Lady Nagant's POV
The morning routine was becoming familiar—a rhythm neither of them had planned but which had developed naturally over the past few days. Nagant would wake first, prepare breakfast, then gently knock on Meiji's door. The boy would emerge, shadows swirling lazily around him like morning mist, and they would eat together in a silence that had gradually become companionable rather than tense.
Today, Nagant noticed small changes that signaled progress. Meiji reached for his food without hesitation now. His shadows remained calm, occasionally forming playful patterns that danced across the table. And most significantly, he had begun to initiate conversation, albeit briefly.
"Training today?" he asked, his voice still soft but clearer than before.
"Yes," Nagant replied, maintaining the matter-of-fact tone she'd discovered he responded to best. "But first, a session with Principal Nezu. He wants to play some games with you."
Meiji's brow furrowed slightly. "Games?"
"Different from training," she explained. "Just for fun, no testing nor any data recorded."
The concept seemed to confuse him, shadows swirling in questioning patterns, but he nodded acceptance. Trust, Nagant had learned, although new to her, it was being built through consistency—promises made and kept, expectations clearly defined, boundaries respected.
As they prepared to leave their apartment, Meiji surprised her by selecting a blue shirt from the new clothes Nezu had provided—the first time he'd expressed a preference rather than simply accepting whatever was offered. A small choice, but significant for a child whose self had been systematically stripped away.
The shadows around him shifted to match the shirt's color—another sign of improved quirk control. When they first arrived, the shadows had been uniformly black, often forming jagged or defensive shapes. Now they displayed variations in shade and fluidity that mirrored Meiji's emotional state.
"Ready?" she asked.
Meiji nodded, reaching for her hand—another new development. The shadows extended slightly, wrapping around their joined hands in what had become a familiar connection between them.
As they walked through the UA campus toward Nezu's office, Nagant found herself reflecting on how quickly she had adapted to this unexpected role. The HSPC had shaped her into a weapon—precise, detached, lethal. Nothing in her training had prepared her for guiding a traumatized child through recovery.
Yet here she was, noticing which foods he preferred, which clothes he favored, how his shadows changed with his moods. Remembering to explain things simply, to maintain eye contact, to offer choices whenever possible. Skills she had never needed before but now seemed as essential as marksmanship.
'It's different, but its nice'
For the first time in years, Lady Nagant wondered who she might have been if the HSPC hadn't found her. If her quirk had led her down a different path.
The thought was uncomfortable. Unfamiliar. She pushed it aside as they reached Nezu's office.
Nezu's POV
Nezu had prepared his office carefully for Meiji's session, transforming the typically formal space into something more inviting for a child. The administrative desk was pushed aside, replaced by a low table with cushions. Shelves had been cleared of reference materials to make room for puzzles, building blocks, and various games.
This wasn't standard protocol for UA's principal, but then, Nezu had never been overly concerned with protocol when it interfered with what he considered true education. And what was therapy if not education about oneself?
When Meiji entered with Lady Nagant, Nezu observed the shadow patterns with interest. Their formation and movement had evolved since the first day—less chaotic, more harmonious with the boy's physical movements. Progress, albeit subtle.
"Good morning, young Meiji, I believe this is our first meeting" he greeted cheerfully, hopping down from his chair. "And Lady Nagant. Thank you for bringing him."
Meiji watched Nezu carefully, shadows shifting slightly closer to his small body. Though they'd met before, the boy still seemed uncertain how to categorize this unusual principal—not quite human, not quite animal, but something in between.
"I thought we might play some games together today," Nezu continued, gesturing to the arranged activities. "Would you like that?"
Meiji glanced at Nagant, who nodded encouragingly.
"Lady Nagant can stay if you prefer," Nezu offered, noting the boy's hesitation. "Or she can return in an hour."
After a moment's consideration, Meiji released Nagant's hand, his shadows briefly extending toward her before withdrawing to swirl around his feet.
"I'll be back soon," she promised, and Nezu didn't miss the subtle nod of approval she gave the boy—acknowledging his choice to try this session independently.
Once they were alone, Nezu gestured to the cushions. "Please, make yourself comfortable."
Meiji sat down cautiously, shadows pooling around him like a protective moat.
