Kaminari walks up to Todoroki in the hallway after class and says, “Dude, I need your help.” Todoroki checks over his shoulder, twice, to verify that Kaminari is indeed talking to him. “Why?” “Yesterday you asked Shinsou-kun if he was Aizawa-sensei’s son,” Kaminari says, as though that explains anything at all. “...yes?” “Make a hero conspiracy YouTube channel with me.”

Shouta’s plan had been ill-defined and desperate from the start, but he figures the important shit boiled down to, “Change as little as possible, make sure Midoriya doesn’t get himself killed, and stock up on lychee jelly pouches because that flavor got discontinued three years from now.” Keeping it simple’s always better, and he’s normally good at improvising. Somewhere along the way, he must’ve fucked up since now he has: A quirkless problem child hanging off of his every word His best friend going through a sexuality crisis thanks to said problem child’s mom His other best friend clinging to him like a security blanket Some two-bit mob boss threatening him with bouquets of daffodils To wring the number one hero’s fucking neck for not telling him anything useful before sending him decades into the past All he did was walk Izuku Midoriya home. It wasn’t meant to turn into whatever mess this is.

For most people, dying and waking up in your eight-year-old body is a second chance at life. For Dabi, it is a chance to make his shitty father’s life a living hell. Or: Dabi sucks at this whole time travelling thing. In his defence though, there’s really not much a kid can do in the grand scheme of things… or so he thought.