Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Pollyanna Principle: The flawed belief that other people must share the same morals and viewpoints as oneself.

He woke up to the memory of screams.

The stench of damp garbage hung in the air, assaulting his senses as he groggily opened his eyes. A dim, sickly light flickered above, casting long shadows on the graffiti-covered walls that enclosed him. Disoriented and dishevelled, he found himself sat against a brick wall, feeling the cold touch of the pavement in the heart of a dingy alley. As he struggled to push himself up, a dull ache pulsed through his head, the remnants of those damn screams. Deep, agonising screams. They kept replaying in his mind, like… like… like something or other.

He squinted against the harshness of his surroundings, surveying the abused walls that enclosed the narrow space. He strained to make sense of it all. Where was he? Last thing he remembered, he'd been-

…

He’d been…

…

What had he been doing?

…

Who was he?

Silly question. Everyone knows who they are, right? He was-

….

He was…

…

He didn’t know.

He didn’t know.

How didn’t he KNOW?!

His heart was beating rapidly, in and out and in and out and in and out and- 

“ARGHHHHH!”

Great. Now he knew one thing - his response to panic was screaming as loudly as he could. Helpful. 

Rapidly shaking his head round, his eyes locked onto a large shard of glass lying on the floor beside him. That could be useful. He grabbed it, and stared directly into it. Looking back at him was a youthful man, with curly white hair and petrified red eyes. So now he knew what he looked like. That was a start, but didn’t give him much to work with. How old was he? Maybe late twenties, early thirties? He honestly had no idea. What was his Meta Ability?

… Wait. Meta Ability? Not Quirk? Wait, how did he know that Quirks were a thing in the first place?

Digging deeper into his thoughts, it became apparent that whatever had happened to him seemingly only affected his personal life. He still remembered general facts about the world. 80% of the population had a Meta- a Quirk. All Might was the number one hero. The year was 2168. That was all there. But he didn’t have the foggiest idea about anything to do with him . 

He tried to stand up again. He’d need to file a police report, see if anyone could help him. As long as he could get his bearings, that would be the first step-

Oh.

Brandished on the inside of his right arm was writing. A marking of some sorts. It was clearly hastily written, with the edges all janky and wobbly, but he could still make out what it said - 死柄木 零治 

“Reiji Shigaraki” .

Was that his name? It must be. It felt right, somehow. But why would he have his own name written on his arm? 

He- Reiji got to his feet before-

THUNK.

He’d collapsed. God, he scarcely knew about himself, but he obviously must have been quite pathetic. What type of person can’t even stand up without immediately falling over again?

He took some deep breaths. He needed to get up, needed to get help-

“You alright there, son?”

A person! Reiji turned his head as fast as he was capable of. A diminutive elderly man, with a yellow costume. A Pro Hero! Perfect! 

“I,” (was that really how he sounded?), “I need to see the police, sir.”

“Eh? What’s happened to you then?”

So he was the direct type. “Well, that’s the problem. I don’t know. I don’t know anything, really.”

The man stared at him for a few moments, as if he was sizing Reiji up. After a pregnant pause, he cleared his throat.

“What do you mean, you don’t know anything ?”

Was this guy serious? “As in, I woke up about five minutes ago and don’t have any idea who I am. My memory’s gone.”

Now that got the hero’s attention. He pulled out a wrinkly hand, gesturing for Reiji to take it. Reiji stretched himself to get his barely-functioning arm to cooperate, just about managing to make contact.

bzzz

The moment Reiji’s hand touched that of the aged hero, a shockwave seemed to ripple through his arm, into the back of his head.

“Jet.” Reiji said, completely unconsciously.

What? Where had that come from? It was like information was suddenly flying through his brain, and he couldn’t resist talking about it, and he was still going-

“Jet. Mutant. Allows the user to release air from holes in feet, obtained through the user’s breathing, propelling the user in a stra-”

“WOAH, WOAH, WOAH!”

…

What was that? 

The elderly hero looked completely baffled, mirroring Reiji’s expression - they mimicked a pair of deer in headlights. 

What had he just done? That was the hero’s Meta Ability. He knew that. But… but how did he know that? He’d made contact and somehow instantly knew everything there was to know about the hero’s power, with absolute certainty. 

Reiji needed to rush to stumble out an apology, but he had no idea what had happened. 

Wait. What if…

“I’m so sorry, sir. I… I think that was my Quirk.”

That seemed like as good of an explanation as any. What if that was his power? The ability to learn the powers of anyone else through touch? He couldn’t be sure, but it was possible.

“Ah,” he said, much quieter and seemingly more understanding, “I take it that you didn’t know you could do that?” 

Thank God. “That’s right, sir.”

The hero seemed lost in thought for a second, before helping Reiji up yet again. This time, he didn’t stumble. 

“So, you really don’t have any memories? At all?” 

How many times was he going to have to explain this? “That’s right. All I have on me is my name, written on my arm. Reiji Shigaraki.”

Reiji stretched out his left arm, showing the hastily-written kanji. 

The man read through it, pulled out his phone and seemed to fiddle with the screen for a bit, before putting it back into his pocket.
“I’ve paged the police to come and get you,” he explained, “and with any luck, they’ll be able to find who you are.”

Reiji felt a surge of relief. “Thank you so much.” He gratefully shook the man’s hand.

“No prob,” the hero called as he started walking away. 

Reiji was prepared to wait in the alley until the police arrived, but he couldn’t let his hero go without knowing his name.

“Wait!” Reiji called. The hero turned his head round, an inquisitive expression on his face. “Who are you?”

The hero chuckled and came back over to shake Reiji’s hand. “Sorahiko Torino, kid. Nice to meet you. I hope you find out who you are.”

*

Many miles away, a man on a beach felt an inexplicable spike in his heart rate, as if he was being warned of some impending event. He was not the superstitious type, though, so he just brushed it off, ignoring how it had caused him to briefly stop in his tracks. 

“You okay?” His student called to him, noticing his brief pause. Always so perceptive.

“I’m fine, Young Midoriya!” Toshinori reassured him. It had just been a result of his stress recently, that’s all. Nothing was really going to happen, he was sure of it.

Chapter Text

Guilt by Association: The flawed belief that one's views can be refuted solely based on the group they belong to.

One of the first things Reiji realised about himself was that he hated closed spaces.

The journey to the police station wasn’t long - about fifteen minutes - but he found himself despising every second of it. It wasn’t the officers’ fault; they’d been very amicable to him, but the whole time he was sat in the car, he felt nothing but an overpowering sense of dread. His heart was pounding, his eyes kept darting from side to side, his hands were gripping his seat with so much force that his knuckles were turning white, his bones felt like they were being twisted-

A voice in his head. 

(Stop that. Stop showing weakness.)

In that moment, it became clear how much of a fool he was being. He couldn’t let the police see his distress. He couldn’t trust them yet. They were strangers, and for all he knew, they could turn on him at any moment, after deciding he wasn’t worth their time. Not like anyone would miss him if he was gone… right? 

Oh God, did he have a family? Friends? What if they were worried about him, and he didn’t even know who they were? And if the police decided not to help him, they could dispose of him quietly and anyone who he possibly knew would be none the wiser. He absolutely couldn’t let the police think they had the power here. He may not have any memories, but he knew he had to take charge, instead of showing off his vulnerabilities like a weakling. 

(Look normal. Look calm. Look relaxed.)

And then, as if he’d done it a million times before, his face slid into an award-winning poker face. He could see himself through his dimmed reflection in the rear-view mirror; his ruby eyes were tranquil and at ease, the way you’d expect them to look if he was on a relaxing holiday abroad, instead of being escorted to the police station after waking up in a dingy alley with no memories. He still didn’t have the foggiest idea who he was, but he was quite good at this! 

(That’s it! That was easy!)

*

The heavy glass door of the station creaked open. As he was led in by the same pair of officers as had driven him in, one of them bumping him while crossing through the door, a faint jingle of bells announced his arrival. Was that odd, for a police station? He had no frame of reference. The officers gently escorted him to the front desk, his journey marked by a hesitant shuffle across the linoleum floor. There were piercing, painfully white, fluorescent lights overhead - they flickered with an indifferent hum, casting stark shadows against the whitewashed walls. Everything was so… sterile. So empty.

(Remind you of anything?)

At the front desk, he was met by a bald receptionist who looked as if he’d be rather be anywhere else in the world. The officers explained the situation (he assumed, he wasn’t really listening), and yet the receptionist didn’t react at all. Was it not even slightly concerning to anyone involved that Reiji had no memory?! That Torino chap had been nice, but he didn’t seem to act like he really cared about the situation at hand. Then the officers, and the receptionist… it’s like people were viewing him as an oddity, and not a serious victim of… of something or other. But-

“You in there?” 

Shit. The receptionist had said something.

He had to cooperate. Even if they didn’t really care, he supposed they were his best shot. “Sorry,” he apologised, “I was just a little out of it, that’s all.” 

(That’s it. Calm and composed. Nothing to see here. You’re doing so well.)

The receptionist nodded, and repeated himself. “Take a seat over there,” he instructed dryly, gesturing to a row of off-white chairs, “once someone’s available, they’ll signal you over.”

Reiji privately thought that the man could at least try to sound like he cared. But he listened nonetheless. Sitting down, he tried to drown out the echoing in his head, the murmur of distant conversations elsewhere in the room, and the insufferable hum as the lights flickered. His hands fidgeted in his lap, fingers tracing invisible patterns against the fabric of his trousers, as his mind *churned* with a relentless tide of... of something or other. Why couldn't he even remember emotions? 

Well. Whatever this feeling was, he didn't like it. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, the plastic chair creaking beneath his weight. Everything in his head was screaming at him to just leave, to get out and run as far as he could. But he couldn’t do that. Not when he needed their help so badly. 

He hated this. He was relying on some random police staff that he had never met before to help him. He had no way of knowing that they’d do anything, and if they chose not to, he had no other options. 

… Come to think of it, why didn’t he trust them? 

