Lady Nagant's POV
The document arrived at precisely 0800 hours, delivered by a stone-faced HSPC courier who maintained perfect professional detachment as he handed over the sealed envelope. Lady Nagant recognized the protocol immediately—the black border signifying highest priority, the embossed seal indicating direct authorization from the Commission's executive level.
She accepted it without comment, muscle memory from years of service almost causing her to salute before she caught herself. The courier departed without a word, mission completed.
Alone in the small kitchenette of their UA apartment, Nagant broke the seal and unfolded the single page within. The language was clinical, precise—familiar bureaucratic terminology that carried the weight of authority she had never before questioned.
---------------------------------------------------------
IMMEDIATE RECALL DIRECTIVE
Agent Kaina Tsutsumi (Designation: Lady Nagant)
You are hereby ordered to report to HSPC Headquarters by 1800 hours today for reassignment briefing and duty reallocation. Transfer of Subject M-7 (Hasegawa) to designated HSPC containment specialists will be facilitated upon your arrival.
Failure to comply constitutes Level-1 insubordination under Statute 47 of the Hero Public Safety Code and will result in immediate revocation of hero license, quirk registration penalties, and potential criminal charges under National Security Provision 103.
By order of Director Kujō Heikō, HSPC Executive Division
--------------------------------------------------------------
The threat was clear, comprehensive, and entirely expected. Nagant folded the paper precisely along its original creases, her movements deliberate as she processed the decision before her—one she had essentially already made, though seeing the formal consequences laid out so explicitly gave her pause.
Everything she had built—her reputation, her status, her carefully constructed identity as the HSPC's perfect operative—would be dismantled. She would become a rogue agent, her name flagged in every hero database, her quirk registered as potentially hostile.
A soft noise from the hallway drew her attention. Meiji stood in the doorway, shadows swirling lazily around him in the gentle patterns that had become his morning norm. His dark eyes fixed on the document in her hand, something knowing in his gaze despite his youth.
"Is it bad?" he asked quietly.
Nagant considered lying, then dismissed the thought. Meiji had endured enough deception in his short life.
"It's a recall order," she explained, setting the paper aside. "The commission wants me to return to headquarters."
The shadows around Meiji immediately contracted, darkening as they pulled closer to his small body. "With me?"
"That's what they want," she confirmed. "But it's not what's going to happen."
His eyes widened slightly, shadows pausing in their anxious swirling. "You're not going?"
"Not with you," she said firmly. "Principal Nezu and I have discussed alternatives."
As if summoned by his name, a gentle knock preceded Nezu's entrance. The principal carried a leather portfolio and wore his usual pleasant expression, though his eyes took in the scene with keen assessment.
"Ah, I see the commission's response has arrived," he noted, nodding toward the document. "Right on schedule."
"You were expecting this?" Meiji asked, shadows forming question marks that had become his signature expression of curiosity.
"Anticipating, rather than expecting," Nezu clarified. "The HSPC operates with predictable protocols when their authority is challenged."
He set his portfolio on the table, extracting several official-looking documents bearing UA's seal.
"Lady Nagant, I've prepared an alternative to the commission's demand," he said, pushing the papers toward her. "UA is offering you a permanent position as Specialized Quirk Control Instructor, with immediate effect should you choose to accept."
Nagant reviewed the documents with professional thoroughness—teaching credentials, residential authorization, specialized training clearances, and most importantly, a provisional hero license application that would transfer her operational authority from the HSPC to UA's jurisdiction.
"This won't stop them," she noted. "The commission doesn't relinquish assets willingly."
"No," Nezu agreed, "but it creates legitimate institutional protection that even they must acknowledge, at least temporarily. Legal battles take time—time we can use to further stabilize Meiji's situation."
Meiji had moved closer, shadows extending cautiously toward the papers as if assessing their importance. "You'd stay at UA?" he asked, looking up at Nagant.
The simple question carried weight beyond its words—hope, fear, uncertainty all compressed into four short words. Nagant found herself making eye contact with the boy who had somehow transformed from an assignment into... something else entirely. Something she still struggled to define but could no longer deny.
"Yes," she said finally. "I would stay at UA. With you."
The shadows rippled with what might have been relief, forming briefly into a pattern that resembled clasped hands before retreating to their usual swirling.
"Excellent," Nezu said, clapping his paws together. "Now, while we handle the administrative details, Meiji has his first structured play session scheduled this morning. Thirteen will be here shortly to escort him to the specialized training room."
