Peace never lasts.
Not when it's born from rewound time.
Not when it breaks the laws of causality.
The world had gone quiet again.
Too quiet.
Eri stood beside the girl in the center of UA's training field. Morning light filtered through the clouds, golden and soft.
Around them, nothing stirred.
No birds.No sirens.No sound.
Midoriya approached slowly, his boots crunching over fractured gravel.
"You okay?" he asked.
The girl didn't respond right away.
Then—
She looked up.
And whispered: "She's gone."
Eri smiled faintly.
"She's finally free."
But the girl didn't smile back.
Her fingers curled.
And in the far distance—
The wind blew backward.
Aizawa stood in the observation deck with Nezu.
"Is it over?" he asked.
Nezu didn't answer immediately.
Instead, he tapped the screen.
A heartbeat.Faint.Slow.Not hers.
In a space between dimensions—
A place neither real nor unreal—
Eyes opened.
Yellow. Glowing. Slitted.
Not Kira.Not Eri.Not even a ghost.
But something else.
Something watching.
Recording.
Learning.
Its voice echoed in no language.
Only concepts.
"The fracture healed itself."
"The paradox stabilized."
"But it learned how to forgive."
The creature shifted, peeling away from the fabric of space.
It looked… wrong. Like an origami figure that never stopped unfolding.
"That will make her dangerous."
Back at UA—
The girl sat alone by the koi pond.
Eri had gone inside to rest.
The sky above her was quiet again.
But her reflection in the water—
Didn't move.
Not this time.
Not late.
Not glitched.
Just still.
Like it was waiting.
She reached out.
Her finger brushed the surface.
Ripples spread.
But the reflection didn't follow.
And then—
It blinked.
She hadn't.
Her chest clenched.
She backed away from the pond.
Footsteps behind her.
She turned sharply—
But no one was there.
Midoriya, in the staff lounge, sipped tea slowly.
"Her quirk," he said aloud, "it… manifested during the fight."
"Yes," Recovery Girl nodded. "It's weak now. But it mirrors Eri's."
"Time manipulation?"
"No."
"Then what?"
She hesitated.
Then said it:
"Memory displacement."
Midoriya's eyes widened. "She can store and release memories?"
"Not just hers."
"Whose, then?"
Recovery Girl looked grim.
"Anyone's."
At the edge of UA's security perimeter, Iida walked patrol.
Suddenly—
His comms crackled.
Then died.
Static rushed through the air.
He turned, sharply alert.
But saw only empty woods.
Then, just for a second—
A shadow moved backward behind a tree.
Like the world had tripped on its own feet.
Inside her dorm room, the girl sat on her bed.
Sketching in a journal.
Each line she drew pulsed slightly.
Memories. Not hers.
She flipped a page—
A city on fire.
Another page—
A boy in a red scarf crying under rubble.
Another—
A mirror.And a smile that wasn't hers.
The ink bled.The pages curled.
She shut the book.
But the hum in the air didn't stop.
She turned to the window.
And whispered—
"Who's watching me?"
High above the city, balanced atop a bent antenna tower—
The creature crouched.
Not visible.
Not physical.
Not yet.
But real enough to see her.
Its grin widened without a mouth.
And it whispered in reverse time—
"Soon."
To be continued.