Obviously, they were unknowns. Nobody could fully trust unknowns. But there was something more, something deeper, in his distrust. It wasn’t simply that he was wary, he was utterly convinced that these people - that the police - were not his allies. But he didn’t have a clue why , and that frustration kept simmering beneath the surface. 

He should be on top of the world, not sitting helplessly in the police station as if he was some charity case. He was completely alone, with nobody he could truly trust, and to top it all off he didn’t even know why he couldn’t trust anyone! He'd been awake for an hour, max, and he was already sick of this. He wanted his memory back, damn it! Reiji was going to make whoever did this to him pay for what they’d stolen from him, mark his words-

“Sir?”

A plain-looking man, dressed in a beige trenchcoat, was standing over his chair. At last, someone had bothered to pay him any attention! But Reiji then wondered why he was looking over at the armrest of the seat, instead of even having the dignity to look him in the eyes. Was there something lodged in the chair he hadn’t noticed? He shot a quick glance over to his side, and-  

Oh.

Reiji didn’t realise he’d been gripping the armrest so strongly, or that he was now struggling to let go, or that he wanted nothing more than to just disappear, to prevent the police or anyone else from even perceiving him.

Somehow, despite his lack of memories, he was absolutely *certain* he hadn't experienced anything like this in a long, long time.

*

Reiji found himself being led into a small, dimly lit office. The detective, smiling, gestured for him to take a seat. He hesitated briefly for reasons still unknown to him.

(Of course you don’t trust a cop, especially not one that’s-)

He didn’t have time to wonder why that nagging voice in his head suddenly shut itself up. He lowered himself into the chair, feeling intense pressure from all sides, nowhere more than in the depths of his heart. 

The detective leaned forward and held a hand out, his keen eyes studying the man intently. Reiji did the same, delivering a nice hearty handshake.

bzzz

That same shockwave he’d felt with Torino earlier. This time, he was able to stop himself from vocalising the feedback, but that didn’t stop the details about the detective’s power from flying into his head.

“To get started,” the detective explained, “I’m legally obligated to tell you that my Quirk is called-”

“Lie Detector,” Reiji interjects. Well, he’d been able to stop himself talking for a bit, at least.

The detective’s eyes widened - Reiji didn’t blame him, it must have been odd to hear about his own power from a man he’d just met. That reminded him, he should probably explain.

“Sorry about that,” Reiji apologised, “that’s my power. I think. I touched you, and now I know what you can do.” He could see the detective’s expression changing at this. That was good, he was doing well!

The man nodded, and replied, “got it. I’m Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi, and you are…?”

“Reiji Shigaraki,” he introduced himself back.

“Nice to meet you, Shigaraki. One question - why do you say you ‘think’ that’s your Quirk?”

Ah. So he’d obviously not been briefed on why Reiji was here. This station couldn’t do anything right, could it? Why, he ought to-

(Don’t get caught up in that again.)

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself in reality. He’d already humiliated himself once in front of this man. “That brings me to why I’m here, really,” he began, his voice trembling slightly, “I’ve got amnesia. Haven’t got any idea who I am or where I’m from.”

Tsukauchi’s expression softened, and he nodded slowly. “Not my first time dealing with amnesia,” he said, his tone noticeably much more gentle. “So, to be clear - how much do you remember? You gave me your name, so any other details, no matter how small, could help.”

Reiji swallowed hard, his mind racing as he tried to summon up any fragments of memory.

“Nothing much,” he lamented, “I woke up in an alleyway, didn’t remember anything, and a hero found me and sent me here.”

The detective listened attentively, his gaze never leaving Reiji’s face. “Is there anything else? Any faces, places, or events that come to mind, even if they seem insignificant?”

Reiji closed his eyes, straining to recall anything that might be useful. 

“Screams.”

That evidently wasn’t what Tsukauchi had expected, but it was all he had. The detective pushed his hands ahead of his chest, gesturing for Reiji to continue.

“I remember hearing screams. When I woke up. That’s it. Oh, and I know facts about the world. I could give you the names of the top ten heroes, but good luck trying to find those of my parents.”

Tsukauchi leaned back in his chair, considering the man's words. “So what about your name?” he reasonably asked.

Reiji knew he’d forgotten something. Wordlessly, he lifted up his right arm, the scrappily written kanji on full display.

That visibly took Tsukauchi back. “Your name. On your arm.”

“I’m as confused as you are,” Reiji clarifies.

“I mean, I assume you wrote this before your memory was wiped?” Tsukauchi’s theory was simple, but Reiji was terrified of what it could mean.

With an inquisitive expression, he rationalised, “but that would imply I knew this was going to happen to me, and all I did was write my own name. Nothing else.” 

Tsukauchi hummed. “That’s not the most unusual thing I’ve seen in this line of work,” he leant forward, with an expression serious yet hopeful, “you know, with cases like yours, we have contacts to help. There’s underground heroes that specialise in memory issues; I could bring one in to help investigate you.”

With a push in Reiji’s chest, the words hung in the air.

Investigate you.

Heroes.

Investigate you.

Heroes.

(REIJI-)

Investigate you.

Heroes.

Investigate you.

Heroes.

An echo reverberated in his mind. Time itself appeared to stretch and warp. Reiji’s vision tunnelled, the edges of his sight blurring and dimming as if the world were retreating from him. He felt a weird gap, a strange detachment, as though he were watching the scene unfold from outside his own body.

His heart, which had been beating steadily moments before, (you know that’s a lie) , suddenly began to race, each thud resonating loudly in his ears. A cold sweat broke out on his forehead, beads of moisture trickling down his temples. His skin tingled with a strange numbness, a creeping sensation that began at his fingertips and spread slowly, inexorably, up his arms.

The detective's voice, now distant and distorted, continued to speak, but he couldn't grasp the meaning of the words. They seemed to float around him, disjointed and alien. The room's ambient sounds - the hum of the air conditioner, the breeze from the window outside - grew louder, merging into an insufferable cacophony.

As his heart pounded faster, his chest tightened, each breath becoming a shallow, desperate gasp. It felt as though an invisible hand were squeezing his lungs, restricting the flow of air. He tried to inhale deeply, but his body refused to cooperate, locked in a cycle of rapid, ineffective breaths.

A heavy, oppressive weight settled on his shoulders, pressing down on him, making him feel smaller, trapped. The walls of the detective's office seemed to inch closer, the room shrinking, the air growing thick and stifling. Colours faded to a muted grey, and the faces of the people around him, blurred and indistinct, seemed to warp and distort.

Investigate you.

Heroes.

Investigate you.

Heroes.

Investigate you.

Heroes.

Investigate you.

Heroes.

Investigate you.

Heroes.

Investigate you.

Heroes.

The sensation of falling, falling, falling of being pulled downward, gripped him. He clutched the arms of his chair, his knuckles white with tension. The world around him slowed to a crawl, each second stretching into an eternity, dark spots dancing at the edges of his peripheral vision. 

He knew he had been right to be wary. These people hated him. They were going to lock him up, treat him like a criminal, investigate his past and dig into every detail-

He couldn’t take it anymore. With a strangled gasp, Reiji shot up from the chair, nearly knocking it over. Tsukauchi's startled exclamation barely registered as he stumbled toward the door, his movements frantic and uncoordinated.

He shoved the door open and bolted down the hallway, his footsteps echoing loudly against the linoleum floor. He had to get out, out, out, out, out-

Investigate you.

He didn’t know where he was going. He just needed to get out. As he ran, the fluorescent lights overhead blurred into streaks, and the faces of those he passed were mere smudges in his peripheral vision.

His breaths were ragged, each one a struggle against the tightening band around his chest. He felt the eyes of everyone on him, their gazes like daggers piercing through his fragile composure.

(Reiji, REIJI! Stop!)

He wished that damn voice would shut up. 

The walls seemed to close in further, the hallway stretching out endlessly before him. At last, he burst through the exit door and stumbled into the open air. He doubled over, hands on his knees, gasping for breath. The cool breeze was a stark contrast to the stifling atmosphere inside that awful room. His heart continued to pound, and his limbs trembled with residual panic, but it was slowly, surely, lessening. He stood there, gulping in hefty lungfuls of air, trying to steady himself. 

From the corner of his eye, he saw a wiry blonde man approach. 

(You’ve got to be kidding me.)

Reiji found himself in agreement with that distant voice for once. He just wanted to be alone, for God’s sake. And yet, the figure had took notice of him, and walked over with a concerned expression. 

“Sorry to come up to you like this,” the man said with a deep voice that felt calm and reassuring. “I saw you run out of there, but you don’t look like a criminal.”

Reiji looked up, still breathing heavily, his eyes wide with residual fear. He struggled to find his voice, his mind still reeling from the panic attack. “I-I just…” he managed to stammer, “I couldn’t breathe. Something the detective said- it just snapped in my brain."

The stranger nodded understandingly, stepping closer but maintaining a respectful distance. “There’s no worry,” he said gently, “panic attacks can be overwhelming.”

Panic attack. Right. “So there’s a name for what that was,” Reiji questions. 

The gaunt man looks at him, confused. “You’re not familiar?” 

Reiji shrugs. “Amnesia. It’s a whole thing.”

Something within him notices that he’s done a 180, that talking to this man is so much easier than anything else he’s done in his brief period of consciousness. He briefly wonders why, but he supposes it’s not important. His attention is soon drawn to the stranger’s stomach - that is not a normal angle covered by his shirt. He wonders if it’s something to do with his Meta Ability, but he couldn’t just ask something like that to a man he just met.

(Sure you can.)

“What happened to your stomach?” he blurts out without thinking again. “That must be one brutal Me- Quirk.”

He’d expected various responses, from anger to changing the subject. What he didn’t expect was for the stranger to start laughing.

“Not quite! I’m actually Quirkless.”

That was new. Reiji absently wondered how his power would react to that. Emptiness, probably. You can’t scan a Meta Abili- a Quirk - when one isn’t there. Other oddities about his power were still yet to be answered; he remembered that the officer who’d bumped him earlier hadn’t triggered it, whereas Torino and Tsukauchi had received the feedback after a handshake. Perhaps it only worked when his hands were touching someone else? Well, Reiji supposed there was no time like the present. He lightly grazed the stranger’s arm with his own hand, and-

Bzzz

Oh.

