Day 7 — The First Routine
The park was quiet in the early morning. Dew still clung to the grass, and the cold bit at Izuku's skin. But he didn't care.
At four years old, his body was soft and small — unfit for combat. But his mind wasn't. Not anymore.
He dropped to the ground and began doing push-ups. His arms trembled after just five.
But he pushed through to six. Then seven. Then collapsed.
Good. Tomorrow, eight.
His limbs ached, but he smiled as he stood.
In his last life, he hadn't started training until he met All Might at age fourteen. It wasn't enough time.
This time, I have a decade. I'll make every day count.
He ran a lap around the park. Then two.
No one noticed the determined little boy with green hair and tired eyes jogging in the mist.
No one except a familiar blond figure who had just arrived with his gang of kids.
---
Bakugou's Spark
"Hey, Deku!" Katsuki Bakugou shouted. His voice cracked slightly, still high-pitched with youth, but already full of bite.
Izuku stopped running and looked up to see Bakugou walking toward him with the same explosive swagger.
"What are you doing?" Bakugou sneered. "You think running around will make a Quirk show up?"
Izuku's hands clenched. Just like before… But this time, he stood a little straighter.
"I'm training," he said calmly.
The other kids laughed.
"Training? For what? You ain't got no Quirk, Deku. You're gonna be useless no matter how much you run."
Izuku looked at Katsuki — really looked.
In this loop, Kacchan didn't know the future. He didn't know Izuku would one day fight side-by-side with heroes. He was just a kid. Still moldable. Still loud and angry.
"I want to be strong," Izuku said. "Even if I don't have a Quirk."
Bakugou blinked. It wasn't the whimpering, crying Deku he was used to. He didn't know how to respond.
So, he did what he always did.
A small spark danced on his palm.
"You trying to act cool? You think you're better than me or something?"
Izuku shook his head. "No. I just want to keep up."
"Stay down, Deku!" Bakugou shouted and lunged.
Izuku dodged. It wasn't perfect — Katsuki still managed to shove him to the ground — but the instinct from years of battle was still there.
The boys around them gasped. Bakugou was startled too.
He dodged me?
Izuku stood up and brushed dirt from his pants.
"I don't want to fight you, Kacchan," he said, using the nickname with familiarity that felt strange now. "You'll be a great hero. I just want to become one too."
Bakugou stared at him, wide-eyed. He didn't say anything as Izuku walked away, resuming his jog.
---
Later That Week — Planning Ahead
In the quiet of his room, Izuku drew diagrams. All Might's movements. Timelines. Fight outcomes.
He remembered the sludge villain. Remembered when it would strike. Remembered the way All Might looked when he saved him — golden, larger than life, but already coughing blood when no one was looking.
Izuku tapped his pencil on the paper.
If I can build my body early… if I can impress him sooner... maybe I can gain his trust faster.
He wasn't sure when the loop would end, or what would trigger it. Would it be death? Failure? Giving up?
He didn't plan to test it.
This time, he would prepare.
This time, he would be ready.
---
One Month Later — Change Begins
Izuku had started using weighted objects — water bottles, canned food — to improve his strength. He trained early in the morning and late at night when Inko was asleep. He studied nutrition. Calisthenics. Joint protection. Growth science.
Every notebook became a record of progress.
He even watched hero videos with a more critical eye.
"Mom," he asked one night, "can I start taking swimming classes?"
Inko blinked. "Swimming? Of course, sweetie. But why the sudden interest?"
"I want to be strong and healthy. Like All Might."
She smiled, warmth and sadness mixed in her eyes. "You'll be just as amazing, Izuku."
He nodded, already planning how to strengthen his lung capacity.
---
Closing: The Long Road Ahead
Izuku stood in front of the mirror that night, shirt off, looking at his thin frame. His muscles were small, barely noticeable.
But they were there.
More than they were a month ago.
More than any other four-year-old would expect.
He raised his fist.
One day, he'll be worthy of One For All.
Not yet.
Not today.
But this time… he had time.
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Thank you for reading chapter 3.
Next chapter: Time skip and changes.