"Do you know what I am, Meiji?" Nezu asked conversationally, pouring tea for himself and offering juice to the boy.
Meiji shook his head, accepting the juice with careful hands.
"Many people wonder that," Nezu said with a small smile. "I'm not quite a mouse, or a bear, or a dog—though I've been called all three. What I am is someone who understands what it's like to be treated as something other than a person."
He kept his tone light, but watched Meiji's reaction closely. The shadows stilled momentarily showing confusion, later indicating interest.
"You see, like you, I was experimented on because of my quirk," Nezu continued, selecting puzzle pieces and beginning to assemble them casually. "People wanted to understand why an animal had developed such high intelligence, so they conducted tests. Painful tests."
The shadows around Meiji shifted, forming small undulating waves that seemed to reflect empathy or maybe recognition.
"Would you like to help me with this puzzle while we talk?" Nezu offered, pushing some pieces toward Meiji.
The boy hesitated, then nodded, shadows extending to move pieces across the table before his hands reached for them.
"Interesting," Nezu commented. "Your shadows can manipulate objects independently of your physical touch. That's quite remarkable."
Meiji didn't respond verbally, but the shadows seemed to preen slightly at the compliment, forming more defined shapes.
"I designed this game myself," Nezu explained, revealing that the puzzle they were assembling was actually part of a larger strategy game. "Each piece you place gives you resources to build something in the next phase. What would you like to build, Meiji? A castle? A city? A forest?"
The question seemed to surprise the boy, as if being asked his preference was still a novel concept.
"A... home?" he suggested quietly.
Nezu nodded encouragingly. "A home is an excellent choice. Safe, secure, a place to belong."
As they continued assembling the puzzle, Nezu maintained a gentle conversational flow, introducing more complex game mechanics that required decisions and strategy. He observed how Meiji's shadows often indicated his choices before he verbalized them—reaching for certain pieces, hovering over particular options.
"Your quirk expresses itself beautifully," Nezu noted. "The shadows move with such fluidity. Was it always that way?"
Meiji's hands stilled on the puzzle. The shadows contracted slightly before he answered.
"No," he said softly. "They were... quieter. Before."
"Before the facility?" Nezu prompted gently.
Meiji nodded, shadows forming tight coils around his wrists. "They made them... louder. Bigger."
Nezu noted the breakthrough—the first time Meiji had voluntarily mentioned the experimentation. "That must have been frightening," he said, keeping his tone conversational as he continued placing puzzle pieces.
"It hurt," Meiji admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. The shadows darkened, forming jagged edges briefly before settling back into fluid motion.
"Pain changes us," Nezu acknowledged. "It changed me too. But do you know what I discovered, Meiji?"
The boy looked up, curious.
"I discovered that what others do to us doesn't define what we become," Nezu said, completing his section of the puzzle. "They tried to make me a subject, an experiment. But I chose to become an educator instead. The choice was mine, not theirs."
Meiji considered this, shadows shifting thoughtfully. "What if... what if I can't control it? What they made?"
"That's why we're here," Nezu assured him. "To help you learn control. And you're already making progress—look how your shadows helped with our game today. They followed your words, didn't they?"
Meiji glanced down at the shadows, which had formed a small replica of the house they'd built in the game. He nodded slowly.
"We'll continue working together," Nezu promised. "And remember, Meiji—your quirk is part of you, not something separate that was created in that facility. It's your shadow, a manifestation of your heart."
As they completed the game, Nezu observed that the shadows had relaxed considerably, moving more harmoniously with Meiji's actions. When Lady Nagant returned to collect him, there was a subtle but significant change in the boy's demeanor—a slight straightening of the shoulders, a more direct gaze.
Small steps, but in the right direction.
All Might's POV
Toshinori Yagi, currently in his diminished form, was arranging plates in the small private dining room when Nezu arrived with the boy and Lady Nagant. He had been briefed on the situation—a child rescued from experimental quirk enhancement, now under UA's protective custody. The request to meet with him had been unexpected but not unwelcome.
"Ah, there you are!" he said, offering a gentle smile rather than his typical booming greeting. In this form, he hoped he'd appear less intimidating to the child.
"Meiji, Lady Nagant, this is Toshinori Yagi," Nezu introduced. "He teaches at UA and was once the Pro Hero All Might."
