Lady Nagant's POV
Lady Nagant stood in her apartment, staring at the sleeping child on her couch with a mixture of determination and uncertainty. Meiji had finally succumbed to exhaustion after their arrival, the shadows around him now reduced to gentle wisps that occasionally stirred with his breathing.
She moved quietly to the kitchen, preparing a simple meal in case he woke hungry. The events of the past twenty-four hours had been... unexpected. When she'd left for the mission, she'd been Lady Nagant—the HSPC's efficient, detached operative. Now she was standing in her rarely-used kitchen, wondering if she had anything suitable for a five-year-old to eat.
A soft noise from the living room caught her attention. Meiji was awake, sitting perfectly still on the couch, dark eyes scanning the unfamiliar surroundings. The shadows around him had intensified slightly, coiling protectively around his small frame.
"You're safe," Nagant said, keeping her voice gentle. "This is my home. You'll be staying here for a while."
Meiji watched her silently, neither relaxing nor becoming more agitated. His gaze tracked her movements with the wariness of someone accustomed to threat assessment.
"Are you hungry?" she asked, setting a plate of simple food on the coffee table before him.
He glanced at the food, then back at her, making no move to take it.
"It's okay," she encouraged. "It's for you."
After a moment's hesitation, Meiji reached for a piece of bread, shadows receding slightly from his arm as he did so. He ate with careful, measured bites—not the enthusiastic appetite of a typical child, but the cautious consumption of someone who had learned to take what was offered before it disappeared.
Nagant sat in the armchair opposite him, giving him space. "Tomorrow," she said, "a doctor will come to check on you. Just to make sure you're healthy."
Meiji paused mid-bite, tension returning to his small shoulders.
"Not like the doctors from before," Nagant clarified quickly. "This one helps heroes. Her name is Recovery Girl. You met her earlier."
The tension in Meiji's posture eased slightly, though wariness remained in his eyes.
"After that," Nagant continued, "we'll need to figure out some things. Clothes for you. Perhaps some toys."
The concept of toys seemed to confuse Meiji. His brow furrowed slightly, shadows swirling in matching patterns of uncertainty.
A notification chimed on Nagant's phone—a message from the HSPC: "Status report required. Debriefing scheduled 0800 tomorrow."
She set the phone aside with a sigh. Tomorrow would bring complications, questions about her unorthodox decision. But for tonight, her focus was on the child before her—this small, wounded boy whose trust she had somehow earned.
"When you're finished eating," she said, "I'll show you where you'll sleep."
Meiji's POV
Meiji watched the woman—Lady Nagant, she called herself—with careful attention. Her movements were precise, controlled, not wasteful or threatening. Different from the white-coats.
The apartment was strange. No white walls. No observation windows. No restraints. Just... space. Colors. Furniture that wasn't bolted down.
The shadows moved with his confusion, curling and uncurling around his fingers. They had always been there, part of him, but the white-coats had done something to make them stronger, wilder. Sometimes they responded to his feelings before he even understood what he was feeling.
Lady Nagant had prepared a small room for him—"guest room," she called it. A bed that was too soft. Windows with curtains that could be opened or closed. Freedom that felt foreign and frightening.
"Try to get some sleep," she told him. "I'll be just across the hall if you need anything."
Need anything. A strange concept. In the facility, needs were irrelevant. There were tests, and there were results. Nothing else mattered.
When she left, closing the door but not locking it... 'strange', Meiji sat on the edge of the bed, unsure what to do with this newfound lack of restraint. The shadows pooled around him, responding to his uncertainty.
Eventually, he lay down, sinking into the mattress that felt unnervingly soft after months of sleeping on a hard cot. He stared at the ceiling, watching as his shadows cast patterns across it, reflecting the chaotic emotions he couldn't name.
Freedom. Safety. These were concepts he remembered from before—from the fragmented memories of a time when he'd been just Meiji, not Subject M-7. But could he trust them? Could he... trust her?
The shadows churned, forming shapes with too many eyes, too many teeth—manifestations of anxiety he couldn't verbalize. He closed his eyes, trying to make them stop, but they only grew more intense in the darkness behind his eyelids.
Somewhere in the night, he must have fallen asleep, because suddenly he was back in the facility, strapped to the examination table as Dr. Shimura approached with another syringe, another dose of the burning liquid that made the shadows grow and change.
"Remarkable progress," the doctor was saying, not to Meiji but about him. "The quirk is evolving beyond natural limitations. The next phase should—"
Meiji woke with a gasp, shadows spiking violently around him in defensive formation. It took several moments to remember where he was, to recognize the unfamiliar room as safe rather than threatening.
