Chapter Text
Izuku Midoriya woke up gasping.
Air tore into his lungs in sharp, painful bursts, each breath uneven and desperate, as if his body had forgotten how to breathe properly. His chest rose and fell too fast, heart slamming wildly against his ribs. He clawed at the blankets, fingers curling tight in the fabric as panic surged through him like a storm he couldn’t escape.
A small, broken sound slipped out of Izuku’s throat.
"Waah"
It was thin at first, shaky, like he was trying to hold it back—but he couldn’t. The sound rose quickly, turning loud and raw, spilling out of him in uneven bursts. His face crumpled completely, mouth opening as he cried the way only a child could, loud and unrestrained.
"Uwaah!"
His chest hitched over and over as sobs wracked his small body. Tears poured down his cheeks, soaking into the pillow beneath his face. He curled inward, knees drawn up, hands clenched tightly as his crying grew louder, more desperate, filling the room with helpless, aching sounds.
"Kegh-...wah!!"
The noise echoed down the hallway.
Sudden, panicked footsteps rushed toward his room.
"Izuku?!'
The door burst open with a bang.
"Izuku!"
His mother rushed in, breathless and wide eyed with fear. She crossed the room in a heartbeat and dropped to the edge of his bed, reaching for him immediately.
"Oh, sweetheart!"
She gathered him into her arms without hesitation, pulling his small, shaking body against her chest. One hand cradled the back of his head, fingers gently pressing him close, while the other rubbed slow, soothing circles along his back.
"It’s okay, it’s okay," she murmured over and over, voice soft but urgent. "Mama’s here. I’ve got you. You’re alright."
Izuku’s cries hitched as he clutched at her pajama gown, fists gripping tightly as if afraid she might disappear. His sobs came out loud and broken, but she held him firmly, rocking him back and forth in small, steady motions.
"Shh… shh… I’m here," she whispered, brushing her lips against his curly leaf hair, smoothing it down again and again. "You’re safe. Mama’s right here."
She stayed like that, holding him close, rocking him gently, murmuring comfort until his cries slowly, painfully began to ease.
Izuku’s sobs slowly lost their strength.
Clutched tightly in his mother’s arms, his small body sagged as exhaustion finally claimed him. His breaths evened out, still shaky, but no longer frantic. His fingers loosened their grip on her pajama gown, hands resting limply against her chest as sleep pulled him under.
His mother didn’t move.
She stayed exactly where she was, seated on the edge of the bed, arms wrapped securely around him. One hand remained cradling the back of his head, the other resting protectively along his back. She rocked him just slightly, slow and steady, until his breathing became deep and soft.
Izuku fell asleep like that, warm, held, safe.
But rest did not bring peace.
Darkness swallowed him whole.
There was no ground. No sky. No sound. Just an endless, empty void stretching in every direction, thick and suffocating. It felt cold, heavy, pressing in on him from all sides. Izuku stood alone, his feet planted on nothing, heart pounding as fear crept back into his chest.
"Hello?" His voice echoed faintly, swallowed almost immediately by the blackness.
On the floor before him lay a body.
Izuku’s breath caught painfully in his throat.
Masaru Bakugo.
He lay unnaturally, his fine clothes stained dark with blood. His face was pale, lifeless eyes wide open, staring straight through Izuku as if he weren’t even there. Thick, dark blood streaked down his mouth, drying along his cheek.
"No…" Izuku whispered, backing away a step.
The air felt heavier, colder. His chest tightened as guilt and terror crashed over him all at once. He wanted to look away wanted to scream but his body wouldn’t move.
Then. Masaru’s head tilted slightly, eyes still empty, unblinking. His lips parted slowly, blood cracking at the corners of his mouth.
"You killed me."
The voice was hollow, dead, echoing unnaturally through the void.
Izuku shook his head violently, tears burning his eyes. "N...no I didn’t, I swear!"
Masaru’s gaze remained fixed on him.
"You killed me."
The words repeated, louder this time, heavier, pressing down on Izuku’s chest until he could barely breathe. The darkness closed in, the blood seeming to spread across the floor toward his feet.
"I didn’t!" Izuku cried, voice breaking. "I said I didn’t!"
The corpse’s mouth twisted, blood dripping as it spoke again.
"You killed me."
Izuku screamed. "Stop!"
Then he jolted awake.
His eyes flew open as his body snapped upright, breath tearing painfully into his lungs. His heart hammered wildly as he gasped, hands clutching at the blankets beneath him. For a split second, he expected darkness, blood, lifeless eyes.
But instead, sunlight streamed softly through the curtains.
Izuku sat there for a long moment, unmoving.
His heart still raced from the nightmare, each beat loud in his ears as he tried to steady his breathing. Confusion crept in slowly, replacing fear with a heavy, aching disbelief. He looked around the room again, more carefully this time, searching for answers in the familiar details.
Why was he here?
This was his old home.
Not the palace chambers he remembered living in. This room was smaller, warmer,wood,paneled walls instead of marble, a modest balcony letting in soft morning light.clearly belonging to a noble household, but modest by ducal standards.
The furnishings were sturdy rather than extravagant. The bed frame was carved simply, polished smooth by time. A small chest sat at the foot of the bed, its metal fittings dulled from use. The curtains were of good fabric, dyed a soft green, but not embroidered with gold or jewels. This wasn’t poverty,but it wasn’t excessive wealth either.
Izuku swallowed hard.
His gaze drifted across the room, stopping when it landed on the mirror mounted across from his bed.
He froze.
