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The morning had started like any other in Class 3-A, with Aizawa dragging himself through the door looking like he’d wrestled with insomnia and lost. Again. His yellow sleeping bag was tucked under one arm, and his expression suggested he was already calculating how many minutes until he could use it.
That peaceful normalcy lasted exactly thirty-seven seconds.
A brilliant flash of purple light erupted in the center of the classroom, followed by what sounded like a small explosion and two voices shouting in unison: “What did you do?!”
When the light faded and the class blinked away the afterimages, they found themselves staring at two teenagers in UA uniforms they’d never seen before. The boy had wild green hair that defied gravity even more than Midoriya’s, bright red eyes, and a constellation of freckles across his cheeks. The girl beside him sported ash-blonde waves that seemed to crackle with residual energy, striking green eyes, and the same distinctive freckle pattern. Both looked to be about seventeen and were currently glaring at each other with an intensity that made the air shimmer.
Aizawa’s remaining eye twitched. Even his eyepatch seemed to convey exhaustion.
“This is exactly what I was talking about,” the girl said, tiny orange sparks dancing around her clenched fists. “You were standing there muttering while that villain was charging his quirk. People could have gotten hurt because you hesitated—”
“And rushing in blindly was supposed to be better?” the boy shot back, green energy flickering around him like St. Elmo’s fire. “You lost your temper the moment he insulted our parents and started screaming ‘die’ at everything that moved!”
“I don’t scream ‘die’ at everything!” she protested, her volume rising despite herself.
“You literally told a vending machine to die yesterday because it ate your money!”
“THAT VENDING MACHINE KNEW WHAT IT DID!” The girl stomped her foot, leaving a small scorch mark on the floor, then immediately looked embarrassed. “Okay, that one doesn’t count.”
The classroom had gone dead silent. Twenty pairs of eyes tracked back and forth between the arguing strangers like they were watching the world’s most confusing tennis match.
“They sound exactly like—” Kirishima began, his voice carrying the steady confidence of someone who’d grown into his heroic ideals.
“Bakugo and Midoriya,” Mina finished with a delighted grin.
The effect was instantaneous. Both teens froze mid-argument, suddenly registering their audience. The boy’s hands flew to his mouth in horror while the girl slowly turned in place, her face cycling through recognition, realization, and dawning panic.
“Uncle Ei…” she whispered, pointing at Kirishima. “Auntie Mina… Uncle Denki… Auntie Jirou…” Her voice got smaller with each name until she reached Aizawa and barely breathed, “Grandpa-Zawa.”
“Oh no, oh no, oh no,” the boy started muttering, his hands flying through familiar gestures. “If we’re here— then the temporal displacement worked but— paradox implications— can’t let them know too much about—”
Aizawa stared at them both for a long moment, his remaining eye slowly widening. “This is a nightmare,” he said flatly, then began pulling out his phone. “I’m updating my resignation letter.”
“Kacchan,” Midoriya whispered, his improved emotional control the only thing keeping his voice steady, “I think we need to—”
“I don’t know what we’re looking at,” Bakugo interrupted, his voice strangled but notably lacking his old explosive rage. He seemed more bewildered than angry, staring at the two teens with something approaching recognition. “But this is insane.”
“Aizawa-sensei,” Iida said, his natural leadership taking over despite the bizarre situation, “shouldn’t we ensure these students are safe before anything else?”
“What I should do,” Aizawa replied without looking up from his phone, “is pretend this is a very vivid stress dream and wait for it to end.”
The green-haired boy had stopped muttering and was now studying the classroom with wide, analytical eyes that were painfully familiar. “Wait… what year is it?” His face suddenly lit up with pure scientific fascination. “If this is when I think it is, then I can observe early quirk development patterns and social dynamics and—”
“Kenji, no!” the girl shouted, launching herself at him to clap a hand over his mouth. “We are not doing the analysis thing right now!”
“But Kasumi, this is unprecedented research opportunity—” came his muffled protest.
“This is a disaster!”
Todoroki, maintaining his characteristic calm but with the warmth he’d developed over the years, raised his hand slightly. “Should we be concerned that they look like they could be related to Bakugo and Midoriya?”
Every head in the room swiveled to stare at the two boys in question. Bakugo made a sound like a tea kettle building pressure, while Midoriya went very still—a habit he’d developed when processing overwhelming information.