The sudden information surprised both of them, the boy—Meiji—looked at him with wide eyes, shadows swirling around his small form in what appeared to be confused patterns. Clearly, the gaunt man before him didn't match whatever mental image he had of the former Symbol of Peace.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, young Meiji," Toshinori said, pulling out chairs for them. "Principal Nezu thought you might enjoy hearing some stories over lunch."
Lady Nagant positioned herself slightly behind Meiji, maintaining what Toshinori recognized as a protective stance while allowing the boy his own space. An interesting dynamic between the HSPC operative and her charge.
As they settled around the table, Toshinori served the simple meal Recovery Girl had recommended—nutritious foods that would help address the malnutrition evident in the boy's slight frame.
"You know," he began conversationally, "I wasn't always All Might."
Meiji looked up from his plate, curiosity evident in his expression. The shadows around him formed what appeared to be question marks.
"Before I became a hero, I was just a quirkless boy with a dream," Toshinori continued. "Many people told me it was impossible."
"You were... quirkless?" Meiji asked, his soft voice holding a note of surprise.
Toshinori nodded. "Until I was given a quirk by my mentor. It was overwhelming at first—too much power for my body to handle. Every time I used it, I hurt myself."
The shadows around Meiji rippled with what might have been recognition.
"It took years of training to control it properly," Toshinori explained. "I had to learn that the power wasn't separate from me—it had to become part of me, working in harmony with my body and mind."
Lady Nagant was watching him carefully, clearly assessing his approach. Toshinori continued his story, describing his early struggles with control in terms a child could understand, emphasizing the process of learning to work with his quirk rather than against it.
Throughout the meal, he observed how Meiji's shadows seemed to respond to the conversation—sometimes extending toward him in curiosity, other times withdrawing when certain topics triggered discomfort. It was like having a visual representation of the boy's emotional state—a unique quirk manifestation that seemed as expressive as it was powerful.
"May I ask about your shadows, young Meiji?" Toshinori inquired gently. "They're quite remarkable."
Meiji glanced down at the darkness swirling around him. "They... show what I feel," he said after a moment's hesitation.
"An honest quirk," Toshinori observed with a smile. "There's something admirable about that. No hiding, no pretending."
The shadows seemed to preen slightly at this perspective, forming more defined, almost elegant patterns.
"Did you ever... hurt yourself? With your quirk?" Meiji asked suddenly, surprising both adults with the direct question.
Toshinori nodded solemnly. "Many times. Broken bones, internal injuries—my body wasn't ready for the power. But with time and guidance, I learned control. And one day, you will too."
As lunch concluded, Toshinori noticed a subtle shift in the boy's demeanor—the shadows moved more fluidly, less defensively. Small progress, perhaps, but significant.
"Thank you for sharing your meal with me," he said as they prepared to leave. "I hope we can talk again sometime."
Meiji nodded, and for the briefest moment, the shadows formed what appeared to be a tiny muscular arm giving a thumbs-up—an unmistakable All Might gesture that made Toshinori smile broadly.
Even in darkness, it seemed, light could be found.
'When I find a successor and lose OFA, maybe this could be another way of helping the people'
General POV
The HSPC agent arrived unannounced in the early afternoon. Tall, immaculately dressed in the commission's formal attire, her credentials displayed prominently as she approached UA's main gates.
"Agent Haruka Sato," she identified herself to the security system. "Here for the scheduled assessment of Subject M-7, currently in Lady Nagant's custody."
The security protocol routed her request directly to Principal Nezu's office, where he was reviewing notes from Meiji's morning session.
"Agent Sato," Nezu acknowledged through the video interface. "This is unexpected. Our agreement specified weekly written reports, with the first in-person assessment scheduled for the end of the month."
The agent's expression remained professionally neutral. "The commission has revised the protocol. Given the subject's enhanced quirk classification and potential security implications, more immediate oversight has been deemed necessary."
"I see," Nezu replied, his tone pleasant but firm. "However, I must decline your request today. Young Meiji is currently in the middle of crucial adaptation therapy. Interrupting the process could jeopardize the progress we've made in stabilizing his quirk response."
