Project Seraphim

The alarms around the facility rang loud and clear in the still morning air. A lone figure could be seen running down the sterile, dimly lit halls toward the main boss’s office, fear evident on their face. While not everyone knew what was going on, those who did were running frantically, rounding up stray security guards to initiate the building’s lockdown procedures. Employees were ushered back to their respective desks or offices, quickly and quietly. Everyone knew better than to ask questions. They did as they were told, abandoning meals and unfinished projects, though they worked with swift efficiency, knowing their safety might depend on it.
The lone figure made his way to the boss’s office, heart pounding in his chest, struggling to catch his breath. He had no time to think about anything else. The sound of his footsteps echoed in the otherwise quiet hall, a stark contrast to the cacophony of alarms.
Inside the boss’s office, the man, tall and imposing with broad shoulders, stood behind an elegant wooden desk, the dark wood gleaming under the fluorescent lights. His curly black hair framed a face that would’ve been charming, if not for the cold, predatory glint in his dark red eyes. His expression was unreadable as he listened intently, though the tension in the air was palpable. The man’s gaze never wavered as the shorter doctor stammered, trying to explain the situation.
“The building is going into lockdown now,” the doctor said, his voice shaky. “We’re certain the patient hasn’t escaped the building. We’ll find him, and we’ll catch the person responsible for the escape attempt.”
The boss gave a sharp nod, his lips curling slightly as he spoke. “Good. I hope, for your sake and your family’s, that the patient hasn’t made it out.”
The unspoken threat in his words hung in the air, heavy and suffocating. The doctor stiffened, his fear evident as he bowed low. The implications were clear. If the situation wasn’t resolved, his family would be the first to suffer the consequences. The weight of that fear sank deep into his bones as he hurriedly left to assist with the search, knowing the boss's wrath would not be something he could outrun.
For the next several days, the facility was a frenzy of activity. Security guards scoured every corner, searching for any signs of the missing patient. The doctor, desperate and panicked, pushed the search teams harder, snapping at anyone who didn’t move fast enough. His anxiety was palpable, knowing his fate was tied to the success of this mission.
It took four days of relentless searching to fully comb the building, only to discover that several employees were missing, notably from the R&D department, along with a few security guards. Then, they learned the terrifying truth: the patient had escaped nearly a week ago—two days before anyone had even noticed.
The doctor felt a wave of relief wash over him as the blame fell on the second doctor, the one he hadn’t hired. His family was spared the worst of the punishment, but the doctor’s relief was short-lived. It was his own employees, those he had hired or vouched for, who were responsible for the escape. Their failure would cost him dearly.
Those who had failed were given a final chance to set their affairs in order before being subjected to "testing." Most were never seen again. Some were transformed, their quirks dissected and analyzed in brutal experiments to uncover the secret behind how quirks developed in humans and whether they could house more than one. Others weren’t so lucky. Their families were taken as part of the experiments, closely monitored to observe how their quirks manifested and interacted.
The biggest question on the boss’s mind was simple yet haunting: Could a person house more than one quirk and still retain their humanity? He would stop at nothing to find the answer.

Two Days Earlier

Amanda’s body ached with exhaustion as she grunted, struggling under the weight of the sick teenage boy in her arms. He was barely conscious, drifting in and out of awareness as his fever burned through his body. Every step felt like a weight on her shoulders, the ache in her legs making her stumble as she tried to keep moving.
She couldn’t stop now. Not when she was so close to the checkpoint, the only hope for getting him to safety. The manhunt for the boy, Izuku Midoriya, had begun, and Amanda couldn’t risk him being caught. She was running on fumes, both physically and emotionally. The gas had run out five hours ago, and she had been forced to abandon the car. Now, they were on foot, the barren landscape stretching before them, a harsh reminder of how fragile their survival was. It would take them four days to reach the checkpoint at the pace she could maintain, and that was if she didn’t collapse before then.
Amanda’s thoughts wandered aimlessly, her mind clinging to fragments of normalcy as she muttered to the boy about anything that came to mind. Random math problems, musings on quirks, the oddities of the facility—anything to keep herself from focusing on the pain that shot through her body with every step. She didn’t know if he could hear her, but it was all she could do to reassure herself that she wasn’t completely alone in this.