“No you’re not,” said Reiji. 

The man’s face scrunched up, “I’m sorry?”

Let it be known that Reiji did not know how his next statement was true. He did not have any way of proving it, nor did he know how he’d come to the knowledge. And yet, he felt as certain as he had been when he remembered his own name.

“Hello, All Might.”

Chapter Text

Appeal to Pity - The flawed belief that one must always support the "underdog" regardless of the issues at hand.

“Hello, All Might.”

The man’s - All Might’s - eyes widened in shock, in parallel with Reiji’s own. What had he been thinking? He’d just said that without a second thought, after receiving the information on All Might’s Meta Ability. It shouldn’t have made sense. His power wasn’t telling him anything about the user, only their Meta Ability itself. 

(Their QUIRK, remember?)

Oh, yeah. But the point still stood - his mind could list off the received data on the Quirk with ease (was it weird that it could be transferred?), but it wasn’t telling him that it was held by All Might. Reiji just… knew that it was him. Somehow.

A flicker of worry had crossed All Might’s features. He quickly masked it with a calm exterior, but Reiji had already seen the momentary crack in his composure.

“Where did you get that idea?” All Might asked, his tone carefully controlled but tinged with a hint of urgency. “All Might is a sentinel of power and muscle, I’m just a Quirkless old man.”

Reiji shook his head, and clarified, “I have a touch-based information Quirk, I think. The moment my hand made contact with you, I knew what you could do. Interesting name, One fo-”

“Hush!” All Might rapidly looked around in fear, before lowering his pitch and continuing, “the details on my power are supposed to be secret!”

Reiji felt a pang of embarrassment. That was one emotion he seemed to remember, at least. “Sorry, sorry,” he rapidly apologised.

All Might shook his head. “It’s no worry,” he assured Reiji, “I should have been more tactful. That sounds like a really useful Quirk, though.”

Reiji nervously let out a chuckle. “You could be right,” he reasoned, “but… that’s not what made me identify you. My Quirk doesn’t seem to tell me anything personal about the user. I just knew who you were. I wish I could explain further,” he lamely concluded.

All Might studied Reiji with an unexplainable expression. His eyes narrowed slightly, concern and care etched into his features… he thought. Reiji wasn’t very good at this “identifying emotions” shtick.

(We can both agree there.)

Reiji ran a hand through his hair, frustration bubbling up once again. “I said earlier, but… I have amnesia. I don’t know anything,” he explained, his voice cracking for some goddamn reason. "I don't know who I am or where I come from. All I’ve got to identify myself is this fucking-” (he could have sworn he heard All Might mutter “language”) "- name tag on my arm,” he exclaimed as he held it up for the hero to see. 

All Might’s eyes scanned the kanji, and Reiji read it out as he did. 

Before any further conversation could be made, the door to the police station swung open, and-

(Not again.)

Tsukauchi stepped out, his eyes scanning the area until they landed on Reiji. For the first time, concern seemed to etch his features as he hurried over.

"Shigaraki, are you alright?" the detective asked, his voice apprehensive and pronounced. "You ran out so suddenly. I know a panic attack when I see one.”

Reiji nodded. He still wasn’t a fan of this feeling, but he could adjust to it, slowly. “I... I think I'm okay now,” he said, his voice steadier, “I’m sorry about that.”

The detective glanced at All Might, who gave him an odd stare - did they know each other?

“I see you've met Yagi,” Tsukauchi said, oddly detached. So that was his real name. 

All Might (Yagi?) coughed and clarified to the detective “it’s okay, he knows.” 

Tsukauchi’s eyes widened. “Yagi, why-” 

“It was his Quirk,” All Might explained. Tsukauchi nodded.

Looking over at Reiji, Tsukauchi asked “do you feel up to coming back inside, Shigaraki? We can take things slowly, no rush."

…

Well. Wasn’t that the million dollar question. Did he want to go back inside?

(Of course not.)

Reiji wondered if All Might’s punches were strong enough to launch that damn voice out of his head. 

Tsukauchi was evidently looking for a response, but he didn’t know if he could go back so soon. The memory of the… what had All Might called it? A “panic attack”? Whatever it was, it was still far too fresh in his mind. But equally, the detective obviously needed him to come in to continue the investigation. This was his only hope, so why did it feel so wrong? He just had to refuse, to ask for more time, and maybe he’d be up to it eventually-

"I'll come with you," All Might said.

Reiji’s throat dried up. What did he mean? Surely the number one hero had more important things to do? 

Shaking his head, he mumbled, “you don’t have to do that.”

Without missing a beat, All Might firmly replied, “I wasn’t asking.”

(Pathetic.)

He figured he was just asking out of pity, so why the insistence? No harm in asking, he guessed.

“Why? We just met.”

All Might slowly grasped his hand. 

(Pull away.)

He didn’t.

"Because I don’t see anyone else coming, and everyone needs someone in their corner,” the hero said.

Reiji didn’t know why that made his heart feel so warm. He nodded, and took All Might’s hand.

*

Tsukauchi led the way back into the building, with Reiji and All Might following close behind. As they walked through the halls, All Might stayed by Reiji's side, a steady presence that was somehow helping to quell that damn anxiety. The fluorescent lights and sterile walls still had him on high alert for some reason, but his heart was beating at a regular pace this time. Small victories?

He re-entered the detective's office, taking a deep breath before settling back into the chair he had vacated earlier. All Might had grabbed a plastic chair and sat beside him, pulling off a glistening smile.

He still wasn’t sure what to make of all this. All Might surely couldn’t care that much about some stranger, especially not one who blurted out his greatest secret in the first meeting. There had to be some larger plan here, something behind the scenes, but for now, Reiji was comfortable playing along with whatever All Might’s game was. 

With a subdued but friendly expression on his face, Tsukauchi restarted the discussion. “Shigaraki, to be clear, we can take this as slowly as you like. We’re here to help.”

(As if the police are here to help you. Where were they when-)

Reiji nodded at Tsukauchi’s words, muttering an apology.

The detective smiled. “Don’t apologise. It’s okay, let’s just start from scratch. Is there anything you think we should be focusing on?”

Reiji glanced at All Might, then back at the detective. It had been really odd how quickly the recognition had come to him. “I still don't understand how I knew he was All Might," he admitted, “I was just certain of it from the moment I used my Meta- Quirk on him.”

The detective exchanged a thoughtful look with All Might, before asking “so, you know what his power is?”

He watched Tsukauchi’s eyes widen as he nodded. He could prove it, but-

“All Might told me it was supposed to be a secret, though. I can’t tell you about it,” he apologised. After all, that had to be why Tsukauchi asked that, right? He was prying for info on the number one hero’s Quirk. Anyone would if it was so secretive.

All Might heartily laughed. “Don’t worry. Naomasa and I have been good friends for a while,” he explained, “he’s in on it.”

That made sense. “So, should I just demonstrate it…?” Reiji wasn’t sure what to do, but that sounded like it was the best idea. He turned to All Might, who gave a simple nod.

Taking it as his cue, Reiji thought of the hero’s power, and felt himself speaking without having to think about the words.

“One for All. Emitter. Stockpiles energy over time, allowing the user to massively enhance their strength, speed, and original Quirk Factor if one is present. The Quirk can be transferred to another if the recipient ingests the user’s DNA, as long as the user actively intends to transfer it.” 

He wouldn’t admit it just yet, but he enjoyed the expressions on Tsukauchi’s and All Might’s faces. 

“You got all that from a single touch?” All Might asked, incredulously.

“Yep,” Reiji said, popping the p , “I could go into as much detail about your lie detector power too,” he explained as he turned to Tsukauchi. Hearing that, the detective leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk. 

“Speaking of detail, that reminds me. While you were out there a minute ago, I checked the national database for your name and general description,” Tsukauchi said.

At last! Someone had tried to find something! Reiji wondered how much information he’d found-

“There was nothing.”

… What?

“There’s no record of anyone in Japan called Reiji Shigaraki. It’s not a common family name as is, and everyone who has it is accounted for. I can’t find anything on you.”

Reiji's heart sank, the detective's words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He had hoped that something, anything, would point to who he was or where he came from. But not even the national record could tell him anything useful.

“No record at all?” Reiji asked, his voice wavering. “How’s that possible? Everyone has to be in the system somewhere, right?”

Tsukauchi sighed. “It's unusual, but not impossible. I’ve seen it before; usually from people who were raised in harsh environments.”

Reiji's mind raced, grappling with the implications. At least that was something - the fact he wasn’t registered showed that he must have had a childhood where that somehow couldn’t have happened. 

(Impressive!)

“But- but what does that mean for me?” Reiji’s voice was cracking. He couldn’t show weakness again, but he was . “If there's no record, how do I find out who I am?”

All Might placed a reassuring hand on Reiji's shoulder. "We'll figure it out," he said firmly.

“There are other ways to piece together your past,” Tsukauchi reasoned, “any reappearing memories, in particular, might give us clues."

Reiji took a deep breath, trying to ground himself. “I feel like I must have met All Might before,” he began, his voice shaky, “how else could I have identified him through his power alone?” 

All Might seemed lost in thought. “The issue with that is that very few people know about One for All. I’ve never told the public anything about my Quirk - when it comes up in interviews, I just dodge the question.”

“Because you don’t want people learning that the number one hero’s Quirk can be transferred?” Reiji questioned.

At that, All Might’s gaze seemed to focus in on him more. “Got it in one.”

“Well, who does know about it? Maybe I knew, or was, one of them.” Reiji knew it was a long shot. Of course it was. 

All Might shaked his head as he counted them off. “Naomasa here, my old teacher Gran Torino, pro hero Recovery Girl, and the principal of UA High. I trust them all with my life - none of them would tell anyone else. There was a villain who knew about it too, but I killed him years ago. That’s it.”

Aside from the brief realisation that Gran Torino was probably the hero who’d helped Reiji in the alley, there really wasn’t much to go on there.  