Agent Sato's eyes narrowed slightly. "Principal Nezu, with all due respect, the Hero Public Safety Commission's authority in matters of quirk security supersedes—"
"Indeed it does," Nezu interrupted smoothly. "Which is precisely why our agreement stipulated a carefully structured assessment schedule designed to minimize psychological distress that could trigger quirk instability. As the commission's own regulations state in Section 47-B, 'Quirk assessment protocols must prioritize containment safety above data collection when dealing with potentially volatile quirk manifestations.'"
The agent's lips pressed into a thin line. "Agent Nagant was assigned to provide sufficient containment."
"And she has done so admirably," Nezu agreed. "The preliminary data we've collected shows promising stabilization patterns. Data which, I might add, was transmitted to the commission this morning as agreed."
A standoff ensued, the agent clearly weighing her options against Nezu's polite but uncompromising stance.
"The commission will not look favorably on this obstruction," she said finally.
"Not obstruction, Agent Sato. Optimization." Nezu's smile never wavered. "I'm simply ensuring that when your assessment does take place, you'll have a cooperative subject whose quirk readings won't be skewed by psychological distress. I believe Director Kujō would appreciate accurate data over expedient collection."
Reluctantly, the agent conceded. "I'll report your... concerns... to the commission. Expect a formal response."
"I look forward to it," Nezu replied cheerfully. "And please, do call ahead for your next visit. We'll be happy to accommodate you once young Meiji has completed this phase of his adaptation therapy."
After the agent departed, Nezu's expression grew more serious. The HSPC's accelerated interest was concerning—suggesting their motives extended beyond mere oversight of a potentially dangerous quirk. Making a quick decision, he activated his secure communication channel.
"Aizawa, please adjust today's training session to focus on defensive applications. I believe our window of uninterrupted development may be shorter than anticipated."
Aizawa's POV
Aizawa observed Meiji's progress with professional detachment. The boy's control had improved noticeably since their first session—the shadows responding more precisely to his directions, maintaining consistent density, forming more complex shapes.
"Again," he instructed, indicating a series of targets positioned at varying heights and distances. "Focus on precision, not power."
Meiji nodded, concentrating as his shadows extended outward, splitting into multiple tendrils that simultaneously touched each target. The quirk monitor on his wrist showed increased activity but within stable parameters.
Lady Nagant stood at the edge of the training area, her presence now a standard part of these sessions. Aizawa had initially questioned her involvement, but had come to recognize the stabilizing effect she had on the boy's quirk manifestation.
"Your control is improving," he acknowledged as Meiji completed the exercise. "Now we'll try something different."
He activated a training program designed to simulate unpredictable stimuli—soft foam projectiles launched from random positions around the room.
"This time, use your shadows to deflect the projectiles," Aizawa explained. "Not to attack, but to protect."
Meiji looked uncertain, shadows shifting anxiously around him.
"Defense is often more challenging than offense," Aizawa continued. "It requires anticipation, judgment of trajectory, and controlled response. All skills that will help you maintain control in unpredictable situations."
The first projectile launched without warning. Meiji's shadows reacted instinctively, forming a jagged spike that impaled rather than deflected the foam ball.
"Not bad, but not what we're aiming for," Aizawa noted calmly. "Try to create a flat surface to redirect rather than pierce."
As the exercise continued, Aizawa observed how the shadows gradually adapted—shifting from aggressive, pointed formations to broader, more flexible surfaces that caught and redirected the projectiles. It was an encouraging sign of adaptability, of learning beyond instinctive response.
"Better," he acknowledged after a particularly effective deflection. "You're starting to anticipate the launches."
Meiji's expression showed focused concentration, the shadows moving more fluidly with each successful deflection. There was something almost graceful about the movement now—darkness flowing like water rather than striking like blades.
Halfway through the session, Aizawa noticed a subtle shift in Meiji's approach. The boy had stopped looking at the launchers and instead began watching the shadows themselves, as if having a silent conversation with his quirk.
"What changed?" Aizawa asked during a brief pause.
Meiji hesitated before answering. "I stopped... telling them what to do. Started... showing them."
Aizawa raised an eyebrow. "Explain."
"Before, I was thinking 'block' or 'stop,'" Meiji said slowly, shadows swirling thoughtfully around him. "Now I'm... picturing. Seeing it happen first."