In one of the rare moments he was awake enough to focus, the boy turned his bleary eyes toward her, meeting her gaze. It only lasted a few seconds before his body went slack, and the world went dark. Amanda barely registered the sudden shift, her own consciousness slipping away before she could react.
When she came to, she found herself not in the desolate hallway she’d last seen, but in a small, unfamiliar room. The scent of antiseptic and the quiet hum of a well-maintained facility filled the air. It took her a moment to focus on the surroundings, and when she did, panic washed over her. She was no longer in the wilderness. They had been moved.
The sound of alarms blaring filled her ears as she tried to gather her bearings, but it was the figure standing in front of her that truly broke her focus. A young man—around her age, maybe a bit younger—was staring down at the boy, wide-eyed, disbelief painting his features. And then, as if something clicked in his mind, he spoke softly, his voice tinged with fear.
“Kaa-Chan… Hello. I told you I would be back.”
The words barely registered in Amanda’s brain before her eyes widened, realizing that the boy had spoken his name. Izuku. The boy was Midoriya Izuku—the one everyone was searching for.
The young man, Bakugo, took a shaky step forward, his voice low but desperate. “Zuku, is that you?”

A Few Moments Earlier

The alarms had gone off the moment they landed, alerting the entire staff of a breach in the facility’s defenses. It only took seconds for the system to pinpoint the source of the breach, and the nearest teachers responded immediately.
What they found, however, was not what they had expected. A woman, clearly exhausted and barely holding herself together, was cradling a very ill teenager who, after speaking, collapsed into unconsciousness. But what stunned them even more was the recognition in the eyes of the young man standing nearby—the way he looked at the boy in her arms. He wasn’t just anyone. The way he spoke to the boy, the nickname he used—it was clear they shared a deep connection.
Bakugo’s voice trembled as he spoke, his fists clenched at his sides. “His name is Midoriya Izuku,” he growled, stepping closer. “And he needs medical attention. Now.”
Aizawa, ever the pragmatist, took charge of the situation. He spoke over the noise, his voice sharp and commanding. “How did you get in here?” The question was simple but necessary.
The woman blinked, clearly disoriented, before looking down at the boy in her arms. “I’m so sorry. I... I don’t know how we got here. All I know is… he did something with his quirk. I think he brought us here, to keep us safe.” She paused, her throat tight with emotion. “I... I don’t even know his real name. I never knew.”
Bakugo’s face tightened, his features hardening as he stepped closer. His voice was low, but there was a weight to it, unyielding and filled with resolve. “His name is Izuku. And I’m not leaving him. Not again. I’ll stay with him until he wakes up.” His eyes burned with determination, the kind of intensity that could not be ignored. The teachers, despite their shock, couldn’t help but see the depth of the bond between the two—an unspoken understanding that ran deep, deeper than anything they had anticipated.
Aizawa glanced around, his sharp eyes assessing the situation before he gave a curt, reluctant nod. “You’ll go to class. You’ll keep up with your work. But you’ll be called the moment he wakes up.”
For a moment, Bakugo’s usual fiery demeanor softened, just a flicker of vulnerability passing through his eyes. It was a brief moment, but enough to convey how much Izuku’s well-being meant to him. He nodded firmly, his voice barely above a whisper, but laden with sincerity. “I won’t leave him.”
With determination in every step, Bakugo moved toward Amanda, his voice gentler now, a stark contrast to the earlier fire. “Hand him over. You’re too weak to carry him any longer.”
Amanda’s breath caught in her throat as her heart thundered in her chest. Her body felt like it was falling apart, each aching muscle crying out for rest. She hesitated for a moment, her mind racing. The exhaustion was overwhelming, and she knew she couldn’t go on much longer. Her arms trembled as she looked down at Izuku’s pale, unconscious face, and she felt a surge of protectiveness and fear, but there was nothing left to hold her back.