Tsukauchi cleared his throat and leaned back in his chair, looking at Reiji with an apologetic expression. “I hate to break this up, but we need to get you registered, Shigaraki.”

Oh. Yeah, that was probably a good point. Still, he thought it’d be more of an in-depth process than Tsukauchi was making it sound. The detective evidently noticed his surprise, and elaborated, “we have means to create emergency identification for people in situations like yours.” 

Reiji nodded. He supposed a police station would have something like that.

“It’s probably a long shot, but… do you know how old you are?”

He was about to shake his head. He didn’t have a clue, as much as that annoyed him.

(-28. Born on February 29.)

Oh.

“Yes,” he said, voice uncharacteristically measured. He wasn’t sure how he’d been able to remember that, but he supposed he couldn’t worry about that now. He relayed the information to Tsukauchi, who seemed equally shocked that he’d known the answer to that, but jotted it down regardless.

Turning back to Reiji, Tsukauchi pointed out, “you’ll need to come up with a name for your Quirk.”

Ah, of course. That hadn’t been something he’d had the chance to consider just yet. 

(I mean, it’s all-)

Reiji wasn’t sure why the voice was cut off. He wasn’t complaining, though. 

“What about Insight?” It had come to him in a flash. He couldn’t tell where he’d gotten it from, but it made sense. 

All Might hummed. “I like that.”

That was good enough for him. He saw Tsukauchi scrawl it down before recapping what he’d got so far. “Reiji Shigaraki, age 28, Insight.” 

This was easier than he’d expected it to be. 

“Just one more thing left. We’ll need a photo of you.” Tsukauchi’s last request made sense, but upon thinking about it…

He didn’t mean to let out a gasp.

All Might looked over with the same concern he’d shown before. 

“Sorry, sorry,” he blurted out, “I just realised… I barely know what I look like. I saw a glimpse in the alley, but there was a lot going on and-”

He was cut off by All Might holding up a mirror, one that had presumably been on the desk without him noticing. Reiji stared into it, and he saw .

*

Staring back at him was a man he’d obviously seen thousands of times before, and yet was seeing for the first time too. His skin was pale but uncannily healthy, completely devoid of scars or blemishes. His hair, a stark white, curled softly around his head. His eyes, though glazed over with a hint of unnatural red, held a penetrating gaze that not even he could interpret.

His fingers trembled as he reached up to touch his face, the cool skin under his fingertips sending a shiver down his spine. He traced the contours of his cheeks, the line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. It was a strange sensation, feeling his own skin and seeing it reflected back at him, yet not knowing the person he was touching.

“Is this really me?” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the cold silence of his mind. The man in the mirror looked both alien and eerily familiar, like a character from a dream that fades away the moment you wake up.. As he continued to examine himself, Reiji felt a mixture of emotions swell within him. There was a profound sadness for the person he could not remember, a sense of loss for a past that was completely blank. At the same time, there was a flicker of hope. One day, he should be able to understand the man staring back at him.

But there was also fear. The ghostly appearance, the red eyes… they made him wonder what kind of life he had led, what kind of person he had been. There was something in his expression that not even he could identify.

(That’s a first. Usually you’re the only one to know what you’re thinking.)

Reiji supposed that the voice was helping distract him from getting lost in the image. It still annoyed him, though. Pulling away from the mirror, he repositioned himself back to how he had been before, and Tsukauchi snapped a photo of him with a cheap camera.

“Well, Shigaraki,” Tsukauchi said, “that should be enough to help build your identity. The paperwork should be ready by tomorrow morning.”

That was all well and good, except for one small problem.

He didn’t have anywhere to go.

“Where am I…” he lamely asked before trailing off. He couldn’t ask that. He shouldn’t expect them to do all the work for him. All Might evidently knew what he meant, as he put his hand on his shoulder once more.

Whispering, All Might offered, “you could stay with me if you want.”

(What.)

What.

*

“I have a spare bedroom in my flat for emergencies,” All Might explained, “you could get back on your feet there, and you won't have to worry about anything. I'll make sure you're safe and comfortable.”

Reiji's eyes widened. There had to be something going on here that he hadn’t identified yet. He’d assumed All Might was playing some twisted long game this entire time, but he could never have expected this.

“You’re the number one hero,” Reiji deadpanned, “and you’re fine with that.”

All Might gazed at him with an expression he couldn’t quite place. “It’s not like you're a burden. I’d do this for anyone in your shoes. You're going through something incredibly difficult.”

Despite All Might’s apparent sincerity, Reiji felt a pang of self-doubt. “Are you doing this out of pity?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll find my own place. It’s fine.”

The hero refuted, asking a simple but brutal question.

“How?”

Reiji had no answer.

And that’s how, thirty minutes later, he found himself in All Might’s apartment.

*

“Make yourself at home,” All Might said, gesturing towards a plump white sofa. “I'll get you something to drink. Tea? Water?”

“Tea would be nice, thank you,” Reiji replied, trying to shake off the lingering discomfort of imposing on someone else's kindness.

As the hero disappeared into the kitchen, Reiji took a moment to look around. He noticed a small collection of All Might merchandise on a shelf - action figures, posters, and even a limited-edition statuette. The sight made him smile slightly, the iconic hero's presence both comforting and a bit surreal. He didn’t take All Might to be the type to collect his own merch. Could it be that the number one hero had a bit of an ego?

All Might soon returned with two steaming cups of tea, handing one to Reiji before settling down on the couch opposite him. “I know this must be overwhelming,” he said, his tone gentle and measured, “but I’m here for you.”

Reiji nodded, sipping his tea and feeling its warmth spread through his chest. “Thank you, All Might.”

The hero chuckled. “You may as well call me Yagi,” he said, “we’re going to see a lot of each other after all.”

That made sense to Reiji, even if it felt a little weird. All Might- Yagi then evidently noticed Reiji’s eyes glancing over at the merch collection.

“Oh, that’s not mine,” he clarified. 

Reiji made a quizzical face at him. If it wasn’t his, why was it here? 

With a small smile arising, Yagi explained, “that merch belongs to my protégé, I’m just keeping it safe for him.”

Now that was juicy. “You have a protégé?” Reiji asked, his voice piqued with uncharacteristic interest.

“Yeah,” Yagi verified, “he’s Quirkless but I’m training him to enter UA next year-”

“Oh, so you’re going to give him One for All.” 

Reiji really needed to stop blurting this stuff out.

Yagi's eyes widened in surprise, clearly taken aback by Reiji's quick deduction. “How did you…” he paused, regaining his composure, “yes, Shigaraki, you're right. That’s impressive thinking.”

“I mean, not really,” Reiji reasoned, “we already established your Quirk can be transferred, right? It only makes sense you’d give it to your protégé, especially if they don’t have their own Quirk. After all… I don’t think you do, either.”

That had been something Reiji had put together a bit earlier. After all, surely Insight would have picked up on both powers if Yagi had a second one. “I assume One for All requires a lot of strength to safely use,” he continued, “as Insight’s telling me that the stockpile never depletes, it just keeps accumulating more and more power over time. If it’s been around for a while, that’s a lot of energy to hold in one person.”

Yagi’s tea had been all but forgotten at this point. 

“So if you wanted to give the Quirk to someone new, especially a middle schooler,” Reiji concluded, “you’d need to make sure they’re strong enough to get a hold on it.”

Reiji decided he quite liked monologuing.

Yagi, having taken the entire spiel in, was looking at him in a new light. He wasn’t sure what it was. Respect, maybe.

“You’re correct on all counts,” Yagi verified.

Of course he was. Oh, that reminded him. “By the way,” Reiji said, “if you direct One for All to power up your entire body except your injured area, you could probably hold your muscled form for longer.”

Yagi did a double-take. “I never told you about any time limit on my other form.” 

“I just assumed you had one,” Reiji explained, “because your Quirk has been completely off the entire time we’ve been together.”

Yagi hummed in thought, before picking up his phone and scrolling to the side. He handed Reiji the device, where he could see a bright-eyed green-haired boy. He was wearing a plain T-shirt and shorts, his hair sweeping in the breeze. He looked sweaty and tired, yet there was a determined expression on his face, his eyes focused, and intense, and so green .

Really green.

Why were those green eyes so familiar?

“This is the kid?” Reiji asked. Obvious question, really.

“Izuku Midoriya,” Yagi named. “One day, he’ll be the second Symbol of Peace.”

Reiji didn’t know why he was so drawn to those green eyes. He tried to distract himself, encouraging Yagi, “I’m sure he’ll be amazing.”

He thought he heard Yagi murmur something about a second teacher. It was hard to make out, though, and he was still thinking of those damn green eyes. 

*

Long later that night, Reiji lay in Yagi’s guest bed, penetratingly staring at the ceiling. The room was dark and quiet, but his mind was anything but. The image of the kid, Midoriya, replayed in his thoughts. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that he knew those eyes. Those damn green eyes.

Reiji tossed and turned, irritating his bones (they'd been hurting all day, what was up with that?) and desperately trying to let the thought go, but it clung to him stubbornly. Those eyes, there was something hauntingly familiar about them. It wasn’t just their colour, surely. It was deeper, more profound, like a memory just out of reach.

Frustration creeped into his thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that blocking out the world would help him focus and work it out, but it was no use. The recognition was there, a nagging certainty that he couldn’t place.

He tried to think logically. Perhaps he had known someone with similar eyes in his past. Was it possible he’d known Midoriya in his past? He knew it was unlikely. Izuku was younger, and their paths shouldn’t have crossed. But the feeling persisted. If only he could get someone to just tell him-

Wait.

He’d managed that before.

Whispering as to not wake up Yagi in the room next door, he began to whisper.

“You. I don’t know who you are, or if you’re even real - maybe you’re just a fragment of my consciousness. But you’ve spent most of today being nothing but a nuisance. I don’t know why you’ve only told me small things, when you evidently know more about my life than I do, but I don’t care anymore. Just, if you have any clue what I could be thinking of here, tell me . I know this means something. If you’re not going to do anything else, just tell me this one thing. And then I’ll leave you alone. Please.”