The shadows gradually receded, though they continued to pulse in rhythm with his racing heart. Meiji pulled his knees to his chest, making himself small, and waited for morning to come.
Nezu's POV
Principal Nezu sat in his office at UA High School, reviewing the report that had just arrived from his sources within the Hero Public Safety Commission. The midnight raid on an unauthorized research facility had yielded concerning results—evidence of illegal quirk experimentation, connections to larger villain organizations, and most troublingly, a child test subject.
"Fascinating," he murmured, adjusting his reading glasses as he examined the preliminary findings on the quirk-enhancement compounds recovered from the scene. As both an educator and a victim of quirk experimentation himself, Nezu had a particular interest in such cases.
The report included limited information on the child: Male, five years old, name Meiji Hasegawa, possessing a darkness manipulation quirk that had been artificially enhanced through experimental drugs. Currently in temporary custody of Pro Hero Lady Nagant.
Nezu's paws paused above his keyboard. Lady Nagant—an unusual choice for childcare. Her reputation within the HSPC was well-established: clinical efficiency, emotional detachment, precise execution of orders. Not someone typically associated with rescue operations involving children.
Yet according to Sir Nighteye's notes, she had demonstrated "unexpected maternal behavior" towards the child, even going as far to volunteer to take temporary custody rather than remanding him to the standard HSPC protocols for rescued victims.
'How intriguing'.
Nezu accessed additional files, searching for more information on the boy's quirk. The documentation was fragmented—much had been destroyed before the heroes secured the facility—but what remained painted a concerning picture. The researchers had been systematically breaking down the natural limitations of the child's quirk, accelerating its evolution causing an unexpected change in its core.
As Nezu reviewed the clinical notes describing the experiments, memories of his own past surfaced unbidden—restraints, needles, pain, and the cold, analytical voices discussing his responses as if he were an object rather than a living being.
"How cruel humans can be," he murmured, a rare bitterness entering his voice. "They call us monsters for our quirks, yet think nothing of the monstrous acts they commit in the name of science."
He closed the file, taking a moment to compose himself. His own experiences had shaped him—had driven him to create an educational environment where young people could learn to use their quirks responsibly, ethically. Where power was balanced with compassion.
This child—Meiji—deserved the same opportunity. Not to be treated as a weapon or a research subject, but as a person with potential beyond the darkness that had been forced upon him.
"This requires personal attention," he decided, reaching for his phone.
First, he would need more information about the boy's condition and the HSPC's intentions. Then, perhaps, an intervention might be necessary. UA had resources that could help—specialized training facilities, therapeutic programs developed for students with difficult-to-control quirks, and most importantly, teachers who understood that power and trauma often came hand in hand.
Nezu smiled slightly as he formulated a plan. The HSPC might have their protocols, but he had his methods as well. And unlike theirs, his prioritized the child's well-being above all else.
General POV
The HSPC headquarters was imposing by design—a monument to authority and order. Lady Nagant stood in the briefing room, her posture perfect as she faced the panel of senior officials. Meiji had been left in Recovery Girl's care for his medical examination, though he'd been reluctant to let Nagant out of his sight.
"Your actions were irregular, Agent Nagant," said Director Kujō, a stern woman seemingly without emotions. "Taking custody of the subject without proper authorization contradicts established protocols."
"The child," Nagant corrected calmly, "not the subject."
Director Kujō's eyes narrowed slightly. "Regardless of terminology, you overstepped your authority. The boy should have been remanded to our specialized containment facility until proper assessment of his quirk could be completed."
"Containment facility," Nagant repeated, something hard entering her voice. "He's been 'contained' for months. He needs stability, not another cell."
"That's not your determination to make," interjected another official, a gray-haired man whose name Nagant couldn't recall. "The boy's quirk has been artificially enhanced to dangerous levels. The documentation recovered indicates potential for loss of control."
"Which is precisely why he should remain in my custody," Nagant countered. "I'm capable of defending myself if necessary. Placing him with untrained personnel could put them at risk."
"Or you could neutralize the threat permanently," suggested a third official, his tone casual but meaning clear.
Nagant's eyes sharpened. "He's a five-year-old victim, not a threat to be 'neutralized.'"
Director Kujō sighed. "Your newfound... sentimentality... is noted, Agent Nagant. However, the commission has protocols for situations like this. The boy will be transferred to our specialized facility by the end of the day."
"And then what?" Nagant asked, an edge creeping into her voice. "More tests? More attempts to weaponize his quirk? Isn't that exactly what we raided the facility to stop?"
The room went silent, the tension palpable.
