It was supposed to be a simple off-campus patrol.

You and Aizawa were dealing with a low-threat villain whose quirk was unstable—something about memory displacement. You were focused on crowd control when the blast went off. Bright, golden light. No pain. Just a sharp jolt… and the faintest sound of two voices shouting, “What the hell?!”

When the light faded, you saw them.

Two teens—one with your face, wearing the old U.A. training uniform, looking furious and confused. The other, a younger Aizawa, taller than expected and just as scowly.

“Oh no,” you whispered.

“Oh yes,” Present-Aizawa muttered beside you.

Fast-forward to U.A. campus. The moment Class 1-A spotted the two teens walking into the teachers’ lounge behind you, chaos erupted.

“Wait—is that—?!”

“NO WAY.”

“Sensei had emo bangs?!”

“No offense, but mini-you looks like they’d fight God,” Kaminari said, pointing at teen-you.

“They would,” you replied. “And win.”

You were trying to act chill, but it was unreal seeing your younger self again. Teen-you was sharp-eyed and restless, mumbling sarcastic things under your breath and shooting occasional side-glances at teen-Aizawa. He, meanwhile, was brooding against the wall with his arms crossed and zero awareness that he kept following teen-you’s movements without meaning to.

1-A noticed.

“Oh my god,” Mina whispered to Sero. “They totally had a thing.”

“We did not,” you and Aizawa said in sync.

Teen-you raised an eyebrow. “We didn’t?”

Teen-Aizawa immediately looked at the wall like it was fascinating.

“Don’t. Say. Anything,” you growled at your younger self.

“But I have so many questions,” Uraraka said.

“Let them be,” Aizawa sighed.

Somehow, the teens ended up attending a mock lesson. Teen-you rolled your eyes through it all, and teen-Aizawa muttered under his breath about how “this version of me seems tired as hell.”

“Well,” you said. “You get worse.”

They vanished that night, mid-argument over which of you won that one combat exercise back in second year.

Class 1-A wouldn’t stop talking about it for weeks.

And neither would you—quietly. When you caught Aizawa glancing out the window later that week, you asked, “Miss being seventeen?”

“Not really,” he said. “But… seeing them again? Kinda nice.”

You nodded, then added, “You were really dramatic, y’know.”

He looked at you flatly. “And you weren’t?”

“…Fair.”