Please read this chapter on AO3 (google "git good ao3"). There are around 6,000 words of extra closure that can't be included here because FFN doesn't support bullet point lists.

Aizawa stood at the front of the class with his usual air of stern aloofness. "In preparation for the upcoming Sports Festival, we have an important class today." He gave a rare grin. "You will all be picking your hero names."

A cheer started to erupt among the students before being quickly and awkwardly silenced by Aizawa's glare.

He stared at them all for a few more moments, then continued, "Strictly speaking, these code names are temporary. You won't officially register your hero names until you earn your Provisional Hero Licenses in Year 2. However, these are the names you will use to introduce yourself to the world during the Sports Festival. Take this seriously, or—"

"—You'll have hell to pay later!" Midnight burst into the classroom with impeccable timing. "What you pick today could be your hero name for life. You better be careful, or you'll get stuck with something you regret."

"Midnight is going to have final approval over your names. Public relations is not my strong suit. Yes, shocking, I know," Aizawa drawled. "The name you give yourself is important. It helps reinforce your image and shows what kind of hero you want to be in the future. Your hero name tells the public what you represent. This is your first and best chance to control the narrative of your personal hero's journey."

Having concluded his rousing multi-second speech, Aizawa collapsed to the floor, zipped up his sleeping bag, and fell asleep.

The next ten minutes were filled with hushed whispers and squeaks of marker against card stock. My hero name… Izuku thought, tapping his fingers against his desk.

This is the second time I've done this, isn't it? A lifetime ago, I sat here and decided on a hero name.

I wonder what I chose last time? Am I going to choose the same thing this time? I mean, we're the same person.

Or maybe we aren't. That Izuku's life was completely different. He knew how to use his quirk from the start. It must have been such a mess trying to use my quirk when I was a little kid. Was I friends with Kacchan then? Is that why I've never been able to fully let that relationship go, no matter how big of a jerk Kacchan acts? Residual emotions from my previous life…?

Mm, probably not. Now that I have real friends, I've barely thought about Kacchan since starting UA. Huh. I hadn't noticed. That's so weird to think about.

Who was I friends with the first time around? It would be nice to think that I was still friends with Denki, Tooru, and Ochako, but it was kind of a fluke that we all met each other first. Would I have a different group of friends if things played out differently? Kirishima's pretty cool. I wouldn't mind being friends with him. Or maybe I was in Class 1-B, and this is all moot. I should talk to Kirishima more. Just because I have friends now doesn't mean I should stop trying to make new friends.

"Now, students, who among you is ready to share?" Midnight called from behind the front podium.

"We're presenting these?!" Kirishima blurted.

"Of course! If you're too embarrassed to present your name to your classmates, how do you expect to present your name to the world?"

Izuku looked down at the blank card in front of him. He had an idea for his hero name, but it was kind of cheesy. Many heroes had names based on their quirk, so that part of it wasn't unusual, but Izuku still felt uncertain. His classmates were going to see this. Everyone was going to see this.

"I'll present mine first!" Aoyama exclaimed, leaping from his seat and joining Midnight at the front of the class. "Prepare to be amazed!"

Wow, Aoyama is confident. He's not nervous about showing off to the class at all! He must have a great name. Is my name too dumb in comparison? If all my classmates have cool and creative hero names, I might need to scrap this and think of something better.

"I am… The Shining Hero: I Cannot Stop Twinkling!" Aoyama twirled on the spot. "Mes amis, you can't deny my sparkle!"

Izuku immediately wrote his hero name on the card, all worries and anxieties forgotten.

"Don't you think that name's a bit long?" Ochako said hesitantly.

Jirou snorted. "Yeah, like that's the problem with it."

"It isn't too long, no," Midnight said, sounding like she was thinking something over. "However… no, sorry, I believe I need to veto this one, Aoyama."

Aoyama gasped. "Pourquoi?"

Midnight nodded to herself and turned to address the whole class. "This is a good lesson for all of you. There isn't anything wrong with lengthy hero names so long as you keep in mind that they will be shortened, both by the public and by your fellow heroes. Communication needs to be clear and concise when you're out on the field, so it's important to choose a name that still works when abbreviated." She grimaced. "I learned that the hard way the first time another hero called me 'Mid' during a raid."

Aizawa barked a laugh from his place on the floor. Midnight retaliated by kicking his sleeping bag.

"I understand perfectly!" Aoyama said. "But I do not see the problem. 'Twinkle' is also an exquisite name!"

