Lady Nagant's POV
The apartment was quiet that evening, the tension of the day's confrontation lingering in the air despite its unexpected resolution. Nagant moved through their evening routine with practiced efficiency—preparing dinner, reviewing training notes, setting out clothes for the following day.
Yet something had fundamentally changed. Her decision to defy Kujō had crossed a line that could never be uncrossed. After years of perfect loyalty, of following orders without question, she had made a choice based on something the HSPC had trained her to disregard—personal attachment.
Meiji sat at the small table, shadows forming elaborate patterns that replicated the spiral energy Nejire had demonstrated earlier. He had been unusually quiet since returning from the conference room, though his shadows seemed more active than ever, constantly shifting through various forms as if processing the day's events.
"Are you tired?" Nagant asked, setting his dinner before him.
Meiji shook his head, though the shadows briefly formed a pattern that suggested otherwise.
"Your quirk disagrees," she noted with gentle humor.
A small smile flickered across his face—rare enough to be significant. The shadows swirled in what might have been embarrassment before settling into calmer patterns.
"The girl today," Meiji said after several moments of silence. "Nejire."
"Yes?"
"She wasn't afraid." He said it with the same wonder he had expressed after their first garden encounter, as if this fact remained the most surprising thing about her.
"Indeed, she wasn't," Nagant agreed. "Some people see beyond appearances."
Meiji considered this, shadows forming thoughtful swirls. "Can I... see her again?"
The simple question caught Nagant off guard. It was the first time Meiji had specifically requested social interaction—a breakthrough in itself.
"Principal Nezu mentioned arranging supervised play sessions," she replied. "If that's what you'd like."
Meiji nodded, shadows bobbing in synchronization. "Her quirk felt... warm. Next to mine."
This observation intrigued Nagant. "Warm how?"
"Like..." He frowned slightly, searching for words. "Like sunlight. When it touches shadow edges."
It was perhaps the most poetic thing she had ever heard him say, and certainly the most words he had strung together at once. His time with Nejire, brief as it was, had sparked something new in him—curiosity about connection rather than fear of it.
"The commission people," Meiji said after another long silence. "They wanted to take me away."
Nagant hadn't been sure how much he had understood of the confrontation. Clearly, more than she had hoped.
"Yes," she acknowledged, seeing no value in lying. "But they didn't."
"Because of you," he said, eyes meeting hers directly. "You said no."
The simple observation carried weight beyond the words themselves. Meiji had witnessed her defiance—her choice to protect him over following orders. It created a new dynamic between them, one Nagant wasn't entirely sure how to navigate.
"I made a promise to keep you safe," she said finally. "I keep my promises."
Meiji nodded, seemingly satisfied with this explanation. His shadows formed what appeared to be a small representation of Nagant herself, standing protective and tall.
"What happens now?" he asked.
It was the question Nagant had been asking herself since walking out of that conference room. Her decision had consequences—ones that would manifest sooner rather than later. The HSPC didn't tolerate insubordination, particularly from an operative with her specialized training and quirk.
"Now we continue your training," she said, focusing on what she could control rather than what she couldn't. "You're making excellent progress."
"And then?" he persisted, surprising her again with his directness.
Nagant considered how to answer. The future had always been a simple concept for her—the next mission, the next target, the next objective. Now it stretched before her, filled with uncertainties and possibilities she had never contemplated.
"And then," she said carefully, "you'll learn to use your quirk however you choose. Not how others want you to use it."
It was, she realized, as much a statement about her own future as his. Choice—the concept she had surrendered when joining the HSPC, the freedom she was now reclaiming at significant risk.
"Together?" Meiji asked, the word so quiet she almost didn't hear it.
The question struck at the heart of what had changed. Somewhere between rescuing a terrified child from a research facility and defying her superiors to protect him, Lady Nagant—the commission's perfect weapon—had become something else entirely.
"Yes," she promised. "Together."
The shadows around Meiji settled into calm, flowing patterns, the most peaceful configuration she had seen since their arrival at UA. As he finished his dinner and prepared for bed, Nagant found herself contemplating a future she had never imagined—one defined not by orders and objectives, but by the simple promise she had just made to a child who had somehow found his way past every barrier her training had established.
