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It happens on a Monday, third period, when Todoroki Shouto —the new one, that is— zaps into existence on the training grounds, tumbling down in a heap of tangled limbs with another figure.
Hagakure sees him first. She stares blankly for a moment, too baffled to react. It’s obviously Todoroki: the hair, the eyes. Simultaneously, it’s obviously not Todoroki: the boy in front of her is visibly different— taller, wearier, longer hair. He doesn’t act like Hagakure’s closed-off classmate either—this Todoroki seems capable of emoting, though the current emotion could be best characterized as despair. The other man isn’t as recognizable, maybe because he resembles a charred corpse in a way that’s genuinely difficult to look at. But as they disentangle he touches Todoroki like he thinks he owns him, proprietary, hands sliding casually around Todoroki’s shoulders, grazing his collarbone and neck. It’s the most touch Hagakure has seen her stoic classmate accept from anyone.
“Did it work?” the corpse drawls, and Hagakure’s blood turns to ice. She does recognize the man after all.
Todoroki — is it really Todoroki, and not an imposter, a fake? — narrows his eyes. Hagakure holds herself very still.
“This is definitely UA,” maybe-Todoroki says. “The where is right. But when—”
“Begone, villain!” Iida cries from somewhere else in the room. Midoriya leaps overhead, wreathed in green lightning, Dark Shadow in close pursuit.
The expression that passes over Todoroki’s face is so fast she barely sees it. “The when is also right,” Todoroki says.
Dabi laughs. “Did you all actually used to play heroes and villains? That’s so cute. Shouto, we should play, too— I’ll be the hero, you can be the villain.” He tugs at a lock of Todoroki’s white hair; Todoroki bats away the hand like it’s nothing.
“Concentrate, Touya,” says Todoroki, and the shock of hearing her classmate address a villain by what is presumably his given name is enough to snap Hagakure out of her own distracted horror; she takes off towards the exit. Aizawa-sensei and All Might will fix the situation, she tells herself. Whatever the situation even is.
###
“Don’t attack!” Todoroki says, and shoves himself in front of Dabi. He throws up a wall of ice that shatters under the force of Bakugou’s explosions. “He’s—not well. He can’t fight back.”
“Okay, and?” Bakugou says acidly. “That’s ideal.”
Midoriya, who has also predictably found his way to the center of the drama, says, “Kacchan, wait. Something weird is going on.”
“Obviously,” sneers Bakugou, and aims another blast at Todoroki, who deflects it. “That’s probably the vampire girl over there disguised as Icyhot.”
“But it doesn’t look like Todoroki-kun,” says Midoriya. “He looks—taller. Skinnier? That’s not how Toga’s quirk works. She can’t fake that.”
Aizawa has seen enough. He activates his quirk, lets his scarves hover. “What exactly is going on here?”
Todoroki rushes back to check Dabi for injuries. “I did not do all this for you to die on me now,” he fusses. “Touya…”
Dabi steps back, waves off the concern. “I’m fine, Shouto. You’ve got other problems.”
Aizawa watches this, incredulous.
“Is no one going to arrest them?” says Bakugou. “How the fuck are the alarms not going off right now?”
A crash of ice. Todoroki— the original, almost-definitely real Todoroki —has also landed, with several of his classmates. Midoriya’s right, Aizawa notes internally. Looking at them in the same view, the new one does look different, as does the villain behind him. The potential imposter glances at the real Todoroki, then looks directly at Aizawa.
“You can call me Shouto if you want to differentiate,” he says. “I’m from the future.”
###
“Well,” Shouto amends, “not your future anymore, now that I’m here disrupting the timeline. I have… warnings.”
“How can we trust that you’re truly who you say you are?” says Aizawa.
“Carbon-date me, for all I care. I’m physically seventeen, a few months from my next birthday. I’ll tell you more if you call Recovery Girl to treat him.”
Yaoyorozu interjects, a little hesitant, “You can’t carbon-date living people…”
Shouto blinks at her before he turns back to Aizawa. “Get the kids out of here as well. They don’t need to hear this.”
“Proof,” Aizawa stresses, though he’s relieved there’s no intention of harming any of his students. If this is a plot, it’s certainly more subtle and bizarre than anything the League has tried in the past. Time travel…
“Call Recovery Girl!” Shouto snaps, eyes flashing. “He could drop dead at any second. I am Todoroki Shouto, for all the good that’s gotten me. Proof, what proof — something only I would know, that can’t be faked? The scar is from my mother. Boiling water. The phone call. Half an accident.”