With a quiet sigh, she nodded, her arms releasing their grip on Izuku. She watched as Bakugo carefully took the boy into his arms, holding him with an unmistakable tenderness, his usual brashness completely absent in this moment. Amanda’s knees wobbled as she stood up straighter, her body feeling like it was on the verge of collapse, but she fought to remain alert. Her vision blurred slightly as she looked around, seeing the pro heroes move quickly, their presence commanding the room. She couldn’t afford to let her guard down—not now.
She had made it this far. There was no way she would stop now.
“Okay, now that that’s taken care of, and before we move on to the infirmary, could we at least get your name?” Aizawa asked, his tone firm yet not unkind. He could tell from the woman's body language that she cared deeply for the boy in Bakugo's arms. She wanted nothing more than to make sure he was safe, but that still didn’t answer their pressing questions about who they were or how they managed to get into the school. Midnight remained tense, but Present Mic, ever the optimist, took his cue from Aizawa, relaxing a bit yet still keeping his guard up, cautious in case the woman, or more specifically, her quirk, was a threat.
“I’m Amanda White,” she began, her voice faltering for a moment, but she steadied herself. “I worked at Seraphim Genetics as a nurse, and at first, I thought I was doing the right thing. They hired me under the guise of keeping a patient sedated, stating that he was a danger to himself and others. It seemed simple enough at the time—just administer the sedatives, make sure he stays calm, and ensure he doesn’t hurt anyone. I consented, believing the facility’s reports, but… after a year, I started noticing things. There were discrepancies in the charts, contradictions between what the doctors were telling me and what I was seeing with my own eyes.”
She paused, swallowing hard, the weight of those days heavy on her chest. “His condition… it wasn’t right. He was sick, constantly weakened, but they refused to allow me to give him proper care. They kept him under constant observation, restricted the medications he could receive. I remember the first time I tried to administer an antibiotic—just a simple dose to address a potential infection, and I was shot down. They said he wasn’t allowed ‘anything outside of the standard protocol.’ I knew then that something was terribly wrong. His body was deteriorating, and they were just letting it happen. His bones were fragile—osteoporosis from lack of proper nutrition and prolonged immobility. His skin was paper-thin, and he had these dark circles under his eyes. He wasn’t even eating enough to maintain a basic metabolic rate. I wanted to do more, but I couldn’t.”
Amanda looked down at Izuku’s unconscious form, her throat tightening as she continued, her voice barely above a whisper. “One of the guards let it slip—just one small comment, but it was enough to shatter everything I thought I knew. The boy I was supposed to be ‘tending to’—the one whose name they never told me—was actually Midoriya Izuku. It took me too long to piece it together. I didn’t know who he was, but I started to suspect something was wrong when I saw the scars on his wrists and ankles… signs of restraint. And the other patients, they told me stories. About the ‘projects.’ But none of it made sense until I learned the truth.”
She wiped a tear from her cheek, a painful mixture of regret and sorrow twisting her insides. “He was kidnapped, not just taken into a facility for treatment, but forcibly abducted when he was young, at the age when children are starting to present their quirks. I found out that Seraphim Genetics—the same people who told me he was ‘dangerous’ and needed constant sedation—had been experimenting on children. Quirk extraction, manipulation, all in the name of ‘genetic perfection.’ They took him from his family, and they treated him like an object. I... I didn’t know then. I didn’t know what they were doing to him. But when I found out, it was too late to back out. I was already complicit. I had no idea how deep the deception went until one day, one of the guards—just one guard—let it slip. ‘He’s not just another failed experiment, you know. He’s the one who survived.’ They didn’t even have the decency to call him a person.”
Her voice cracked slightly as she continued. “I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t be a part of that any longer. I began looking for ways to get him out, to get him the care he needed. I spent months planning, discreetly contacting people who could help. But they had eyes everywhere. Cameras, security—he was constantly under watch. So I did what I could. I had to sneak in his medicine, sneak in food when they wouldn’t let him eat enough. Every day was like walking on a tightrope. One wrong move, and I could’ve lost everything. But I couldn’t let him die like that, trapped and alone.”
