Saturday, 5:30 AM.
Rei stood in the forest clearing, staring at a boulder twice his size.
Two days until the USJ attack. Two days until villains invaded and students faced real combat. Two days until Aizawa nearly died and All Might pushed his limit against the Nomu.
He knew it was coming. Couldn't stop it. Could only prepare.
Rei gripped the boulder and lifted.
The stone came up smoothly—no strain, no struggle. He pressed it overhead, held it there, then dropped it.
He found a larger one. Easily three tons of solid rock embedded in the earth.
His fingers dug into the stone. Muscles coiled. He pulled.
The boulder shifted. Cracked free from the ground. Rose.
Rei's arms burned, but not from weakness—from finally being pushed. He held three tons of stone above his head for five seconds before setting it down.
'Better. But Spider-Man could lift ten tons without breaking a sweat.'
He had the potential. The Quirk gave him the foundation. But his fifteen-year-old body hadn't caught up yet. Hadn't been pushed hard enough, long enough.
'Two more years of proper training. Maybe three. Then I'll match the real thing.'
Rei moved to speed drills. No warm-up. No wasted motion.
He launched himself between trees, web-swinging with enough force to crack bark. The forest blurred. His enhanced senses tracked every branch, every angle, calculating trajectories faster than conscious thought.
Forty kilometers per hour. Fifty. Sixty.
Not superhuman by comic standards. But faster than any human should move.
'Good enough for now.'
Combat drills next. With just killing techniques refined over decades.
His previous life had been about efficiency. One strike, one target eliminated. No flash, no hesitation.
Rei's fist punched through a tree trunk. Webbing yanked another tree sideways. A spinning kick shattered stone.
Each movement was clinical. Precise. Decades of muscle memory bleeding through fifteen-year-old reflexes.
And underneath it all, something new pulsed.
Spider-sense.
Rei threw a rock straight up without looking. Let it fall.
His hand caught it before his brain registered the movement.
'There it is.'
Not true precognition yet. Just enhanced awareness. Danger sense layered over decades of combat instinct.
But it was growing. Developing. Soon, he'd be untouchable.
Rei trained for three hours. When he finished, his body barely registered the exertion.
'Fifteen-year-old stamina plus Spider-Man biology plus assassin conditioning.' He grabbed his water. 'I'm stronger than I've ever been. And I'm still not done.'
His phone buzzed. Momo.
Momo: Good morning. Review Notes at 2 PM?
Rei: Same café.
Momo: See you then.
'She thinks we're studying rescue techniques.' Rei packed his bag. 'She has no idea what's coming on Monday.'
---
The café was quiet. Rei arrived exactly on time.
Momo sat at their corner table, notes already spread out, two cups of tea waiting.
"Punctual as always," she said.
"Efficiency." Rei sat down.
They reviewed her structural analysis. Load-bearing calculations. Collapse patterns. Safe demolition points.
Momo explained like an engineer. Rei listened like someone who'd brought down buildings for contracts.
"Your understanding of structural weaknesses is unusual," Momo observed. "Most people focus on reinforcement. You identify failure points immediately."
"Knowing how something breaks tells you how to avoid breaking it."
"Or how to break it efficiently."
Their eyes met. Momo's expression was analytical but not suspicious. Just curious.
"You're perceptive," Rei said.
"You're experienced." Momo set down her pen. "More than someone our age should be."
Rei held her gaze. Decades of lying made this easy.
"I read extensively. Military engineering. Tactical demolition. It's useful knowledge for rescue work."
"It is." Momo didn't push. "Are you nervous about Monday?"
"No."
The answer came too fast, too certain. Momo noticed.
"Most people would be nervous about their first real rescue training."
"I'm not most people."
"I've noticed." Momo's expression softened slightly. "You're very self-assured, Rei. It's... impressive. Most of us are still figuring ourselves out. But you seem to know exactly who you are."
'I've had twenty-eight years of practice being someone else.' Rei kept his face neutral. 'And another fifteen years of memories being Rei.'
"I know what I'm capable of," he said instead. "That's different from knowing who I am."
Momo studied him. "Are you still figuring that out?"
"Every day."
She smiled. Small, but genuine.
"Then we're the same. Just better at hiding it."
They returned to studying. An hour passed in comfortable silence, broken only by occasional tactical discussions.
When they parted ways, Momo paused.
"Rei?"
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For the studying. For the partnership. For..." She hesitated. "For seeing me as an equal. Not everyone does."
"You're more than equal. You're one of the smartest people I've ever met."
The words were true. Across two lifetimes, two worlds, countless people—Momo ranked at the top.
Her cheeks colored slightly. "That's high praise."
"It's observation."
Momo's smile widened. "I'll see you Monday."
"Monday."
Rei watched her leave, then turned toward home.
'Two days. Then everything changes.'
---
Sunday was preparation.
Not physical training. Mental.
Rei sat in his apartment, with laptop open, writing scenarios.
USJ Attack - Variables:
- Kurogiri scatters students randomly
- Unknown placement for me
- Aizawa engages first, gets overwhelmed
- All Might arrives late
- Nomu is the real threat
Possible Interventions:
- Help Aizawa before Nomu breaks him
- Assist scattered students
- Engage villains directly
- Stay hidden, observe
Risk Assessment:
- Revealing too much strength = questions
- Not revealing enough = casualties
- Changing too much = unknown consequences
- Changing nothing = canon deaths (none, but trauma)
Rei stared at his notes.
In the original timeline, everyone survived the USJ. Aizawa was hospitalized. All Might pushed his limit. Students were traumatized but alive.
If Rei intervened too much, he might make things worse. Create new variables. Get people killed who would've survived.
But if he held back and someone died who could've been saved...
'No perfect answer.' Rei closed the notebook. 'I'll adapt in the moment. Trust my instincts.'
Forty-three years of instincts between both lives. They'd kept him alive this long.
'Monday,' he thought. 'I'll see how much I can change without breaking everything.'
He spent the rest of Sunday in meditation. An old assassin technique—clearing the mind, centering focus, preparing for violence.
By the time he went to bed, Rei's thoughts were ice-cold and razor-sharp.
Ready for war.