“What the hell kind of—” Bakugo started, then seemed to catch himself, running a hand through his hair instead of exploding. “This doesn’t make sense. Nothing about this makes sense.”
“I know this is confusing,” Midoriya said, his voice carrying the gentle authority he’d learned to use in crisis situations, “but let’s just focus on figuring out what happened. The energy signature suggests quirk-based displacement, which means—
“Dad,” Kenji interrupted quietly, “you’re muttering.”
The classroom went so quiet you could hear a pin drop three floors down.
Midoriya’s mouth snapped shut. Bakugo stopped mid-gesture. Even Aizawa looked up from his phone.
“Dad?” Uraraka repeated weakly.
“This is so weird,” Kasumi groaned, slumping into an empty desk. “You guys are so young. And tiny.”
“We’re not tiny!” Bakugo protested automatically.
“You are to us, Papa,” Kasumi said fondly, then seemed to realize what she’d said. “Oh. Right. Temporal paradox.”
The word ‘Papa’ hung in the air like a live grenade.
“They have the same hair,” Kirishima observed, looking between Kenji and Bakugo with growing amazement.
“And the same expressions when frustrated,” Jirou added, studying both sets of teens.
“The facial structure is remarkably similar,” Yaoyorozu said thoughtfully. “And those freckle patterns…”
“Are you two actually related to them?” Asui asked with her characteristic directness.
Kasumi and Kenji exchanged a look that contained an entire conversation.
“Twins,” Kasumi admitted. “We’re twins.”
“Twins,” Aizawa repeated slowly. Then, with the air of a man who had given up on reality making sense, he began climbing into his sleeping bag. “Someone wake me when either they disappear or the universe ends. Either works.”
“But Aizawa-sensei—” Iida began.
“What am I supposed to do, Iida? Call their parents?” He gestured vaguely toward Midoriya and Bakugo. “Those ARE their parents. Call the authorities? ‘Hello, police? Yes, we have time-traveling children in classroom 3-A. Yes, it’s that class again. No, this isn’t a prank.’”
“Actually,” Kenji said, raising his hand politely, “we can explain. The villain we were fighting had a temporal displacement quirk. Based on the energy patterns, the effect should last approximately six to eight hours.”
“Six to eight hours,” Kasumi repeated with growing horror. “We’re stuck here for six to eight hours.”
“Hey,” Kaminari said gently, his natural kindness shining through, “at least you’re not stuck permanently, right?”
The twins looked at him with such obvious affection that several classmates smiled despite the chaos.
“Thanks, Uncle Denki,” Kenji said softly, then seemed to catch himself. “I mean—”
“It’s okay,” Midoriya interrupted, moving closer with the natural ease he’d developed around distressed people. “Whatever’s happening, we’ll figure it out. You’re safe here.”
“Yeah,” Bakugo added gruffly, his protective instincts overriding his confusion. “We’ve dealt with weirder things than time travel. Probably.”
The twins looked at their younger parents with expressions of fond exasperation.
“You guys really haven’t changed,” Kasumi said with a small smile.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Midoriya asked.
“You always try to help everyone, even when you don’t understand what’s happening,” Kenji explained. “And Papa always acts tough but jumps in to protect people.”
“I’m not acting tough—” Bakugo started, then stopped when he realized what else Kenji had said. “Wait. Papa?”
“Oh no,” both twins said in unison.
“So you really are…?” Mina asked, practically vibrating with excitement.
“We can neither confirm nor deny any information about the future that might cause temporal paradoxes,” Kasumi recited quickly.
“But you just called him Papa,” Sero pointed out.
“That was an accident!”
“Several accidents,” Kenji corrected. “We’ve had several accidents.”
From inside his sleeping bag, Aizawa’s muffled voice emerged: “How many hours did you say this lasts?”
“Six to eight,” both twins replied.
“I’m putting in for hazard pay.”
Despite everything, Class 3-A began to settle into what was clearly going to be a very long day. Desks were rearranged into a rough circle, and gradually, carefully, the twins began to share pieces of their lives—always dancing around the edges of what they could safely reveal.
"So," Hagakure said with the kind of curiosity that always led to interesting revelations, "how exactly did you two come to be? I mean, obviously they're both boys, so..."
The twins exchanged a look that was part fond exasperation, part anticipation.
"Oh, this is Papa's favorite story to tell at family gatherings," Kasumi said with a grin.
"Please don't," Bakugo muttered, already looking mortified.
