The morning air was cool and crisp, with just a hint of winter sneaking into the breeze. I stepped out of the house, dressed as sharply as ever. Normally, I'd be in one of my custom suits, but today, I opted for something more casual—well, as casual as "top-of-the-line, expensive, and stylish" could get.

The driveway stretched before me, and at the end of it, my limo gleamed in the sunlight, sleek and polished. The chauffeur stood beside it, ready to open the door, just like always.

"Good morning, Young Master Midoriya," he greeted me with a slight bow. "The car is ready to take you to the festival grounds."

I paused at the top of the stairs, staring at the limo for a moment. Usually, I'd stride down, toss out a witty comment, and let myself sink into the luxury of leather seats and smooth rides. It was my thing—the limo was practically my moving throne.

But not today.

"Not today," I said, keeping my voice calm.

The chauffeur blinked, clearly caught off guard. "I... I'm sorry, sir?"

I walked down the stairs, each step deliberate, the sound of my shoes tapping against the stone louder than usual. "I'm walking today. Keep the limo parked."

"Walking, sir?" He sounded like I'd just suggested something completely ridiculous.

"Yes, walking," I said, glancing at him. "You know, feet to pavement, one step at a time. The thing humans did before cars existed."

He hesitated, clearly unsure how to handle this situation. "But, sir, the walk is rather long, and—"

I raised a hand, cutting him off. "I know how far it is. That's exactly why I'm walking."

He looked at me like I'd lost my mind, but he didn't argue further. He simply gave a polite bow and stepped back.

I turned toward the street and took a deep breath. The air felt refreshing, like it was clearing my mind. The truth was, I didn't feel like being surrounded by luxury right now. Today was big—huge, even—and I wanted a moment to myself. No distractions, no noise, just the calm before the storm.

As I started walking, I could feel the tension in my shoulders ease slightly. The steady rhythm of my footsteps on the pavement was oddly grounding. For once, I didn't have to think about appearances or control. It was just me and the city around me.

I passed by early-morning joggers, people walking their dogs, and shopkeepers opening their stores. A few of them gave me curious looks, probably wondering why someone dressed like me was walking instead of being chauffeured around. I ignored them. Let them wonder.

The streets got busier as I got closer to the arena. Banners for the festival were everywhere, hanging from lampposts and plastered on walls. The anticipation in the air was almost tangible, a mix of excitement and nerves from everyone heading in the same direction.

Despite the growing crowd, I kept my pace steady. Today wasn't just about the festival; it was about proving a point. To the heroes, to the villains, to everyone watching. And I wasn't just walking to the arena—I was walking into the storm I'd helped create.

This was my plan, my stage. And I was ready.