Silence for a few seconds. And then, he once again heard the voice that had accompanied him all day with snarky comments and cryptic quips. He still couldn’t quite identify any traits of the voice, he just knew it was there. He was wondering what it was going to say, until-

*

It was like a puzzle piece had snapped together in his mind.

Flashes of brilliant light in his peripheral vision, the picture forming together in front of him. 

A makeshift shelter constructed in the ruins of a tower block. A pile of comic books in the corner. A secluded space with a run-down twin bed set. 

Home.

Reiji just knew that this was - had been - home, at one point. 

And there was a boy.

He was smaller than Reiji, had long white hair, messy and unkempt unlike Reiji’s own. The scene changed, and the two were running around, with the boy sporting a wide grin (although a few teeth were missing). 

And he had the eyes.

Brilliant, piercing green eyes. Just like Midoriya’s. 

As quickly as the vision had appeared, it fell away, dissipating like smoke in someone’s hands.

*

Reiji was only vaguely aware of the tears streaming down his face. That had been… his brother. His twin . 

He had a family. He had someone in his corner. And then, as he was thinking about this, the voice spoke for real, just a singular word.

(Yoichi.)

That was his name. Of course it was.

Reiji wondered where his twin was now - he hoped he wasn’t too worried about his sudden disappearance. It had been a hard day, but at last he’d finally found something to work with. He’d tell Yagi and Tsukauchi about his brother in the morning, and hopefully they’d be able to track him down. They couldn’t have been that far apart. They were brothers, after all.

As Reiji nodded off to sleep, he didn’t question why the voice’s presence had distinctively vanished at that thought.

Chapter Text

Argument from Incredulity - The flawed belief that a premise can be rejected simply because it appears superficially incredulous.

Reiji now had a week’s worth of memories, and his life had settled into a strange, tentative rhythm. Each day felt like a delicate balance between living in the present and searching for the pieces of his forgotten past.

He spent a great deal of time at the police station, filling the detective in on Yoichi’s existence and helping formalise a new legal identity for him. In the evenings, he’d return to Yagi’s flat, with the hero insisting on keeping him company. Whether they were eating dinner, sitting on the balcony, or watching the news, Yagi was always nearby, offering quiet reassurance. Reiji appreciated it more than he could express. The former hero’s presence, despite not asked for or demanded, was like an anchor - something to hold onto as he navigated the uncertain waters of his mind.

The nights were still the hardest. Setting aside the unexpected revelation that the kanji written on his arm simply would not come off, regardless of how many showers he took, the darkness always brought with it a flood of horrible thoughts. Reiji would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, thinking about Yoichi. He still couldn’t remember much, but the memories of his brother’s green eyes haunted him. They were so vivid, so full of life, and every time Reiji closed his eyes, he saw them again. And yet he still had no idea where he was, or what their childhood together had been like. What if Yoichi was looking for him and he had no idea where to find him? The police had verified that there was nobody with the name Yoichi Shigaraki living in Japan, but his own name wasn’t on the system either, so that was no big surprise. He wondered how the two of them had managed to live off the grid for so long - if that voice (which still piped up from time to time) was to be believed, he was 28 years old. What the hell had they been doing? Why did their family keep them away from being registered? Reiji had tried to conjure up memories of his mother or father, on a high from successfully remembering Yoichi, but nothing came of it. He noticed that his bones would always ache slightly when thinking about his mother - natural instincts, he supposed. His father, on the other hand? Nothing at all.

As the days went by, Reiji tried to keep busy. He helped Yagi with small chores around the house, like cleaning or online grocery shopping (he didn’t wish to leave the house on his own yet). It gave him something to focus on, something to keep his mind from spiralling into the unknown. There was a small sense of normalcy in these routines, even though Reiji knew his situation was far from normal. 

One afternoon, Reiji sat on the couch beside Yagi, their attention focused on the TV. The news was on, showing a segment about international heroes. A young new hero from Scotland filled the screen, draped in yellow and blue spandex and proudly displaying his unique Quirk - the ability to manipulate bananas. A very weak Quirk at first glance, but the reporter claimed that he’d learnt how to make heroics work with it. The clip showcased him using the fruit in various ways - he was creating shields of bananas to protect from enemies, launching them like missiles, and even slipping up villains with strategically placed banana peels.

Reiji watched the footage with an odd sense of fascination, but also a growing curiosity. As the segment went on, he leaned forward slightly, studying the hero's movements closely.

“He's impressive,” Reiji commented, which he didn’t usually do during their news viewing, “but there are some flaws in his technique.”

Yagi turned to him, raising a blond eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Reiji pointed to the screen as the hero dumped a batch of bananas from his utility belt and warped them into a banana shield to block an incoming attack. “His quirk is versatile, but he’s not using it to its full potential. Look at how he’s holding the shield - he’s leaving his left side exposed. If his opponent had a ranged attack, they could easily hit him there.”

Yagi nodded thoughtfully. “I see what you mean. He’s relying too much on his Quirk to protect him and not considering his positioning. I made the same mistake in my youth.”

Reiji continued, his eyes narrowing as the footage shifted to the man using banana peels to trip up a group of thugs. “And here! He's only focusing on slipping up his enemies; if he added more force behind the peels, he could knock them out completely or immobilise them for longer. He’s being too cautious.”

Yagi chuckled, clearly impressed by Reiji's observations. “You have a good eye, Shigaraki. Not everyone can see those kinds of tactical flaws so quickly. It’s almost like you’ve had experience in combat.”

Reiji shrugged, feeling a bit self-conscious. He didn’t mean to get so into his rambling. “I mean, it just seems obvious to me. I can see how he could make his attacks more efficient. His Quirk has so much potential, and he’s using it incredibly well, but he could be far better.”

The gaunt man leaned back, studying Reiji with a thoughtful expression. “You know, maybe more of your past is coming back to you, even if you don’t realise it. That was quick thinking, and you must have learnt it from somewhere.”

Reiji considered that for a moment. He hadn’t really thought about it that way, but it made sense. He hadn’t hesitated to point out the flaws in the foreigner’s technique, and the thoughts had come to him instinctively, without any real effort.

“Maybe,” he said quietly. “I just… I see the gaps in his defences, and I feel like I’ve seen that kind of situation before.”

(You think?)

Sometimes he wondered why the voice only spoke up to give vague statements. It’s like it didn’t want him to find out his past.

(Rude. I’m trying my best here, you know.)

Reiji’s frustration was cut off by Yagi. “Either way, you have a sharp mind, Shigaraki. Don’t underestimate your ability to see things others might miss. That’s a valuable skill in this world.”

Reiji nodded, feeling a small sense of pride at Yagi’s words. For the first time in a while, he felt like he had something concrete to hold onto. 

“Oh!” the hero blurted out. “You must excuse me, I’ve got to meet with Young Midoriya.”

Makes sense. Reiji had almost forgotten the time himself - Yagi would pop out to visit his successor every night.

Yagi turned toward the door, grabbed a coat, then hesitated. He seemed to be thinking something over before he spoke again. “Actually… why don’t you come with me?”

Huh?

(Huh?)

“Come with you?”

Yagi nodded, his expression sincere. “Yeah, I think it could be good for you. You’ve been cooped up all week, and getting out might help clear your mind. Besides, you’ve already shown you’ve got a good eye for analysing Quirks. You could offer some insight I’m missing.”

Reiji hesitated. The idea felt both intriguing and daunting. A part of him wanted to stay behind, to avoid the unknown. What if Midoriya didn’t like him? But another part, the part that had been stirring with curiosity and flashes of memory, urged him to go.

“Are you sure?” Reiji asked, still unsure if he should impose on their training.

The old hero chuckled warmly. “Of course. Young Midoriya’s a good kid, and he could learn a lot from someone like you. Besides,” he added, his eyes twinkling with good-natured humour, “I could use the company. And who knows? Maybe seeing him in action will jog more memories for you.”

Reiji glanced down at his hands, then back at his host. There was a sense of sincerity and openness in the man’s offer that made it hard to refuse. Yagi wasn’t just inviting him out of pity, he genuinely believed it could help.

“Alright,” Reiji said, finally making up his mind. “I’ll come with you.”

*

Reiji followed Yagi as they made their way to the beach. The sun was bright, and the air smelled of salt and sand. Despite his initial hesitation, Reiji found himself feeling a bit lighter with each step. It was a welcome change to be outside. Oh, sure, he’d been out to the police station, but this was different!

As they reached the shoreline, Reiji spotted a figure in the distance. Midoriya, as he’d seen in the photo, was hard at work, lifting and hauling large pieces of debris. His determined expression showed his dedication, sweat dripping down his brow as he moved the heavy objects with surprising strength. Even from afar, Reiji could see the intense focus in the young boy's eyes.

Yagi raised a hand in greeting, his voice cheerful. “Midoriya! I brought someone to meet you.”

The kid looked up, his glistening green eyes widening in surprise as he spotted them approaching. He quickly wiped his hands on his shirt and jogged over, smiling brightly. “All Might! Who’s this?”

Yagi gestured to Reiji, who shuffled a little awkwardly beside him. “This is Reiji Shigaraki. He’s staying with me for the time being. And Shigaraki, you already know, but this is Izuku Midoriya, my successor and a promising young hero in training!”

Midoriya’s smile widened as he looked at Reiji. “Nice to meet you, Shigaraki!” He paused for a moment, before blurting out a question. “What’s your Quirk?”

Reiji blinked, taken aback by the boy’s energy. Yagi laughed and muttered that his protégé devoured Quirks and everything about them. He hummed, scratching the back of his head, before answering. “It’s called Insight - I can tell what someone else’s Meta- Quirk is just by touching them.”

Midoriya’s eyes lit up with fascination. “Whoa! That’s amazing! That must be super useful for analysing opponents, right? How does it work exactly? Do you feel something when you touch them, or do you just know? Do you have to touch them in a specific place? Does it need to be turned on, or do you just do it whenever you touch someone?”