"Ugh, your name will be shortened to 'Twink', you moron!" shouted Katsuki, who believed that "tact" was an enemy to overcome like any other.

Aoyama paused. He looked down at the card in his hand. He stood there for a moment. "…I shall revise and return shortly!" he said eventually, stepping away from the podium and returning to his seat.

"Ribbit." Tsu raised her hand. "I have one. Is it okay if I go next?"

"C'mon up!"

Tsu walked to the front of the classroom. "I've had this name in mind for a long time," she said, planting her card on the podium. "The Rainy Season Hero: Froppy."

"That's delightful!" Midnight squealed. "It's concise, memorable, and it makes you sound approachable. The public will love it! Approved!"

The classroom applauded Tsu as she blushed and returned to her seat.

Confidence boosted thanks to their class president taking the lead, the rest of the students came up to announce their names one after the other.

"Red Riot!" Kirishima said to applause.

"Creati," Yaoyorozu said a little self-consciously, but she was buoyed by her classmates' positive response.

"Chargebolt!" Denki announced with a confident swagger.

That was a cool name! Izuku made sure to clap louder than usual.

"Uravity!" said Ochako with a wobbly smile.

Very cute! Izuku clapped loudly for Ochako, too.

"I Cannot Stop Sparkling!" Aoyama sang.

Well… "Sparkle" and "Spark" were better shortened names, at least?

Next up was Katsuki. Oh boy. He stomped up to the front of the class, his usual scowl on his face. Katsuki didn't give any introduction—he just set the card in front of him and stared at the classroom in challenge. "The Bombshell Hero: Killer."

Midnight rolled her eyes. "No, no. Your hero name can't be Killer."

"Why the fuck not?" Katsuki exploded. "It's a killer name!"

Midnight sighed and looked annoyed that she even had to explain this. "As a Pro Hero, you represent an ideal the public looks up to. Your name has to have positive connotations."

"Bullshit," Katsuki spat. "'That was a killer move!' 'You killed it out there!' It has lots of positive connotations!"

"Bakugou, this is your codename for a career that often involves physical confrontations with other people. You need to consider your name in that context."

Sero decided to jump in. "Forget the 'Killer' part. What about the 'Bombshell' part? You know that people are going to call you a blond bombshell? Like a pin-up model?"

"Yeah, what of it? It's true. I'm very sexy." Katsuki pumped out his chest in pride.

Izuku ducked his head and covered his mouth with his hands, barely stifling a laugh. As much as Izuku couldn't stand Katsuki a lot of the time, he was so jealous of Kacchan's raw, shameless confidence in himself.

"You need to pick a different name," Midnight insisted.

"No, I already picked this one."

"You have to."

"No."

Midnight pinched the bridge of her nose. "Just go back to your seat. We'll talk about this later."

"No. We won't," Katsuki said, stomping away.

"Me next! Me next!" Ashido exclaimed, waving her hands in the air. She skipped up to the front podium and placed down her card. "My name is Alien Queen! Or 'Queen' for short!" she said smugly.

"You mean that horrible monster with the acidic blood?" Midnight shuddered theatrically. "You shouldn't be choosing names of villains for your hero names. Pick something else."

Ashido stared right into Midnight's eyes and smirked. "No."

Midnight put a hand to her forehead and sighed. She then kicked the sleeping bag again. "What's wrong with your class, Shouta?"

"Don't blame me. They came this way."

Pouncing on the brief distraction, Ashido quickly skipped back to her seat and sat down with an innocent smile.

"All right! I'm next!" Tooru said. She walked up to the front of the room and turned to face the class. "My name won't make sense unless I show you all something first. I've been working on this for the past few weeks, and I'm ready." Tooru took a breath, and then power started to radiate from her, emanating from a core of light in her chest. Wait! This was the same power that Izuku felt from her during the Battle Trial right before she destroyed her arm! What was Tooru doing?

The stockpiled light radiated from her body, projecting outward in multicolored rays. Her form shimmered into view like ethereal glass. Izuku's jaw dropped as he realized that Tooru was visible, and to the naked eye! Her translucent skin refracted the light from within her like a prism, giving her the appearance of a girl crafted from colorless clear crystal. A soft halo of light surrounded her, giving her an angelic appearance. Every slight movement she made was accompanied by glimmering, colorful reflections.

She was a girl made of diamonds and rainbows.

"My name is Prismatic Angel," she announced, her smile visible to all. "Or 'Angel' for short. Thanks for that, Mina."

