The next few days unfolded with surprising normalcy, the rhythm of U.A.'s academic schedule providing an unexpected anchor in this strange world. You adapted to hero training exercises, theoretical lessons on quirk law, and the peculiar social ecosystem of Class 1-A with greater ease than anticipated. Despite your outsider status, several classmates had cautiously welcomed you into their circles—particularly Midoriya, whose analytical fascination with your abilities had gradually evolved into something resembling genuine friendship.

Yet beneath this veneer of adaptation, a persistent anxiety gnawed at your consciousness. You knew what was coming—the timeline etched into your memory from another existence. The USJ incident loomed on the horizon like a gathering storm, its exact date uncertain but its inevitability absolute. The League of Villains would attack, students would be scattered across simulation zones, and All Might would reveal his weakened state in desperate combat against the monstrous Nomu.

Will my presence here change anything? The question haunted your quiet moments. Am I strong enough to protect them if the timeline shifts because of me?

You'd begun training privately during the pre-dawn hours, pushing your dual quirks to their limits in Aizawa's backyard—with his reluctant permission. The hero had observed your self-imposed regimen with unreadable eyes, occasionally offering terse corrections to your form but never asking the obvious question: Why are you preparing so intensely?

On what you calculated to be the fifth day of your existence in this world, you found yourself in U.A.'s sprawling cafeteria, seated across from Uraraka and beside Midoriya. The gravity manipulator chatted animatedly about Thirteen, her enthusiasm for rescue operations spilling over in elaborate hand gestures that occasionally activated her quirk, causing her milk carton to drift dangerously upward.

"—and that's why I can't wait for rescue training tomorrow!" she concluded, finally noticing her floating beverage and hastily deactivating her quirk. "Thirteen is just so cool!"

Tomorrow. The word resonated with ominous significance. If your temporal calculations were correct, tomorrow would bring the USJ incident—your first true test in this reality.

"You okay, Blue?" Midoriya's voice cut through your thoughts, his green eyes studying you with that disconcerting perceptiveness. "You seem... tense."

You forced a casual smile, pushing your barely-touched curry around its plate. "Just thinking about tomorrow's training. Rescue operations aren't exactly my specialty."

"Oh, don't worry!" Uraraka beamed, her perpetual optimism somehow both endearing and exhausting. "Thirteen's amazing at explaining everything! And besides, your telekinesis would be perfect for moving debris without causing secondary collapses."

Midoriya nodded enthusiastically, already slipping into analytical mode. "Actually, the precision control you demonstrated during the ball throw would translate exceptionally well to delicate rescue scenarios. Many telekinetic-type quirks lack fine manipulation capabilities, but yours—"

His monologue cut off abruptly as a harsh electronic tone sliced through the cafeteria's ambient noise. Red lights began pulsing along the ceiling perimeter as the school's security system activated, prompting immediate confusion among the students.

"WARNING: SECURITY LEVEL 3 HAS BEEN BROKEN. ALL STUDENTS PLEASE EVACUATE IN AN ORDERLY FASHION," an automated announcement blared over the speakers.

The cafeteria erupted into barely controlled chaos as students abandoned their meals, confusion rapidly evolving into panic. Bodies pressed against each other in a desperate surge toward the exits.

"What's security level 3?" Uraraka shouted over the growing din, rising from her seat with wide eyes.

"It means someone's infiltrated the school grounds!" an upperclassman called back, already pushing toward the doors.

Your mind raced through possibilities—this wasn't part of the canonical timeline you remembered. Had your presence accelerated events? Or was this merely the press infiltration that occurred in the original storyline?

Midoriya turned to you, his expression shifting from confusion to determination. "We should help maintain order! If everyone rushes the exits at once—"

Before he could finish, the surging crowd separated you, sweeping Uraraka and Midoriya toward one exit while you found yourself pushed toward another. The press of bodies around you grew increasingly frantic, students unintentionally activating quirks in their panic—creating additional hazards as the hallway filled with spontaneous ice crystals, acidic sweat droplets, and uncontrolled hardening.

You fought against the current, trying to reach higher ground to assess the situation. With a careful application of telekinesis, you lifted yourself several feet above the crowd, hovering near the ceiling as you scanned for the source of the alarm.