Aizawa doesn’t know what his face does in response to this.
“That doesn’t count,” younger-Todoroki says, uncomfortable and displeased but not denying it. “It’s on my medical record. And her medical records too, probably.” It’s certainly not on any record Aizawa has seen, but he does recall that the kid’s mother is in the hospital.
Dabi says, rolling his eyes, “Give them something normal. Standard. They’re obviously not ready to hear anything else yet.”
Shouto says slowly, “Normal?”
“What did you tell me when I was upset about Eri, that one time?” Midoriya asks suddenly.
Shouto startles, then smiles slightly in a very Todoroki-esque expression. “Overhaul, right? It seems so long ago. I know what you’re talking about. I said… Even heroes must cry sometimes, I think.”
Midoriya turns to Aizawa. “I don’t think anyone else would know that.” Iida nods jerkily in agreement.
“Not that this isn’t all very touching,” Dabi says, then crumples before he can finish.
###
“There’s a lot of damage that I can’t touch,” Recovery Girl says bluntly. “He’ll survive, but he’s had the wounds too long for me to undo it easily. It’ll take time… and many of his injuries are permanent.”
Tension visibly seeps out of Shouto. “But he’ll be fine, right?”
“He is no longer in danger of immediate death,” Recovery Girl says carefully. “The quirk injures him, doesn’t it? Over-exertion is still a risk. Did you bring him back just for this?”
“Well, it’s not like there are so many healing quirks of your caliber left nowadays,” Shouto says. “Yes. I could’ve come alone, but I didn’t. I wanted to save him. I’ve lost enough people already.”
“You promised answers,” reminds Aizawa. They’ve separated from the class, who have been sent to the dorms for lunch. Recovery Girl has begrudgingly pushed a cot for Dabi into a soundproof meeting room on the fourth floor staff section. Aizawa has notified Nedzu, Hizashi, and Midnight, but they’ve yet to arrive. He doesn’t feel bad about establishing some context first. “Why exactly is the villain Dabi one of your… people?”
He’s not really looking forward to the answer— the emergence of this time traveller makes Aizawa feel like he’s failed his student on several levels. He isn’t blind to the way Dabi looks at Shouto: half-resentful, half-wanting. The way Shouto looks at Dabi is even worse.
Now Shouto looks at Aizawa like he’s surprised to even hear the question, as if it’s a given that he’s so attached to a villain’s well-being. Can Aizawa trust a boy who’s obviously devoted to a known criminal? But Shouto acts like he expects to be accepted by UA, with no detectable shame or hedging whatsoever. This is the behavior of someone bargaining with allies, not with enemies. It’s baffling. What happens in the future, if this is the result, if Aizawa believes that the boy in front of him really is Todoroki Shouto telling the truth?
“I thought it would’ve been obvious, but I guess it’s still early,” Shouto says. “There was a time when I would’ve tried to put him in jail no matter what. But things are going to get really weird, really fast.”
###
“There’s no way, right? There’s no way Todoroki is shacking up with that psycho?”
“Well, I didn’t want to say it…”
“Time travel is so rare… I wonder what the future’s like. Or does it not count anymore?”
“The future looks bad.”
“I bet it’s something really dramatic between them. Love-hate, right? Big showy fights. Fire quirk competition or something.”
“Doesn’t Dabi have that thing against Endeavor?”
“Don’t be gross.”
“I didn’t say anything!”
Midoriya slips out of the common room easily. His classmates are noisy. On another day, he might stay with them for the duration of their lunch period. Today, Midoriya goes to find his friend.
“Can I join you?”
“Are you going to judge me for a future that’s not going to happen anymore?”
“I— don’t think so?”
Todoroki sighs. “You can stay. It’s not like I understand it either.”
But Midoriya doesn’t sit down next to him. “I have a question. Shouto — the older you, I mean — he called Dabi Touya. I don’t think you heard it. Does that name— uh, you’re starting to smoke—”
###
“When you say war, do you mean metaphorically or literally?”
Shouto’s mouth twists. “All for One didn’t have… troops, per se. But there are villains to watch out for, and Nomus. They’ll be released, either to cause mass public destruction or incite riots. Shigaraki’s power evolves significantly.”
“Casualties?” asks Midnight.