"Play session?" Nagant echoed, the concept still foreign in relation to Meiji despite his progress.
"With young Nejire and two of her classmates," Nezu confirmed. "Carefully selected children with compatible personalities and quirks. A crucial next step in his social development."
Meiji's shadows shifted into more active patterns that betrayed his mixture of anticipation and anxiety. Seeing this, Nagant knelt to his eye level—a posture that had become natural despite her years of HSPC conditioning against such vulnerable positions.
"Remember what we practiced," she said gently. "Your shadows respond to your emotions. If you feel overwhelmed—"
"Breathe and visualize calm water," Meiji finished, shadows mimicking gentle waves to demonstrate his understanding.
Nagant nodded approval. "I'll join you after I've completed some paperwork with Principal Nezu."
As Thirteen arrived to escort Meiji, Nagant watched them depart with a strange tightness in her chest—concern mixed with something that might have been pride. When they were alone, she turned back to Nezu, her expression shifting to professional assessment.
"The commission won't accept a simple transfer of jurisdiction," she stated. "They'll escalate."
"Without doubt," Nezu agreed, his cheerful demeanor unchanged though his eyes sharpened. "Which is why we must be proactive rather than reactive. I believe a personal delivery of your resignation might be most effective—accompanied by certain security measures, of course."
Nagant raised an eyebrow. "You want me to walk into HSPC headquarters and hand them my resignation in person? That's remarkably high-risk."
"High-risk, yes," Nezu acknowledged. "But also high-impact. The commission respects strength and direct confrontation. Sending paperwork would be perceived as weakness. Delivering it personally sends a message that you are making this choice with full awareness of the consequences—and are prepared to face them."
He was right, of course. The HSPC operated on power dynamics and calculated intimidation. Defiance was most effective when delivered without fear.
"And what exactly are these 'security measures' you mentioned?" she asked, already suspecting the answer.
Nezu's smile widened slightly. "Let's just say certain records regarding the commission's more questionable operations might find their way into secure storage, accessible only under specific circumstances."
"Insurance," Nagant translated.
"Protection," Nezu corrected. "For both you and Meiji."
As she signed the UA employment documents with deliberate strokes, Lady Nagant—the HSPC's most effective operative for nearly a decade—ceased to exist. In her place, Kaina Tsutsumi began to emerge—still undefined, still forming, but for the first time in years, shaped by her own choices rather than commission directives.
Meiji's POV
The specialized training room had been transformed. Gone were the practice targets and reinforced barriers, replaced by colorful mats, building blocks, art supplies, and various interactive stations. The space felt entirely different—designed for play rather than assessment.
Meiji stood just inside the entrance, shadows coiled close to his body in cautious observation. Thirteen remained beside him, giving him time to acclimate to the new environment.
"Your friends will be here shortly," Thirteen explained. "Just three children your age, including Nejire whom you've already met."
Friends. The word felt strange. Meiji couldn't remember ever having friends—the facility had meant isolation, and before that... the memories remained fragmented, more feelings than clear images.
His shadows shifted nervously, forming small defensive patterns before he consciously relaxed, allowing them to resume their neutral swirling. Control was getting easier with practice—his shadows responding more readily to his intentions rather than just his emotions.
The door opened with an energy that could only belong to one person. Nejire bounded in, blue hair floating around her head, golden spirals of energy already emanating from her hands in excitement.
"Meiji! I found you again!" she exclaimed, as if their meeting were a fortunate coincidence rather than a scheduled session. Behind her came two boys—one tall and blond, the other smaller with indigo hair that partially covered his face.
"These are my friends," Nejire announced, gesturing expansively. "Mirio and Tamaki. They have amazing quirks too! Mirio can go through walls, and Tamaki can turn into things he eats!"
The blond boy—Mirio—stepped forward with a bright smile that seemed to illuminate his entire face. "Nice to meet you, Meiji! Nejire told us all about your shadow shapes. She wouldn't stop talking about them!"
The third child—Tamaki—remained partially hidden behind Mirio, offering only a slight nod of acknowledgment, his posture suggesting he found this social interaction as challenging as Meiji did.
Meiji's shadows reacted to the new presences, extending cautiously toward the newcomers before retreating—curious but wary.
"Your quirk really is cool," Mirio said, watching the shadow movements with genuine interest rather than apprehension. "Can you make them into any shape?"
Before Meiji could respond, Nejire was already answering for him. "He made the most beautiful garden of flowers! And animals too! Show them, Meiji!"