The questions tumbled out of the kid so quickly that Reiji barely had time to process them. At least he didn’t clock onto his almost-use of “Meta Ability”, he supposed. Reiji shot a glance at Yagi, who was smiling fondly at the interaction, clearly used to Midoriya’s boundless curiosity.

Reiji chuckled nervously, trying to answer as best he could. “It’s more like... I get a sense of their Quirk when I make physical contact. It’s not really a feeling, exactly, but I just know what it is. And I don’t turn it on or off, it happens every time I make contact with someone new. I’m still trying to figure out all the details myself."

The boy nodded eagerly, his mind clearly racing with possibilities. “That’s so cool! You must be able to learn a lot. Plus, it could help with figuring out how to counter certain Quirks - kind of like having inside information!”

Reiji couldn’t help but be impressed by how quickly his mind worked. The young hero’s enthusiasm was contagious, and despite his initial nervousness, Reiji found himself relaxing a bit in Midoriya’s presence. The boy’s genuine interest in his Quirk made him feel less like a stranger and more like someone who belonged here. 

He held out a hand to Midoriya. That was polite, right? He’d thought it was, at least, which is why he was slightly confused by the boy awkwardly shuffling his hands in his pockets instead of taking the handshake.

(Think about it. What would you read from him?)

Oh. OH!

“Don’t worry,” Reiji hastily clarified, “I know about One for All.”

That clearly took the boy aback, so Reiji explained that he’d touched All Might and accidentally learnt the secret. 

“So, you know I’m…” Midoriya trailed off.

What did he mean by that? “As in, you don’t have a Quirk right now?” he asked.

Midoriya winced. Odd. Awkwardly, Reiji scratched the back of his head, looking between the boy and Yagi. “Is there something wrong with being Quirkless?”

The kid looked down at the sand, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable with the question. Reiji noticed the tension return to his shoulders, and for a moment, the young hero seemed lost in thought - trying to figure out his wording, maybe.

Finally, Midoriya spoke, his voice quieter than before. “You know how the Quirkless get treated, surely.”

What? Reiji was utterly baffled. How would he know that when he didn’t even know who he was?

(You never told him that, moron.)

Oh. Of course.

Reiji cleared his throat, and softly clarified, “Midoriya, I don’t really know anything right now. I’m staying with Yagi because… well, I lost my memory,” as Midoriya’s jaw dropped, he  continued, “and I’ve got nowhere else to go. It’s lucky I even recognised Yagi - I can’t tell you anything about society. Do Quirkless people get treated badly?” That last question was measured. He didn’t wish to amplify his faux pas any further.

Midoriya looked him up and down, before nodding. “Yeah. You could say that.”

Reiji was genuinely puzzled by this revelation. He didn’t see why it mattered. “But, why? If someone doesn’t have a Quirk, that doesn’t make them any less of a person. What difference does it make?”

The kid glanced at Yagi, as if seeking reassurance again, before continuing. “In a world where almost everyone has a Quirk, lacking one means… you’re different. And people don’t always treat ‘different’ very kindly. When I was younger, I got bullied a lot because I didn’t have a Quirk. People would call me names, push me around… tell me I’d never amount to anything.”

Reiji’s eyes widened at this, and he felt a strange, sinking feeling in his chest. “That’s awful," he said, his voice tinged with disbelief. "Why would anyone treat someone like that just because they can’t shoot fire out of their toenails or whatever?!”

A smile from Midoriya, though there was sadness buried within it. “Yeah, it didn’t make much sense to me either when I was a kid. But that’s how things are. Being quirkless means you’re seen as… less than. People think you’re helpless, that you can’t protect yourself. They assume you’ll never be able to achieve anything significant because you don’t have a power like everyone else. It doesn’t help that we’re dying out. Officially, 20% of the world is Quirkless, but the overwhelming majority of that is elderly people from when Quirks weren’t as commonplace. It’s a lot rarer you get someone like me.”

Reiji was giving this whole affair a great deal of thought.

“If anything,” he cautiously reasoned, “I’d have expected the inverse to happen. I mean, you’d think society would hate the people with unnatural powers more than the normal people without them.”

Midoriya laughed. It was an entirely good-natured laugh, with no ill will to be found. “That’d make a change! I wouldn’t want my classmates to go through what I did, though.”

… Huh. He hadn’t thought about it, but in that moment Reiji realised that he’d totally have wanted revenge if he was in Midoriya’s situation. He had no memories of his own struggles, no context for the person he had been, but standing here now, he couldn’t help but feel… lost. This conversation was opening up questions that he had no idea how to answer.

Who was he, really? What kind of person had he been? Reiji obviously had a Quirk, so how had he treated those without one? Had he looked down on them like Midoriya’s peers, or had he been one of the few who saw the world differently? Did he understand what it meant to be powerless, in a world full of people who could do incredible things? 

Watching Midoriya and hearing his story made Reiji realise just how much he didn’t know. Not just about himself, but about the world around him. He had no sense of history, no understanding of the nuances of how people interacted with each other. He didn’t know how society worked, what people valued, or how they formed their opinions of one another. Every time he tried to reach for a memory, it slipped away like sand through his fingers, leaving him with nothing but uncertainty.

He thought back to his earlier confusion - how he hadn’t understood why Midoriya had felt so much shame about being Quirkless. It wasn’t just that Reiji didn’t remember experiencing it himself; he had no framework for the emotional weight of it. The unfairness of the situation made his chest tighten, and a part of him ached to make sense of it all.

(You know more than you think.)

Helpful, disembodied voice. Very helpful.

I need to understand more, he thought to himself, I can’t just walk through this life not knowing what’s really going on. Until I remember who I am, I have to work out a place for me in this society. 

His own ignorance gnawed at him. The world around him felt like a puzzle with too many missing pieces, and Reiji knew that if he was ever going to fit in, if he was ever going to reclaim a sense of purpose, he needed to start filling in those gaps. He needed to learn more. He craved learning more.

* 

As luck would have it, learning seemed to be the topic of the day. After getting home from the training session (Midoriya had eagerly asked if he’d be turning up again, and Reiji couldn’t say he disliked the idea), the pair had settled into their nightly activities that were quickly becoming routine. 

“I’ve been thinking about the future,” Yagi said, sipping his tea. His tone was reflective, but there was a hint of something more. A glimmer of excitement in his words, perhaps? Reiji wasn’t sure how good he was at this business of reading emotions. “Next year, I’m planning to teach at UA High.”

Reiji blinked. The name, as with anything else, rung no bells in his brain.

To his credit, the gaunt man quickly realised his mistake and clarified, “it’s a high school - the best around. Mainly teaches young heroes-in-training.”

(And that green kid will be old enough for high school next year. Coincidence, I think not.)

Reiji silently wondered why the voice wasn’t always helpful like this. He relayed its point to Yagi, who nodded, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Yes, Young Midoriya is part of the reason why. I’d like to be there when he starts his formal training, of course.”

“You said ‘part of’ the reason why,” Reiji found himself pointing out, “what’s the rest?”

Yagi stared into his steaming tea before answering. “Fifty-six is old for a hero, you know? And given that I’m not going to have One for All for much longer, I need to find a new purpose in life. I can’t be a pro forever, but maybe I can have a hand in raising the next generation of pros.”

Reiji leaned forward, fascinated by the idea. “You’re going to teach heroics?”

Yagi nodded again. “I’ll be training students in what it means to be a hero. Not just in strength and skill, but in character. The next generation is going to face challenges that we can’t predict. It’s important that they’re prepared, not just physically, but mentally and emotionally too.”

Reiji’s mind buzzed with questions. The concept of a place dedicated to training heroes intrigued him deeply. He had no recollection of attending such a school himself (if he ever had) but something about it stirred a faint feeling of familiarity, like it was important. He imagined classrooms filled with young hopefuls, eager to make a difference, and teachers like Yagi, guiding them through the process of changing the world.

“That’s… amazing,” Reiji said, unable to hide his admiration, “so what’s it like?" he asked. He was acutely aware that his voice tinged with awe. “You know, to shape someone into a hero?”

Yagi’s smile softened, his expression thoughtful. “It’s not easy. Being a hero isn’t just about strength or flashy powers. It’s about the heart. Teaching someone to fight is one thing, but teaching them to be selfless, to stand up for others even when it's hard… that’s the real challenge. I learnt that myself from my own mentor back in the day, and it’s time to pay it forward.”

Reiji leaned back in his seat, letting Yagi's words sink in. This world was more complex than he had realised. The role of a hero wasn’t as straightforward as simply having a powerful Meta Ability.

(Quirk!)

… A powerful Quirk. It was about more than just fighting villains and showing off. It was about embodying something larger. At least, that’s how Yagi made it sound. Tragically, the moment was interrupted by a sudden ping from his phone.

Reiji glanced over, seeing the older man reach for his phone with a curious look. His brows furrowed slightly as he read the message, but then a smile spread across his face.

“What is it?” he asked, sitting up in his seat.

Yagi chuckled softly, holding up his phone so Reiji could see the screen. “It’s an email from Nezu, the principal of UA,” he explained. “He wants to schedule a meeting to officially discuss the teaching position for next year. What odd timing, huh?”

(Too right.)

“What does Nezu want to discuss?” Reiji asked, gesturing toward the email.

“Probably the specifics of the curriculum and how I’ll fit into their faculty,” Yagi replied. “You see, UA already has an incredible roster of teachers. Most of them are pros in their own right, so I’ll have to figure out where I can contribute most effectively.”  He paused, eyes narrowing slightly in thought. “There’s also the question of how much the public should know. It’s not just teaching… doing this will force me to reduce my public profile. I need to manage the public’s reaction for when they realise All Might is taking a backseat.”

Reiji frowned, realising the complexity of the situation. “They might not take it well. I know how important you are to this society, after all. One of the only facts I remembered about the world when I woke up was who you were.”

He was surprised to see a massive grin on Yagi’s face. “I’m very touched,” the man said, “but yes, it’s going to be a tough adjustment for everyone.”

Reiji’s life (all seven days of it, as far as he was concerned) had been marked with nothing but tough adjustments. He understood very well.