She glanced at Bakugo, who stood by quietly, watching her with a look that seemed both tender and heavy with understanding. “I had to get him out, so I contacted my friends—people I trusted. We made a plan. But I wasn’t prepared for how difficult it would be. We didn’t have much time. Seraphim Genetics was always watching, always one step ahead. But we got lucky. We managed to get him out, and my plan was simple: get him out of the country, to a place where he could heal, where he could be free. We didn’t have much time, and we barely had enough supplies. We ran into problems along the way—fewer resources, not enough money, and we were trying to avoid any tracking devices or cameras. But somehow, we kept going. I thought we were going to make it… until…” Her eyes flicked around the room, the reality of the situation settling back in. “He sneezed. It was a simple thing, but I didn’t know that his quirk would react like that. I didn’t know he could do that. And suddenly, here we are, surrounded by pro heroes and teachers.”
Amanda chuckled softly through her tears, the sound tinged with disbelief. “I didn’t even think it would happen this way. I thought we had more time, more space to hide. I thought that if we could just get him to safety, we could undo some of the damage they did. But now…” She wiped her face, struggling to steady her breath. “Now, I’m just… sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t do more for him sooner. I was trying to help, but I kept failing him. I was just trying to keep him alive, but it wasn’t enough.”
She finally looked up, her eyes meeting Aizawa’s and Midnight’s, her voice raw. “I tried to give him everything I could. But I’m just one person. And he needed so much more than I could give him.”
Amanda’s words hung in the air, and the heroes instinctively took defensive positions, their minds racing with questions and suspicion. They didn’t know her, and they didn’t know what she was capable of. To them, she could be just as dangerous as the enemies they fought every day.
Amanda, her body still trembling with exhaustion and emotion, realized what was happening and offered a small, weary smile—one that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’m quirkless,” she said softly, the words carrying the weight of years of isolation. “I went into the study of quirks to better understand why some people are born with them, and others, like myself, are not. I wanted to learn, to help, but instead I ended up in a system that only used people like me.” She swallowed, her eyes never leaving Izuku’s fragile form in Bakugo’s arms. “I may not have a quirk, but I’ve seen what it does to people—what it does to children. I’ve seen them torn apart by it, and I couldn’t stand by anymore.”
The room fell silent for a moment, and Aizawa’s gaze softened slightly. His mind was already piecing together the grim puzzle Amanda was presenting. He was about to speak, but before he could, Bakugo interrupted, his voice sharp and tinged with urgency.
“Good to know, but can we go now?” Bakugo snapped, his impatience clear. His brow furrowed in worry as he glanced down at Izuku’s trembling body in his arms. “Izuku’s burning up, and I need to make sure he gets taken care of. Now.”
Aizawa opened his mouth, ready to respond, but as he looked at Bakugo and then at Izuku, something clicked. The pieces fell into place with sudden clarity. This wasn’t just any missing child—it was Midoriya Izuku.
Aizawa’s expression hardened as realization struck him like a blow to the chest. He had been following the case for years. The disappearances. The string of missing children that all seemed linked to the same mysterious suspect. They had caught the man responsible, but Midoriya’s case had always haunted him. The child’s body was never found, and no one knew what had happened to him. It had been assumed the worst, and for years, Aizawa had carried that weight with him, always hoping that somehow, somewhere, Izuku was still alive.
And now, here he was. In Bakugo’s arms. Alive.
Aizawa blinked in disbelief, feeling a strange surge of emotions. His stoic demeanor remained, but his mind raced as the pieces connected: the child who had disappeared, the suspect who had been arrested, and the mystery of what had happened to Izuku. And now, standing before him, was the living, breathing answer to a question that had tormented him for so long.
He spoke, his voice a little more uncertain than usual, weighed down with the gravity of the situation. “Are you sure this is him?” he asked, his eyes never leaving the trembling boy in Bakugo’s arms. “Are you absolutely sure?”
Bakugo’s gaze hardened as he gently adjusted Izuku, making sure he was comfortable in his arms. “I would never mistake him, Aizawa,” he replied, his voice firm but filled with an edge of emotion. “That mop of messy green hair? It’s unmistakable. He got the mess from his dad, and the color from his mom.”
Aizawa’s mind was still spinning, processing the reality of what he was hearing. He knew about Midoriya’s family, of course—the boy had been a mystery for so long, and now, here in front of him, was the truth. He looked at Amanda, his eyes filled with questions. How had she found him? What had happened during all these years? But the most pressing question lingered in the back of his mind: What now?