The direct request created a strange pressure—a desire to demonstrate mixed with anxiety about performing. His shadows flickered uncertainly.
"It's okay if you don't want to," Tamaki said quietly, speaking for the first time. "Quirks can be... personal."
Something in the boy's understanding tone resonated with Meiji. His shadows stabilized, then slowly formed into simple animal shapes—a rabbit, a bird, a cat—moving in gentle circular patterns around him.
"Wow!" Mirio exclaimed, genuine delight in his voice. "That's incredible control!"
Nejire clapped her hands, spiral energy pulsing brighter. "See? I told you his quirk was amazing! And watch what happens when I do this!"
She released a gentle wave of golden spiral energy toward Meiji's shadow animals. Just as before in the conference room, the shadows seemed to respond to her quirk, merging with the golden light to create shimmering, iridescent patterns that were neither purely shadow nor purely energy.
"They're dancing together!" Mirio observed, watching the interaction with fascination.
Emboldened by their positive reactions, Meiji expanded the shadow forms, creating more complex animals and allowing them to interact with Nejire's spirals in increasingly intricate patterns.
"Can I try something?" Mirio asked. Without waiting for an answer, he activated his quirk, his body becoming translucent as he passed his hand through one of the shadow formations.
To everyone's surprise, the shadow rippled but didn't dissipate, instead wrapping around Mirio's translucent form like a second skin before returning to its original shape.
"Whoa!" Mirio laughed. "It's like your shadows can touch things that aren't even solid!"
This unexpected quirk interaction intrigued Meiji. He focused on the sensation—his shadows connecting with Mirio's permeation field, feeling the strange energy of it, adapting to its properties.
Tamaki, still hanging back but watching with increasing interest, cautiously extended his hand. The tip of his finger had transformed into what appeared to be a small crab pincer.
"I had crab for dinner," he explained shyly. "Can your shadows... interact with transformation quirks too?"
Meiji directed a tendril of shadow toward Tamaki's transformed finger. The darkness wrapped gently around the pincer, mimicking its shape briefly before returning to fluid motion.
"They can copy!" Nejire exclaimed delightedly. "Meiji, your shadows are learning from our quirks!"
The observation startled him. She was right—his shadows were somehow absorbing properties from the other children's quirks, not just interacting with them but adapting to them, learning from them.
For the next hour, what had begun as cautious interaction evolved into genuine play. The children experimented with different quirk combinations—Nejire's spirals propelling shadow shapes across the room, Mirio phase-shifting while wrapped in shadow patterns, Tamaki creating small animal parts that the shadows would mimic and enhance.
Throughout it all, Thirteen observed from a discreet distance, occasionally offering guidance but mostly allowing the children to explore at their own pace.
What amazed Meiji most was how natural it began to feel. The initial tension had dissolved, replaced by a sense of discovery and—though he would have struggled to name it—joy. His shadows responded with unprecedented fluidity, forming increasingly complex and beautiful patterns without the struggle for control he usually experienced.
And then it happened—a sound so unexpected that everyone in the room paused to look at him.
Meiji laughed.
It was brief, barely more than a chuckle, triggered by the sight of Mirio accidentally phasing through the floor up to his waist while trying to chase a shadow projection. But it was genuine—a spontaneous expression of happiness he couldn't remember experiencing since before the facility.
His shadows responded immediately, forming bright, swirling patterns that danced across the ceiling in celebration, more vibrant and dynamic than any formations he had created before.
"Your shadows are happy!" Nejire observed with characteristic directness. "They're dancing!"
Meiji nodded, a small smile lingering on his face as he watched his quirk expressing emotions he was only beginning to rediscover.
"Can we play again tomorrow?" Mirio asked as their session drew to a close.
"And the day after that?" Nejire added enthusiastically. "We could bring different things for Tamaki to eat so he can show you new transformations!"
Even Tamaki, who had gradually emerged from behind Mirio as the session progressed, nodded agreement. "Your shadows... they feel safe," he said quietly, offering perhaps the greatest compliment possible from someone who clearly struggled with his own anxieties.
As they prepared to leave, Nejire impulsively grabbed Meiji's hand, causing his shadows to curl briefly around her wrist in what seemed like an answering gesture.
"Friends stick together," she declared with absolute certainty. "That's what heroes do."
Friends. There was that word again, but now it didn't feel so strange or distant. His shadows formed a small bridge between himself and the three other children—a physical manifestation of the connection that had begun to form.
For the first time since his rescue, Meiji found himself looking forward to tomorrow not just with cautious hope, but with genuine anticipation.
