had something more tangible than his gut instinct backing him, he would reserve his judgement.

"I don't know." He finally answered.

I hope not.

OoO

Izuku walked placidly behind Aizawa, his eyes darting around the empty hallway in interest. He had rarely ever ventured onto the upper levels of U.A., even after he had graduated. He knew this was where most of the security rooms were, as well as a number of research facilities and laboratories.

It was also where most of the secure information was stored – like student files, their names and quirks and addresses, as well as those of the teachers.

He had only ever been here with Aizawa before, whenever Izuku needed access to his old sensei's resources or old cases; and he found it kind of ironic that even now, in this horrid mess, Aizawa was still the one leading him through the labyrinthian halls.

Not my Aizawa, he reminded himself, and the spark of amusement spluttered and died in his chest.

His jaw clenched.

They came to a stop before a door, the lock giving a merry chirp as Aizawa waved his key card against it. The man stood aside, and Izuku slowly moved forward and into the room at the silent request.

"Wait in here." Aizawa told him from where he stood by the door, one hand resting lightly on the wall. "He'll be up shortly."

Izuku glanced back at him briefly, nodding in understanding as he slipped further into the room. The door closed softly behind him. His gaze roamed the room swiftly, taking it in with half-lidded eyes.

It wasn't anything like the interrogation rooms he was familiar with. He bypassed the table completely, ignoring the plush leather chairs, instead heading towards the opposite side of the room.

The entire wall was made of floor-to-ceiling windows, giving him an unrestricted view of the grounds of U.A.

It was still early, the sun only just beginning to peak over the buildings and saturate the world. His gaze drifted up to scour over the cityscape curiously, his mind automatically taking in and noting the differences.

It still looked much the same as he was used to, though there were a few skyscrapers missing, the space where they should be – would be, eventually, maybe – revealing nothing but the bright blue of the sky.

He absently fiddled with the cuff around his wrist, twisting it around with a light frown. He looked down at it, scratching at the skin gently.

It was odd, wearing a quirk-suppressant. He didn't feel weakened, nor did he feel nauseated as some reported they did. He tried to call upon One For All, watching for the tell-tale crackle of lightning – only there was nothing.

"Huh." He mused, opening and closing his fist before eventually crossing his arms and sighing. He wasn't particularly bothered that Aizawa had insisted on the cuff, knew that it was standard procedure when dealing with non-mutant quirks, but it still chafed in some small way.

Izuku shook his head as he drove those thoughts from his mind.

A part of him had been hoping that when he woke up, all of this would be nothing more than a dream. That he would open his eyes and be back in his own time, surrounded by his friends. To have Bakugo punch him for doing something as reckless as getting caught by a dangerous quirk. To have Iida and Uraraka fret over him.

To have Todoroki reach out and grasp his shoulder, checking on him in his own quiet way.

But it hadn't happened.

He'd woken exactly where he'd fallen asleep, restrained and confused and so incredibly close to crying in frustration.

Another beep from the door had him turning around, and Izuku smiled automatically when Naomasa entered, a greeting bubbling at the back of his throat before he swallowed it back at the last moment.

Because while the face was familiar, everything else was not.

There was no warmth in Naomasa's eyes, merely cool apathy and perhaps a glint of intrigue. No recognition. No kindness.

Izuku's smile fell.

Naomasa studied him from the doorway for a moment before coming forward. The door slid shut the second he cleared it; the nearly inaudible hiss of the lock engaging was almost completely covered by his words. "I'm Detective Tsukauchi. It's a pleasure to meet you." He held out his hand politely.

Izuku gripped the other's hand, shaking it firmly and forcing his smile back into place. "Midoriya. Izuku. It's – ah, good to meet you too."

If Naomasa found his reception lacklustre, he didn't show it. Instead he gestured to the large table. "Might we perhaps sit for this? It'll be more comfortable, I'm sure."

Izuku nodded, moving to take the closest seat. Naomasa rounded the table and sat across from him. He busied himself for a few moments, taking his notepad out and flipping to a fresh page, pulling his pen out and clicking it. Izuku had never understood the man's insistence on using such outdated equipment, but the sight of that familiar worn notebook soothed the ball of anxiety that had been building in his breast.

He laid his hands atop the table, keeping them in plain view. While Naomasa prepared himself he quickly scanned the room again, eyes easily finding a few of the cameras, knowing that Aizawa and a few others were likely on the other end of them, watching everything.

He swallowed, worried though he knew he had no reason to be.

Naomasa glanced up at him suddenly, mouth quirking into a small, friendly smile. "Nervous?" He asked, eyes like steel.

"I've never been on this side of you before." He admitted, shrugging. Naomasa didn't overtly react to the comment, so Izuku figured Aizawa had already briefed him on some of his suspicions.