"Too late!" Kenji said cheerfully. "So, there's this quirk specialist who can temporarily alter biological functions for couples who want biological children together—"
"It's a very legitimate medical procedure," Kasumi added quickly, seeing some of the confused faces.
"Anyway, Papa volunteered to carry us."
"Volunteered?" Midoriya squeaked.
"Well," Kenji continued, "Grandma Mitsuki may have made some comments about Papa not being tough enough to handle it—"
"She said, and I quote," Kasumi put on a gravelly voice that was clearly an impression of Mitsuki Bakugo, "'My brat talks big about pain tolerance, but I bet he couldn't handle what women go through.'"
The classroom winced collectively. They all knew Bakugo's mother.
"So naturally," both twins continued in unison, "Papa said 'Watch me, old hag!'"
"Oh no," Bakugo groaned, sliding down in his seat.
"It gets better," Kenji grinned. "When we were being born, the medical team offered pain medication, and Papa looked them dead in the eye and said—'If I can handle open heart surgery on a battlefield then proceed to come back to life and kick All For One’s ass, I sure as hell can handle this!'" Kasumi finished triumphantly.
"And he did," Kenji added proudly. "Delivered us both naturally, no painkillers, while telling the doctors exactly how to do their jobs."
"I seriously did that," Bakugo asked stunned.
"You made the head doctor cry," Kasumi said fondly. "But you also said it was the most incredible thing you'd ever experienced and that we were worth every second of pain."
"Then you called Grandma Mitsuki from the delivery room to tell her, quote, 'I told you I could do it, you old bat,'" Kenji added.
"While crying happy tears and covered in sweat," Kasumi concluded. "Dad has pictures."
"I'm never living this down, am I?" Bakugo asked weakly.
"Papa," both twins said gently, "it's one of our favorite stories because it shows how much you wanted us. How you were willing to go through anything to bring us into the world."
"Plus," Kasumi added with a mischievous smile, "Grandma Mitsuki still brings it up every Mother's Day to brag about her 'tough brat' to anyone who'll listen."
The classroom was silent for a moment, processing this revelation.
"That's actually incredibly sweet," Uraraka said softly.
"And very manly," Kirishima added with tears in his eyes.
"I can't believe Bakugo becomes a dad who tells embarrassing birth stories at family gatherings," Kaminari said in wonder.
"Oh, he doesn't just tell the story," Kenji said. "He acts it out. With sound effects."
"That's enough!" Bakugo roared, his face so red it was practically glowing.
"We love you too, Papa," both twins said in perfect unison, completely unbothered by his embarrassment.
“Don't call me that!”
From his sleeping bag, Aizawa's muffled voice emerged: "I'm adding 'listening to future birth stories' to my list of reasons for early retirement."
The class erupted into laughter. It took a few minutes for everyone to calm down and once they did the questions continued.
“So your childhoods were… eventful?” Yaoyorozu asked diplomatically after hearing about their third villain encounter before age ten.
“That’s one word for it,” Kasumi said dryly. “Though to be fair, growing up as the kids of two top heroes means ‘normal’ is relative.”
“We learned early that villains sometimes try to target heroes through their families,” Kenji added. “But you guys never let us face anything alone. That’s what made all the difference.”
Bakugo had gone very quiet during these revelations, his usual explosive energy turned inward. “Are we…” he started, then stopped. “Do we mess it up? Being parents, I mean.”
“Papa,” Kasumi said gently, “you worry about that a lot, don’t you? Even in the future.”
“You taught us that being scared doesn’t make you weak,” Kenji continued. “That trying your best and getting back up when you fail is what makes someone a hero. Not just in costume, but in life.”
“And you taught us that love doesn’t always look the way people expect it to,” Kasumi added, glancing between her parents. “Sometimes it looks like making sure someone eats breakfast even when you’re both exhausted. Sometimes it’s learning each other’s languages—Dad’s analytical rambling and Papa’s explosive honesty.”
“Sometimes,” Kenji said with a mischievous grin, “it’s Papa pretending he doesn’t notice when Dad practices conversations in the mirror, but always having his favorite coffee ready afterward.”
“Kenji!” both boys yelped, faces flaming.
“What? It’s sweet!”
“It’s embarrassing!”
“Embarrassingly sweet,” Kasumi agreed cheerfully.