He avoids meeting her eyes. “You, Toga, and Twice are the most prominent figures to die. Hundreds of civilians. The rest of us were lucky enough to get away with serious injuries. The top ten is decimated: only Miruko, Mt. Lady, and Jeanist are still combat-ready. But we made do.” A pause; his eyes glaze over. “Do you know what the worst thing was? We won. Midoriya had gotten through to Shigaraki Tomura — I suppose he didn’t much like being possessed either — and it was going to be over. Finally. So of course that was the part when everything just got so much worse.”
“What happened?”
“An unexpected failsafe. A final fuck you from beyond the grave. Do you remember Trigger?”
“You can’t be serious.”
Shouto smiles humorlessly. “It didn’t kill everyone, if that’s what you’re wondering. It wasn’t the same chemical from before — this was prolonged. A manufactured plague, a disease… Whatever was left of the national infrastructure immediately collapsed. Foreign aid is sparse; no one wants to run the risk of letting Trigger spread again. We’ve been getting immunity, but maybe you can understand how the distinction of hero and villain is ridiculous at this point. The law no longer exists. Tartarus is open. A third of the population is dead.”
“Great. Fantastic. How do we stop it?”
Nedzu says, “I’m sure you have ideas, Todoroki Shouto, but what does he want?” Nedzu inclines his head in the direction of the unconscious Dabi. “You brought him here to save him, but he doesn’t want to be saved. Why did he allow it?”
Shouto’s eyes widen. There’s something terrible in his voice when he says, “I shouldn’t expect any less from someone of such renown.”
When Shouto stands up, Aizawa acts on instinct: his scarves hover, his quirk activities, stopping Shouto from—what? Attacking them?
Shouto raises an eyebrow at the obvious show of mistrust; Aizawa refuses to feel guilty, and refuses to back down.
“It’s not as bad as you think,” Shouto says eventually. “Just one person, and he doesn’t even have to die. Touya and I made a bargain. I’ll try to save this universe from what happens to us, but he wants Endeavor.”
###
Conversationally, Nemuri says, “I don’t really want to die.”
They’re smoking through a window where the students can’t see them. Well, Nemuri and Eraser are sharing a cig; Mic, ever conscious of his voice, frowns and waves away the clouds of smoke. Nedzu has gone off, presumably to plot, and Dabi and Todoroki Shouto have been left to their own dubious devices under the watchful eye of the security camera. Eraserhead, Present Mic, and Midnight have seen a lot of strange things in their time together as UA teachers, but this might be the strangest. Nemuri likes her coworkers, thinks Eraserhead and Present Mic are sort of cute, but she’s never shaken the feeling of being a third wheel. She remembers what they used to be like with Shirakumo Oboro, but that boy is dead and Nemuri is the graft that didn’t quite take. Still, there’s some sort of bond between them; it’s nights like these that cements it.
Eraser takes a long drag, passes the cigarette back to her. “What makes you think Todoroki is telling the truth?”
Mic says, “Shinsou Hitoshi could probably verify their story, but I don’t want to involve a first year with a potential version of his own classmate. We should call the detective with the truth quirk before they leave.”
Nemuri sighs. The whole situation is a mess, not least because Todoroki Shouto has apparently imprinted on a man with a body count. “When are they leaving? Should we update the rest of the staff?”
“All Might already knows,” Eraserhead says. “And he has an in with Tsukauchi. We’ll wait for Nedzu’s discretion for the rest. If I had to guess, I think we’ll tell them after our… visitors… return to their own time.”
“Another question,” says Mic. “What the hell are we supposed to tell Endeavor? He’s the Number One Hero. It’ll be a disaster no matter what if we just… let Dabi at him. I mean. We know the man has some sort of scheme, if High End meant anything. How do we change everything else without changing that?”
“I’ve never liked Todoroki Enji, and I like him even less having glimpsed the clearly troubled relationship he has with his kid,” Aizawa says. “And they don’t even want him dead. Would it be so bad if his reputation took a hit? I hate this as much as you, but we have to prioritize.”
That’s not the problem; Aizawa doesn’t get it. Underground heroes rarely do. And Eraserhead, for all that he teaches at the most high-profile hero school in the nation, is so deep underground he’s passed through the earth’s crust and is now hitting magma. He doesn’t even like All Might. Nemuri and Yamada —who are both very, very public heroes, whose careers are half real competence, half reputation— exchange a look. Endeavor is the Number One Hero… and god help them all, that title means quite a lot in their hero-obsessed society.