He slid off the mattress. The floor was cool beneath his bare feet, grounding him as he took a few careful steps forward. Each movement felt unreal, like the world might shatter if he moved too quickly.
He stood in front of the mirror.
And stared.
The reflection looking back at him wasn’t the thin, pale, exhausted omega he remembered he was. There were no hollow cheeks, no dark shadows beneath his eyes, no marks of stress or grief carved into his face.
Instead, a child stared back.
His hair was still the same green leaf, curls sticking out in familiar directions, but softer, thicker. His face was rounder, cheeks full, skin warm with life. His eyes were wide and bright green, too large for his small face, filled with confusion rather than despair.
He looked young.
Five. Maybe seven.
Izuku lifted a hand.
The child in the mirror did the same.
His fingers were small, unscarred. His wrists thin but not fragile. His shoulders narrow, his frame slight in the way only a child’s could be. He turned slightly from side to side, watching the reflection mimic every movement perfectly.
"No way…" he whispered.His voice sounded different too higher, softer.
He pressed both palms flat against the glass, breathing shallowly as his mind struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. This wasn’t an illusion. Nor did the mirror lie.
This was him.
Him from long ago.
Before he was sent to the Bakugo palace
Before he became the wife, the omega of Bakugo Katsuki
Before his father-in-law Masaru Bakugo.
His chest tightened painfully.
The ache spread outward, sharp and overwhelming, until it stole the air from his lungs. Izuku staggered back a step from the mirror, hands curling into fists at his sides as his thoughts raced.
'If this is real…'
His heart began to pound again, faster this time not from fear, but from something fragile and desperate.
'If I’m truly back… mother.'
The image of her,thin, pale, tired, lying still and cold in his past life, flashed through his mind.
In his past life, she had died long ago. He had mourned her in silence, unable to attend her burial, unable even to say goodbye.
Izuku didn’t waste another second. He turned and ran for the door, his small feet pattering against the floor as he reached out and yanked it open, nearly colliding with someone standing just outside.
"Oh!"
A maid flinched back with a startled gasp, instinctively pulling a tray closer to her chest. The porcelain dishes rattled softly, a bowl of warm porridge wobbling dangerously before settling again. Steam curled upward, carrying the faint, comforting scent of breakfast."young master!" she exclaimed, eyes wide. I—I was about to"
Izuku barely heard her.
"Where’s my mother?" he demanded immediately, his voice urgent.
The maid blinked, clearly taken aback by his tone.
"Your… mother?" she repeated, confusion knitting her brows. "Madame Midoriya?"
"Yes!"Izuku said, stepping closer without realizing it. "Where is she?"
The maid hesitated, then answered carefully, as though afraid of upsetting him. “Madame Midoriya is in the garden, young master. She said she wished to help the gardener.”
Izuku’s vision blurred, his throat tightening painfully as tears threatened to spill again this time not from fear, but from relief so strong it hurt. He turned sharply, already ready to run. But stopped.
His body froze mid-motion.
One more thing.
He spun back toward the maid so suddenly she stiffened again, gripping the tray tighter.
"One last question," Izuku said, breathless, his voice small but intense. "What year is it?"
The maid stared at him, completely baffled now. "Young master…?" she said uncertainly. "It is the year xxxx of the Kingdom Calendar."
That was all Izuku needed.He turned and ran.
His small form disappeared down the corridor in a rush of movement, leaving behind a stunned, speechless maid standing alone in the doorway still holding a tray of untouched breakfast, staring after him as if she had just witnessed something she could not explain.
Izuku kept running.
The corridor blurred around him as he pushed open the tall double doors leading to the garden, sunlight flooding over him in a warm rush. Fresh air filled his lungs, carrying the scent of soil, leaves, and morning dew.
Right there was his mother.
Inko Midoriya stood among the garden beds, wearing a simple gown with an apron tied neatly around her waist. A wooden box of carrots rested in her arms as she spoke with one of the gardener, her expression relaxed, gentle alive in a way Izuku had thought he would never see again.
Alive.
The sight shattered the last of Izuku’s restraint.
Tears spilled freely as his throat tightened, and he ran toward her without slowing, feet kicking up dirt as he crossed the stone path.
"Mama!"
Inko turned sharply at the sound of his voice, surprise flashing across her face.
"Izuku?"
The moment she saw him crying, running straight toward her, her smile vanished.
"Izuku, what’s wrong?"
The box slipped from her hands, carrots scattering across the dirt as she hurried forward. She dropped to one knee just in time for Izuku to reach her, and he threw himself into her arms, wrapping them tightly around her neck.
Inko gasped softly and wrapped her arms around him immediately, holding him close.
"Izuku…" she said, voice full of worry.
"What happened?"
Izuku pressed his face into her shoulder, shoulders shaking as he cried, gripping the back of her dress as if afraid to let go. He didn’t answer he couldn’t so he just held on, breathing unevenly.
Inko held him just as tightly, one arm firm around his back, the other resting between his shoulders. She didn’t pull away or loosen her grip.
"It’s okay,"she said quietly, close to his ear. “I’m here.”
She leaned back just enough to look at him, her hands staying on his arms."Did something scare you?" she asked gently.
"Did you have a nightmare?"
Izuku nodded against her shoulder. He couldn't just tell her the truth that he's been given a chance or he's came from the future.
She might think it's weird and creepy or, might call him lunatic.
Inko’s expression softened, worry easing just a little. She pulled him back into the hug without hesitation.
"I’m right here,"she told him firmly. "You don’t have to be scared now."
The people around them, stayed quiet, the spilled carrots forgotten as she bend there holding her son, not letting go until his breathing slowly began to steady.