The twins’ easy affection and obvious happiness seemed to settle something in the room. Even Aizawa poked his head out of his sleeping bag to listen when they talked about family traditions—bedtime stories featuring heroes who looked suspiciously like Class 3-A, Sunday morning coffee and terrible dad jokes, the gradually expanding collection of rescue cats that somehow kept finding their way to their door.
“Twenty-three cats?” Midoriya asked faintly.
“Papa has a soft spot for strays,” both twins said fondly.
“I would never—”
“The three-story cat mansion in the backyard suggests otherwise,” Kenji interrupted.
When Uraraka finally asked about their quirks, the demonstration was brief but stunning. Kasumi's explosive energy danced across her fingers in controlled bursts, crackling with orange light, while Kenji hovered effortlessly, surrounded by green energy that seemed to bend space around him.
“The training was mostly about control,” Kenji explained as he settled back down. “These quirks can level city blocks if we’re not careful.”
“Please tell me you didn’t actually destroy city blocks,” Bakugo said.
The twins exchanged a guilty look.
“We agreed never to speak of the middle school gym,” they said in unison.
“Oh god,” Midoriya moaned, “we’re going to be those parents.”
“The best parents,” Kasumi corrected firmly. “Chaotic, sleep-deprived, constantly worried parents who somehow managed to raise kids who turned out okay.”
“More than okay,” Kenji agreed, looking around at their younger extended family. “All of you become incredible heroes. Not because of rankings or fame, but because you never stop caring about people.”
As the hours passed and the temporal effect began to weaken, the twins started to flicker slightly around the edges. But instead of panic, there was peace—they’d spent the day surrounded by the people who would help shape them, seeing the foundation of love and friendship that their future was built on.
“Oh!” Kasumi suddenly sat up straighter, looking directly at Bakugo with earnest green eyes, a faint blush creeping up her cheeks. “Papa, when you meet Uncle Ei and Auntie Mina’s son Ren… could you maybe go easy on him during training? He really looks up to you, but he gets discouraged when you’re too harsh. I just… I really want everything to work out for him.” She fidgeted with her hands, clearly emotional about this in a way that went beyond simple friendship.
Bakugo studied her face, his expression shifting to something more understanding. “This kid… he’s important to you, isn’t he?”
“Very important,” Kasumi admitted quietly, her blush deepening.
Meanwhile, Kenji was looking anywhere but at the class, his own cheeks pink. “And Uncle Minoru, your daughter Arisa is going to be amazing. She’s got this incredible rescue quirk, but she’s really sensitive about people’s expectations because of… well, your reputation when you were younger.” He glanced up briefly, then back down at his hands. “She could use some extra support. She’s… she’s really special.”
“I have a daughter?” Mineta asked, his voice small and wondering.
“The sweetest, bravest, most brilliant girl,” Kenji said, and the soft way he spoke made it clear his feelings ran deep. “She gets her heroic heart from you, but she worries about living up to it. Just… believe in her, okay? It makes all the difference.”
Both twins were clearly trying not to say too much, but their feelings were written all over their faces.
Kirishima and Mina exchanged amazed looks, while Mineta seemed to be processing this glimpse of a future he’d never imagined.
“Will we remember this?” Midoriya asked as the twins began to fade.
“Probably not clearly,” Kenji admitted. “Time travel is messy that way. But maybe… maybe you’ll remember the important parts.”
“Like what?” Bakugo asked.
“That it’s okay to be scared of the future,” Kasumi said softly. “And that you don’t have to face it alone.”
“That love comes in all kinds of packages,” Kenji added. “And that the best families are the ones you choose.”
“And that even when everything seems impossible,” they said together, “somehow, it all works out.”
The last thing Class 3-A saw before the twins vanished in another flash of purple light was their identical grins—pure mischief mixed with pure love.
In the silence that followed, Aizawa finally emerged fully from his sleeping bag.
“Well,” he said after a long moment, “that happened.”
“Will they be okay?” Midoriya asked quietly, staring at the spot where they’d been.
“Did you see how happy they were?” Bakugo replied, his voice softer than anyone had ever heard it. “Yeah. I think they’re going to be just fine.”
And as Class 3-A slowly began to process what they’d experienced, none of them noticed the small scorch mark on the floor where Kasumi had stomped her foot—a tiny reminder that sometimes, the future was closer than anyone imagined.
The purple light faded, leaving Kasumi and Kenji standing in the middle of what had been a empty alleyway just moments before, or rather, six hours ago.