“The whole thing disturbs me,” continues Eraser, oblivious. “Why Todoroki Shouto, of all people? Who sent him— or did he send himself? And the fact that he drags Dabi along— is that meant to motivate us to listen?”
Mic groans. “The last known time travel quirk died decades ago, and she was under heavy surveillance her entire life. How on earth did they even find someone to send them years back? I just… I can’t wrap my mind around the fact that it’s Todoroki. I would’ve been less surprised by Midoriya. And Dabi? I feel like we need to have a talk with our students about inappropriate relationships.”
The Todoroki-Dabi thing is almost funny, in a horrible way that isn’t really funny at all. And Nemuri is the kind of person who knows something about power and control, though she doesn’t particularly want to consider it in the context of the fifteen-year-old kid she teaches history to on Wednesdays.
“It’s always the quiet ones,” she says, and remembers vaguely that she doesn’t really like her life.
###
“The deal’s off,” Shouto says, avoiding eye contact.
Touya scowls at his younger brother, propped up against the wall near the cot. The expression feels strange on Touya’s face; bizarrely painless, for one thing. He hadn’t quite understood the constant and unavoidable ache that permeated his bones, the normal twinges of moving, the blood that gathered in his staples, through his scars— until it was gone. He was numb for so long to physical sensation. Now that he’s been through treatment with one of the best healing quirks in Japan — he almost misses the blankness. He lived in pain so long he got used to it; the lack of burden disturbs him deeply.
“You’re such a bad hero,” Touya responds eventually. “Does your word mean anything?”
“That’s not why, it just doesn’t make sense. How long are we going to stay here, Touya? Do you really want to mastermind Endeavor’s downfall again? While your alternate self tries the same thing? I can make deals with you, but why would the UA staff ever follow through?”
Touya scoffs. “You think Endeavor’s long-lasting presence can change the tide of this war for the better? Not while I’m still alive. They’d be idiots to try to protect the old man with the scandal that’s coming.”
Shouto closes his eyes. “He’s their Number One Hero.”
“He’s our father. Why the hell can’t his children have a say in what happens to him? Fuck, why can’t his wife?”
“Don’t pretend you care.”
“Fine, she was useless, as were the rest of you idiots. I’m the only one who ever wanted to actually do anything about this piece of shit. So why won’t you let me?”
Something strange passes over Shouto’s face, and Touya regrets the words as soon as he says them. Since when has he ever needed Shouto’s permission?
Shouto says, “He was trying to change. In our timeline. Before he died. You know this.”
Touya laughs, the sound brittle. “Of course I do. That’s what made it so satisfying to rip him apart… too little, too late. Enji should feel guilty for what he’s done. He should feel like he’s dying, like he’s in hell. Do you think he would’ve ever figured any of it out if he stayed in All Might’s shadow forever? No! He should live in agony forever, as far as I’m concerned.”
Shouto’s eyes flash. “I don’t care about him anymore, I care about you!”
They’ve moved closer at some point. Touya reaches out and places his hand on the left side of Shouto’s face; Enji’s side, red hair blue eyes the scar. Shouto doesn’t flinch away from the touch, only glares through his lashes, but his blazing eyes go uncertain when Touya swipes out the thin orange flame that’s lit on the edge of Shouto’s cheekbone.
“We’re Endeavor’s sons, Shouto,” Touya murmurs. Shouto’s skin is burning to the touch. “That’s all we are. It’s all we’ll ever be. Even when the world’s blown up.”
For a second, Touya thinks that he has him — that Shouto will sigh, lean into Touya’s touch, accept the truth. But that wouldn’t be very much like Shouto. What happens is this: Shouto’s right hand darts up, fast, and encases Touya’s wrist in a thick cuff of opaque ice. Touya hisses at the freezing cold, the cuff melting quickly into steam, and in the same breath reacts instinctively, kicking out at Shouto in an effort to counter.
Shouto steps out of range easily, movements confident and untroubled.
Touya snarls, and moves to lunge again when he sees the faint particles of frost moving between them. The viciousness fades as fast as it came; Touya stares blankly at the ice he clumsily flung out at his brother. He knew, of course, but…
“You’re wrong,” Shouto says. “We’re more than just his sons. We’re something else, too. Fuyumi, Natsuo, even Mom… they were right and we were wrong. There’s more to life than chasing his ghost on the battlefield.” His voice breaks. “Touya.”