"Careful, Agent," Director Kujō said, gaze sharpening. "Your exemplary service record affords you some leeway, but there are limits to our patience."
Before Nagant could respond, the door opened, and an unexpected figure entered—small, white-furred, impeccably dressed.
"Principal Nezu," Director Kujō acknowledged, surprise evident in her tone. "This is a closed commission meeting."
"Indeed it is," Nezu replied cheerfully, climbing onto a chair to bring himself to table height. "However, as UA's principal and a registered consultant to the HSPC on matters involving quirk development in minors, I believed my input might be valuable in this particular case."
Nagant maintained her neutral expression, though inwardly she wondered at the small principal's sudden appearance. She knew of him by reputation—brilliant, unpredictable, and possessing more influence that his diminutive stature could ever suggest.
"We appreciate your interest," Director Kujō said carefully, "but the disposition of this case has already been determined."
"Has it?" Nezu tilted his head, his smile never wavering. "How fascinating. I was under the impression that decisions involving enhanced quirk manifestation in minors required consultation with qualified experts—as established in Provision 17-B of the Hero Public Safety Accord, revised last spring."
The officials exchanged glances, clearly surprised by Nezu's detailed knowledge of their protocols.
"Furthermore," Nezu continued pleasantly, "given my own personal history with quirk experimentation and subsequent rehabilitation, I would seem uniquely positioned to offer insights on this particular case."
Nagant watched the exchange with growing excitement, although she couldn't let it show. Nezu was outmaneuvering them in their own territory, using their own regulations against them.
"What exactly are you proposing, Principal?" the gray-haired official asked cautiously.
"A compromise," Nezu replied. "Instead of transferring young Meiji to your facility, I propose a specialized program under joint supervision. Lady Nagant would maintain primary custody, providing the stability and trust the child clearly needs, while UA would offer specialized facilities for quirk assessment and control training. The commission would receive regular reports on his progress, naturally."
Director Kujō frowned. "The child requires security measures that a private residence cannot provide."
"Easily addressed," Nezu countered. "UA has secure accommodations within our campus designed specifically for individuals with unstable quirks. Lady Nagant and Meiji could be provided with one of these residences, ensuring both the child's safety and appropriate containment if necessary."
Nagant maintained her composed expression, though surprise coursed through her. This mouse—bear—whatever he was—had just constructed an elegant solution that addressed all parties' concerns while prioritizing Meiji's well-being.
"Such an arrangement would be highly irregular," Director Kujō protested, though with less conviction.
"Not more irregular than experimenting on children," Nezu replied, his pleasant tone unchanged but his eyes turning cold. "Which is precisely what we're trying to prevent, isn't it?"
The subtle reminder of what had been done to Meiji—and the implied parallel to what the commission was proposing—left a heavy silence in the room.
"I would need to consult with the full commission," Director Kujō said finally.
"Of course," Nezu agreed amiably. "Though I should mention that I've taken the liberty of speaking with Recovery Girl about Meiji's condition. Her professional opinion is that separating him from Lady Nagant at this stage would cause significant psychological distress, potentially triggering the very quirk instability you're concerned about."
Nagant recognized the maneuver for what it was—Nezu had effectively backed the commission into a corner. They could either accept his proposal or risk being seen as endangering a child through actions contradicting expert medical advice.
Director Kujō seemed to realize this as well. "We will accept your proposal on a provisional basis. Initial period of one month, with weekly assessments and reports."
"Wonderful," Nezu said, clapping his paws together. "I look forward to a productive collaboration. Lady Nagant, might I have a word with you outside? There are some details regarding the UA accommodations we should discuss."
Dismissed from the meeting, Nagant followed the principal cheerfully into the hallway although in doubt, her mind racing with questions.
Once they were alone, Nezu's cheerful demeanor remained, but his voice took on a more serious tone. "I apologize for intervening without consultation, Lady Nagant, but time was of the essence. The commission's 'specialized facility' is not an environment conducive to recovery for someone in Meiji's condition."
"Why are you helping us?" Nagant asked directly.
Nezu's small eyes studied her with unexpected intensity. "Perhaps because I see something of my own past in this situation. I too was subjected to experimentation because of my quirk. The scientists who tortured me wanted to understand why an animal could develop a quirk, specially one that had developed such intelligence."
His paws tightened slightly on the railing as memories surfaced. "They called it research, but there was nothing scientific about their cruelty. They treated me as a curiosity, a puzzle to be taken apart rather than a living being capable of suffering." He looked up at her, eyes reflecting old pain. "Humans can be remarkably blind to the monsters they become in pursuit of what they call progress."