“Well,” Kasumi said, brushing dust off her uniform, “that was…”
“A complete disaster,” Kenji finished miserably.
“We told them everything, Kenji. Everything!”
“Well, not everything—”
“Everything that personally matters!”
“Okay, let's recap. It can't be that bad. We talked about the cats, the mirror conversations, Uncle Denki’s terrible dad jokes—”
“Papa’s pregnancy commercial crying!”
“—the middle school gym incident we swore never to mention—”
“Oh god, and the crushes!” Kasumi covered her face with her hands. “I basically announced to the entire class that I’m in love with Uncle Ei’s son!”
“At least you didn’t go all starry-eyed talking about Arisa,” Kenji muttered, his own cheeks burning.
They stood in the middle of the alleyway, the weight of their temporal mishap settling over them like a heavy blanket.
“Okay,” Kasumi said, taking a deep breath, “it’s fine. Time travel memories disappear, right? That’s what all the research says. Not of them will remember and we won't get grounded.”
“Exactly,” Kenji agreed, latching onto this hope. “Basic physics. They won’t remember anything.”
“Right. And even if they do remember bits and pieces, they’ll just think it was some kind of hallucination or quirk-induced vision.”
“Papa will probably blame it on bad takeout.”
“Dad will assume it was a stress dream from too much hero work.”
“We’re overthinking this,” Kasumi declared.
“Completely forgotten,” Kenji agreed firmly.
“Just another weird Tuesday in Class 3-A’s history.”
“Which they won’t even remember.”
They nodded at each other, building up their confidence before they made their way back to UA.
By the time they reached the dorms, they’d almost convinced themselves that everything would be fine. The common area was quiet, most of their classmates were probably in their rooms, completely oblivious to the chaos their friends had just caused almost thirty years in the past.
“See?” Kasumi whispered as they headed for the elevator. “Total normalcy. Crisis averted.”
“Any what crisis might that be?”
They froze at the familiar voice and slowly turned around.
Their parents were sitting together on one of the couches, still in their hero costumes. Izuku looked like he’d been pacing, his hair was even more disheveled than usual, while Katsuki sat with his arms crossed, wearing an expression the twins couldn’t quite read.
“Oh no,” Kenji breathed.
“Dad? Papa?” Kasumi’s voice came out as barely a squeak. “What are you doing here?”
“Funny story,” Bakugo said, and there was something dangerous in his tone. “About six hours ago, your dad and I started remembering some very interesting events.”
The twins went pale.
“At first we didn't realize it was both of us until we started talking about it. Then we thought it might have been caused by a quirk. ” Midoriya continued, his analytical voice taking on that particular tone that meant he’d figured something out completely. “But then…”
“Too many specific details for a coincidence or a quirk accident,” Bakugo finished flatly.
“We don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kasumi said quickly. “We were fighting a villain, but nothing weird happened. Just a normal fight. Very normal. Extremely normal.”
“Right,” Kenji nodded frantically. “Super normal. No time travel. No visiting the past. No accidentally revealing classified future information to younger versions of people.”
Bakugo’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “So you’re saying my seventeen-year-old self didn’t get told that I cry during dog food commercials?”
Both twins made strangled noises and seemed to shrink in on themselves.
“Oh god,” Kasumi whispered. “Oh god, you remember.”
“Every mortifying detail,” Midoriya confirmed, though his voice was gentle.
“Including,” Bakugo continued mercilessly, “memories of some girl confessing her crush on Kirishima’s kid.”
“PAPA!” Kasumi’s face went so red it was practically glowing.
“And some boy getting all starry-eyed talking about Mineta’s daughter.”
“This is the worst day of my life,” Kenji moaned, sliding down the wall to sit on the floor.
“Really?” Bakugo asked. “Because apparently there was this middle school gymnasium incident that was supposed to be way worse and NOT caused by a villain that got away.”
“We agreed never to speak of the gym!” both twins protested in unison.
“Yeah, well, that was before our seventeen-year-old selves got told about it by time-traveling kids who may or may not have been you two and the story you told us when it happens doesn't match,” Bakugo shot back.
“And before my past self learned about three-story cat mansion in our backyard,” Midoriya added with a slight grin.
“We DO have a three-story cat mansion!” Kasumi argued.
“That’s still not the point!”
