The world kept spinning.
But it spun on broken rules.
People went to work. Laughed. Slept. Cried.
Not realizing today wasn't real.
Because this day?
Never existed.
U.A. High School felt… off.
Posters on the wall bore wrong names.
Classrooms sat filled with students who weren't in this timeline yesterday.
Kaminari rubbed his eyes. "Didn't Jirou dye her hair red last week?"
"Jirou?" Iida blinked. "There's no student named that here."
Kaminari's voice faltered. "No, she—she sits right next to—"
He turned.
Empty desk.
Always had been.
Todoroki stood in front of a mirror.
His scar was gone.
The white side of his hair? Pure red now.
His father, Endeavor, called that morning.
But the voice was different. Softer. Like a version of him that never chased power.
"Shoto," the voice said, "how's prep school going?"
Prep school?
He hung up.
Looked at his call history.
Unknown Number.
No previous entries.
Midoriya paced the halls of U.A., sweat trailing down his neck.
He still had no access to One for All.
And no one remembered it ever being part of him.
Not even All Might.
"I'm sorry, young man," Toshinori said, confused. "You're… who again?"
Izuku stepped back.
Heart cracked in half.
"I'm—"
He looked down at his trembling hands.
"I'm no one…"
Far from the city, in the ruins of the Akayami Shrine—
Eri stood inside a circle of floating bones.
All glowing red.
Not blood. Not flesh. Memories.
She reached out to touch them. Each one sparked a vision.
A war.
A girl who died saving her brother.
A mother cursed by time.
A sword that never rusted, no matter how much it bled.
And at the center of it all—
The First Rewind.
A woman in chains.
With Eri's face.
Back in U.A., Bakugo stormed into the principal's office.
"This place isn't right."
Nezu tilted his head.
"What do you mean, Mr. Bakugo?"
"You. Me. All of this. Something's off. Half the school's acting like none of us existed before today."
Nezu's eyes narrowed. "…You remember."
Bakugo slammed both fists on the table.
"Tell me what's going on."
Nezu stood.
Walked to a hidden drawer.
Pulled out a small, ancient watch.
Cracked. Rusted.
Still ticking.
He placed it gently in Bakugo's palm.
"This doesn't belong to any timeline," he said softly. "But you do now."
Midoriya found her first.
Eri.
Alone on a rooftop.
Watching the sun pulse black in the sky.
He didn't ask questions.
He just sat beside her.
Quiet.
Then:
"Why does everything feel fake?"
Her voice was faint. Hollow.
"I broke the root," she said.
He turned to her. "The root?"
"Time has a spine. A center. A root event all timelines branch from. I rewound it."
He stared at her.
"What was the root?"
She looked at him. Eyes glistening.
"…My death."
In the far edges of time, where no human mind can wander—
A clock ticked in reverse.
Each second echoed across realities.
And from its face…
A shadow uncoiled.
Tall.
Smiling.
Not the Red Lady.
Older.
Worse.
A creature with no name. No form. Only intention.
It had been waiting for a child to open the door.
And Eri, in her grief…
Had left it wide open.
Kurogiri stood in a basement beneath Hosu.
He shouldn't exist.
But today wasn't real.
And in unreality…
Old ghosts returned.
"I remember her," he murmured.
A flicker of Eri, laughing with Midoriya.
A world that no longer happened.
"She's undoing fate…"
The shadows around him trembled.
"...And something else is coming through."
In U.A.'s library, Uraraka cried silently.
Pages from her diary had vanished.
Not torn. Not erased.
Just… blank.
Her birthday was gone.
Her father's name didn't exist.
And when she looked in the mirror—
The face staring back wasn't hers.
Not completely.
Twelve minutes before midnight.
Eri stood on the edge of a building.
Wind howling.
Eyes fixed on the stars.
But they weren't stars anymore.
Each was a door.
Each pulsed with echoes.
She raised her hand.
And a voice from behind said:
"You open one more… you don't get to go back."
She turned.
It was herself.
Older. Scarred. Hollow-eyed.
"I thought I could fix everything," the other Eri whispered. "But all I did was unmake the world."
The wind stopped.
The clocks paused.
Two Eris stood face-to-face.
One innocent.
One broken.
And time held its breath again.
To be continued.