Nezu's POV
Nezu's office had transformed into a strategic command center, screens displaying security protocols, legal documents, and contingency plans. Gathered around his desk were key UA faculty members—Aizawa, Recovery Girl, Thirteen, and Present Mic—each reviewing different aspects of what Nezu had termed "Operation Shadow Garden."
"The HSPC's interest in Meiji has forced my hand," Nezu explained, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced with something more calculating. "They've made it clear they have no intention of respecting our educational custody arrangement, and their methods for 'managing' enhanced quirks are... ethically concerning."
"You sound like you've made a decision," Aizawa observed.
"I have," Nezu confirmed, pulling up a massive digital file system. "The HSPC has operated in shadow for too long, making decisions about quirk users with minimal oversight or accountability. Today's confrontation convinced me that protecting one child requires addressing the entire system."
Present Mic leaned forward. "What are you planning?"
Nezu's smile returned, though it carried a distinctly dangerous edge. "Transparency. Complete, comprehensive transparency about the Hero Public Safety Commission's operations."
The room fell silent as the implications sank in.
"You're talking about exposing classified government operations," Recovery Girl said carefully.
"I'm talking about exposing systematic abuse of power," Nezu corrected. "The commission has overstepped its authority repeatedly, engaging in practices that would horrify the public if they knew."
He manipulated the display, revealing documented evidence—mission reports, psychological profiles, training protocols, and most damning of all, internal communications discussing the "management" of quirk users deemed problematic.
"Lady Nagant isn't the only operative who was molded into a weapon from childhood," Nezu continued. "There's a pattern—identifying children with powerful quirks, separating them from families when necessary, and conditioning them to become tools of the state."
Thirteen studied the data with growing concern. "How long have you known about this?"
"Years," Nezu admitted. "But direct action required irrefutable evidence and the right catalyst. Today's attempt to claim Meiji for 'assessment'—after we've demonstrated the psychological harm such containment would cause—provides both."
Aizawa's expression darkened as he reviewed the files. "Hawks?"
"Recruited at age seven under the guise of 'protective custody,'" Nezu confirmed. "His family was told it was temporary, for his safety. They never saw him again except for orchestrated public appearances."
"And Nagant?"
"Similar circumstances, though her separation occurred earlier. The commission has become expert at identifying and acquiring children whose quirks could serve their objectives."
Present Mic's usual enthusiasm had completely disappeared. "How many others?"
"Too many," Nezu replied grimly. "But that changes today. I've compiled everything—the illegal human experimentation, the assassinations of inconvenient heroes and politicians, the psychological conditioning of children, the suppression of quirk research that didn't align with their objectives."
Recovery Girl looked troubled. "The public won't know how to process this information. It could destabilize the entire hero system."
"The hero system built on lies and hidden atrocities deserves to be destabilized," Nezu replied firmly. "True heroes—like all of you—will endure. But the commission's shadow operations end now."
He brought up another screen showing media contacts, government oversight committees, and international hero organizations.
"I've prepared a coordinated release—simultaneous disclosure to multiple channels to prevent suppression. The evidence is irrefutable, documented in the commission's own records."
"You're declaring war on one of the most powerful agencies in the government," Aizawa pointed out.
"They declared war first," Nezu countered. "When they decided children like Meiji were weapons to be forged rather than people to be protected. When they turned heroes like Nagant into assassins. When they prioritized control over ethics."
"What about the fallout?" Thirteen asked. "The public's trust in heroes—"
"Will be shaken but not destroyed," Nezu interrupted. "People distinguish between individual heroes and corrupt institutions. All Might's reputation alone will help stabilize public confidence when he addresses the situation—which he's already agreed to do."
Present Mic's eyes widened. "You've already involved All Might?"
"Toshinori was among the first I approached," Nezu confirmed. "His voice carries weight that mine cannot. When the public learns the truth about the commission, they'll need reassurance that true heroism endures despite institutional corruption."
As the meeting progressed, each faculty member received specific assignments—securing evidence, preparing statements, coordinating with legitimate oversight agencies that could assume the commission's proper functions while eliminating its shadowy operations.