Bakugo’s gaze darkened as he gently adjusted Izuku, making sure he was secure in his hold. “I would never mistake him, Aizawa,” he said, his voice firm but carrying an edge of emotion. “That mop of messy green hair? It’s unmistakable. He got the mess from his dad and the color from his mom.”
Aizawa exhaled through his nose, nodding sharply. This was real. This was happening. He turned toward the staff waiting at the door. “Get Recovery Girl ready. We’re taking him to the infirmary. Now.”
The urgency snapped the room into action.
Two of the medical staff rushed forward, pulling a stretcher with them. Bakugo hesitated, his grip tightening around Izuku. He didn’t want to let go. Not again.
“Bakugo.” Aizawa’s voice was firm, but not unkind. “Let them take him. You’ll be right there with him.”
Bakugo clenched his jaw, his arms unwilling to release the precious weight in them. But finally, reluctantly, he lowered Izuku onto the stretcher. The second he did, the medical team moved swiftly, securing him and checking his vitals as they began moving toward the infirmary.
Bakugo didn’t wait for permission—he followed closely behind, his hands balled into fists. Amanda watched them go, her exhaustion pulling at her limbs, but she forced herself to take a step forward, determined not to let them leave her behind.
Midnight saw the strain on her face and placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “You’re coming too,” she assured her, leading Amanda forward. “You’re just as much a part of this as he is.”
Amanda nodded weakly, her legs barely cooperating as she pushed herself forward. She felt like she was floating, the world around her a blur as they moved through the halls.
Every step was an effort, her mind fogged by exhaustion and stress, but she refused to stop.
By the time they reached the infirmary, Izuku had already been placed in a medical bed. The small room was quiet except for the beeping of monitors and the hurried sounds of medical staff working around him.
Bakugo pulled a chair to his bedside and sat down heavily, his arms resting on his knees as he leaned forward, watching Izuku with an intensity that bordered on desperation.
Amanda stood frozen at the threshold, watching as the medical team examined Izuku. She knew what they would find—severe malnourishment, dehydration, vitamin deficiencies. It had been a miracle she had been able to keep him as stable as she had, but it hadn’t been enough.
Her hands trembled.
“I tried,” she whispered, barely audible.
She squeezed her eyes shut, but the memories flooded in—the sterile walls, the constant surveillance, the way Izuku would look at her with pleading eyes, silently begging for help.
“I tried to keep him healthy,” she choked out. “I really did. But they… they monitored everything we gave him. The other nurse and I—we could only give him the bare minimum to keep him alive. I couldn’t do more… I feel like I failed him, like I didn’t do enough.”
Her voice cracked, and the weight of it all finally broke her. She sank to her knees, covering her face as sobs overtook her.
Midnight was there in an instant, kneeling beside her, her voice steady but gentle. “It’s okay,” she said, her hand resting on Amanda’s shoulder in a comforting gesture. “You did what you could.”
Amanda let out a shaky breath, her body finally giving in.
Midnight guided her to an empty bed, her movements careful as she eased Amanda onto it. “You need to rest,” she murmured. “You’ve done enough for now.”
Amanda’s body sagged into the mattress, her exhaustion consuming her in waves. As her eyes drifted shut, the last thing she saw was Bakugo, still at Izuku’s bedside, watching over him like a guardian unwilling to leave his post.
And for the first time in years, she let go, trusting—for once—that someone else would protect him.
.
It wasn’t long before Recovery Girl entered the room, her cane making soft, rhythmic taps against the floor as she approached. She took one sweeping glance around the room, her sharp eyes narrowing slightly at the cluster of people surrounding the bed.
“I’m sure we don’t need so many people in here,” she said, her tone firm but not unkind. “Everyone except Nezu and Aizawa, please leave.”
Aizawa exhaled through his nose, stepping back with a reluctant sigh. Bakugo, still rooted beside Izuku’s unconscious form, clenched his fists. His jaw tensed as if ready to argue, but Aizawa shot him a warning look—one that spoke of no negotiation.