"No problem, girl!"

Izuku grinned brightly as he clapped as loud as he could, the rest of his classmates joining in on the applause. Tooru dimmed back to her normal state of invisibility and returned to her seat.

All right, my turn next. Izuku stood up and walked to the front of the room. Turning to look back at the class, Izuku let his gaze wander over his classmates.

There was Ochako, cooing over Tooru's new form. Tokoyami and Dark Shadow looked to be arguing over what their name should be. Iida was still lecturing Katsuki over his choice of hero name while Katsuki snarled back at him. Kirishima hovered over Kamakiri's desk, the two bouncing increasingly manlier-sounding names off each other. Rin and Kodai were in the corner, seemingly lost in their own little world. Denki was paying Izuku his full attention, looking forward to hearing his hero name.

Tears suddenly brimmed in the corners of his eyes. This… this was fun. All of this passion and heart. These moments of happiness and laughter. Having people around who he cared about and who cared about him in return. This is what Izuku lived for.

He wouldn't allow this to be taken from him.

Never again.

"Midoriya? Have you thought of a name?" Midnight prompted.

Right, everyone was waiting for him to speak. Izuku refocused and addressed his classmates. "So, um, as versatile as my quirk is, it's ultimately all about making save points. Saving things. Given that, and my goals as a hero, one name feels the most fitting to me." Izuku set his face in determination and revealed his hero name.

"The Committed Hero: Saver."

—

Izuku's breaths came in steady puffs as he jogged up the familiar path of the nearby mountain trail, the cool evening air refreshing against his skin. The soundscape of the forest eased him into a state of calm. Each step brought him closer to the viewing platform at the summit, where he often stopped to rest and take in the view of the sunset.

He wasn't jogging just for exercise. Today, more than most days, it was a moment of reflection for Izuku, a chance to clear his mind and think.

Yesterday night had deeply shaken him.

Izuku had spent most of last evening lost in his head, overwhelmed by what he'd learned. The previous day's revelation gnawed at his very sense of what was real, the basic foundations of what he could rely on. Exhaustion eventually forced him into an uneasy sleep, but his mind kept whirring and whirring through the night, through his dreams, through everything.

Part of him wanted to look away. To bury it, to never think about it again.

It would have been so easy, too. If he'd never seen those old commits in the first place, then nothing in Izuku's life would change. That world was gone now. He'd made sure of it.

It, literally, did not matter. No one would ever know, and no one would ever care.

And yet…

Something had occurred to him during his restless sleep. A simple question. And once he thought about it, he couldn't get it out of his head. It stayed with him. In some strange way, it grounded him. He'd spent the night spiraling under the horrible realization that everything he thought he knew had been a lie… and yet, this thought somehow overshadowed even that.

It was a strange question. An egotistical one, even.

The facts were there in black and white. A previous incarnation of Izuku rewrote the history of the world after some cataclysmic war destroyed everything he cared about. Izuku's whole life was the "good future" that the previous Izuku had created. It sounded like the plot of a time-travel movie, but it was the truth. The commits were there, and commits were forever. There was no avoiding it.

But it raised a question: How did the world get to that state?

More specifically, How did Izuku let the world get to that state?

Again, it sounded egotistical, but it was a valid question. Izuku's quirk was about preserving things. It was about restoring objects to earlier states. No matter how much destruction had occurred, Izuku should have been able to fix it. That was the entire point of his quirk.

The very fact that Izuku was capable of rewriting the flow of time further supported this. Izuku always knew that his quirk had the potential to be one of the strongest in the world, but even he was caught off guard to learn just how powerful he really was. It was beyond imagination.

Commits were forever. If Izuku truly wanted someone to live, then they could never die. And yet, the message from the previous Izuku implied that he had rewritten the world to bring back his dead friends.

If Izuku's quirk truly was that powerful, why would he have let it get that bad to begin with? Given that the previous Izuku was willing to use such a dangerous command, he'd clearly gone all out, yet he still needed to risk it all and sacrifice his entire world in a last-ditch ploy to save everyone.

How could Izuku reconcile this contradiction?

…

Well, in truth, it was easy.

The answer was very obvious.

What would happen if Denki or Ochako were fatally struck by a car on their way to school tomorrow? Izuku wouldn't be able to do anything about it. He had all this power, but he'd never made a commit of them, so it wouldn't matter. They'd be dead, and that would be that.

