Meiji's POV
Meiji stood in the center of the room, eyes wide as he took in his new surroundings. This place—UA, they called it—was nothing like the facility or Lady Nagant's apartment. It was bigger, more open, with large windows that looked out onto green spaces beyond.
The shadows swirled around his ankles, responding to his mixture of curiosity and apprehension. They had grown stronger since the escape—more responsive to his emotions, sometimes forming shapes without his conscious direction. The white-coats had done something to make them this way, had called it "evolution" and "singularity breakthrough."
"What do you think?" Lady Nagant asked, setting down the small bag containing his few possessions—new clothes that Principal Nezu had provided, a toothbrush, the soft blanket from Nagant's apartment that she'd noticed him favoring.
Meiji didn't know how to answer. The space was... nice? Safe? He wasn't sure of the right words.
"This will be your room," she continued, gesturing to a door on the right. "Mine is just across the hall. The living area and kitchen are shared."
He nodded, shadows mimicking the movement with a gentle bob.
"There's something else," Nagant said, moving to a box in the corner. "Principal Nezu thought you might like these."
She opened the box to reveal toys—real toys, not medical instruments or test equipment disguised as playthings to measure his responses. A soft plush bear, building blocks, picture books, colored pencils and paper.
Meiji stared at them, uncertain. He had vague memories of toys from before, but they felt distant, like something from another life. The shadows curled around his fingers, forming small tendrils that reached cautiously toward the box.
"They're for you," Nagant explained. "You can play with them however you want."
However he wanted. The concept was foreign after years of being told exactly what to do and punished if he showed a speck of resistance, they were perfectionists to the extreme, controlling him on how to respond, when to use his quirk and when to suppress it exactly as they wanted.
The shadows formed small questioning shapes, reflecting his confusion.
Hesitantly, Meiji approached the box and picked up the bear. It was soft, with button eyes and a stitched smile. The shadows receded from his hands, as if recognizing this was something to be touched with skin, not darkness.
"Thank you," he said quietly, the words feeling strange on his tongue after so long in silence.
Nagant's expression shifted, something soft passing across her usually composed features. "You're welcome, Meiji."
He clutched the bear to his chest, and for the first time since she'd known him, Meiji's shadows formed something that wasn't defensive or afraid—they swirled in gentle circles, almost like a contented sigh.
Lady Nagant's POV
Nagant watched as Meiji slowly explored the apartment, the bear still held firmly in his grasp. His shadows had calmed significantly since their arrival at UA, though they remained a constant presence, rippling and flowing around him like a living extension of his small body.
This was all new territory for her. The HSPC had trained her for precision elimination, for intelligence gathering, for combat—not for caring for a traumatized child with an enhanced quirk. There was no protocol to follow, no clear objective beyond the vague concept of "helping him recover."
A soft knock at the door drew her attention. Principal Nezu entered, carrying a tablet and what appeared to be a monitoring device.
"How are you both settling in?" he asked cheerfully.
"Fine," Nagant replied. "The accommodations are... more than adequate."
Nezu nodded. "I took the liberty of having the space prepared with certain modifications." He gestured subtly toward nearly invisible reinforcements in the walls, specialized window glass, and other security features designed to contain quirk outbursts. "Precautionary, of course, but better to be prepared."
Meiji had retreated slightly at Nezu's entrance, watching the principal enter on top of an annoyed man with cautious eyes, shadows coiling more tightly around him.
"I've brought something that might be useful," Nezu continued, approaching Meiji slowly and holding out the small device. "This is a quirk monitor. It won't restrict your abilities in any way, but it will help us understand how your quirk is changing and developing."
Meiji stared at the device, shadows darkening.
"It's not like the ones from before," Nagant assured him quickly, recognizing the fear in his posture. "No tests, no pain. It just... watches."
"Precisely," Nezu agreed. "Think of it as a helpful companion. It will let us know if there are any changes we should be aware of, and help us develop better training methods for your particular abilities."
Meiji's gaze shifted between Nagant and Nezu, assessing, judging trustworthiness. Finally, he gave a small nod of permission.
Nezu smiled, gently attaching the device to Meiji's wrist. It was slim, unobtrusive, more like a watch than medical equipment. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"
The shadows around Meiji's arm curled investigatively around the device, as if testing it for threats, before settling back into their normal patterns.