Bakugo’s nostrils flared, but he clicked his tongue in irritation. “Fine,” he ground out, turning sharply on his heel. “But I’m coming back.”
Once the room had cleared, Recovery Girl moved to Izuku’s bedside, her expression grim as she placed a gentle but firm hand on his forehead. The warmth beneath her fingertips confirmed her suspicions. She pressed her lips into a thin line and let out a measured breath.
“This boy…” she murmured, her voice softening, her years of medical experience allowing her to keep her emotions in check. “Izuku is severely malnourished. His body is in a fragile state—his bones have been deprived of calcium for so long that they’re at risk of fractures from even minor strain. He’s extremely lucky his teeth haven’t suffered permanent damage.”
Aizawa’s hands curled into tight fists at his sides, but he remained silent, his eyes locked on the frail form of the boy before him.
“His fever is dangerously high,” Recovery Girl continued, adjusting the IV line already in place. “We’re on the borderline of pneumonia. If it had gone untreated much longer… it could have been fatal.”
Silence swallowed the room.
The weight of her words settled over them like a heavy fog.
“I’ve already administered a broad-spectrum antibiotic and started him on IV fluids to stabilize his vitals,” she went on, her voice steady, professional. “But he’s not in the clear yet. I’m going to have to keep him sedated for at least a week.”
Aizawa stiffened. “A week?”
Nezu tilted his head, his ever-present composure unshaken, though his small paws curled against the edge of the bedframe. “Explain.”
Recovery Girl met their gazes without hesitation. “His fever is too high. If he wakes up disoriented and panics, his body might trigger a stress response—and we don’t know what his quirk is yet. If his body reacts on instinct, he could hurt himself or someone else in the process.”
Aizawa’s lips pressed into a thin line. He hated it, but he understood the reasoning.
Before either of them could object further, she lifted a hand. “I did wake him briefly,” she assured them, her voice gentler now. “I explained the situation, and he gave me permission to keep him under until he’s strong enough to understand what’s happening. I know sedation was used against him before, but this is different.”
She turned her gaze back to Izuku, her wrinkled hand brushing a strand of damp green hair from his forehead. “This time, he’ll wake up when his body is ready. Not because someone else decided he had to.”
Nezu exhaled through his nose, nodding in quiet approval.
“I’ll also be keeping him on continuous IV nutrition,” Recovery Girl added, shifting back into her professional demeanor. “His body can’t handle solid food yet—his digestive system needs time to adjust. Once he’s stable, we’ll begin a strict reintroduction diet to prevent refeeding syndrome.”
Aizawa, though not a medical expert, understood the dangers of malnourishment recovery. If they fed him too quickly, it could shock his system—potentially killing him.
“I’ll monitor him closely, but I’ll need everyone’s help to keep him on track once he’s awake,” she said firmly. “He won’t like the slow recovery, but it’s necessary.”
Nezu nodded in understanding, his dark eyes unreadable. “When do you anticipate he’ll regain consciousness?”
“At the earliest? A week,” she answered. “At the latest? Two. It depends on how his body responds. If his fever breaks sooner, I’ll adjust accordingly.” She turned back to Nezu, her gaze sharpening. “Until then, I want to limit the number of people in and out of this room. He’s too vulnerable right now. I don’t want to risk infection.”
Nezu hummed thoughtfully. “And Amanda?”
“She’ll wake up tomorrow,” Recovery Girl confirmed. “I’ll keep her on fluids until then, but she needs rest just as much as he does. Once she’s awake, you can ask her anything you need.”
Nezu gave a slow nod, his keen mind already calculating their next steps. “Understood.”
With that, he turned to Aizawa, signaling for them to leave the rest to her. The underground hero lingered for a brief moment, his sharp eyes scanning Izuku’s face as if memorizing every fragile detail.
Then, with a final nod, he followed Nezu toward the door, leaving Recovery Girl to her work.
The Next Day
Amanda stirred awake, her body aching from exhaustion and stress. The sterile scent of antiseptic and the faint beeping of medical equipment filled the air. Soft murmurs of conversation drifted around her, voices kept low, as if their owners didn’t wish to disturb her. The mattress beneath her was firmer than she was used to, the thin blanket draped over her barely enough to keep her warm. As her vision adjusted, she squinted against the harsh fluorescent lights overhead, the brightness making her head throb.
