Inside a limousine, Chitose watched the city lights pass by the window, a faint smile appearing on her lips. 'Very interesting.'

Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!

Feeling her phone vibrate in her bag, she calmly took it out and brought it to her ear, answering the call. "Hello?"

The deep and imposing voice on the other end made her smile widen slightly.
"How was the interview? Is he promising enough to become a great hero?"

Recognizing the voice of her leader, Chitose adjusted her tone. "He definitely has the potential to become a great hero, but... he's very different from what we expected."

"Different how?"

"Bakugo isn't as explosive and violent as the information suggested. In fact, he has very good oratory skills for someone his age. He also demonstrated impressive composure while answering all my questions."

"Hmm... do you think he's hiding his true personality?"

She paused, thinking deeply before replying. "Not exactly. It's more like he's measuring every move and word, carefully choosing how he wants to be perceived. He's trying to project a specific image—something idealized. Bakugo is... more calculating than he appears at first glance."

"So he's trying to construct an ideal image."

"Yes..."

"Interesting... do you think he's worth it?"

"Yes."

"Have you already taken the first step?"

"Yes."

"Good work. Anything else to add?"

"Yes, somehow he nullified my quirk."

"...Oh?"

Back in his room after brushing off his parents with some random excuse, Bakugo was practically bursting with frustration as he paced back and forth.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!" he muttered under his breath. 'I have no idea who that woman is! Which can only mean one of two things: either we had no knowledge of her in the original timeline, or... I just forgot!'

That last possibility irritated him deeply. 'Damn it, that would mean my memory isn't as good as I thought it was.'

Turning around, Bakugo marched to his desk with quick steps. Pulling open the drawer, he reached inside, feeling around the bottom in haste. His fingers finally found what they were looking for: a small latch, almost imperceptible.

With a firm movement, he pulled it, and a soft click echoed in the silence of the room. The false bottom of the drawer shifted, revealing a hidden compartment. Inside was a dark-covered journal.

Bakugo picked it up carefully and sat down in his chair. 'My contact with them happened way earlier than I'd planned.' Opening the journal to the middle, he began flipping through the pages until he found what he was looking for.

On the page, a series of seemingly disconnected words filled every line. To anyone else, it would look like a mess of meaningless scribbles, but to Bakugo, that chaos had purpose.

This was one of his many projects since returning. He'd created his own code, something indecipherable to anyone else. It was the perfect way to protect what he knew about the future and his plans.

"This whole thing's going in the trash," Bakugo muttered as he forcefully ran his pencil over several lines in the journal, crossing out the details of his planning for the first meeting with the M.L.A.

Leaning back in his chair, he let the pencil fall onto the desk with a dry thud. Staring at the now-scribbled pages, Bakugo tried to organize his thoughts. His initial plan had been meticulously prepared, but the premature contact with them had thrown everything into disarray.

'No point in dwelling on it,' Bakugo murmured, rubbing his temples. '...damn it'

[April]

"You don't think you're leaving too early?" Masaru asked, watching his son put on his sneakers. "There are still three hours before class starts."

"Let the boy be, dear," Mitsuki interjected with a faint smile on her lips. "He's just afraid of being late."

"Afraid? You've got to be kidding, right?" Bakugo retorted as he tied his shoelaces. Standing up, he adjusted the red tie of his uniform. "I just want to make sure I get a decent spot, that's all."

"Oh, sure. A good spot." Mitsuki rolled her eyes and shrugged. "Well, then smile for me. Let's take a photo before you go." She said, pointing the camera at her son.

Bakugo opened his mouth to protest, but no words came out. After a moment of hesitation, he shook his head slightly and smiled for the camera.

CLICK!

"Perfect!" Mitsuki exclaimed, satisfied. "This one's going straight into the album."

"Great..." Bakugo muttered, already grabbing his bag from the hook and slinging it over his shoulder. Before leaving, he glanced at his parents. "I'm heading out!"

"Good luck, son," Masaru said, waving a
hand.

"Knock 'em dead!" Mitsuki said, raising her fist.

"Ha! Will do!"

As the door closed, Masaru lowered his head, placing a hand over his eyes to hide the tears that were starting to fall. "It feels like... sniff... it feels like just yesterday I was holding him in my arms."

"Sniff... yeah," Mitsuki replied, her own eyes misty. She hugged her husband tightly, sharing the same mix of pride and nostalgia. "Our boy grew up so fast..."

After a train ride followed by a walk to U.A., Bakugo finally arrived at Class 1-A's door. He stopped in front of it, taking a deep breath as his thoughts organized themselves. 'It's today... everything needs to have worked out.'

Opening the door, he was greeted by the silence of an empty classroom. His eyes scanned the room, registering every detail. 'Looks like I'm the first to arrive.'

With slow steps, he walked between the rows of desks, feeling a wave of nostalgia wash over him. It was strange to be back in that place where so many things had happened.

He approached the desk that had once been his, stopping beside it for a few seconds. 'No... not this time.' Turning his head, Bakugo averted his gaze from that desk, which carried the weight of someone who had failed.

He resumed walking until he stopped at the central desk of the room. 'This one will do.' Sitting down, Bakugo rested his elbows on the desk and interlaced his fingers, his eyes fixed on the blackboard in front of him. 'Now, all I can do is wait...'