“But enough of that!” The hero said, standing up and stretching, “it looks like I’ve got a meeting to prepare for, but there’s still time before that. How about we get some dinner and relax a bit? There’s no sense in overthinking everything before it happens.”

Reiji smiled, appreciating Yagi’s carefree but measured approach to life. “Sounds good.”

Yagi grinned back at him, before throwing an unexpected question. “I know this might sound silly, but… do you remember any favourite foods you have?”

He did not. Luckily, someone in there obviously did.

(You always were partial to rigatoni pasta, before-)

Despite the cutoff, Reiji was grateful. He relayed the information from the voice to Yagi, who nodded and set off into the kitchen. 

It only took him a few seconds (that he spent lost in thought about Yagi’s new job) before something finally hit him.

Although the voice still lacked any real distinguishing features, he now instinctively knew that it was one of a woman.

Chapter Text

Normalcy Bias: The flawed belief that life will always continue as "normal" regardless of evidence to the contrary.

Detective Tsukauchi’s office was filled with the smell of old paper and coffee. That was, for some reason, something Reiji was fixating upon. 

“It’s… been interesting,” he said to the perky detective. He’d been asked to explain his first week, but he found his voice to be far too tentative. Oh well. “Yagi’s been incredibly generous. It feels strange, I guess, to be in someone’s life when you don’t even remember your own.” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “He’s giving me space to figure things out, until…” 

He trailed off.

Tsukauchi could be seen jotting down a few notes before looking back up at him. “That sounds positive, Shigaraki. You seem to be settling in far better than our usual amnesia cases. Have you remembered anything new?”

Reiji looked down, hands clasped together tightly. “A few things… more flashes than memories. Nothing concrete, though, not since Yoichi.” He said his brother’s name in a pronounced manner, for some reason. It was like he worried that he’d forget it the moment it left his mouth. But that was silly. Reiji knew he’d never have time for irrational beliefs like that.

(Oh?)

That was a needed reminder. There had been a faint impulse tugging at him to mention the voice. It- she- it had started faintly, enough to make him wonder if he’d just been making it up. For that reason (and only that reason), he’d refrained from mentioning its presence to Yagi or Tsukauchi. But it only got more and more present as time went on, and he was now confident that he could pin down its femininity. Granted,  he had no idea how he could have a woman’s voice in his head, but he was absolutely certain of it, the same way he was certain his name was Reiji. 

So why not tell them now? Perhaps the police and Yagi would know something about it. And if it turned out to be a threat, wouldn’t it be better to have people who were aware?

… No. He didn’t tell people secrets like that. He just didn’t. 

(But you could.)

No. 

Reiji opened his mouth, then closed it again, his jaw tensing. He wasn’t sure why he felt so firmly against it. But he just didn’t want to tell anyone about the voice. Perhaps it was the fear of sounding unstable, or maybe it was the fact that he barely understood it himself. He didn’t want to be misinterpreted, or doubted, or even weaponised against him. Sure, Yagi and Tsukauchi hadn’t steered him wrong yet, but… he never knew. He couldn’t trust anyone. 

“That’s all for now,” he finally said, a polite smile masking his unease. “I’m just… trying to adapt.”

The detective studied him for a moment, a look of gentle concern in his eyes, but he didn’t press further. “That’s understandable, Shigaraki. It’s a lot to take in. If you do start recalling more, or if anything strange or confusing comes up, please let me know. We’re here to help you get your bearings.”

Reiji nodded. “Thank you. I will.”

As he left the station, heading back to Yagi’s house with the hero himself in tow, the memory of the voice surfaced again, clearer than ever. It made his chest tighten slightly, but he forced himself to let it go, for now. There was something unnerving about how natural the voice had started to feel. Like it was a part of him he’d forgotten existed.

(Almost.)

A part of him that insisted on never telling him anything useful.

*

The sun hung high over the beach, casting long shadows over the heaps of trash still scattered along the shoreline. Reiji stood at the edge of the sand, watching Midoriya haul a large piece of debris toward a growing pile of garbage bags. Nearby, Yagi observed with a mix of pride and calm instruction, his frail frame still carrying an aura of experience.

Reiji crossed his arms, shifting his weight as he watched Midoriya. The kid had a determination that was both admirable and slightly overwhelming. Every movement was filled with purpose, as though each piece of trash he lifted was a personal battle. Eventually, Reiji stepped closer, deciding to join him.

“Need a hand with that?” Reiji asked, gesturing to a tangled mass of netting that Midoriya was struggling to pull free.

Midoriya glanced up, wiping sweat from his brow. “Oh! No, it’s okay, I’ve got it!” he said quickly, though his strained expression suggested otherwise.

Reiji chuckled and grabbed the other end of the net. Together, they managed to untangle it and toss it onto the pile. “You know,” Reiji began, brushing sand off his hands, “you’re quite strong even without a M- Quirk.”

Midoriya looked down for a moment and scratched the back of his head. “Well, I’ve got to build up enough muscle mass to use One for All. All Might said that if I used it before this training program, my…” The rest of the sentence was buried in the kid’s mumbles. 

“Your what, sorry?” Reiji asked amicably. The young hero murmured something before clearing his throat.

“He said my arms would blow off.”

(HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! It’s certainly evolved from when-)

Although the voice was as odd as ever, Reiji could still discern truth in what Midoriya said. One for All was a stockpiler, after all. He could easily see how it’d be a lot of power to adjust to.

Reiji nodded thoughtfully. “Makes sense. Power like that doesn’t come without risks.” He paused, leaning against a broken railing that jutted out of the sand. Might be a good time to bring up something he’d been pondering ever since learning of his own ability. “You know… what do you think about Quirks in general?”

Midoriya blinked at the question, caught off guard. “What do I think about them?”

“Yes,” Reiji said, gesturing vaguely with his hand. “You’re going to be a hero, right? So, suddenly Quirks are going to be a big part of your life. And as you’ve never had one before, you must have a unique perspective on the matter. What is a Quirk, really? A tool? A part of someone? Or something else entirely?”

Midoriya frowned, his expression turning contemplative. Reiji was worried that he’d scared the kid off with his rambling. He really needed to learn how to keep his talking points to a minimum. But after a pause, the boy gave his answer.

 “I think Quirks are… a little bit of everything,” he said slowly. “They’re definitely tools, but they’re also a big part of what makes someone unique. A Quirk can say a lot about a person, you know? Scientists aren’t really sure whether a Quirk influences a person’s personality, or if it’s the other way round, but there’s definitely some connection! Though, any Quirk is awesome, and it just depends how someone uses it.”

Reiji nodded, impressed. “That’s a pretty balanced view, and well thought-out.”

Midoriya rubbed the back of his neck, looking a little embarrassed. “Well, yeah. I’ve always wanted to be a hero, so I guess I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what makes someone a hero… Quirks included.”

A hum from Reiji in agreement, glancing out at the ocean. “I think Quirks are fascinating. Each one is so different, like a fingerprint. But at the same time, it’s easy to forget that they’re just one part of a person. It’d be bad if someone let their Quirk define them completely.”

Midoriya tilted his head, with a strange look of something or other in his eye. “Do you think… no, never mind.”

Huh? The youngling clearly had something on his mind. Reiji wouldn’t push it, but he was morbidly curious what it was now. 

“You okay, kid?”

That seemed to break him out of his stupor. “I was just wondering… if I wasn’t getting One for All, would you still think I could become a hero? Without any Quirk?”  

Oh.

Well, that was certainly an interesting question.

Reiji hesitated, the question hitting closer than he’d expected. But he knew what his answer would be, even as he saw Midoriya bury his head in his jacket.

“Honestly? I don’t see why not,” he admitted. Setting aside the boy’s jaw dropping from the sleeve covering it, he continued his reasoning. “It’d have been harder, but from everything I know about heroes, their Quirk is only a part of what they can do. Plenty of heroes worldwide have seemingly weak or useless Quirks,” (Reiji was suddenly extremely thankful that he’d watched a documentary on this with Yagi the other night), “but they managed to make the career work. If someone can become a hero with only the ability to change people’s eye colours, I don’t se how not having a Quirk at all would be a dealbreaker. I practically don’t have one, either.”

At that, Midoriya started a little. He seemed like he didn’t quite know how to respond, but the boy never passed up an opportunity to rave about someone else’s power. “Your Quirk is really cool, what do you mean? I’d love to be able to do what you do!”

(In the deepest depths of his mind, he remembered a pair of similarly green eyes telling him a similar thing, many years ago.) 

Reiji buried his feelings of flattery to focus on responding to the kid in front of him. “It’s a fun party trick, but I’m struggling to think of many use cases for it. Everyone already knows what power they have, they don’t need me to tell them.” 

With this, Midoriya seemed strangely indignant. “What about children?” 

That… wasn’t what he was expecting. He narrowed his eyebrows, silently encouraging the boy to carry on. “I didn’t get diagnosed as Quirkless for ages because my dad thought there was a chance I just had a latent power that I hadn’t activated yet. If I’d had someone like you growing up, we both would have known not to waste time getting my hopes up.”

(Damn.)

That was going to give him a lot to think about.

Reiji smiled faintly. “Maybe I could put it to use. I guess we’ll see where life takes me.” He straightened up, brushing sand from his clothes. “For now, let’s get back to work. This beach isn’t going to clean itself.”

Midoriya grinned and nodded, grabbing another piece of trash. As they worked side by side, Reiji found himself reflecting on their conversation. For someone so young, Midoriya had a surprisingly mature outlook on Quirks and the responsibilities they brought. It made Reiji wonder if he’d ever had that same clarity—or if his past self had viewed Quirks in an entirely different light.

(You have no idea.)

Helpful.

*

The late afternoon sunlight poured through the living room windows, casting warm streaks across the neatly arranged furniture. Reiji sat on the sofa, idly flipping through a magazine he’d found on the coffee table. Yagi had stepped out for errands, leaving the house unusually quiet.