It was the most the boy had spoken at once during any of their sessions—a breakthrough in itself. More importantly, he had independently discovered a fundamental principle of quirk control that many students took years to grasp: visualization before execution.
"That's good technique," Aizawa confirmed. "Many pros use that method. Your mind shows the path, your quirk follows."
For the briefest moment, something that might have been pride flickered across Meiji's face. The shadows seemed to respond by forming more defined, twisted patterns around him.
(AN: I'm picturing it like chopper being embarrassed honestly hehe).
They continued for another twenty minutes, gradually increasing the speed and complexity of the exercise. By the end, Meiji was successfully deflecting multiple projectiles simultaneously, the shadows forming protective barriers that adapted to each incoming trajectory.
"Enough for today," Aizawa concluded, shutting down the training program. "You've made significant progress."
As they prepared to leave, Aizawa pulled Lady Nagant aside briefly.
"Nezu warned me about the HSPC showing intensified interest," he said quietly. "If they push for accelerated assessment, we may need to intensify his control training."
Nagant's expression remained neutral, but something hardened in her eyes. "The commission is impatient by nature. They see quirks as tools, not extensions of personhood."
"Are you prepared for their intervention?" Aizawa asked directly.
"Are you asking if I'll follow HSPC orders over UA's recommendations?" Her voice was cool, professional.
"I'm asking where your priorities lie."
Nagant looked past him to where Meiji waited, shadows calmly swirling around him like gentle waves.
"My priorities are clear," she said simply.
Aizawa studied her for a moment, then nodded. "Good. Because I suspect we're running out of time."
Midnight's POV
Nemuri Kayama—better known as the R-Rated Hero: Midnight—wasn't typically associated with child welfare cases. Her provocative persona and mature-oriented heroics usually kept her away from situations involving minors. But as a UA teacher with experience in therapeutic uses of art, Nezu had specifically requested her assistance.
"Remember," he had cautioned, "this child has experienced significant trauma. Your approach must be adjusted accordingly."
Now, as she knocked on the door of Lady Nagant's temporary residence, Midnight found herself genuinely curious about the boy whose story had spread through UA's faculty in hushed conversations.
The door opened to reveal the HSPC's renowned operative—tall, composed, watchful. Behind her, partially hidden, stood a small boy surrounded by swirling shadows that seemed to assess Midnight before the child himself did.
"Ms. Kayama," Nagant acknowledged formally. "Meiji, this is another teacher from UA, Ms. Kayama."
"Please, call me Midnight," she said, crouching slightly to be at eye level with the boy. "All the students do."
The shadows around Meiji shifted, forming curious patterns that reminded Midnight of question marks.
"Actually, I got a surprise for you!" she continued, holding up a large art supply case. "I thought you might enjoy creating some pictures."
Meiji's expression remained guarded, but the shadows extended slightly toward the case, revealing interest he didn't verbally express.
Inside the apartment, Midnight set up the art supplies on the living room table—high-quality papers, non-toxic paints, colored pencils, modeling clay, and various other materials.
"Art is another way to express yourself," she explained as Meiji cautiously approached the table. "Sometimes colors and shapes can say things that are hard to put into words."
Lady Nagant remained nearby, observing but not interfering as Midnight guided Meiji through exploring the different materials. The boy seemed particularly drawn to the charcoal pencils, perhaps naturally aligned with his shadow quirk.
"You can draw anything you like," Midnight encouraged. "Something you remember, something you imagine, or just shapes and patterns."
Meiji selected a large sheet of paper and began to draw, his shadows extending to hold additional pencils, effectively allowing him to work with multiple tools simultaneously. It was a fascinating application of his quirk—practical, non-threatening, creative.
As he worked, Midnight noticed that the shadows themselves began to form three-dimensional representations of the shapes he was drawing, creating a dynamic interaction between the flat page and the space around him.
"That's remarkable," she commented, genuinely impressed. "Your shadows are bringing your drawing to life."
Meiji paused, looking up at her, then at the shadows that had formed a small replica of the building he was sketching.
"It's... easier," he said quietly. "To show than tell."
Midnight nodded understanding. "Many artists feel the same way. That's why we create—to express what words can't capture."
