Time passed quietly after the quirk registration.
Days blended into weeks, and weeks into months. Training stayed light and careful, mostly limited to moments when no one was watching. I didn't push myself too hard. There was no reason to rush.
By the time summer faded, I realized something.
I had turned five in September.
That meant changes.
Children my age weren't kept inside all the time anymore. I could leave the orphanage grounds under supervision, play in nearby areas, and participate in activities outside the usual routine. The world felt a little larger now—less like a cage, more like a waiting room.
But it also meant school.
Soon, I'd have to start attending regularly, follow schedules, interact with people outside the orphanage. That wasn't a problem, but it did complicate things.
Especially my plans.
If I wanted to be in the same generation as Midoriya Izuku, timing mattered. Being too old or too young would put me in a different year entirely. And being in the same school wasn't enough—I needed to be close. Same grade. Same class, ideally.
So I started thinking about age.
How old were Midoriya and his classmates?
I knew they entered U.A. at fifteen. That meant they were likely born around the same period, give or take a year. If I was too far off, no amount of effort would fix it later.
I needed information.
Not guesses. Not assumptions.
Actual dates.
Once school started, I'd have access to records, classmates, conversations—small things people shared without thinking. Birthdays. Year levels. Enrollment ages.
I didn't need to rush it. I still had time.
For now, the goal was simple: observe, listen, and adjust.
If I was younger, I could skip a year.
If I was older, I could delay.
Nothing was fixed yet.
As long as I planned carefully, I could place myself exactly where I needed to be.
In the same year.
In the same class.
Close enough for the future to unfold in my favor.