Through the massive windows overlooking the campus grounds, you spotted them—not villains, but reporters who had somehow breached the school's outer barrier. Relief washed through you momentarily before a new concern took hold: if the security barrier had been compromised today, that meant the League's infiltration tomorrow would proceed as planned.

Your gaze swept across the panicked students below, these teenagers with extraordinary powers but limited experience—Midoriya trying desperately to reach Iida near a window, Uraraka being jostled dangerously close to a support column, Todoroki creating a small ice barrier to protect younger students from being trampled.

A surge of protective determination crystallized in your chest. You might not belong in this world, but these students—with their earnest dreams and untapped potential—deserved a defender who knew what was coming.

Tomorrow, the villains would attack the USJ facility, expecting to find unprepared children and a handful of pro heroes. Instead, they would encounter something they couldn't possibly have accounted for in their calculations: you.

As the security alarm continued its rhythmic wailing, you lowered yourself back into the crowd, making your way toward Iida who had finally managed to climb above the masses to announce the false alarm. Your decision was made.

The timeline would change tomorrow—you would make certain of it.

Morning arrived with cruel brilliance, sunlight streaming through half-drawn curtains as consciousness reluctantly returned. The persistent ringing in your ears remained—an unwelcome souvenir from yesterday's security alarm that refused to dissipate despite hours of rest. Your heightened senses had always been both blessing and curse; in this case, the cafeteria's blaring sirens had left an auditory impression that continued to resonate through your sensitive hearing long after the actual sound had ceased.

You pressed the heels of your palms against your temples, a futile attempt to quiet the phantom noise as you navigated the unfamiliar transition from sleep to wakefulness. The digital clock on the nightstand glowed with unforgiving precision: 5:47 AM. Too early to be necessary, too late to justify returning to sleep.

With a resigned sigh, you swung your legs over the edge of the bed and pulled on a simple black t-shirt before making your way downstairs. The wooden steps creaked softly beneath your bare feet—an oddly comforting sound in its mundane predictability.

Aizawa was already in the kitchen, his back to you as he methodically prepared what appeared to be some kind of traditional breakfast. His hair hung loose around his shoulders, slightly damp from a recent shower, and he'd exchanged his hero costume for loose-fitting training clothes. The domestic normality of the scene struck you with unexpected poignancy.

He turned at your approach, bloodshot eyes sweeping over your disheveled appearance with professional assessment. "You okay, kid?" he inquired, his typically flat tone carrying a subtle undercurrent of genuine concern.

You huffed in mild indignation, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorframe. "Don't call me that. I'm barely younger than you." The defensive response emerged more sharply than intended, betraying your discomfort with the implied power dynamic.

Aizawa raised a single eyebrow, the microexpression somehow communicating volumes of skepticism without disturbing his otherwise impassive features. "Whatever," he replied, unimpressed by your protest. His gaze lingered on the way your fingers periodically twitched toward your ears. "Are you okay?" he prompted again, more directly this time.

You nodded reluctantly, rubbing your temples in slow, circular motions as though the gesture might dislodge the persistent sonic memory. "Yes. Just sensitive to alarms, that's all." The half-truth felt inadequate even as you offered it. "Enhanced senses. They take longer to reset after strong stimuli."

Aizawa studied you for a moment longer before turning back to the stovetop, where rice steamed gently in a small ceramic pot. His movements remained economical as he divided the breakfast between two bowls, adding pickled vegetables and a protein that might have been fish. "Sit," he instructed, gesturing toward the small kitchen table with his chin.

You complied without argument, quietly surprised by the uncomplicated hospitality. The domestic scene felt jarringly incongruous with the day's looming events—this peaceful moment of shared breakfast preceding what you knew would be chaos and violence at the USJ facility.

"There's rescue training scheduled today," Aizawa stated as he placed a steaming bowl before you. Not a question, merely an observation.

"With Thirteen," you confirmed, accepting the simple meal with a murmured thanks. "At the Unforeseen Simulation Joint."

Something in your tone must have alerted him—a subtle shift in inflection or perhaps an unconscious emphasis on the facility's name. His eyes narrowed fractionally as he took the seat opposite you. "You seem unusually informed about the day's agenda."

You shrugged, focusing on carefully separating grains of rice with your chopsticks. "Uraraka mentioned it yesterday. She's excited about working with Thirteen."