Izuku was very, very careful with his quirk. He didn't save people, or buildings, or infrastructure, or anything important like that. No, he saved pencils. He saved rollerblades. He had all of this power, and he used it to restore his clothes every morning to avoid doing laundry.

What would he do if he had to take things seriously? What would he do if war ravaged the world?

Apparently, the answer was that he'd be a spineless little shit.

Oh, he'd fight, obviously. Of course he would. He'd scream and bleed and put himself through hell to fight with everything he had. The commit descriptions from the reflog gave him a pretty good idea of what he'd been up to during the war. Restoring weapons to give everyone infinite ammo. Instantly plopping down military forts in arbitrary locations by anchoring the whole thing to a marble. Reusing the same equipment over and over. Deleting enemy strongholds. Anchoring people to objects, then restoring the object to another location to teleport people around at the cost of only a few seconds of memory loss. And, well, "reverted massacre" spoke for itself.

But it wasn't enough. And by the time he realized he couldn't hold back, it was too late. The end of the world had come and gone. He'd been reactive rather than proactive, and so he doomed them all. He couldn't fix what was already broken.

The previous him had fucked up. There was no getting around it. The previous him knew that he fucked up. The guilt ate him alive until he was willing to risk everything to fix it.

Izuku was not going to make the same mistake twice.

After jogging for a while, Izuku reached the viewing platform at the summit, taking in the scene below. Rows of houses stretched out, their rooftops glowing softly in the evening light. He could just barely make out the tiny little dots of people in the streets bustling about their evening routines. Homes glowed warmly as the families inside settled down for the day. Looking into the distance, the waning sun was half-hidden below the horizon.

Izuku stood there and gazed upon it all.

And he thought.

There was a fundamental incongruity in his quirk. A key part of it that never really made sense.

It wasn't something that he noticed immediately. For the first few months after gaining his quirk, he was so thrilled about it that he took many things for granted. He had a complicated quirk and was learning the very basics, so making some assumptions in those early days was natural.

Revisiting some of those core assumptions later on revealed the inconsistency. He saw it, he recognized it… and he chose to look away from it. He couldn't do that anymore.

Izuku's quirk was based entirely on language. He used his quirk by speaking Git commands, and then those commands affected the world. At its core, it was actually a very simple quirk. The commands were complicated, but the activation requirement was as simple as it could be. He spoke commands. That was all there was to it.

And there lay the issue.

If the only real activation requirement for his quirk was that he spoke a command, then everything else he did to use his quirk suddenly became highly suspect.

For example, why did he need to touch an object to start tracking it for the first time? His quirk never told him to do that. It was purely a rule that Izuku had intuited by himself, had assumed. But, truthfully, it never made any sense.

If touch was an activation requirement, then why did he only need to do it the first time? His quirk worked remotely after that.

If he treated an object like a folder containing other objects, then he didn't need to touch the inner objects for his quirk to start tracking them. Touching the closet in his room and saying "git add closet/*" was enough to add everything within to his quirk—the wildcard character represented every object within the "folder". He didn't have to touch each item in his closet individually.

Conversely, sometimes touch appeared to be a requirement even after he started tracking an object. If two tracked objects had the same name, such as if he added two identical pencils to his quirk, then commands would fail unless he touched one of them to clarify which one he meant.

But touch wasn't the important part. If he wanted to clarify which object he was referring to without touching it, an easy way would be to rename one of the objects first. He had multiple options available to him.

That was the key. Touch wasn't a requirement, and it never had been. The only thing that his quirk cared about was that his commands couldn't be ambiguous. An ambiguous command would fail. Touching the object that he was talking about was one way to remove that ambiguity, but it wasn't the only way. It was a convenient shortcut, nothing more.

So long as his commands weren't ambiguous, there were no limits. He could affect something on the other side of the planet without ever having to be there. His quirk didn't care. Everything was equal under the watchful eyes of his quirk.

Izuku admired the sun as it dipped below the distant hills. The scenery had dimmed just enough that a handful of stars were just barely visible when he looked up at the sky.

…

…

It went without saying that you generally couldn't see the sun and the stars in the sky at the same time. The former blotted out the light of the latter. You might be able to take a picture of it with some careful setup and the correct exposure settings, but you couldn't see it with your naked eye. While it would be very cool to see a sunset where the stars were bright and visible at the same time, it wasn't exactly realistic.

