The world hadn't changed yet.
Not really.
But Izuku could feel it.Like invisible strings being tugged in the dark.
Bakugo didn't pick fights anymore.Just watched him.Like he was trying to remember a dream that never happened.
And Aizawa?He sent Izuku a sealed envelope during lunch.
Inside: a plain white card.
"You'll get one favor. Use it well."
Izuku tucked it into his notebook.
Not yet.
Too early.
Too many pieces still scattered across the board.
Four days later.
Izuku skipped class.
Walked out the back gate.
No one stopped him.
Because no one noticed him anymore.
Naruhata District.
Dusty roads. Cracked vending machines. A rusted overpass humming above.
It was here, under a bridge painted in gang symbols, that Izuku waited.
He sat on a crate. Hoodie up. Notebook open. Watching.
11:42 a.m.
A shadow limped by.
Half-zipped jacket. Bruised cheek. Worn sneakers.
Hitoshi Shinsou.
Four years too early.
And already broken.
Izuku stood. Quiet. Careful.
"You're late," he said.
Shinsou froze. "What?"
"You took a detour around the surveillance drone on 4th. Smart. They update their flight path every Thursday."
Shinsou narrowed his eyes. "Do I know you?"
"No," Izuku said. "But I know you."
He stepped forward.
Hands in pockets. Calm. Measured.
"You don't have friends. You eat alone. You train until your throat bleeds. And you still think you'll never be a hero."
Shinsou flinched. "What the hell—?"
"I can prove you're wrong."
A pause.
The wind picked up. Whistling between the steel pillars.
Izuku pulled a USB from his pocket.
Held it out.
"This has UA's internal testing files. Psychological compatibility scans. Matching stats. Your brainwashing Quirk? Perfect for underground stealth missions. Capture ops. Crowd control."
Shinsou didn't take it.
"What do you want from me?"
Izuku smiled. Small. Sad.
"Nothing yet."
A distant siren howled.
Shinsou stepped back.
But Izuku's voice cut through the air.
"Your father leaves town next Friday."
Shinsou froze.
"You'll be alone for the weekend. The alley behind 7th street—don't go there Saturday night."
"…Why?"
"If you don't listen, you'll end up with three cracked ribs and a busted eardrum."
He turned to leave.
"But if you listen," he added, "you'll meet the person who teaches you how to win."
Shinsou stood in silence.
USB still in his hand.
Eyes wide.
Breathing uneven.
"What the hell are you?" he whispered.
Izuku didn't answer.
Just kept walking.
Like a shadow already disappearing into history.
Somewhere else, deep below Tartarus Prison—
A machine blinked.
Monitors static.
Data lines glitching.
And from behind a thick, sealed tank of dark red fluid, a voice growled.
"Something's wrong."
The man beside the tank flinched.
"W-We've found no new Quirks, master."
"No," the voice rasped. "Not new."
"Old. Out of place. Unscheduled."
A silence.
Then:
"Someone is tampering with fate."
Back in his room, Izuku wrote one name in bold across his notebook:
"SHINSOU – BRANCH UNLOCKED"
Below it, a timeline.
Dotted with crossroads.
Accidents that wouldn't happen.
Deaths that could be avoided.
Heroes who wouldn't fall this time.
And in the center of it all—
Eri.
Still missing.
Still silent.
Still waiting.
But not for long.
End of Chapter 5