"What about immediate security?" Aizawa asked. "The commission won't simply accept exposure quietly."
"Already arranged," Nezu replied. "UA's security protocols have been enhanced, and certain allies in the government have been briefed on our evidence. Director Kujō and her inner circle will find themselves too busy defending against criminal charges to interfere with our operations here."
Recovery Girl found her voice. "This will change everything."
"Yes," Nezu agreed simply. "But change was inevitable. The commission's methods were unsustainable—eventually, their actions would have been exposed. I've simply chosen the timing and method."
As the meeting concluded and assignments were distributed, Nezu remained at his desk, putting the final touches on what would soon become the most explosive governmental scandal in decades.
Sometimes, he reflected, protecting one child required dismantling an entire corrupt system. Today, Meiji's safety would finally be secured—not through compromise or accommodation, but through the simple expedient of eliminating the threat entirely.
The Hero Public Safety Commission had operated in darkness for far too long. It was time for the light.
Meiji's POV
The shadows felt different tonight. Smoother. More responsive. Like they were listening better, understanding what he wanted before he even fully formed the thought.
Meiji sat cross-legged on his bed, experimenting with shapes while Lady Nagant thought he was sleeping. He'd discovered that nighttime practice was easier—the darkness of his room made his shadows stronger, more distinct against the limited light.
He tried forming a spiral, mimicking Nejire's quirk. The shadows twisted obediently, creating a three-dimensional helix that rotated slowly above his palm. It wasn't golden like hers—shadows couldn't be bright—but the movement was similar, the pattern precise.
Next, he tried creating her. This was harder—people were complicated, with many small details. He concentrated, remembering her floating blue hair, her wide smile, her animated expressions. The shadows pooled, then rose, forming a miniature Nejire with arms outstretched, hair flowing around her face.
Not perfect, but recognizable. Better than his previous attempts at creating people. Usually, the faces came out wrong—too sharp, too many angles, sometimes with the teeth and eyes that appeared when he was scared.
But this shadow-Nejire looked right. Friendly. The way she had looked at him today, not afraid even when his shadows had formed defensive spikes and barriers.
"Not scary," he whispered to himself, an echo of what she had told him.
The shadow-Nejire seemed to dance in response, twirling above his palm in a motion that made him smile—a small, tentative expression that felt unfamiliar on his face. He couldn't remember the last time he had smiled. Before the facility, probably. Before the tests and needles and pain.
A soft knock at his door startled him, shadows instantly contracting into a tight ball before he recognized Lady Nagant's pattern—two gentle taps, a pause, then one more.
"Come in," he called softly.
She opened the door just enough to look in, her expression softening when she saw him sitting up with his shadows dancing around him.
"I thought I heard you practicing," she said, entering the room and sitting on the edge of his bed. "Impressive control."
The shadows preened slightly at the praise, forming more defined patterns. Meiji allowed them to continue their dance, including the small Nejire figure that twirled among shifting shadow-flowers.
"You like her," Lady Nagant observed, watching the Nejire figure with interest.
Meiji nodded. "She's... bright."
It was the best word he could find to describe not just Nejire's quirk but her entire presence—a brilliance that seemed to push back darkness without trying to eliminate it.
"She asked to see you again," Lady Nagant said. "Principal Nezu is arranging supervised play sessions starting tomorrow."
The shadows leapt briefly in excitement before Meiji could settle them, causing Lady Nagant's lips to curve in what might have been a smile.
"Your shadows are becoming more expressive," she noted. "They show your feelings very clearly now."
Meiji nodded, considering this. "Before... in the facility... I had to hide feelings. The shadows too."
It was the most direct reference he had made to his time in captivity, and he felt Lady Nagant's attention sharpen though her expression remained calm.
"Hiding feelings is sometimes necessary for survival," she acknowledged. "But not anymore. Not here."
The simple assurance settled something in Meiji that had been uneasy since the confrontation with the HSPC agents. Lady Nagant had chosen him over them. Had said "no" when they tried to take him away.
"Why did you help me?" he asked suddenly, the question emerging before he could consider it. "In the facility. And today."