But hadn't Izuku created that patch object a while ago that contained stockpiled starlight? If he wanted to, he could apply the patch, brighten the stars, and see the fantastic view of the sunset and starlight together.

The stars looked a bit dim? No matter. He could fix that.

He could do anything he wanted.

"git apply starlight," he commanded.

The faint stars above suddenly flashed incongruously bright, casting an otherworldly glow over the landscape. The vibrant hues of the sunset flared on the horizon while the stars shined with conspicuous intensity above him. It was a surreal, magical sight.

And then the magic shifted, and something strange and alien took its place.

Izuku didn't know what triggered this, but as he looked upon the landscape below, double vision usurped his senses. It felt similar to when his quirk displayed popups and error messages in his mind. Those messages were never part of his actual vision—they existed as something subtly different. He saw them in his mind's eye even when his physical eyes saw the world as normal.

The same thing was happening now. His physical eyes saw the sunset, the rows of houses, the trees, the roads, the world as usual. But in his mind's eye, he saw something else entirely overlaying the ordinary world.

From his perch above, Izuku saw the landscape replaced by a flat plane of black glass, stretching from horizon to horizon. It was a comforting and warming black, not an empty or deathly black. It was the black one would see looking up into the infinite expanse of the night sky, full of wonder and possibility. Looking down into the glass, he could see little stars floating within it, shining brightly and flowing down cosmic currents that curved and spiraled in fluid patterns.

It was the night sky, inverted and solidified.

The firmament.

The sun was still there, hovering by the horizon. It was only a semicircle of light, still mid-sunset. Half of it was luminous, radiating heat and warmth. The other half was hidden below the horizon, immersed in the glass. The sun looked like it was cut neatly in half by the night sky itself.

Above him, the real sky was unchanged. The stars were still shining unnaturally bright.

Starlight shined from above, and from below.

None of this changed what Izuku saw with his physical eyes. He still saw the normal world with its roads, buildings, and people, but he was suddenly hesitant to call the normal world the "real" world.

He breathed deeply, gazing upon the world of glass and stars.

Izuku wanted to be a hero. He and his friends were all training to be heroes. They were all trying their best, putting in their all.

It was time for him to do the same.

The previous version of him had sacrificed everything so that he could be here now. The world was reborn for his sake. He couldn't let that sacrifice be in vain.

His fingers trembled.

Izuku needed to add objects to his quirk before he could affect them. But once he did that, they were under his control.

So, what if he added… everything?

He swallowed. He… he should make a new branch. What was the right branch name for this?

"git switch -c master," he decided.

Izuku looked up at the stars, and the weight of inevitability consumed him.

Twinkling down the stars whispered, Save them all.

Git add star.

Git add star.

Just say it, Izuku.

…

Say it.

…

"git add *," he breathed.

For the first time ever, Izuku's quirk struggled. The star character—the single wildcard—represented any length of any character, meaning that it represented every possible word and series of words. He had commanded his quirk to add everything, unambiguously, and his quirk strained under the impossible demand.

Time froze as his quirk processed the boundless mass of data, and Izuku's mind froze alongside it. For an unknowable span of time, the cosmos existed in a suspended state of deadlock, static and unchanging, as if reality itself held its breath…

—And then it was over. The stillness shattered, and time resumed its relentless march forward. In the end, all Izuku experienced was the vague sensation that an eternity had passed in the blink of an eye.

One step remained. He had to make a commit. He had to make this permanent.

"git commit -m "Universe backup #1"."

» [master a0632c2] Universe backup #1
» 50,812,699,499,854,712,584,083,048,723,657,999,791,559,909,332,898,826,542,279,213,047,541,397 files changed

It was done. He let out a breath. He couldn't change his mind now. Commits are forever.

Izuku's double vision ended. The view of the flat, endless firmament that underlay reality faded away to reveal the normal world once again. From his place at the summit, he could see families finishing their evening strolls and children reluctantly heading indoors. Chirps of birds and other woodland creatures surrounded him. The distant hills framed the scene, the sun having set behind them.

All of it was part of his quirk now. All of it under his control.

Izuku looked up at the sky and gazed upon the stars and galaxies above. The galaxies that belonged to him.

It was all his now. It was part of him. His to cherish. His to love. His to protect.

Everyone was part of him now. No one had to die. For every soul that passed to the beyond, he could bring them back—the saver of souls.

He made his decision.

Staring into the heart of the cosmos, Izuku pledged a vow that transcended the boundaries of space and time:

My name is Saver.

I will save everyone.

END