The plan began small.
Subtle.
Invisible.
Izuku Midoriya knew that saving the world didn't start with a bang.
It started with the right kid tripping over the right crack in the sidewalk—and not breaking their wrist this time.
The school nurse looked confused when Izuku handed her a cold pack during lunch.
"Midoriya, no one's hurt."
"They will be," he replied. "Mitsuki Shinada is going to slip and hit her chin after milk duty. In 37 minutes."
She stared at him like he'd grown a second head.
Thirty-nine minutes later, the girl limped in crying.
That afternoon, his homeroom teacher pulled him aside.
"Midoriya, are you feeling okay?"
"Yes."
"You're not... seeing things, are you?"
Izuku stared at her. Unblinking. Calm.
"I'm just observant," he said.
The teacher backed off.
That night, Izuku found a public terminal in the corner of a library.
He typed in one name.
Tomura Shigaraki.
No results.
Of course.
Ten years too early.
But he remembered the boy's real name. His face. His birthday. The smell of dust after the first time he decayed a sidewalk in Shizuoka.
He opened his notebook and made a list.
Targets to Watch.
Tenko Shimura
Kai Chisaki
Rikiya Yotsubashi
Jin Bubaigawara
All For One (public aliases unknown)
He closed the book softly.
Not now.
But soon.
The next day, Bakugo exploded.
Literally.
Some punk kid challenged him during break. Threw a jab.
Bakugo responded with a blast to the shoulder that sent the kid into a desk.
Teachers pulled them apart. Suspension looming.
But before they could call Katsuki's mother, Izuku raised his hand.
"I saw everything."
Ten minutes later, Izuku sat in the principal's office.
"You're saying the other boy attacked first?" the teacher asked.
"Yes."
"You're sure?"
"Yes."
His voice never wavered.
No fear.
No stutter.
Bakugo stared at him from the bench across the room. Eyes wide. Confused.
They weren't friends.
Not yet.
But something shifted in that moment.
The timeline cracked.
Later, Bakugo cornered him behind the gym.
"Why'd you lie for me?"
Izuku looked up.
That soft smile again.
"Because your anger isn't your fault yet."
Bakugo blinked. "What?"
"You'll get it later."
Izuku walked past him like fog. Silent. Unshaken.
Bakugo didn't stop him.
Didn't call him a nerd.
Didn't even insult him.
He just stood there.
Hands clenched.
And something in him started to ache.
One week later, Bakugo sat beside him at lunch.
Didn't say a word.
Just... sat there.
Izuku didn't speak either.
Didn't need to.
Elsewhere, in a hidden room beneath Naruhata:
A man in bandages leaned over a screen.
Monitors flickered.
Data scrolled.
But one image stayed.
A school photo.
Class 1-C.
A green-haired boy with soft eyes and a hollow smile.
"Who is this?" whispered the doctor.
The screen didn't answer.
But something in the system sparked.
Flickered.
Glitched.
A butterfly had moved.
The wind would come next.
End of Chapter 3