Chapter Text
Pain.
That’s all Denki feels as he wakes up. His brain felt as if it had been bashed in with a crowbar. His throat felt like a desert. And his body felt heavy as if his very bones were made out of lead. Denki let out a groan as he slowly began to pick himself off the dirty ground. He breathed in desperately, taking in huge gulps of air.
What was happening?
Where was he?
“Denki? Denki!”
Someone was calling his name, he thought sluggishly as he laid motionless on the ground.
“Denki!”
There the voice was again. He wondered who it was. No one called him by his first name anymore. It had been to dangerous ever since-
“Denk?! Where are you?”
The voice was panicked and young. It sounded familiar to Denki but at the same time almost like a dream from so long ago.
“Oh Kami! Denki, are you okay?”
Someone’s hands grabbed him, picking him off the ground. He groaned, trying to stand properly. The world was blurry as it spun around him, but the arms held him steady.
“Denki?” He met her eyes. And it felt like the wind had been knocked out of his lungs.
It was Jirou. Just a few inches from him. She looked worried. She looked young. Exactly how she had looked back during their first days of school. There were no scars on his face. Or blood- so much blood, too much blood for someone to lose, to survive- on her face. He touched her face with his hand. And nearly choked on his own tears.
She felt solid. She felt real.
Alive.
He couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. All he could do was stare up at one of his best friends in the world, who had been taken too soon. But she was here.
Alive but broken. Dead but here. Solid but gone.
What was happening? He was hallucinating. He had to be hallucinating, right?
He finally looked around at his surroundings. It looked like he was at the USJ. But that couldn’t be, he frowned, the USJ and the rest of UA had been burnt the wrong years ago. The walls had been torn down and everything had been burnt. It provoked the fear that All For One had always wanted. It was the start of his and LOV’s reign. The beginning of the end.
But here it was. Unscorched and unbloodied. Entirely untouched. Everything was just as he remembered it being all those years ago when he was fifteen. A hero hopeful who was naive to the ways of the world.
“Is he alright?” Another voice rang out, bringing Denki back to reality (Well as real as possible. He still wasn’t completely sure what was happening).
“Momo,” Denki rasped. And there she was. Only a foot away from him. The same steady and calm leader she always was. Except, just like Jirou, she was younger. Her shoulders were slumped and she had a fearful expression on her face. She was wearing that horrible outfit that she had worn during their first year of UA. There was no burn scar on her cheek. No eyebags or cold facade. It was just Momo.
“Don’t move too much,” Momo told him as she took him out of Jirou’s grasp. “I think you overused your quirk, taking down that villain.”
“What villain?”
Momo, Jirou, Villain, USJ. Why did that sound familiar?
“Whu’ ‘appened?” Denki winced as Momo sat him down and began to examine him for injuries.
“We need to find the rest of the class.” Jirou ignored him.
“We can’t just leave him here!”
Jirou, Momo, Villain, USJ-
Denki felt a shiver go down his spine. It couldn’t be! Could it?
He was back at USJ
His thoughts raced. How was he here? He must be under the effect of a memory quirk or something. Something that was making him relive past events. Something that brought him 12 years back in time to when everything was easy. Back to when everyone was happy, and smiley, and alive. He was a kid again (though he had stopped being a kid long before he was 18). He was first year at UA again.
'And so is everyone else,' Denki froze.
USJ. First Year. Aizawa. All Might. Nomu.
It might not have happened yet. He might still have time.
Denki could feel his blood roaring in his ears as he shrugged Momo off. He winced as he stood. He must have brushed a rib. He could hear Momo and Jirou trying to talk to him, but their words were background noise to the mantra of names he was repeating in his head. The mantra of those that were lost. Those who couldn’t be saved. Who didn’t get proper funeral rights. Whose bodies couldn’t be identified and found in the wreckage that they’d staked their life on.
JirouKodaMidoriya
He began to run.
AoyamaSatouTodoroki
He didn’t want to relive this. He remembered that first time feeling of terror and powerlessness (though those feelings had become his drinking buddies by now) He wished that he could rest. That the world would stop burning. Stop demanding to be saved. Stop breaking. Denki just wanted to rest. To sleep.
Sometimes he wished he never decided to be a hero.
UrarakaYamadaSero
But if there was a chance, he could save them.
Whether this was time travel or hallucination. Denki had a chance. He had a choice. One he could use to change things for the better. To fix and undo every trauma and scar before it happened. To redo everything. And give his loved ones (his family, his friends, his classmates) a chance to live.
That was worth any death awaiting him.
BakugouKirishimaMina
Denki ran all the way to where the center plaza of USJ was. The only thing registering was the drumming sound in his mind.
RedoRedoRedoRedoRedoRedoRedoRedoRedoRedo
And Denki didn’t stop running till the plaza was in sight. He could see Nomu holding Aizawa, broken and bleeding down. He remembered how it had felt when he was fifteen to see his teacher be carted off in an ambulance.
He could see Tsuyu, Midoriya, and Mineta cowering in a small stream. They were so young and so terrified. And it broke Denki’s heart to know that the future would just get harder. And the villains would only become scarier. They would never grow up as normal kids. Being dragged into a war, planned years before they were even born.
They all never stood a chance.
RedoRedoRedoRedoRedoRedoRedoRedoRedoRedo.
But what Denki really zeroed in on. The one person who made his blood run cold, and a shiver run up his spine even now. Denki could recognize him anywhere. His hair was still more of a blue color, and he still had those detached hands all over his body.
Shigaraki Tomura
All For One’s right-hand man.