As the session continued, Meiji's artwork evolved from simple shapes to more complex scenes—a building that might have been the facility he was rescued from, shadowy figures that evoked both fear and longing, and finally, a recognizable representation of UA's campus with small figures that appeared to be the teachers he had met.
Surprisingly the boy had a great talent at art, even though this looked like the first time he was drawing he was starting to becoming more proficient with each passing stroke.
What struck Midnight most was how the shadows shifted during the process—beginning as sharp, angular formations when he drew the facility, becoming more fluid when he created images of UA. The quirk was quite literally reflecting his emotional state through artistic expression.
"You have a natural talent for it," she told him as they concluded the session. "Would you like me to bring these supplies again next week?"
Meiji nodded, the shadows bobbing in agreement. Then, surprising both adults, he carefully selected one of his drawings—the image of UA—and offered it to Midnight.
"For you," he said softly.
The gesture was simple but profound—perhaps the first voluntary gift he had given since his rescue. Midnight accepted it with appropriate solemnity.
"Thank you, Meiji. I'll keep it in my office."
As she prepared to leave, Midnight caught Lady Nagant watching the boy with an expression that seemed at odds with her reputation as the HSPC's cold operative—something protective, perhaps even proud.
"He's progressing well," Midnight observed quietly.
"Yes," Nagant agreed, her tone neutral but her eyes remaining on Meiji as he continued drawing. "He is."
Meiji's POV
Bedtime had become a ritual Meiji looked forward to, though he would never have admitted it aloud. Lady Nagant would help him prepare—teeth brushing, changing into the soft pajamas Principal Nezu had provided, arranging the plush bear and extra blanket just so.
Tonight, she read from one of the books about quirk control, explaining the simple diagrams that showed how emotions and quirks were connected. Meiji liked the steadiness of her voice—not too loud, not too soft, never angry or impatient.
"Time to sleep," she said, closing the book. "Tomorrow we'll try some new exercises with Aizawa."
Meiji nodded, shadows settling into gentle waves around his bed. They tended to be calmer in the evening now, responding to his increasing sense of security in this place.
As Lady Nagant turned to leave, he surprised himself by speaking.
"Today was... good."
She paused at the door, something shifting in her usually composed expression. "Yes," she agreed. "It was."
After she left, Meiji lay awake for a while, watching his shadows create patterns on the ceiling. They didn't frighten him as much anymore. Mr. Aizawa had been right—when he thought of them as a conversation rather than a command, they responded differently. Better.
Eventually, sleep came, bringing with it the dream that had become familiar—white walls, restraints, needles, pain. But tonight, the dream shifted into something worse.
He was back in the facility, but this time Lady Nagant was there too—not as his protector but as a prisoner alongside him. Dr. Shimura was explaining how they would enhance her quirk as well, how they would make them both into perfect weapons.
"The shadows first," the doctor was saying, approaching her with a syringe of dark liquid. "Then the rifle. Imagine the potential."
Meiji tried to scream, to warn her, but no sound came out. His shadows lashed violently outward, trying to knock the syringe away, but they passed through everything like smoke, ineffective, useless.
"Meiji."
The voice seemed to come from far away.
"Meiji!"
"Wake up. You're dreaming."
He surfaced from the nightmare with a gasping sob, shadows exploding outward in violent, jagged formations that scraped against the walls, ceiling, furniture. Through tear-blurred vision, he saw Lady Nagant standing just inside the doorway, watching the chaos of his quirk with calm assessment.
"You're safe," she said, her voice steady, with a tinge of worry. "It was just a dream. No one is going to hurt you here."
The shadows continued their frenzied movement, though their trajectory carefully avoided Lady Nagant herself, as if some part of Meiji maintained control even in this panicked state.
"Can I come closer?" she asked, making no move without his permission.
Meiji managed a nod, trying to pull the shadows back, to contain them, but they resisted his control—too charged with the fear and horror of the nightmare.
Lady Nagant approached carefully, sitting on the edge of the bed. "Would you like to tell me about the dream?"
The shadows contracted slightly, forming shapes that resembled syringes, restraints, surgical instruments. Then, unexpectedly, they formed a small figure that resembled Lady Nagant herself, surrounded by threatening shadows.
Understanding registered in her expression. "You dreamed they hurt me too."
