Blood dripped down his hand onto the floor, adding to the slowly growing puddle. He looked around the destroyed warehouse, showing the aftermath of the fight.

The body a few feet away from him.

He had been there for a couple hours now, unable to move, foot caught in the beam because of how he fell into it. Unable to move, slowly going numb as the gash going from just above his right hip to the lower part of his neck kept bleeding.

He looked to his left, where he could see the sun slowly rising, lighting up the night sky.

He has always loved the sunrise. It always brought him peace, with how he always watched it before heading back home.

The sunlight hit his skin, and it started sizzling- just slightly, and enough to be felt, but experience made it to where he hardly noticed it happening.

He supposed he could reminisce, spend his last moments reminiscing, enjoying the memories he's made, but.

No.

It would be better to spend it in this peaceful atmosphere. The rookie mistake that led him here was at least at the end of the fight, so he could at least enjoy his victory, however pyrrhic it was.

The sun covered his entire lower body now, the skin of his exposed ankles to his mid shin, from where his pant legs slid down, slowly starting to bubble.

It was too bad he couldn't reach the floor.

He looked up- or, well, down,- at the puddle that was a rather good size.

He was kinda sad that he didn't get to say goodbye, but he has had time to mourn- not that he actually did- so it didn't have as much impact.

He supposed it doesn't matter in the end.

Izuku Midoriya closed his eyes


When he opens his eyes, it's to the poster of All Might above his bed.

It's been a while since he had anything of All Might.

Or any type of bed, really.

Or room.

That begs the question though, where the hell is he?

"MORNING IS HERE! MORNING IS HERE! M-"

He smashed the alarm clock.

You're kidding.

He got up and walked across the hallway to the bathroom and looked into the mirror.

Why does he look twelve.

He booked it back to his room, and spent ten minutes looking for his phone- it was on the side table- and powered it on.

May 12th, 2165

Probably because he is twelve, then.

What the hell happened to seven fucking years of my life?

He sat up and booked it to his mothers room, and threw the door open, to see cobwebs.

So she already left then,

He walked into the living room, opened the blinds while standing in the shadow, and stuck his hand into the sunlight.

Nothing.

What?

He remembered that he couldn't be in sunlight, though he couldn't remember why, his memory was getting fuzzier since he woke up like it was a drea-

No.

He tried to remember what else he could do, and remembered something.

He ran to a closet, shut the door, and turned off the light.

He couldn't see.

Izuku sobbed.

Since he discovered that seven fucking years of his life was a dream, he's been sitting in the closet, unmoving, with his head between his knees.

He's been there for hours at least.

Whenever his stomach starts to growl, he starts combing through the cabinets looking for something to eat.

Nothing.

Before he started selling analysis then.

He went to his room and booted up his desktop computer- with which he wasn't using the neighbor's WIFI without them knowing, thankyouverymuch , and started up a new doc, as he had not yet gotten good software.

He started with a basic analysis for Eraserhead, the person that he started his analysis through in his dream.

He wrote simple stuff, like the fact that he should probably tie his hair down, how he might be able to use mirrors in his goggles to widen his peripherals and not only avoid more sneak attacks, but have better targeting for his quirk, a misting system to spray eye drops into his eyes every quarter minute or so, or maybe even manually activated, and stuff like that.

He sent it to his work email, as he didn't know how well he would take to having it sent to his personal one, and waited.

He didn't have to wait long. After about four hours, he received a thank you from Eraser, who asked him if he was a professional.

He wasn't, of course, so he went and became one.

All he had to do was do an online exam and received his certificate, which he wasn't required to use his real name for, so he used the name he used in his dream.

Stranger.

He sent the certificate through email to Eraser, and a few hours later was asked about his rates.

And that's how he got his income.


After a few months, he started realizing something.

Things that were happening in his dream were happening here.

The first thing he did was freak the fuck out, because how was that possible.

The second was invest in stocks, but that doesn't count.

The second that does count was to google different things and send warnings, even though he knew it was unlikely to be believed.

He doesn't really remember much, with how his memory has been fading, but he makes do with what he can.

He finished his online schooling a month before, so now he only has to wait for the UA exams.

He can't wait.