General POV
The HSPC headquarters rose like a monolith in the government district, a statement of authority rendered in steel and reinforced glass. Lady Nagant approached the main entrance with measured strides, her posture perfect, her expression impassive—the very image of the professional operative she had been for years.
Security protocols recognized her biometric signature instantly, barriers retracting to allow her passage with the deference accorded to an agent of her status. If the guards noticed that she wasn't wearing her standard HSPC uniform, having opted instead for civilian attire, they gave no indication.
The lobby fell silent as she crossed it, recognition rippling through the assembled personnel. Lady Nagant rarely appeared at headquarters except for direct mission briefings or debriefings—her presence outside those parameters was unusual enough to draw attention.
She bypassed the standard security checkpoints with the clearance codes that hadn't yet been revoked, making her way to the executive level where Director Kujō maintained her office. The administrative assistant stationed outside tried to intervene, rising halfway from her desk before Nagant's cool gaze convinced her otherwise.
Without knocking, Nagant entered the director's office.
Kujō was reviewing documents at her desk, her expression betraying only the slightest surprise at the unannounced arrival before regaining its customary severity.
"Agent Nagant," she acknowledged, setting aside her tablet. "I see you've received our directive."
"I have," Nagant confirmed, removing a sealed envelope from her jacket and placing it precisely in the center of Kujō's desk. "My formal resignation from the Hero Public Safety Commission, effective immediately."
Kujō didn't touch the envelope, her gaze hardening as she studied Nagant's face for any sign of uncertainty or hesitation. Finding none, she leaned back slightly in her chair.
"You understand the consequences of this decision," she stated rather than asked.
"Completely," Nagant replied.
"And yet you persist," Kujō noted, something like genuine curiosity entering her voice. "Why? What is it about this particular child that warrants sacrificing the career you've spent a decade building?"
It was a fair question—one Nagant had asked herself repeatedly. The answer had evolved from simple professional ethics to something far more personal, though she chose her words carefully, aware that this conversation was almost certainly being recorded.
"The commission's interest in Meiji extends beyond standard quirk security protocols," she said instead. "You're continuing the research that was interrupted by our raid."
Kujō's expression didn't change, but a slight tension in her posture confirmed Nagant's assessment.
"The experiments conducted on Subject M-7 yielded valuable data on quirk evolution pathways," Kujō said after a moment. "Data with significant implications for national security and quirk regulation."
"Experimentation on children is explicitly prohibited by the Hero Ethics Code," Nagant countered. "The same code the commission claims to uphold."
"Exceptional circumstances require exceptional measures," Kujō replied smoothly. "The quirk singularity theory isn't just academic speculation, Agent Nagant. With each generation, quirks grow more powerful, more complex, potentially more dangerous. If we don't understand how to regulate that evolution, the consequences could be catastrophic."
"And that justifies torturing a five-year-old child?"
"It justifies pursuing knowledge that could protect millions," Kujō corrected, her tone hardening. "The commission has responsibilities beyond individual welfare. We make difficult decisions so others don't have to."
The familiar rationalization stirred something dark in Nagant's memory—how many times had she accepted similar justifications for questionable missions? How many targets had she eliminated based on the commission's assessment of "greater good"?
"I believed that once," she acknowledged. "I was wrong."
Kujō studied her for a long moment, then sighed almost imperceptibly. "You're making a mistake, Kaina. One that cannot be undone."
The use of her given name—unprecedented in their professional relationship—was not lost on Nagant. A final attempt at personal appeal.
"My mistake," Nagant replied evenly, "was not making this decision sooner."
She turned to leave, but Kujō's voice stopped her at the door.
"The boy's quirk has evolved beyond natural parameters," the director said, all pretense of persuasion gone from her tone. "The shadows are developing autonomous responses that his conscious mind doesn't control. You've seen it yourself—the eyes, the teeth, the defensive formations that appear without his direction."
Nagant remained still, listening.
"That's why we need him," Kujō continued. "He represents the leading edge of what all quirks may eventually become—too complex for their users to fully control, developing semi-independent manifestations based on emotional imprinting rather than conscious command."
She rose from her desk, approaching Nagant with the measured steps of someone delivering crucial information.
"What happens when that evolution accelerates? When quirks develop true autonomy? The singularity isn't just about power, Nagant—it's about control. Or rather, the loss of it."
"And your solution is to experiment on children who show signs of this evolution?" Nagant asked, turning to face her former superior.