The person who caused so much pain, so many nightmares, and who shed so much innocent blood (his friends’ blood) just for fun. Denki had never hated a man more.
All Shigaraki caused was chaos and destruction
Just like how he destroyed Shoji’s arm.
Uraraka’s hand.
Iida’s leg.
Yamada’s chest.
Mina’s throat
Kirishima’s head.
And the building that would crush Bakugou to death.
Shigaraki enjoyed every minute of torturing and killing. He felt joy with every shedding of blood, every cry of pain, every scream. But Denki had a chance to fix things. To stop them from ever occurring. For while Shigaraki had always been a strong opponent, right now his powers are at its weakest. Right now, he is most vulnerable. Now he is an easy target.
Never again would that man, that monster hurt another person.
Never again would his hands touch another soul.
Shigaraki Tomura would finally pay for what he’s done.
RedoRedoRedoRedoRedoRedoRedo
Shigaraki began to make his way towards Tsuyu and Midoriya. Denki rushed towards him. With every step, his body seemed to fill itself with more and more electricity. Flooding and coursing through his veins. Just begging to be released. Denki got closer and closer. Ducking and wounding through the crowd of villainous thugs surrounding Shigaraki. Never taking his eye off of his target.
‘Just a little more,’ He thought. The electricity in him made his heart thump louder and his entire brain to buzz.
He was only a few feet away from Shigaraki.
Shigaraki saw him out of the corner of his eye.
“Nomu-”
But it was too late. He never got to finish that sentence. Denki leapt towards Shigaraki, reaching out his arm, making contact with Shigaraki’s chest.
RedOREDOREDOREDOREDOREDOREDOREDO
There was a flash of light.
An agonizing scream. As finally, after twelve years of work, training, practice, loss and grief, Denki Kaminari’s electricity finally found its way right into Shigaraki Tomura’s withered heart.
Denki was thrown back a few feet, nearly falling backwards. But he managed to stay on his feet. His brain felt fuzzy, and he could feel the Lichtenberg figures running up his arms. He was swaying slightly and there were black spots in his vision. All around him, Shigaraki’s thugs began to yell and cry out in shock, calling for a purple mist to take them away. They disappeared all around him- one by one.
But all he could see was in front of him, only a few feet away from him. The burning corpse of Shigaraki Tomura.
There were third-degree burns and blisters all over the body. The air smelled of ozone, and he could taste blood. And as he looked at the burning corpse of the villain who had made his life hell. For the first time, Denki truly realized that despite how monstrous of a person Shigaraki was, he was still exactly that- A person. Just like Denki.
Denki wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
Perhaps if he were a good hero, like All Might or Mr. Aizawa. He would feel bad about killing Shigaraki. He’d feel remorse for Shigaraki and sadness that he had to die even if it was for the greater good. But Denki wasn’t a good hero. He was a man in his late twenties, who never had a proper childhood or a chance to experience life. Never got to watch his friends grow up. He missed all of those life stones, all those moments. He never finished studying at U.A. cause it was burned with the rest of his childhood dreams. No. Kaminari Denki was not a good hero. He was instead more like a soldier, who had gone to war and lost to many times and had been forced to bury one too many friends. Denki felt no remorse for Shigaraki. No guilt or pity or empathy. No rage, joy or grief. Just a huge empty hole where his friends were supposed to be.
And he hopes that from wherever they are, his dead friends are looking down on him and feel Justice. Justice for the death of their murderer.
Kirishima Mina Sero Bakugou Jirou Midoriya Yamada Sato Koda Aoyama Todoroki Uraraka
Justice for all the survivors who would never be the same. With missing limbs, unhealing scars, and blank dead eyes.
Momo Tsuyu Shoji Tenya Ojiro Hagakure Tokoyami Aizawa Shinso Eri
Denki’s vision became blurry as he felt wet hot tears roll down his cheeks. He wished this was real. Wished that this changed things. Wished so desperately for a chance to remake the life he had had. He knew this wasn’t real. It couldn’t be real. But he would give anything so-
“Kaminari?” Denki felt a hesitant hand on his shoulder. He looked up (why was he on his knees?) at Midoriya whose vibrant green eyes were wide with fear (why was he scared? Shigaraki was dead-). “Is he dead?”
Midoriya. The strongest out of all their class, in both soul and mind. One of the first of Class 1-A to die. In a desperate attempt to stop All for One, he had faced the monster. All alone.
And it ended with All For One ripping his head off his body. Midoriya’s hero costume was then taken and put on display in All For One’s throne room, for all to see. When he died, most of the world’s hope died with him.
Because Midoriya Izuku was hope. He urged people on, a pillar of support. Never stopping, never looking back. Everything he did, every trial he faced, he faced it with a smile on his face and a never-wavering determination in his bones. He was a hero in every sense of the word.
And that was why he died first.
But here he was, three years younger than the age of his corpse forever. He was breathing. Alive. With no scars on his arms and legs yet. No broken bones. (No hole in his chest) This Midoriya had never seen such terrors, never witnessed such nightmares.
He was alive, and Shigaraki was not. And if there was any goodness in this universe, it would stay that way forever.
“I’m sorry Midoriya,” Denki finally said, his voice cracking ever so slightly as he looked back down at the corpse.
“For-for what?” Midoriya asked, the hand on Denki’s shoulder shaking violently.
“For not killing him sooner.”
Denki could see Tsuyu, Mineta and soon other classmates, classmates he hadn't seen outside a photograph in years. Their youthful faces both a nightmare and an assurance.
Alive but broken, Dead but here, Solid but gone.
‘I did it,’ he told them in his mind, not taking his eyes off the corpse. ‘I did it all for you,’