"This is only a standard questioning," Naomasa assured him, "we just want to understand who you are and what happened to you."

Izuku nodded slowly. He knew the general layout for these types of interrogations, had even conducted a few himself. He'd just never been subjected to one before. It was going to be enlightening, he was sure.

"We'll start simple. What's your name?"

"Midoriya Izuku."

Naomasa made a note on his pad. "And your age?"

"Nineteen."

The other man looked up at him, head tilted. "And your quirk?"

Izuku hesitated. Naomasa's attention hooked into him at the slight hesitation. "Ah, it's kind of hard to explain." Izuku eventually said, choosing his words carefully. He knew Naomasa knew about One For All, but he had no way of knowing who was watching this, and the last thing he wanted to do was reveal such a heavily guarded secret.

"I'm sure you can manage."

Despite everything, Izuku has to smother back a smile at the light, biting tone hidden beneath the congenial words.

"My quirk's listed as 'Super-Strength'." He said, leaning back in his chair and staring at the man. He watched as Naomasa's pen scratched across the paper. "I was All Might's apprentice." He added casually, and immediately Naomasa paused.

The man's eyes rose to meet his, a question lurking in them. "His apprentice?"

Izuku smiled, and his finger tapped against the table surface in steady beats. Naomasa's gaze dropped to watch it. Izuku stopped, then slowly repeated the same pattern.

Understanding bloomed to life on the man's face, though it was quickly wiped. "Interesting. What's your favourite number?"

Izuku's mouth twitched. "I've always been partial to nine, myself. It feels lucky."

Naomasa sat back, staring at him intently. He tapped his pen against his notepad, eyes narrowed as he chewed over what Izuku had revealed. Almost an entire minute passed in silence before the other man spoke.

"Tell me how you ended up in the USJ facility."

Izuku breathed steadily through his nose. "I got the call around midday yesterday, well, the day before, I guess now. It was a coordinated attack, a mix of petty criminals and a group of high-class villains that Aizawa and I had been tracking for weeks. They just descended on the city, a widespread attack aiming at just generating pure chaos. I set out by myself but eventually joined up with a few of my former classmates. We were tasked with thinning the herd and holding the line long enough for backup and evacuation."

Izuku paused, giving Naomasa time to finish his quick notes. "We fought all through the night and well into the next day. I was separated from the others and got ambushed by a group of villains. They weren't much of an issue." Naomasa didn't even seem to doubt his statement. He merely nodded along.

"I managed to subdue most of them, but there was one…" Izuku's gaze drifted to the side, thoughtfully, remembering the man that had done this to him. "He had a touch-based quirk, skin on skin contact required for it to activate. He called it Exile, he told me that anything he touched just disappeared. He didn't know where, didn't even know if they survived the trip. I tried to stop him, but I was too slow, I'd exhausted myself."

Izuku blinked, returning his focus to Naomasa. "He got me."

Naomasa carefully placed his pen on the table, folding his hands together and giving Izuku his undivided attention.

Izuku's next breath was almost punched out of him. "I blinked and I was at the USJ, out on the edge of the Flood Zone. I was confused at first, I thought I was in some sort of illusion, or maybe a memory. Everything was happening as I remembered it, but when I rescued Tsuyu and Mineta, I knew something was wrong because I wasn't with them."

"You were in the Flood Zone with them originally?" Naomasa asked, and Izuku nodded. The other didn't sound like he didn't believe Izuku, but he knew first-hand how good of an actor Naomasa was.

"When we were separated, the three of us were teleported there. We managed to get ourselves out, of course. But the fact that I was missing made it obvious that something was wrong." Here, Izuku's face scrunched up briefly, because now he knew exactly why his younger self was nowhere to be seen.

"What happened next?"

Izuku picked at his fingers, suddenly uncomfortable. "I saw Aizawa-sensei about to be hit. I didn't want to –" he stopped, frustrated, "I didn't…I still remember seeing that Nomu grab him. I still remember the way it – and the blood –" he closed his eyes and sighed harshly. "I didn't want any of that to happen again. I didn't want him to have to go through that, not if I could stop it. So I did."

He looked up then to pierce Naomasa with his gaze, jaw set in determination. "Then I pelted the Nomu through the roof and Aizawa saved me from Shigaraki. The villains escaped and the heroes arrived, and I blacked out." His words had grown more clipped the longer he spoke but talking about this just brought back all the horrible memories that day had given him the first time around.

None of them had come out of the USJ attack the same, but Izuku in particular had had the affects cling to him like shadows for years. It had been the first glimpse he had gotten of Tomura, and it was the first time he had seen a hero – someone he admired, someone he had thought of as indestructible, no matter how naïve that was – suffer such graphic injuries.

It had been the wake-up call he had never known he needed. And he still hated the price Aizawa had had to pay for it to happen. Every time Izuku looked at that scar under his old sensei's eye it made his gut churn with guilt and the bitter sting of failure.