"Our solution is to understand the process before it overtakes us," Kujō corrected. "Subject M-7 is unique—his quirk shows adaptive properties beyond anything we've documented. The shadows don't just reflect his emotions; they learn, they evolve, they respond to external stimuli in increasingly complex ways."
The description matched what Nagant had observed, particularly during Meiji's interactions with Nejire and the other children. The shadows did indeed seem to be evolving—becoming more responsive, more expressive, more adaptable.
"He's not a subject," Nagant said finally. "He's a child. And he's under UA's protection now."
"UA is an educational institution," Kujō replied dismissively. "Not a research facility equipped to handle quirk evolution of this magnitude. When the shadows fully manifest their autonomous potential—and they will—who do you think will be called to contain the situation? The same commission you're now defying."
"When that time comes," Nagant countered, "Meiji will have learned to work with his quirk's evolution, not against it. Understanding through cooperation, not experimentation."
Kujō shook her head slightly, as if disappointed by childish naivety. "Your perspective has become dangerously sentimental, Nagant. I expected better from you."
"So did I," Nagant replied, the simple statement encompassing years of unquestioning service she now viewed with growing regret.
As she turned to leave again, Kujō delivered her parting shot with clinical precision.
"The commission will reclaim jurisdiction over Subject M-7. Your interference has only delayed the inevitable. When we do, your position at UA won't protect you from the consequences of your actions today."
Nagant paused in the doorway, looking back one final time at the woman who had directed her missions, shaped her career, defined her purpose for nearly a decade.
"Perhaps," she acknowledged. "But until then, Meiji will know what it means to be treated as a child, not a research subject. That alone is worth whatever consequences follow."
She left the director's office with measured steps, crossed the lobby under the watchful eyes of personnel who sensed something significant had occurred, and exited the HSPC headquarters for what she expected might be the final time.
Outside, the afternoon sun cast her shadow long across the pavement—a single, ordinary shadow, nothing like the living darkness that surrounded Meiji. Yet today, as she walked away from the commission and toward UA, toward a future she couldn't fully envision but had nonetheless chosen, that simple shadow seemed to carry new meaning.
Not a weapon's shadow. Not an operative's shadow. Just her own, following where she chose to lead.
. . . . . . . . I typed so many things, I don't even know why, maybe just to complain... thanks for reading guys, god bless ya'll
- - - - - - - -
Mini side note: So this is a writing I considered but may remove, I said it last chapter but I wanted to remove the hspc out of the way but uhhh I'm unsure how to end it, honestly I need more time to review, then redo, then review, then redo... uhhh I'm kinda of a perfectionist, this also helps me relax somewhat so don't worry, but at the end of the day hope you liked it, its not as long as its meant to be a continuation of the previous one, but at the same time it should be somewhat similar.
Also ya'll mind telling me how you feel about this chapter? I kinda hate the HSPC just writing about them but I want some more options not just my biased thinking, what can we do? I also need to create tension between nejire and our mc, yk he's later going to be going to middle school together and if you saw the manga... hehe :) anyway I do have a clear idea of what to do but I need more options apart from the direction (like specifics please help me pool ideas, I'm too sick to think too much).
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
AN: So I couldn't finish this chapter, I mean reviewing it and everything I do to try to make logic, uhhh I like taking my time reviewing things I mean, add small details, some little jokes, some grammar I try to use thats complicated just to make ya'll learn something new just in case.
(I also do... sometimes, most of them is just words I'm used to saying, which I've found most people aren't used to hearing so its quite shocking sometimes, dw, at least we go on together learning something new while wasting our time with fanfics 👍)
So uhh your dear author here got sick actually, I'm staying at an uncles house and they wake up really early here (me sleeping on the sofa) and well I was trying to keep up the promised daily updates, turns out time passed like a charm and before I knew it... the time... it was already 4am, (woke up 9), turns out I slept 5 hours (plus trouble the days before sleeping because... its a sofa).
Anyway so I got sick and slept almost all day, I hope at least this part will help you pass your time, I know life's tough but always be kind and honest, alright? like a quote I read and loved.
"Even in a broken world, I remain a righteous man", even if no one seems to see your actions, you yourself are aware of them, and god above all shall judge us. Anyway guess you didn't expect me to be that of a believer huh 🤷♂️
(as you may see dear reader I struggle to end a talk, so lets end it here, I'll do my best to keep ya'll updated in what I've promised and whats yet to come, in exchange help me do a favor to someone else, as even I, sick and all, still come here for you guys)