"I've also brought the initial training schedule," Nezu said, turning to Nagant and handing her the tablet. "Nothing too intensive to start—just basic quirk assessment exercises. Hound Dog will be conducting preliminary psychological evaluations, and Recovery Girl will continue monitoring his physical health."
Nagant reviewed the schedule with a professional eye. It was comprehensive but not overwhelming—structured enough to provide stability but flexible enough to accommodate setbacks or progress.
"What about the HSPC requirements?" she asked quietly, mindful of Meiji's presence.
"All arranged," Nezu assured her. "I'll handle the weekly reports personally. You need only focus on Meiji's wellbeing."
As they discussed logistics, Nagant noticed that Meiji had retreated to the window, gazing out at the UA campus. His shadows cast patterns across the floor—not the jagged, defensive formations from before, but curious, exploratory shapes. The bear remained clutched in one hand.
Something unexpected tightened in her chest at the sight—this small boy, silhouetted against the light, darkness and shadows swirling around him not as weapons but as extensions of his wonder at a world he was just beginning to rediscover.
"Lady Nagant?" Nezu's voice pulled her back to the conversation.
"Yes?"
"I asked if you had any questions about the arrangement?"
She shook her head. "No. The terms are clear."
Nezu studied her with those intelligent eyes that seemed to see more than most. "It's alright, you know," he said softly. "To care about him."
Nagant stiffened slightly. "My assignment is to ensure his proper rehabilitation and quirk control."
"Of course," Nezu agreed, though his expression suggested he wasn't convinced by her detachment. "I'll leave you to get settled, then. Training begins tomorrow at ten. The facility is prepared."
After Nezu departed, Nagant approached Meiji at the window. "Are you hungry?" she asked. "There's food in the kitchen."
Meiji nodded, shadows bobbing in agreement.
As they moved to the kitchen together, Nagant realized that the HSPC's precise, detached operative was already adapting to this new role—noticing Meiji's preferences, anticipating his needs, learning to read the shadows that expressed what his words could not. It wasn't protocol. It wasn't a mission parameter.
It was simply what he needed. And somehow, that had become enough.
Nezu's POV
Nezu made his way back to his office, reviewing the initial data from Meiji's quirk monitor on his tablet. The readings were fascinating—unlike anything he'd seen before. The boy's quirk signature showed evidence of artificial enhancement, yes, but there was something else there too, something unexpected.
"Natural evolution," he murmured thoughtfully. "The enhancements merely accelerated what was already occurring."
It was a concerning development in light of quirk singularity theory—the idea that quirks would continue to mix and grow stronger with each generation until they became uncontrollable. If Meiji's quirk had already been evolving beyond normal parameters before the enhancement drugs, it suggested the process might be advancing faster than previously thought.
Yet there was also hope in the data. Despite the intensity of the shadows, there were clear patterns of responsiveness to Meiji's emotional state. The quirk wasn't random or chaotic—it was intimately connected to the boy's feelings, serving as a physical manifestation of his internal landscape.
That connection could be the key to helping him regain control.
Nezu entered his office to find Aizawa waiting, arms crossed, expression characteristically stern.
"You've placed Lady Nagant—an HSPC operative with a record of over fifty confirmed eliminations—in charge of a child," Aizawa stated flatly. "Interesting choice."
"Isn't it?" Nezu agreed pleasantly, setting down his tablet. "Sometimes the most effective solutions aren't the obvious ones."
"She's a weapon, not a caretaker," Aizawa pointed out. "Her entire training has been focused on precision elimination."
"Precisely why she's perfect for this situation," Nezu countered. "She understands control better than most. And she's formed a connection with the boy that none of us could have anticipated."
Aizawa's expression remained skeptical. "And when the HSPC decides they want their agent back?"
Nezu's smile never wavered, though something calculated entered his eyes. "By then, I expect Lady Nagant may have developed some opinions of her own on the matter."
"You're playing a dangerous game," Aizawa warned. "That boy's quirk has been enhanced beyond safe parameters. If he loses control—"
"Which is why they're here, under our supervision, with appropriate containment measures in place," Nezu interrupted gently. "I understand your concerns, Aizawa. But consider the alternatives. The HSPC wanted to place him in what they euphemistically call a 'specialized facility'—essentially a research prison where they could continue the very experiments we're trying to prevent."
Aizawa fell silent, knowing all too well what happened to individuals with dangerous quirks who fell into institutional control.
"Besides," Nezu continued, "I believe you of all people understand the situation. You should know what would happen to the kid if we don't step forward."