Nezu's smile returned, though it was tinged with something melancholy. "Or perhaps I simply believe that children deserve better than to be treated as weapons or research subjects. Regardless of my motivations, the question now is whether you're prepared for what comes next."
"What do you mean?"
"Taking responsibility for a traumatized child with an unstable quirk is no small undertaking," Nezu explained. "Recovery won't be linear. There will be setbacks, outbursts, moments of progress followed by regression. Are you committed to seeing this through?"
Nagant thought of Meiji—his wary eyes, his silent vigilance, the way he'd looked at her as if she were the first safe thing he'd encountered in a world of pain.
"Yes," she said simply.
Nezu nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Then we have much to prepare. The accommodations at UA are ready whenever you are. I've taken the liberty of arranging for essential supplies—clothing, basic necessities, some toys appropriate for his age."
"Toys," Nagant repeated, taking a strange focus to that particular word
'He shouldn't have had the chance to play before' she thought.
"Children need play as much as they need food and shelter," Nezu said gently. "It's how they process the world around them, especially trauma. Speaking of which, I've also arranged for specialized therapy sessions. Not immediately—he'll need time to acclimate first—but soon."
Unexpectedly Nagant herself felt slightly overwhelmed by the sudden shift in circumstances. She thought she'd be denied of her efforts just as it was going before Nezu arrived. Yesterday she had been the HSPC's precision weapon. Today she was responsible for a child's recovery.
"I don't know how to do this," she admitted quietly.
"Few of us do, when we first begin," Nezu replied. "But you've already done the most important thing—you've shown him that he matters. That someone will fight for him." His small face grew serious. "That's more than many of us ever received."
He turned toward the exit. "We should collect Meiji from Recovery Girl. I imagine he's quite anxious in your absence."
As they walked, Nezu added casually, "By the way, I've also arranged for you to receive a temporary leave of absence from your usual HSPC duties. Director Kujō was reluctant, but I reminded her that your full attention would be required to ensure proper quirk containment protocols are followed."
Nagant glanced down at the small principal, newfound respect in her gaze. "You've thought of everything."
"I find it's best to be thorough when outmaneuvering bureaucracy," Nezu replied cheerfully. "Especially when children's welfare is at stake."
They reached the medical wing, where Recovery Girl was gently examining Meiji's responses to basic stimuli. The shadows around the boy had formed a partial barrier between him and the elderly hero, though they weren't overtly aggressive.
The moment Meiji caught sight of Nagant, the shadows receded noticeably, and some of the tension left his small shoulders.
"Ah, perfect timing," Recovery Girl said, noticing their arrival. "We've just finished our examination. Physically, he's undernourished but otherwise in reasonable condition. No permanent damage from the experimentation, though his quirk factor readings are... unusual."
Nezu approached slowly, giving Meiji plenty of time to observe him. "Hello, young Meiji. My name is Nezu. I'm the principal of a school called UA."
Meiji watched the animal principal with cautious curiosity, shadows swirling but not threatening.
"I was wondering," Nezu continued gently, "if you and Lady Nagant might like to come stay at my school for a while. We have a special place there where you can be safe while you learn to control your quirk."
Meiji's gaze shifted to Nagant, questioning.
"I'll be staying with you," she assured him. "We'll have our own space."
After a moment's consideration, Meiji gave a small nod.
"Excellent," Nezu said warmly. "Then let's get you both settled in your new home."
As they prepared to leave, Nagant caught sight of her reflection in a nearby window—the HSPC's coldest operative, now standing protectively beside a small boy whose shadows seemed to reach toward her like seeking hands. The image was jarring, incongruous with everything she'd believed about herself.
Yet somehow, it didn't feel wrong.
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AU: Actually gonna leave the next chapter here, planning to work tomorrow so I might as well leave it here since its already written.
I used to go around reading ff's after pretty much finishing many novels / mangas / animes but ngl this is a new experience.
Originally I did this for myself and didn't mind much the comments, now I realize I was tricking myself...!!! I do sadly care and I may care more than I may say it, so please leave a comment!
I love reading the comments in funny moments of the story and then seeing the memes ngl hehe xd.
Also might aswell say it but if I continue doing the ff's I'd probably write a different one for each character I like (Momo's just overused and has some good ones out there so don't expect her, mainly talking about Toru, Ochako, and Tsuyu. Actually, as for Jiro I dunno if I should do it, but feel free to vote)
Voting for T, O, T
or
Voting for Jiro or some of Aizawas Generation (like mt lady, midnight, or others, although personally there are good ones out there for 'em
(Revised_Version1)