Aizawa accepted the explanation with a noncommittal grunt, though his gaze remained evaluative. "Rescue operations require a different mindset than combat," he observed between measured bites. "Control becomes even more critical. Collateral damage isn't acceptable when lives are at stake."

The unspoken instruction was clear: keep your quirks in check today.

"I understand," you replied, meeting his eyes directly. "I'll be careful."

A brief silence settled between you, comfortable in its simplicity, before Aizawa spoke again. "All Might will be joining us. Eventually." The slight emphasis on the final word hinted at his opinion of the Symbol of Peace's habitual tardiness.

Your heart rate accelerated slightly at the confirmation—another piece of the timeline falling into place exactly as you remembered. All Might would indeed arrive late to the USJ facility, his heroic entrance occurring only after Aizawa had been grievously injured by the Nomu.

Unless you changed things.

"Something on your mind?" Aizawa inquired, his perception uncomfortably acute despite his apparent focus on his meal.

You hesitated, weighing possibilities against probabilities. How much could you say without disrupting the timeline irreparably or straining credibility beyond recovery? "Just... anticipating the training," you eventually replied, the evasion sitting uncomfortably on your tongue.

Aizawa's expression suggested he recognized the deflection but had chosen not to pursue it—for now. He rose from the table, depositing his empty bowl in the sink with practiced efficiency. "We leave in forty minutes. Be ready."

As he disappeared down the hallway toward his room, you remained at the kitchen table, the phantom alarm still echoing faintly in your ears. It seemed almost prophetic now—a warning of the real danger that awaited.

Today would test not just your power, but your judgment. The knowledge you possessed created a burden of responsibility that weighed heavier with each passing moment.

How much do I change? you wondered, staring into the remaining grains of rice as though they might reveal the optimal path forward. And what consequences will those changes trigger?

The morning light strengthened, casting long shadows across the kitchen floor as time marched relentlessly forward. In less than two hours, you would stand in the USJ facility as dozens of villains emerged from Kurogiri's warp gate.

You closed your eyes, centering yourself as you had countless times before confrontation. Whatever happened today, there was one certainty you clung to:

Eraserhead would not face the Nomu alone.

You reached U.A.'s main entrance just as the morning bell chimed across campus. Students streamed through the massive security gates, their uniforms crisp and faces animated with typical teenage energy—blissfully unaware of what awaited them. The contrast between their carefree chatter and the knowledge weighing on your shoulders created a dissonance that was almost physically painful.

Aizawa had gone ahead to coordinate with Thirteen, leaving you to make your own way to the assembly point. As you rounded the corner toward the bus loading area, a familiar trio came into view—standing slightly apart from the rest of Class 1-A.

Uraraka spotted you first, her round face lighting up with genuine delight. "You're here!" she exclaimed, bouncing on her toes with characteristic exuberance. Before you could respond, she closed the distance between you, enveloping you in an enthusiastic hug that caught you momentarily off-guard.

Physical contact had become a rarity in your existence—a vulnerability you couldn't often afford. Yet something about Uraraka's unconditional warmth broke through your carefully constructed defenses. You returned the embrace with surprising ease, one hand gently patting her chestnut hair as something tight in your chest loosened fractionally.

You needed this—their uncomplicated acceptance and support—more than you had realized. Today of all days.

"Of course I'm here," you replied with a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "Wouldn't miss rescue training for anything."

Iida stood nearby, his posture rigidly perfect as always, glasses reflecting the morning sunlight. "Punctuality is the hallmark of a dedicated hero!" he declared with characteristic formality, though his stiff nod conveyed a certain fondness that belied his mechanical demeanor.

Midoriya completed the welcoming committee, his green eyes studying you with that unnervingly perceptive gaze that seemed to penetrate straight through your facade. Unlike the others, he sensed something—the tension coiled within you like a spring wound too tight.

"Ready for today?" he asked softly, the gentle inquiry carrying layers of meaning beyond its simple phrasing.

You met his gaze, momentarily tempted to unburden yourself of the terrible knowledge you carried. No, I'm not ready. None of us are. There are villains coming, dozens of them, and they mean to kill All Might. They'll hurt Aizawa, nearly kill Thirteen, and scatter all of you across USJ to be picked off one by one.

But instead, you simply nodded, forcing confidence into your voice. "As ready as I'll ever be, green bean."