Aizawa stared for a few seconds at Nezu before sighing deeply.
"I'll be overseeing some of his training," Aizawa conceded finally. "My quirk could be useful if things get out of hand."
"Excellent," Nezu said. "I was hoping you'd volunteer. Your teaching experience would be invaluable."
As Aizawa left, Nezu turned to the window, gazing out at the UA campus. His mind returned to the data he'd reviewed—the unusual patterns in Meiji's quirk, the accelerated evolution, the potential implications for quirk theory as a whole.
The boy represented both a warning and an opportunity—a glimpse into what quirks might become in future generations, and a chance to develop methods to help individuals maintain control as their powers grew increasingly complex.
But beyond the scientific interest, there was the simple fact of a child who had been hurt—experimented on, isolated, treated as a subject rather than a person. That resonated with Nezu in ways that transcended professional curiosity or academic interest.
"We will do better by you, young Meiji," he promised quietly. "Far better than they did."
General POV
The training facility had been specially prepared for Meiji's first session—reinforced walls, observation areas protected by specialized glass, emergency containment systems if needed. It was a precaution, not an expectation, but UA took no chances when it came to quirk training.
Meiji stood in the center of the room, shadows swirling nervously around him as he took in the space. It was large, open, with targets and various objects scattered throughout—cushioned blocks, practice dummies, spheres of different sizes and weights.
Lady Nagant stood nearby, maintaining a professional distance but remaining within Meiji's sight at all times. They had discovered that her presence had a stabilizing effect on his quirk—the shadows growing less erratic when she was nearby.
Aizawa entered, his capture weapon coiled around his neck, hands in his pockets in a deliberately casual posture.
"My name is Aizawa," he introduced himself without preamble. "I work with students learning to control their quirks."
Meiji watched him cautiously, shadows forming small protective barriers around his feet.
"Today, we're just going to see what your quirk can do," Aizawa continued, maintaining a calm, matter-of-fact tone. "No pressure. No expectations. Just exploration."
From the observation room, Nezu and Recovery Girl monitored the proceedings, watching both Meiji's physical responses and the data from his quirk monitor.
"Fascinating," Recovery Girl murmured, examining the readings. "The quirk responds almost instantaneously to his emotional state—fear, curiosity, uncertainty all have distinct signatures."
Nezu nodded. "The shadows should be an externalization of his inner state. The question is whether he can learn to control them consciously rather than reactively."
In the training area, Aizawa had begun with simple exercises—asking Meiji to extend his shadows toward different targets, to form basic shapes, to manipulate objects.
The boy's control was uneven. Sometimes the shadows responded precisely, moving exactly as directed. Other times they seemed to act with partial independence, forming shapes or movements Meiji hadn't consciously intended.
"Don't fight it," Aizawa advised, noticing Meiji's frustration as the shadows veered off course again. "Your quirk is part of you, not something separate to be forced into submission. Think of it as a conversation, not a command."
Meiji frowned, concentrating. The shadows stilled momentarily, then began to form more coherent patterns—less chaotic, more structured.
"Good," Aizawa acknowledged. "Now, try to lift that ball."
The shadows extended, wrapping around a small rubber ball and lifting it a few inches off the ground. Meiji's expression was one of intense concentration, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Enough for today," Aizawa decided, noticing the signs of strain. "You did well."
The shadows withdrew, returning to their usual pattern of swirling around Meiji's feet. The boy looked exhausted but also quietly pleased—perhaps the first positive emotion he'd associated with his quirk in months.
As they prepared to leave the training area, an alarm suddenly blared—a quirk monitor alert. Meiji flinched at the sound, and instantly the shadows exploded outward, forming jagged spikes that scraped against the reinforced walls.
"Meiji," Nagant called firmly, stepping forward despite Aizawa's warning gesture. "It's alright. Just a machine making noise. You're safe."
The boy's eyes were wide with panic, memories of facility alarms came abruptly because of the sound. The shadows continued to expand, growing darker, more substantial. Within them, shapes began to form—eyes, teeth, clawed appendages.
Aizawa's eyes glowed red as he activated his quirk, but to everyone's surprise, the shadows didn't disappear entirely. They diminished, becoming less substantial, but remained visible—a phenomenon that shouldn't have been possible under Erasure.
"Interesting," Nezu remarked from the observation room. "The quirk seems partially resistant to Erasure. Another effect of the enhancement, perhaps."