Lady Nagant was quiet for a long moment, her gaze distant as if looking at something beyond the room.
"In the facility," she said finally, "I helped you because it was the right thing to do. No child should be treated as you were."
The shadows stilled, waiting for the rest.
"Today," she continued, her voice softer, "I helped you because you're Meiji. Not a subject. Not an assignment. Just... Meiji."
The shadows responded before he consciously directed them, forming a small bridge between his hand and hers—a connection of darkness that somehow conveyed more than words could express.
Lady Nagant looked at the shadow bridge with an expression Meiji couldn't quite interpret—surprise, perhaps, or something deeper.
"It's late," she said after a moment. "You should sleep. Tomorrow will be busy."
As she rose to leave, Meiji's shadows formed one more shape—a small figure of Lady Nagant herself, standing protective beside the Nejire figure. Both watching over a third figure that was clearly meant to be himself.
A family, of sorts. Created from darkness but representing something far brighter.
Lady Nagant paused at the door, looking back at the shadow tableau. For the briefest moment, something that might have been a genuine smile crossed her face.
"Goodnight, Meiji," she said softly.
"Goodnight," he replied, allowing the shadows to gradually fade as she closed the door.
In the darkness of his room, Meiji lay back on his bed, watching as his shadows formed gentle patterns across the ceiling. For the first time since his rescue, they didn't form eyes or teeth or defensive shapes as he drifted toward sleep. Instead, they swirled in peaceful configurations—flowers, spirals, and figures holding hands.
Not weapons. Not monsters. Just shadows, dancing with possibilities he was only beginning to discover.
General POV
The revelations broke simultaneously across every major news network at exactly 6:00 PM. Years of carefully compiled evidence, internal documents, recorded conversations, and witness testimonies flooded the public consciousness in an coordinated release that no single entity could suppress or controvert.
News anchors struggled to maintain composure as they reported the most shocking governmental scandal in decades. The Hero Public Safety Commission—the institution tasked with regulating and overseeing the hero system—stood accused of systematic child abuse, illegal human experimentation, and the assassination of inconvenient political figures.
Television screens across the nation displayed damning evidence: training facilities that resembled prisons, psychological conditioning programs designed to break and rebuild young minds, mission reports detailing the elimination of heroes who had questioned commission policies.
Most shocking of all were the personal files—children as young as five years old identified, acquired, and molded into weapons for the state. Names that the public knew as heroes revealed to be victims of institutional abuse.
Social media exploded with outrage, disbelief, and demands for accountability. #HSPCScandal and #TruthAboutHeroes trended worldwide within hours. Public trust in the institution crashed as citizens grappled with the revelation that their protectors had been complicit in the very crimes they claimed to prevent.
By evening, emergency sessions had been called in the Diet. Opposition leaders demanded immediate investigations. International hero organizations issued statements of concern. The commission's headquarters was surrounded by protesters and media crews.
Director Kujō's attempts at damage control were futile—the evidence was too comprehensive, too well-documented, and released too broadly to suppress. Within hours, criminal charges were being prepared, and commission operatives found themselves under investigation rather than conducting them.
All Might's POV
The stage lights blazed as All Might stood before the crowd of reporters and cameras. Despite the challenges he faced maintaining his muscular form for extended periods, he forced his body into the heroic silhouette the nation knew and trusted. This moment required the Symbol of Peace at his strongest, most reassuring presence.
"My fellow citizens," he began, his voice carrying its characteristic boom and confidence. "Today, you have learned truths about the Hero Public Safety Commission that shake the very foundation of trust between heroes and society. I stand before you as All Might, Symbol of Peace, but more importantly, as a human being who has served alongside true heroes and witnessed the best humanity has to offer."
He paused, allowing his words to resonate, his form radiating calm strength despite the turmoil of recent revelations.
"The actions documented in today's revelations represent a betrayal of everything heroism stands for. The children who were taken, the heroes who were silenced, the experiments conducted in shadow—these were not the work of heroes but of individuals who lost sight of what they claimed to protect."
"However," his voice grew even stronger, "I ask you not to lose faith in heroism itself. The vast majority of heroes knew nothing of these hidden operations. They continue to risk their lives daily for your safety, driven by the genuine desire to protect and serve."