His brow furrowed slightly at your response, that analytical mind clearly detecting the discrepancy between your words and the subtle tension in your posture. Before he could pursue it further, however, Aizawa reappeared at the front of the group.

"Everyone on the bus," he called, his perpetually exhausted voice cutting through the scattered conversations. "We're already behind schedule."

As the class began to board, you hung back slightly, scanning the surrounding area with heightened awareness. Nothing seemed out of place—no lurking shadows, no suspicious figures monitoring the students' departure. Yet the sensation of impending danger continued to prickle along your spine, an evolutionary warning system that had kept you alive through countless threats.

"Blue? You coming?" Midoriya called from the bus steps, his expression concerned.

"Yeah," you replied, forcing yourself back to the present moment. "Just enjoying the sunshine while I can."

The comment earned you a puzzled look, but he didn't press further as you followed him onto the vehicle. You chose a seat near the emergency exit, positioning yourself where you could observe both the road ahead and the students around you.

As the bus lurched into motion, carrying its precious cargo of heroes-in-training toward the USJ facility, you mentally reviewed your preparations. The extra training sessions had pushed your dual quirks closer to their limits. You'd memorized the USJ's layout from Aizawa's lesson plans. You'd even managed to slip a communication device into your uniform pocket—untraceable and independent of the school's systems.

Yet uncertainty remained your constant companion. How much could one person change? How far could you push against the established flow of events before unpredictable consequences cascaded beyond control?

The cityscape gave way to more rural surroundings as the bus climbed into the hills where the remote training facility waited. Beside you, Midoriya had fallen into conversation with Asui about quirk classifications, his analytical mind temporarily distracted from whatever concerns your behavior had triggered.

Your gaze drifted to the window, watching trees blur past as distance closed between present peace and impending chaos. Somewhere ahead, Kurogiri was likely already scouting the facility's perimeter, preparing to transport Shigaraki and his assembled villains precisely when the students would be most vulnerable.

Your fingers curled into fists on your lap, blue flames flickering momentarily between your knuckles before you suppressed them. Today would not follow the script you remembered. Today, you would rewrite the story.

For better or worse, the USJ incident would unfold differently—because this time, Blue was here.

The massive dome of the Unforeseen Simulation Joint loomed against the clear morning sky as the bus rolled to a stop in the facility's circular driveway. Its architecture—a fusion of NASA's Space Center and a high-tech stadium—contrasted sharply with the forested hills surrounding it. Through the reinforced glass panels of its facade, you could glimpse the various disaster zones contained within: a shipwreck in an artificial lake, a miniature city in ruins, a simulated landslide.

Perfect hunting grounds for villains seeking isolated targets.

Aizawa rose from his seat at the front of the bus, his capture weapon draped loosely around his shoulders. "We've arrived. Everyone out in an orderly fashion. Remember why we're here—rescue training requires a different mentality than combat exercises."

As the students filed out, their excited chatter echoing across the facility's entrance plaza, you performed a subtle but thorough perimeter scan. Nothing triggered your heightened senses yet—no lurking presences, no scent of unfamiliar quirks. But the feeling of wrongness persisted, a dissonant note in an otherwise harmonious morning.

The facility's entrance slid open with a pneumatic hiss, revealing the space hero Thirteen in their distinctive white astronaut-inspired costume. The special rescue hero raised a gloved hand in greeting, the black voids of their helmet's eye-pieces somehow conveying warmth despite their featureless appearance.

"Welcome, everyone!" Thirteen's voice emerged with electronic modulation through their suit's speaker system. "I've been looking forward to working with you all today."

Your gaze instinctively swept past Thirteen, searching the cavernous entry hall for a distinctive blonde figure in primary colors. All Might's absence was expected—you knew from the original timeline that his hero work that morning would deplete his transformation time—but confirmation of this detail only heightened your anxiety. The Symbol of Peace would not arrive until the crisis point, leaving Aizawa and Thirteen as the students' only professional protection.

Unless, of course, you changed that equation.

"Where's All Might?" Kirishima voiced the question several students were clearly thinking. "I thought he was supposed to meet us here."

Aizawa's expression remained impassive. "He's dealing with an incident downtown. He'll join us when he can."