She groaned as she sat up, her body sluggish from the remnants of sleep. The talking ceased instantly. Blinking away the fogginess, she found herself surrounded by the same group of teachers from the night before—plus a few new faces. The presence of medical monitors and IV drips attached to her arm confirmed what she already suspected: she was in the infirmary.
A small, furred creature stepped forward, his intelligent eyes gleaming. Principal Nezu. Amanda recognized him from the limited research she had done before bringing Izuku here.
“We are happy to see you awake,” Nezu said, his voice polite but edged with curiosity. “Are you feeling well enough to answer a few more questions?”
Amanda nodded hesitantly, her throat dry. One of the staff, Recovery Girl, stepped forward and pressed a small cup of water into her hands. She sipped it gratefully before clearing her throat.
Nezu’s expression softened just slightly, though his sharp eyes never wavered. “We know a little from your arrival yesterday, but we need more details—especially regarding Young Midoriya’s quirk. Can you explain how it works? And more importantly, why your former employer was so determined to keep him asleep?”
Amanda exhaled slowly. “I had to learn a lot about him to make sure the medications we gave him didn’t interfere with the tests being run on his quirks.” She swallowed hard before continuing, the weight of her knowledge pressing down on her shoulders. “Yes, quirks. Plural. As far as I know, Midoriya has at least fifteen to twenty different quirks. I have no idea why or how. What I do know is that his father worked at the lab that took him, and… well, from what I pieced together, Hisashi Midoriya might have been involved in something dangerous.”
She hesitated, then pushed forward. “On record, Hisashi Midoriya is dead. But given how much they were willing to do to Izuku, I’m not sure if that’s the full story. His abilities are… overwhelming. He can combust his skin into flames, shoot laser beams from his eyes, phase into a different dimension, and teleport. He can shift his body into what looks like a demon or some kind of metallic form. He can grow in size, but when he does, he gains excess body mass as well. He can turn his body into a sticky, jelly-like substance to phase through objects. And that’s just what I know he can do.”
The room was silent. Aizawa’s normally impassive face had darkened, his arms crossing over his chest.
Amanda’s voice dropped, her fingers tightening around the blanket in her lap. “The worst part? They treated him like a lab rat, constantly keeping him sedated and restrained. They weren’t just studying him. They were afraid of him. Whatever Hisashi was working on, they believed Izuku was the key to it.”
She took a shaky breath before lifting her eyes to meet Nezu’s. “Is he okay? Please, tell me he’s okay.”
Nezu’s expression remained unreadable, but his voice was gentle when he spoke. “Young Midoriya is stable. He is currently asleep and will remain so for some time. His fever reached dangerous levels last night—bordering on pneumonia—but Recovery Girl is administering antibiotics and IV fluids to stabilize him.”
Recovery Girl stepped forward, her expression serious. “His body is severely malnourished. His bones are brittle from a lack of calcium, and his immune system is dangerously weak. If he had remained untreated, his organs could have started failing. I’m keeping him under to prevent him from straining himself further, but it will take time for him to regain his strength.”
Amanda sagged in relief but still looked troubled. “He always had a strong will, but I knew his body was breaking down. I just couldn’t leave him there any longer. I—I didn’t know if I did the right thing. He was weak before I took him, but I couldn’t stand seeing him strapped down like an animal. Like he wasn’t even human.”
Silence settled over the room. Finally, Nezu spoke. “We will ensure both you and Young Midoriya are safe here at U.A. He needs a secure place to recover, and we are well-equipped to handle his rehabilitation. If you are willing, we could also use your expertise in the medical field to assist around the school.”
Amanda nodded, her voice thick with emotion. “I would like that. Having stability—for both of us—would be the best thing right now.”
Recovery Girl smiled warmly. “Good. We’ll need to monitor his diet carefully, as his digestive system may struggle with normal food at first. Once he wakes up, we’ll transition him to a nutrient-rich meal plan.”
Amanda exhaled slowly. “Thank you. I just hope he’ll be able to thank you himself soon.”