In the training area, Nagant had reached Meiji, kneeling before him despite the writhing shadows. "Look at me," she instructed calmly. "Just focus on my voice."
Meiji's panicked gaze locked onto hers, and gradually the violent expansion of shadows began to slow.
"That's it," she encouraged. "Remember what Aizawa said—it's a conversation, not a command. Tell your shadows that you're safe now."
Slowly, the jagged formations retracted, the eyes and teeth disappeared, and the darkness returned to its usual swirling pattern around Meiji's feet. The alarm, which had been silenced immediately upon Aizawa's signal, no longer triggered the defensive response.
"Well handled," Aizawa commented to Nagant as they exited the training area, Meiji walking between them, shadows still slightly agitated but under control.
"He responded to the voice, not the tactic," Nagant replied. "It could have been anyone he trusts."
Aizawa's expression suggested he didn't entirely agree but chose not to argue the point. 'The quirk's partial resistance to Erasure is concerning. We'll need to develop alternative containment methods.'
As they walked, Meiji's small hand found Nagant's, clutching it with surprising strength. The shadows extended slightly, wrapping around their joined hands like a living bracelet.
"Sorry," he whispered, the word barely audible.
"You have nothing to be sorry for," Nagant told him firmly. "Learning control takes time. That's why we're here."
In the observation room, Nezu and Recovery Girl reviewed the data from the session.
"The connection between them is remarkable," Recovery Girl noted. "Lady Nagant appears to serve as an emotional anchor."
"Yes," Nezu agreed thoughtfully. "And that may prove to be as important as any technical training we provide. The boy's quirk responds to emotional states—having someone he trusts could be the difference between control and chaos."
Recovery Girl gave him a knowing look. "Was that part of your calculation when you arranged this situation?"
Nezu's smile was enigmatic. "Let's just say I've observed that sometimes the most unexpected pairings yield the most remarkable results. Lady Nagant needed a purpose beyond elimination, and Meiji needed someone strong enough to stand beside him as he faces his shadows—both literal and figurative."
He glanced down at the final readings from the training session—the quirk signature stabilizing as Meiji held Nagant's hand.
"They may just save each other," he concluded softly.
Later that evening, as dusk fell over UA, Nagant found Meiji sitting by the window of their shared apartment, watching as lights came on across the campus. His shadows were calm, forming gentle patterns that danced across the floor in rhythm with his breathing.
The plush bear sat beside him, and one of the books from Nezu's collection lay open on his lap—a simple story about a child learning to use their quirk to help others.
"Time for dinner," Nagant said, setting plates on the small table.
Meiji joined her, shadows following like a faithful pet. He ate with more enthusiasm than before, the physical exertion of training having awakened a healthier appetite.
"Tomorrow," Nagant told him, "will be a different kind of session. Hound Dog wants to talk with you—just talk, not training. It's part of helping you feel better."
Meiji nodded, shadows dipping in acknowledgment. He was speaking more, but still relied heavily on his quirk for expression—the shadows conveying emotions he couldn't or wouldn't verbalize.
As she watched him eat, Nagant reflected on the day's events—the training session, the moment of panic, the way she'd instinctively moved to comfort him despite potential danger. None of it aligned with her HSPC protocols or training.
Yet it felt right in a way that precision eliminations never had.
Later, as she checked on Meiji before bed, she found him already asleep, the bear clutched to his chest, shadows forming a gentle canopy above him—not threatening, but protective, like a living blanket.
For the first time in her career, Lady Nagant, the HSPC's most efficient weapon, found herself hoping that a mission would never end.
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AU: HAHA! didn't see that coming did ya!?
Well to be honest I wasn't planning on uploading it today, truth to be told I was bored and tired and came here to pass the time while my uncle was working alongside me. Guess what, I found out that in the end I managed to finish it before going to sleep! amazing, ain't it?
Also, before anyone leaves a comment on whether Nezu is appearing without standing on someone elses shoulders or just walking around, just choose whichever you prefer, honestly I thought more on the side that he may have a suit or be carried around someone who doesn't talk much like Aizawa but it was a hassle correcting it after writing this and the past chapter so just imagine he has a human sized robot that carries him around (also currently have no ideas on how to describe that properly do remember a ff which used nezu like that being carried by aizawa mainly but dunno, if yall find the reference I'll add it)
Anyway, have a good day my fellow avid readers and god bless you
- Just another wild (lazy) hedgehog