Touya’s eyes are closed. He tips his head back, drags his hands down his newly-stitched face. He can feel it— the dual quirk they share, fire and ice. Hot and cold. He had known, of course, ever since the fateful battle with Endeavor before Trigger destroyed whatever was remaining of Japan. But it had all been so desperate at that point: pure fury, concentrated rage… he had only been able to access the ice quirk because his body was at its limit. Only at death’s door could Touya reach out and grasp the power he always coveted, that perfect balance. Or so he thought.
Now Touya stands, healed of his greatest agonies, three years in the past, in the hero school he never attended, fire and ice thrumming in his veins. All these impossible things, everything inside out and upside down.
If Touya concentrates, he can even feel phosphor again.
###
The problem of Endeavor remains. As per usual, it falls to Shouto to decide what to do about it.
He had come to this time with the expectation of keeping his word to Touya; Touya’s survival in exchange for Endeavor’s ruin. It had seemed such an easy choice at the time—but then again, in Shouto’s time, Enji is already dead.
It comes down to how willing UA is to let Shouto keep his secrets — and how sure Shouto is of his decision to stay true to his initial plan.
You’re such a bad hero, Touya had said, and Shouto hadn’t argued the point. He doesn’t think of himself as much of a hero nowadays, aspiring or otherwise. His word isn’t worth much, whatever his brother thinks of it.
Before travelling back in time, Shouto prepared significantly. His memory of the events of the war were faulty and incomplete; for a better, more useful picture, he had collaborated with Midoriya, Uraraka, Yaoyorozu, and Hawks on information from prominent battles, the League’s movements, Shigaraki’s past, Midoriya’s quirk, and suspected Trigger manufacturers. Shouto’s experience had mostly concerned Touya, in those days; but the deal means that if Shouto lets Touya have Endeavor, he can’t share that information.
Any hero who received word of Touya’s plans would be obligated to thwart them. (There was a reason why they had decided on going to UA instead of the HPSC.) So Shouto had written up his file on Dabi and then carefully removed it from the overall dossier, with the intention of never using it. To let Endeavor fall.
But he hadn’t burned it, only separated it and still brought the information with him. Why?
Shouto’s feelings on his father are, at this point, less complex than they are nonexistent. His father is dead, not even killed by Touya, but by the end of the war. This younger version of Enji — he could be useful to them, he had not been a top hero for nothing, he could help. He was trying to change. But… Shouto didn’t care one way or another. There was something about his indifference towards his father, once the center of his world, which made Shouto feel mildly evil. He missed the righteous hatred he once felt towards the man, the same burning that Touya still had. But despite Shouto’s best efforts, he had never come to any strong conclusion on how to feel about Enji — and then soon enough, feelings in general were irrelevant. People were dying, the very fabric of society was in collapse, and eventually Enji himself was dead and Touya somehow wasn’t and Shouto had a whole new set of problems which had little to do with his prior life.
There was no going back. Shouto knows this, the same way he knows that he would be tied to Touya for the rest of his life in a way that would probably supersede everything else. And yet Shouto has come back. The future will be different, just not for Shouto. The country has a chance of salvation, just not Shouto’s country.
Bakugou was right: time travel is such a bitch.
Shouto presses his fingers to his temples, turns his quirk to all ice, cool against his aching head. It’s natural, nowadays, to use his quirk from any part of his body, no longer limited by the old dichotomy of right side ice, left side fire. He’s supposed to give the dossier tomorrow. He has already told them that he won’t give them Dabi’s information. He could simply stick to that plan. Why is Shouto hesitating? Does he just really want to piss off Touya, in both timelines?
Is Shouto still a hero? Has he ever been?
We’re something else, he had told Touya. Shouto’s still certain of that, but he wishes he had a better idea of what something else meant.
His younger self, Shouto reflects, was very innocent. It was almost enough to make Shouto envious of the life he would never get to live. If the war hadn’t broken the world, Shouto would be in his third year of UA: instead of organizing on the streets, he would take classes; instead of dragging his older brother around like a dog on a leash, he would visit Touya’s cell or grave; instead of making every painful decision on his own, he would be forced to submit to UA’s systems. Shouto knows he’s romanticizing it — he prefers to keep Touya alive and well and close, all things considered, and Shouto had chafed under UA’s authority even at fifteen. But it all seems so much easier.
