It was supposed to be a routine mission. Quick in, quick out. Catch the bastard, drag him back. Nothing complicated.

At least, that’s what Bakugo thought—right up until everything went to hell.

He and the rest of Class 1-A had been dispatched to a wooded area outside the city. Orders were clear: chase down the stray villain who’d split off from his crew. Surround, contain, finish it.

Bakugo, of course, had gotten closest. His boots hit the dirt hard as he stalked between the trees, palms faintly sparking. The villain wasn’t far—leaning against a trunk, gasping for air, looking like he was seconds from collapsing.

💭 “Pathetic. One good blast and this is over. I’ll end this before Deku even shows his damn face.”

He tensed his hands, ready to strike—

Crunch!

The sound of a branch snapping under his heel echoed like a damn gunshot. The villain’s head whipped toward him, eyes blazing. Bakugo snarled, but before he could launch himself forward, a surge of warped energy exploded outward like a wave. His instincts screamed, but the hit was too fast, too sudden. Light and pain swallowed him whole.

Then—darkness.

∘₊ ⸝⸝──────⸝⸝₊∘

When Bakugo came to, he was sprawled on his back. His eyes flew open with a sharp inhale. Sunlight blinded him, stabbing through a canopy that… hadn’t been there before.

The forest was wrong. Way too open. The air felt crisp, light in his lungs instead of heavy with smoke. Pushing himself up with a growl, he rubbed his head, scowling.

“What the hell…? Where’s that damn villain?!”

He spoke, more to himself. His heart was still racing, blood pounding hot. This wasn’t the same place. The trees weren’t dense, the ground was too even. It was too calm—too quiet.

Shoving the dizziness aside, he stomped forward. The forest broke open into a clearing… and that’s when he froze.

A white house sat smack in the middle of it. Bright paint, car in the driveway, trampoline on the grass. Windows wide open like it was some normal, sunny day in the suburbs.

His jaw clenched.

💭 ”The hell is this? There weren’t any houses for miles. Did I get warped somewhere? …Tch. Doesn’t matter. Somebody’s here, I’ll get answers.”

He ducked behind a tree, eyes narrowing as movement flickered inside the house. A figure. Civilian. This was his chance.

⸻ — Your POV —

The late afternoon sun beat down, and you’d already opened every window and door in the house to drag some air through. Ziggy, your five-month-old Samoyed pup, padded behind you happily as you carried his food to the kitchen.

You’d just set his bowl down when a loud, almost impatient knock rattled the front door. Blinking in surprise, you turned—there was someone standing there. A boy. Spiky blonde hair, crimson eyes sharp as blades, and a strange uniform clinging to him. His entire presence radiated heat and tension, like he was seconds from exploding.

He didn’t wait for an invitation—he shoved the door open the moment you hesitated. Heavy footsteps carried him inside, eyes scanning every inch of the room like a predator sizing up his surroundings. He didn’t relax, didn’t even sit. Just stood there, fists tight at his sides, every nerve on edge.

Finally, he snapped at you, his voice rough and commanding:

“Oi. You. Where the hell am I? Don’t screw around—just tell me straight.”