Meiji nodded, another sob escaping as the shadows continued their distressed movements.
"Look at me," Lady Nagant said gently. "I'm right here. Safe. So are you. We escaped that place, remember? No one is going to take us back."
Gradually, the violent movements of the shadows began to slow, responding to her calm presence and reassuring words. When they had settled enough that they no longer posed a danger to the room, Lady Nagant did something unexpected—she reached out her hand, allowing the shadows to engulf it.
"See?" she said. "Your quirk knows me. It won't hurt me."
The shadows wrapped around her hand cautiously, forming intricate patterns that resembled a protective glove rather than the restraints from his nightmare.
"Can I stay until you fall asleep again?" she asked.
Meiji nodded, relief washing through him as she settled more comfortably on the edge of the bed. The shadows gradually receded, returning to their usual gentle swirling, occasionally extending to touch Lady Nagant's hand as if reassuring themselves of her presence.
As he drifted back toward sleep, Meiji realized something important—the shadows hadn't been trying to attack in his nightmare. They had been trying to protect. To save Lady Nagant from the fate he had suffered.
His quirk wasn't a weapon. It was a shield.
Nezu's POV
In his private office, long after most of UA had gone to sleep, Nezu reviewed the day's data with careful attention. Meiji's quirk monitor had transmitted continuous readings, creating a detailed profile of his shadow quirk's behavior during various activities and emotional states.
"Fascinating," he murmured, studying the patterns from the art session with Midnight. "Creative expression produces the most harmonious quirk signature we've seen yet."
The readings from the nightmare incident were equally telling—violent spikes in quirk activity followed by a remarkably swift return to stable patterns after Lady Nagant's intervention. The rate of stabilization was, in fact, faster than any of their structured training sessions had produced.
It confirmed Nezu's theory: emotional connection was proving more effective than technical training in helping Meiji regain control.
He switched to another screen, reviewing the security footage from the main gate where the HSPC agent had attempted to gain access. Her body language, choice of words, and persistence all suggested that the commission's interest went beyond routine oversight of a dangerous quirk.
"They want something specific," Nezu concluded, tapping his paw thoughtfully against the desk. "But what?"
The answer might lie in the fragmented research data recovered from the facility—references to quirk singularity, evolution acceleration, and something called "autonomous manifestation." Whatever the researchers had been attempting with Meiji's quirk, it appeared to be part of a larger project, one the HSPC seemed determined to continue monitoring, if not controlling.
Nezu's own experiences made him particularly sensitive to the difference between scientific interest and exploitation. The researchers who had tortured him had claimed to be advancing quirk science—but their methods had revealed their true objective: weaponization.
He feared the HSPC's intentions might align more closely with the latter.
Making a decision, Nezu activated his secure communication system, connecting to a network few knew existed—a coalition of individuals who shared his concerns about institutional approaches to quirk regulation.
"Increase security protocols for the Hasegawa case," he instructed. "And prepare contingency measures for rapid relocation if necessary. I believe our window of uncontested development is closing faster than anticipated."
As he ended the transmission, Nezu gazed out at the darkened UA campus. The school had been founded as a haven for young people learning to control their quirks, to use their powers responsibly, ethically. That mission had never seemed more vital than now, with a child whose shadows might represent the future of quirk evolution itself.
"We will protect you, young Meiji," he promised quietly. "Not just for your sake, but for all who might follow your path."
The true battle, Nezu suspected, was just beginning.
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AN:
Hey just thought to say, thanks for talking about pride, gonna use him as reference and that helps a ton (since my original reference was just too op... literally ate top existences just appearing...)
Anyway, hoped you liked the chapter again, and even though I may hate to add the trauma, but I guess its unavoidable when dealing with this kind of backstory, sadly real life is all but a field of roses.
Right, just gonna mention it but ended up just saying he's talented to not prolong the chapters too much where he develops that talent, thought it'd be a nice way of saying that would've been his future passion.
Also uhhh just realized I made a fool of myself (was saying uploading 1 per day, took a break yesterday supposedly uploading 2 the day before but in reality I uploaded 2 per day...)
I kinda got my schedule jumbled up for this since I was doing it for a break in the night, then at the morning, and repeated that 2 days hehe, funnily enough.