If he keeps his word to Touya, Enji will probably die horribly in this new timeline. If he tells UA about Dabi’s plans, the younger Touya could come to ruin. But who could possibly calculate those probabilities, play games with life or death? Shouto abruptly feels very tired.
It’s so telling that you never even thought about informing UA that he was beating you up, Touya told Shouto once.
Shouto closes his eyes. He doesn’t want to make this decision. He knows he has to make this decision. Often he hates Touya and Endeavor both. He misses his mother, Fuyumi, Natsuo. Shouto can only hope they survive this timeline.
An image of his alternate self on the training ground rises to the surface of his mind. Had Shouto really looked like that — so round-cheeked, awkward, naive? Shouto feels a strange rush of tenderness towards his younger self. It hadn’t been his fault. What has Shouto ever done so wrong, other than commit the crime of being born? He hadn’t asked for any of it.
He slips the Dabi file back into the dossier. UA can do whatever they want.
Shouto’s betraying Touya with this decision, but it feels more forgivable, maybe, because it’s not to save Enji. It has nothing to do with Enji at all. Shouto wants, against all reason, the chance to save himself.
###
The visitors intend to leave a week later after days in meeting rooms with the UA staff and the detective. Aizawa is almost relieved to see them gone, though he knows Nedzu would’ve preferred a longer period of time to grill them. Aizawa doesn’t think Dabi knows what Shouto has done. Knowing that they’re brothers has certainly put various aspects of their relationship into perspective, but it also makes other aspects worse.
Aizawa has been strictly limiting Class 1-A’s exposure to the time travellers, but he suspects that their curiosity will reach a tipping point soon. The faster Shouto and Dabi leave, the better. The question of how — if it was even possible to send them back — was a concern; Shouto had assured them that he had agreed with his timeline to recollect in a week at a specific time.
“They won’t miss the pick-up unless something catastrophic happens,” Dabi says. “Shouto’s little girlfriend wouldn’t dare leave him here.”
The corner of Todoroki Shouto’s mouth lifts. “Jealous?” he asks.
Dabi bares his teeth.
Aizawa counts the minutes internally, his right eye twitching.
There are five minutes to the designated time when Class 1-A barges in. Aizawa stands up and erases all their quirks. He stares at All Might, standing behind them and wringing his hands. “You had one job,” Aizawa says.
“Sensei, we heard they were leaving today, and we didn’t even get to ask them anything!”
“Every single one of you is getting detention for the rest of the year. Are simple instructions completely beyond you?”
“Ask away,” Dabi says. “Who better to talk about the future than the last Todorokis?”
Kaminari says disgustedly, “You’re married?”
Bakugou makes an inarticulate sound of rage. “They’re related, dumbass!” Neither he, nor Midoriya, nor the younger Todoroki appear surprised. Aizawa hadn’t wanted to give Class A any information, who knows how they learn anything on their own. He’s going to have to give them all a long talk about pertinent information to tell your teachers, since clearly none of them know.
The older Todoroki Shouto looks confused. “What did you think was going on?”
The collective expression on his students' faces defies description.
Dabi — Todoroki Touya — bent over laughing, clutching his stomach as he wheezes. “This is better than anything I could’ve planned on purpose. I wish we could… wow, I wish we could go to another timeline just to experience this again…”
Shouto’s eyes dart between his brother, Aizawa, and his former classmates before he visibly gives up. “It’s time,” he says instead, and it is.
Through the rising voices of twenty students talking amongst themselves, Shouto stands up, grabs Dabi by the wrist. He looks at Aizawa one last time; Aizawa, remembering the dossier, and the rush of guilt he felt at reading it, inclines his head. Shouto nods back, almost imperceptible, and says, “Good luck.”
And then they’re gone. Time travel, as it turns out, is not a very flashy quirk.
The room quiets again when Class 1-A realizes what’s happened. Aizawa makes to leave the room, shouldering past an All Might who tries to tell him something, possibly an apology. Aizawa ignores it.
“I don’t care what happens in the future,” Todoroki Shouto says, his voice faint but audible, the last thing Aizawa hears. “Endeavor can deal with it.”
Aizawa grimaces as he thinks ahead. Endeavor will certainly deal with a lot in the coming months, if all of the given intel is accurate — but he doesn’t think his student will be able to avoid the fallout in this timeline either. Aizawa and his colleagues will certainly try their hands at mitigation.
Good luck. They’ll need it.