“Dad, please stop,” Kenji begged from his position on the floor. “We’re already dying of embarrassment. Don’t make it worse.”
“Oh, we’re not done yet,” Bakugo said, but his voice had lost its edge. “Come here, you two disasters.”
The twins hesitated, looking like they might bolt for the elevators.
“That wasn’t a request,” Bakugo added, though there was warmth underneath the command.
Reluctantly, they approached the couch. Kasumi kept her face buried in her hands while Kenji looked like he was contemplating whether the dorms had any good hiding places.
“Sit,” Midoriya said gently, scooting over to make room.
They sat, both twins radiating mortification.
“So,” Bakugo said after a moment, “You think we're doing good raising you?”
“What?” Kenji peeked up through his fingers.
“According to these memories,” Midoriya clarified carefully, “our seventeen-year-old selves met some kids who seemed pretty happy with their family situation.”
“You saw how happy we were in those memories,” Kasumi mumbled into her hands. “We love our chaotic, ridiculous family. Even with all your weird habits and the army of rescue cats.”
“Twenty-three is not an army,” Bakugo protested automatically.
“It’s a small battalion at least,” Kenji argued.
Despite themselves, all four of them started to smile.
“You know what else these memories show?” Midoriya asked quietly. “How much those kids worried about their parents. How they wanted to protect them even when they were just teenagers themselves.”
“And how hard they tried to follow some kind of rules even when they clearly wanted to help,” Bakugo added. “Takes guts to care that much.”
“We still messed up everything,” Kasumi said miserably.
“Did you?” Midoriya asked. “Because based on these memories, all those kids did was show two scared stubborn teenagers that their future was full of love, laughter, and people who care about them. That their biggest problems might be things like too many cats and embarrassing family moments.”
“And that even when they think they might mess up,” Bakugo continued, “they might actually be doing something right.”
The twins finally looked up, hope cautiously creeping into their expressions.
“You’re not mad?” Kenji asked.
“Kid, I’m processing the fact that my seventeen-year-old self apparently learned I became domestic enough to have bedtime story traditions and cry at commercials,” Bakugo admitted.
“But,” Midoriya added with a smile, “Even though we now have these memories it didn't change anything.”
“Even the embarrassing parts?” Kasumi asked.
“Especially the embarrassing parts,” both parents replied.
“Speaking of which,” Bakugo said, his eyes twinkling with mischief, “Kirishima texted. Apparently he had some very vivid daydreams about you two and mentions of his son today.”
Kasumi made a sound like a dying whale.
“And Mineta called,” Midoriya continued cheerfully. “He’s very excited about the possibility that Kenji might like his daughter because he described her as ‘sweet, brave, and brilliant.’ His words.”
“I’m never leaving this dorm again,” Kenji declared, pulling a couch cushion over his head.
“Oh, you’re definitely leaving the dorm,” Bakugo said, standing up and pulling them both to their feet. “We’re going home, ordering way too much takeout, and you’re going to tell us all about this villain fight. The parts that don’t involve temporal paradoxes.”
“And then,” Midoriya added, “we’re going to have a very long conversation about why you thought it was a good idea to keep the middle school gymnasium incident a secret.”
“It was an accident!” both twins protested.
“An accident that destroyed a building?”
“A small building!”
“The gym was three stories tall!”
“Okay, fine, a medium-sized building!”
As they walked toward the exit, still bickering about the relative size of destroyed architecture, Katsuki caught Izuku’s hand and squeezed it gently.
“Maybe we should start getting rid of some of the cats?”
“But you love the cats.”
Behind them, Kasumi called out, “We can hear you talking about the cats!”
“Good!” Bakugo called back. “Maybe you’ll think twice before revealing state secrets to the past!”
“It’s not a state secret if it’s about cats!”
“Everything in our family is a state secret!”
And as they walked into the night, heading home to a house that held too many cats, too many inside jokes, and exactly the right amount of love, none of them could stop smiling. Because sometimes the most embarrassing moments are also the ones that remind you how good you have it.
In his office at UA, Aizawa sat bolt upright from his desk where he’d been napping, a strange dream fading from his memory. Something about time travel, and students, and someone calling him “Grandpa-Zawa.”
He stared at his coffee mug for a long moment, then reached for his phone to text Midoriya: “Tell your twins they have detention for a week and cleaning duty for a month. Don’t ask me how I know it was them.”
Then he shook his head, set down his phone, and went back to his nap.