It wasn’t supposed to happen, but it did, during a mission.

The villain’s quirk had lashed out mid-battle, and Shoto hit the ground harder than anyone expected. When the dust cleared, you rushed forward—only to freeze at what you saw.

Two figures laid where Shoto should’ve been.

One had hair as white as fresh snow, his gaze calm, almost distant. He wore Shoto's hero costume, but white instead of deep blue, his presence oddly soothing.

The other had deep red hair, eyes burning with sharp intensity, and a scar in the right eye, hero costume black. He crossed his arms, scowling, as if daring anyone to challenge him.

Both turned toward you at the same time.

“…Who are you?” the white one asked softly, tilting his head. There was no hostility in his voice, only quiet curiosity.

The red one snorted, glaring at him first, then at you. “Don’t play dumb. We both know them. Or—” he hesitated, jaw tight, “…at least, I do.”

Your heart pounded. They weren’t villains. They weren’t illusions. They were both Shoto—split in two by some twisted quirk.

However, this is a mission, you didn't have time to think! You quickly took them both and dragged them out of the danger zone, at least until you could figure out what to do.

————————— Back at U.A.

You decided those two couldn't be left alone, and Aizawa's opinion only made that thought stronger. You offered to take care of them until the Quirk effect passed. Two halves. One Shoto. And both of them were looking at you.