"I see." Naomasa said after a long moment, with a tone that implied he really didn't. Izuku almost laughed.

The other man shifted in his seat. There was another beat of silence, before he spoke. "You're aware that Midoriya Izuku is dead, correct?"

It wasn't said cruelly, but Izuku still winced at the bluntness. He hunched over slightly. "Yeah."

"And yet here you are."

OoO

Naomasa had known his day would be odd from the moment he had received the email notification from Eraserhead early this morning. He'd only had that confirmed when he had actually read the email itself.

Being on the force for so long, having close relationships with a number of Pro Heroes – and one particular underground hero – had given him the ability to remain rather unruffled by whatever ridiculous situations they managed to bring to his attention. But this one took the cake entirely.

Because time travel? He could handle that. Time-quirks were rare but not undocumented.

The appearance of a young man that was supposedly dead, years older than he should be and totting around a hero license? Well, more outside his comfort zone, but not too unbelievable.

The fact that this young man was also apparently Yagi's apprentice, having already assumed the powers of One For All? Mildly more concerning, considering he had already been introduced to All Might's successor, and Togata Mirio was vastly different from the boy sitting across from him.

All three at once though?

Aizawa owed him a goddamn drink for dragging him into this.

He finished his questioning, his quirk a constant feedback in his head, telling him that while the story was outlandish, not one word that had fallen from Midoriya's mouth had been a lie.

He could already feel a headache forming.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Midoriya." He stood, closing his notepad and slipping it back into his pocket. As he straightened, he took one last opportunity to look at the young man. He stared at the tousled green hair, the sharp glint of intelligence in those eyes, the corded muscles and freckles. "Someone will be along to collect you shortly."

Midoriya looked up at him and nodded slowly, slouching a little in his place. He seemed tired all of a sudden, and as Naomasa watched, years seemed to drop from Midoriya's face, making him look far younger than he actually was.

Stomach twisting unpleasantly, he made for the door.

Aizawa was waiting for him on the other side, arms crossed and expression tight. "Well?" The man prompted after the door was shut.

Naomasa rubbed at his face. "I need to write my report, Aizawa. You know –"

"I don't care about your report right now. I want to know your initial thoughts."

Naomasa barely refrained from rolling his eyes at the impatience. He had been dealing with Aizawa for a long time, and the gruff attitude had long lost its affect. Still, he knew how tenacious the other was, and the last thing he wanted was to be hounded after by someone like Aizawa.

He started walking towards the elevator, the other peeling away from the wall to follow. He only started talking when they reached the end of the long hallway.

"My 'initial thoughts' are that he's telling the truth. I didn't get a hint of deception from him that entire time." He hit the button for the elevator, slipping his hands into his pockets. "As strange as this is, I think we have to accept that, as far as any of us know, Midoriya is who he claims to be."

Aizawa was frowning when they entered the elevator, eyes unfocussed as he thought to himself. Naomasa enjoyed the lull, knowing it wouldn't last.

"So, time-travel?"

He sighed.

"I'm not too sure. He arrived almost a year after his younger self had been murdered. If he really was from the future – well, it doesn't make much sense. By all accounts, he shouldn't exist."

Aizawa hummed. "Unless it's not time we're dealing with here." He mused to himself.

Naomasa closed his eyes. He held up a hand, stopping the other from voicing what they were both thinking. "Please, just wait until I've had another cup of coffee before you start this. I'm still trying to understand it myself."

The other huffed, but he kindly refrained from speaking as the elevator brought them to the correct floor. Naomasa knew that Nezu would be waiting for him in the monitor room, and with any luck, Yagi would be there as well.

They stepped onto the floor and moved down the hallway, one in front of the other.

"What did you think of him?" Naomasa asked, gaze pinned to the back of Aizawa's head.

The other was quiet for a moment. "I think he's dangerous." The man said, voice surprisingly light for such a confession. "I think he saved two of my students from being killed. I think I saw him take down something strong enough to supposedly give All Might trouble. I think I saw him get in the face of a man with a decaying quirk without a hint of fear. I think he's a reckless idiot that'll get himself killed if he's not careful."

Naomasa, despite himself, felt a small smile creep onto his face. They came up to the door that would take them to Nezu.

"I liked him too."

Aizawa's back tensed, and he shot an acidic look over his shoulder.

Naomasa raised an eyebrow, daring the man to refute his implication. It always brought him great joy, seeing Aizawa struggle to talk his way through a conversation between them.

After all, he'd either get caught in his lie, or cancel Naomasa's quirk – which was basically the same thing.

"Shut up."

Aizawa turned back to open the door.

Naomasa didn't bother hiding his chuckle as he followed.

Let me know your thoughts for this and as always, my tumblr is open. Thanks!