For a week and a half, Izuku remained unconscious. His body slowly healed, and something remarkable happened—the small injuries Recovery Girl had treated, such as minor bruises and sprains, seemed to heal faster than expected. It became apparent that one of his quirks accelerated his natural recovery, though only in small increments.
Finally, after two weeks, his fever broke. His breathing was stronger, his complexion less pale. The moment he opened his eyes, the tension that had been hanging over the staff finally lifted.
The first thing he did was smile.
“Well, hello,” Izuku rasped, his voice rough from disuse. “It’s nice to be awake after so long. Thank you for taking care of me.”
The room fell silent, everyone staring at him in shock. Bakugo, who had been sitting beside his bed, gripping his hand, squeezed it tighter as if reassuring himself that this was real.
Izuku chuckled softly, the sound hoarse but warm. “Oh, I know it’s a surprise. You probably expected me to sound like a four-year-old, right?” He smirked slightly. “Well, people talk a lot when they think you don’t understand them. I listened. I learned. And… I heard their thoughts, too. I don’t know why, but I could.”
A sharp inhale from Aizawa broke the heavy silence, his shoulders tensing as if bracing for something unseen. Nezu’s keen eyes gleamed with unspoken curiosity, his small paws folded neatly in his lap as he observed the exchange with measured interest.
Beside Izuku, Bakugo’s grip on his hand tightened, his fingers rough but warm, grounding him in the present. His voice, when he finally spoke, was barely above a whisper—raw, strained, as if dragged from somewhere deep within.
“Deku… I missed you, dumbass.”
The words were gruff, but the way Bakugo’s throat bobbed, the slight tremble in his fingers, betrayed more emotion than he would ever admit aloud.
Izuku turned to him, his green eyes shimmering with unshed tears, his smile soft and full of understanding. “I missed you too, Kaa-chan.”
For a split second, something flickered in Bakugo’s expression—relief, guilt, maybe even grief—but he swallowed it down, his jaw tightening as he refused to let his tears fall.
The tension in the room shifted when Nezu finally spoke, his small yet commanding voice cutting through the quiet. “Young Midoriya, do you know where you are?”
Izuku exhaled slowly, as if collecting his scattered thoughts. He glanced around the infirmary, taking in the sterile scent of antiseptic, the hum of medical monitors, the crisp white sheets that wrapped around him like a safety net.
“U.A.,” he said at last, his voice steady. “The safest place for people like me.”
But then his smile faltered, his fingers curling slightly into the blanket. A shadow passed through his expression.
“But… why?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “Why let me stay? Seraphim Genetics won’t stop looking for me.”
Nezu’s gaze sharpened, his tone unwavering. “Because you deserve safety, Midoriya. And because we refuse to let them take you back.”
Izuku’s breath hitched. He hadn’t realized just how much he needed to hear those words until now.
Aizawa stepped forward, arms crossed, his usual gruff demeanor still present, but this time laced with something softer. Something almost… protective.
“And you’re going to need a guardian,” he stated simply.
Izuku tilted his head, studying him. “You have someone in mind, don’t you?”
Nezu’s gaze flicked to Aizawa, a silent question passing between them.
Izuku followed the exchange, then turned his attention to the man before him. A small, genuine smirk tugged at his lips, the kind that felt almost foreign after everything he had endured.
“If it’s okay with you,” he said, tilting his head playfully, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable, “I’d like to stay with you.”
Aizawa exhaled sharply through his nose, his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable—hesitation, consideration, maybe even something softer buried beneath his usual gruff exterior. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets, his posture slouching ever so slightly, as if already resigning himself to whatever trouble was coming his way.
But then—just for a second—the corners of his lips twitched upward. Almost imperceptibly.
“Fine,” he muttered, his tone rough but not unkind. “But you’re following my rules.”
Izuku let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, a quiet chuckle escaping him—light, almost disbelieving.
“Wouldn’t have it any other way.”
Something settled in his chest then, something unfamiliar yet undeniably warm. It curled around his ribs, filling the hollow spaces that fear and exhaustion had left behind.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt safe.
For the first time in what felt like forever, he felt like he belonged.
For the first time in what felt like forever—
He felt hope.