A tear in the sky.
Not a storm. Not a quake. Something else.
A seam, split open across the clouds like a wound, bleeding crimson light onto the city below.
People stopped in the streets.
Dogs howled.
Sirens wailed without source.
From Musutafu to Hosu, every Pro Hero felt it.
The shift.
Something ancient had returned.
Aizawa stood on the U.A. rooftop, scarf fluttering.
His instincts screamed.
But he said nothing.
Because standing beside him—hovering above the school like a ghost in the wind—was her.
Eri.
Eyes glowing.
Hair floating.
But she was not alone.
A woman with void-black eyes stood behind her, one hand on her shoulder. The Red Lady.
They didn't attack.
They just… watched.
And then—
They vanished.
"Timeline disturbance confirmed." Nezu's voice trembled slightly.
Power flickered in the war room. Monitors glitched with overlapping realities. Old footage from days that never happened. Names on the roster that no one remembered writing.
"Reality compression field is failing. Someone rewrote something—something big."
"I need answers!" Aizawa snapped.
Midoriya stared blankly at the flickering feed. "That wasn't our Eri…"
He felt it in his bones.
"That was a version of her… that remembers more."
In a hidden underground bunker, deep in I-Island's abandoned vaults…
A child screamed.
Dr. Garaki dropped his scalpel, hands shaking.
His notes were vanishing. Pages turning blank. Test subjects evaporating into nothing.
A single word now echoed through his lab's speakers.
Whispered again and again.
"REWIND."
And then—
His lungs collapsed.
Time erased him, from the inside out.
The price of meddling with legacy.
At the shrine, only ashes remained.
The ritual had ended.
But the rift it opened still bled through.
Mountains warped. Trees aged and rotted in seconds. Rivers reversed.
And in the eye of it all…
Eri stood.
Alone.
The Red Lady gone.
But Eri's hands—once soft, small, fragile—now radiated with temporal flames.
She didn't cry.
Didn't smile.
She stared at the earth like it was something she'd seen die before.
Because she had.
At U.A., a meeting was called.
Nezu. Aizawa. Present Mic. Tsukauchi. All Might. Endeavor. Hawks. A host of others.
Each sat in silence, watching the security footage of the anomaly.
A red circle of light. Eri's figure standing in the middle. Time folding inward around her.
"Someone taught her how to unlock the ancestral strain of her Quirk," Nezu said. "We've theorized for years that some powers predate recorded history. 'Primordial Quirks.' Raw, unshaped. Hers is among them."
"So what now?" Hawks asked. "She's a kid. We can't fight a kid."
"We might not have to," Tsukauchi said grimly. "Because she's not the threat anymore."
They all turned to him.
He placed a file on the table.
The face of the woman in red.
No name. No fingerprint. No origin.
Only one note:
"Temporal Entity – Threat Class Omega."
Meanwhile.
Eri walked through a valley that didn't exist yesterday.
Each step echoed like thunder. Trees bowed. Wind hushed.
A child no more.
Her mind burned with knowledge stolen from a thousand futures.
She saw death. War. The betrayal that would come.
The truth of One for All.
The lie behind Quirks.
The deal made long before quirks ever appeared.
And the price she must pay to undo it all.
In a dream, Midoriya saw her again.
But it wasn't a dream.
The air was too cold.
She stood at the foot of his bed. Glowing faintly. Not quite real.
"Eri?" he whispered.
"I don't have much time."
Her voice echoed oddly, like it was out of sync.
"You have to remember the book I gave you."
"What book? You never—"
"It was erased. But I did give it to you. Back then. Before I was me."
"Eri, what's happening to you?"
She looked away.
"You'll know when the sun dies."
And then—
She vanished into mist.
The next day, the sun rose.
But it was black.
Like ink spilled across the heavens.
People screamed.
Pro Heroes scrambled.
And above all…
A new voice whispered across every screen, every phone, every mind.
"The Clock Rewinds. Balance Demands Blood."
And somewhere far away…
The Red Lady opened her eyes again.
Smiling.
To be continued.