A reporter called out, "All Might, how can the public trust the hero system after such revelations?"
"Trust is earned through action, not institution," All Might replied, his cape flowing dramatically as he gestured. "Judge heroes by their deeds, not by the failures of an organization that operated in shadow. Look to heroes like Eraserhead, who protects children and nurtures the next generation. Look to Present Mic, who brings joy while fighting in the shadows. Look to Recovery Girl, who has healed thousands without recognition or glory."
"The commission's corruption does not diminish their heroism. If anything, it highlights the difference between those who serve power and those who serve people."
Another question: "What happens to heroes who were... products... of this system?"
"They are victims in need of support and understanding," All Might said firmly, his expression growing serious. "Many never chose their path but made the best of circumstances forced upon them. They deserve our compassion and the chance to define their own heroism going forward."
The press conference continued for another hour, with All Might addressing concerns about oversight, accountability, and the future of hero regulation. He spoke of reform, of transparency, of building new institutions founded on the principles that heroes truly embodied.
As he concluded, All Might looked directly into the cameras, his signature smile radiating genuine warmth. "Heroism is not an institution. It is not a commission or a license or a title. It is the choice to protect others, to sacrifice for strangers, to stand against injustice regardless of personal cost. That heroism lives in every person willing to help their neighbor, to stand up to bullies, to extend kindness to those in need."
"The commission's shadow has been lifted. Now we build something better in the light."
The crowd erupted in applause—not just from the media but from civilians who had gathered outside, watching the broadcast on their phones, trusting in the man who had symbolized hope for a generation.
In homes across the nation, families watched as the Symbol of Peace reminded them that symbols could be corrupted, but the peace they represented could endure. The commission was gone, but heroism—true heroism—would continue.
That night, as news continued to break and investigations began, children across Japan still dreamed of becoming heroes. Not because of institutions or commissions, but because heroes like All Might had shown them what it truly meant to protect and serve.
The shadow of the HSPC had finally been dispelled, and in its place, real heroism could flourish once more.
Epilogue - One Week Later
The former HSPC building stood empty, its personnel reassigned, under investigation, or fled. In its place, a new regulatory body was being established—one with transparent oversight, public accountability, and a focus on support rather than control.
At UA, life had settled into a new rhythm. Meiji continued his training and play sessions, unaware that the shadow hanging over his future had been permanently lifted. Lady Nagant officially joined the faculty, bringing her skills to the task of helping other hero students learn true quirk control.
And at the center of it all, Principal Nezu smiled as he watched children play in the garden—children who would grow up in a world where heroism was about protection, not power, and where no child would ever again be taken from their family to serve as a weapon for the state.
Sometimes, he reflected, the greatest victory was not what you built, but what you tore down to make room for something better.
The commission was finished. Real heroism could finally begin.
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AN: Hello there again! I wanted to thank 1_hateharem for his idea on just thrashing the HSPC out of the picture, like I told him you cannot just bother the most intelligent creature and expect to be unscathed.
Also many thanks for all those who left the images corresponding to the [image] things since I'm too lazy to do 'em, for those who help me upload it (the first ones or creative funny ones) can ask me to upload a specific chapter of a novel (since I got many others yk) and I'll just change my plan of doing 1 chapter of this one for example and do the one requested.
Also apologies for not uploading one yesterday and one today, been busy with family all day since its Saturday, so uh always honesty, I cannot say for sure something like this won't happen again in the future, but I can at least say that I'll do my best to keep the amount of chapters accordingly to the day's promised, as far as I'm aware of, I need to upload 2 more chapters than this one (since this is just an update) so yeah, expect chapters 8 and 9 tomorrow, 10 too since its the one for that day.
(also I apologize for any comment deleted with the update of the chapter, I didn't really pay attention if I did since most are in the comment section... kinda lazy ngl, so lmk if it happened and I uhh can consider doing something for ya'll smoll details in the story I mean)
PS: I saw an unsettling comment but hope that people don't listen to it, I do promise not to delete any comment as its everyone's free of speech, but I certainly didn't see that one coming...
-traumatized author