The half-truth hung in the air as Thirteen stepped forward, signaling for the class to gather around. "In the meantime, let me explain what we'll be doing today. As you can see, I've designed this facility to simulate various types of disasters—from natural calamities to industrial accidents. Today's exercise will focus on using your quirks for rescue operations rather than combat."

As Thirteen launched into their prepared speech about the dual nature of quirks—how powers that could save could also easily kill—you positioned yourself slightly apart from the main group. The strategic location gave you clear sightlines to both the central plaza below and the main entrance behind. Your senses remained on high alert, scanning for the first indication of the warp gate that would herald the villains' arrival.

Midoriya noticed your vigilance, his perceptive gaze following yours as you studied the facility's layout. He drifted subtly toward you, maintaining enough distance that his question wouldn't be overheard by the others.

"You're tense," he observed quietly. "More than usual."

Your eyes met his briefly before returning to their calculated surveillance. "Just being cautious, green bean. Something doesn't feel right."

His brow furrowed, head tilting slightly as he processed your comment. "Your instincts... they've never been wrong before, have they?"

The question caught you off-guard—how had he picked up on that pattern so quickly? You offered a noncommittal shrug, unwilling to explain further but appreciating his intuitive understanding.

"Stay close to Uraraka and Iida today," you advised, keeping your voice barely above a whisper. "No matter what happens."

Before he could probe further, Thirteen concluded their speech to enthusiastic applause from the students. Aizawa stepped forward, about to divide the class into groups for the first exercise, when a subtle fluctuation in the air pressure registered against your heightened senses.

The hairs on the back of your neck rose in primal warning.

They're here.

Your gaze snapped to the central plaza where a small distortion had begun to manifest—a pinprick of swirling dark matter that rapidly expanded into a yawning portal. Kurogiri's distinctive warp gate, right on schedule.

"Aizawa-sensei," you called sharply, your voice cutting through the ambient chatter with command presence that belied your student status. "We have company."

The underground hero's head turned with professional quickness, his tired eyes widening fractionally as he registered the dark portal materializing below. His body language shifted instantly from teacher to combatant, the capture weapon around his neck unfurling in readiness.

"Thirteen, protect the students," he commanded, sliding his yellow goggles into place. "This is not a drill."

Confusion rippled through the class as they followed their teachers' suddenly focused attention. Gasps and exclamations erupted as they witnessed the first villains emerging from the swirling darkness—dozens of them, a motley collection of criminals with quirks specialized for violence.

"What's happening?" Yaoyorozu asked, her composure cracking slightly as she processed the unfolding scene.

"Those are actual villains," Kirishima breathed, his usual enthusiasm replaced by disbelief.

Aizawa turned to Thirteen, already calculating their limited options. "The alarm isn't sounding. They must have someone with an interference quirk blocking communications. I'll hold them off—get the students out through the emergency exit."

"Let me help," you said firmly, stepping forward to stand beside him. "You can't face them all alone."

His eyes narrowed behind his goggles. "Absolutely not. You're a student under my protection."

"I'm more than that," you countered, azure flames already dancing along your fingertips. "And you know it."

Before he could argue further, a new figure materialized from the central warp gate—lanky and disjointed, with dismembered hands clutching his arms, legs, and face. Tomura Shigaraki, exactly as you remembered him from another life.

Beside him towered the true threat: the engineered bioweapon called Nomu. Its exposed brain pulsated grotesquely above a beaked face, muscles bulging unnaturally beneath midnight skin.

A weapon designed specifically to kill All Might.

"Decision time, Eraserhead," you urged, your eyes never leaving the gathering threat below. "Work alone and get overwhelmed, or accept help and maybe live through this."

Aizawa studied you for a fraction of a second, something unreadable flickering behind his goggles. "Stay behind me," he finally conceded. "And follow my lead. No heroics."

You nodded, suppressing the grim amusement at his choice of words. As the two of you prepared to descend into the plaza—into the heart of a confrontation that had nearly killed him in the original timeline—you caught Midoriya's wide-eyed stare.

"Get them out," you mouthed silently, jerking your head toward the emergency exit.

The green-haired boy nodded, determination hardening his features as he turned to help Thirteen organize the evacuation.

You took a deep breath, centering yourself as you had countless times before combat. For better or worse, the moment of divergence had arrived.

Time to change fate.