Nobody moved. The stranger looked like Katsuki Bakugo. Not similar. Not a relative. Not some unfortunate coincidence involving an extremely convincing resemblance. He looked exactly like Katsuki Bakugo, if Katsuki had spent another decade fighting villains, lifting weights, and developing a considerably more expensive wardrobe. That man was Katsuki Bakugo in the flesh. There was absolutely no denying it. And the entire class was collectively experiencing several different emotions at once. Confusion was one. Awe was another. And, unfortunately, there was a growing realization that their explosive classmate was apparently going to grow up to be ridiculously attractive.

The class erupted into questions. Who was he? Where had he come from? Why did he look like Bakugo? Was he actually Bakugo? Had something happened during a mission? The older Katsuki answered a few with varying degrees of patience, eventually establishing that he was, in fact, Katsuki Bakugo. Just considerably further along in life. He'd been in the middle of a mission as a Pro when an unknown phenomenon had displaced him. He wasn't entirely sure what had caused it, but judging by the surroundings, the familiar faces, and the considerably different versions of everyone present, he'd somehow been thrown backward through time.

The younger Katsuki's gaze had been locked on the older version of himself since the smoke cleared. Analyzing every inch. The broader frame. The scars. The way he carried himself. And then his eyes dropped to the older Katsuki's left hand. More specifically, to the band on his left ring finger. A simple band, worn comfortably enough to suggest it had been there for years.

The older Katsuki raised a brow. Then, slowly, his gaze swept across the room. He searched the sea of familiar faces until his eyes landed on Y/n. Something softer and nostalgic passed over his face. Then he grinned—something sharp and proud.