The sudden sound of the front door creaking open made him sit up. Before he could call out, a small figure stepped into the room, their silhouette framed by the door. It was an animal - no, a creature - that walked upright, a mix of mouse, bear, and dog. They were dressed in a small, tailored suit and carried an aura of intelligence that filled the room.

"Ah, I let myself in. I hope you don't mind, I’m just waiting for Toshinori." the creature said, their voice polite yet oddly chipper. "You are…"

Reiji blinked, lowering the magazine. "Reiji Shigaraki. And you?"

The creature’s whiskers twitched as they gave a polite bow. "Forgive me for not introducing myself immediately. I am Principal Nezu of UA High School. It is a pleasure to meet you!"

Oh. So this was the famous Nezu. He hadn’t imagined someone like… this. Reiji stood and offered a hand, though the small paw that clasped his was more delicate than he expected. 

High Specs. Mutant. Grants the user superhuman levels of intelligence by increasing pattern recognition, reaction time, and deductive abilities by several orders of magnitude. 

At least he’d learnt to stop automatically vocalising the feedback Insight granted him. 

“The pleasure’s all mine,” Reiji replied, slightly wary. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Nezu’s sharp, beady eyes fixed on him, and Reiji could feel the weight of that gaze. It wasn’t threatening, but it was… penetrating, like Nezu was trying to read everything about him in a single glance.

“Good things, I hope,” Nezu said with a chuckle, climbing onto one of the armchairs with surprising grace. He leaned forward, his hands clasped together as he regarded Reiji. “So, you’re the mystery man Toshinori’s taken in. He did mention something about that. Tell me, how are you finding the arrangement?”

Reiji shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. “It’s… good. Yagi’s been really helpful. I’m still figuring things out, but he’s been patient with me.”

Nezu nodded, his ears twitching slightly. “Yes, Toshinori has always had a knack for helping those in need. It’s one of his most admirable qualities.” He paused, tilting his head. “Though, I must admit, your situation is rather unique. Amnesia, no records in the national database… It’s like you appeared out of thin air.”

Reiji felt a twinge of unease. Nezu’s tone was casual and conversational, but there was an undertone of curiosity that seemed far too sharp for comfort.

“That’s… what it feels like," Reiji admitted cautiously. “I can’t explain it. All I know is that I woke up one day without any memories and ended up here.”

“Hm,” Nezu mused, tapping a paw against his chin. “Fascinating. And your Quirk… Toshinori mentioned it briefly. A fascinating ability, being able to identify someone’s own power through touch. Have you learned anything about its limitations or nuances?”

Reiji hesitated, unsure of how much to share. "Not much. It’s very straightforward. I touch someone, and I just know their Quirk. It’s like the information appears in my mind without me having to think about it."

Nezu’s eyes gleamed, and his whiskers twitched again. “A useful skill, indeed. But such a Quirk suggests a high level of mental processing. Perhaps your amnesia is linked to it. An overload of information, maybe? Or something more… deliberate.”

Reiji frowned. “Deliberate?”

Nezu leaned back, his expression unreadable. “Oh, just a thought. Sometimes, the mind protects itself by forgetting things that are too painful or dangerous to remember. It’s a natural defence mechanism."

The words sent a chill down Reiji’s spine, though he wasn’t sure why. “I… hadn’t thought about it that way.”

Nezu smiled, though there was a calculating edge to it. “Well, I’m sure the answers will reveal themselves in time. And in the meantime, you’re in good hands. Toshinori is a capable mentor, and I imagine he’ll be able to guide you toward understanding yourself better.”

Reiji nodded, though the conversation left him feeling more exposed than he liked. Nezu was polite, even kind, but his sharp intellect was impossible to ignore. It was as if every word he spoke was designed to draw something out of Reiji, to make him reveal more than he intended.

"Thank you," Reiji said finally. "I appreciate the insight."

(Pun intended?)

Nezu’s eyes drifted away from him, and latched onto a box on the nearby table. 

“Do you play chess, Shigaraki?” he asked, his tone light but probing.

He was already resigned to responding to questions like this with generic amnesiac unawareness, but to his own surprise, he found that he could answer this one.

“Yeah. I don’t remember it, obviously, but I know the rules. I know I’ve played it before.”

Nezu’s whiskers twitched with interest. “Why don’t we give it a try? A friendly game while we wait for Toshinori. It’s an excellent way to pass the time and stimulate the mind.”

Reiji hesitated for a moment but then nodded. It’s not like he had anything else to do, after all. “Sure. Why not?”

Nezu’s smile widened as he hopped onto the table and began setting up the board with quick efficiency. “Let’s see how much your instincts remember!”

Reiji took the seat opposite Nezu, watching as the school principal moved his first pawn with precise calculation. The game began slowly, each player taking cautious steps, but it wasn’t long before Reiji felt an odd sense of familiarity. His hands moved almost on their own, placing pieces with confidence and setting traps he didn’t consciously plan.

Nezu, for his part, kept his composure, his small paws adjusting pieces with deliberate care. But as the game progressed, a subtle tension began to radiate from him. Each move Reiji made seemed to counter Nezu’s strategies perfectly, dismantling complex plans with an ease that was unnerving.

“Impressive,” Nezu said, his voice still cheerful but with a slightly forced edge. “You have a remarkable sense for the game.”

Reiji frowned, staring at the board. He hadn’t even been thinking ahead - just reacting, moving instinctively. “I guess it’s coming back to me,” he muttered.

The creature’s brow furrowed slightly as Reiji cornered his queen, forcing him into a defensive position. Nezu’s mind was clearly racing, his eyes showing that he was calculating dozens of potential moves, but every option seemed to lead to the same conclusion: checkmate was inevitable.

Moments later, Reiji slid across his rook with finality, pinning Nezu’s king. “Checkmate,” he said, his voice calm but tinged with surprise.

Nezu blinked, staring at the board as though trying to make sense of it. Then he smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well done, Shigaraki. That was… unexpected.”

Reiji leaned back, rubbing the back of his neck. “I didn’t mean to be so competitive. I think my hands just knew what to do.”

Nezu’s small laugh was soft, almost thoughtful. “It’s quite alright. It’s rare that I lose a game of chess. Your instincts are remarkable. Almost uncanny.”

Reiji noticed the glint in Nezu’s eyes, a mix of curiosity and something else… something like caution.

“Does that mean I cheated without knowing?” Reiji joked, trying to lighten the mood.

“Not at all,” Nezu replied smoothly, his smile returning to full force. "It simply means you have a talent buried deep within you. A natural strategist, perhaps. Or someone who has played far more than they realise."

As the amnesiac pondered that, the front door opened once again. Yagi stepped in, his familiar, towering frame backlit by the fading sunlight. He carried a bag of groceries in one hand and looked pleasantly surprised to find Nezu seated at the coffee table.

“Principal?” The hero exclaimed, setting the bag on the kitchen counter. “I wasn’t expecting you here today.”

Nezu turned, offering his usual polite smile. “Ah, I was in the area and I thought I may as well hold our meeting early. Shigaraki was kind enough to entertain me while I waited for you.”

Yagi glanced between them, his curiosity seemingly piqued. “What were you two up to?”

“Not much,” Reiji said casually. That seemed to come easier to him now. He gestured toward the chessboard and explained himself. “We played a game of chess. I won.”

For a moment, Yagi just blinked, as if he hadn’t quite processed the words. Then his jaw slackened, and he stared at Reiji with wide eyes. “You… beat Principal Nezu? At chess?”

He shrugged, his expression a mix of nonchalance and mild confusion. “Yeah. Is that a big deal?”

(Oh, you.)

Toshinori turned to Nezu, who was busily packing away the chess pieces with a faintly amused expression.

“Principal Nezu doesn’t lose at chess,” Toshinori said, his voice low and incredulous. “

Nezu chuckled softly, brushing off Toshinori’s astonishment. “Well, even the best players can be outmanoeuvred from time to time. Your friend has a surprising knack for strategy, Toshinori.”

His- 

They continued their conversation, but the voices were drowned out. That last line kept replaying in Reiji’s head, even drowning out the voice.

Your friend. Your friend. Your FRIEND.

He… didn’t know what to think. It didn’t help that his eyes suddenly felt all weird- 

Wait, shit, was he crying? No, no! Don’t show weakness, don’t show weakness-

And he didn’t. 

That was easy.

(Sigh.)

Yagi, who luckily hadn’t noticed anything, shot Reiji a look of disbelief, but smiled at him. That was enough. No more emotional baggage for today. He much preferred the cold and rational setting of the chess game, it seemed. He barely even processed the pair saying that they’d be going into another room to hold their scheduled meeting. 

*

As Nezu sat on the desk in the small side room, he observed Toshinori with his usual sharp attention. The former Symbol of Peace looked concerned, his posture stiff and his brow furrowed. It wasn’t unwarranted. Toshinori’s protective nature made him predictable, but it was also what made him effective.

“I’ll bring over a paper tomorrow,” Nezu said casually, his tone deliberately light. “I’d like Shigaraki to fill it out.”

Toshinori’s head tilted slightly, his confusion evident. “A paper? For what exactly?”

Nezu resisted the urge to smirk. Questions were expected, and Toshinori was never one to let things slide. He carefully chose his words. “Oh, just a little something to help us better understand him. Consider it… an assessment of sorts.”

Toshinori didn’t look convinced. His gaze sharpened, and he leaned forward slightly, the aura of All Might creeping into his tone. “Nezu, if this is about the chess game-”

“It’s not,” Nezu interrupted smoothly, though he allowed himself a small chuckle. “Though that was fascinating, wasn’t it? No, this is about the man as a whole. His memory, his skills, his… instincts.”

Toshinori’s frown deepened, his concern evident. “What are you trying to figure out?”

Nezu hopped down from the desk, his paws clasped behind his back as he paced. “Oh, Toshinori, when have I ever been able to ignore something truly unusual? Shigaraki is a mystery, and one with layers. And after today, I find myself even more intrigued.”

“I’d like more than that, Nezu,” Toshinori pressed, his tone serious.

Nezu turned back to him, his smile soft but his eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “You’ll know when the time is right. For now, let’s call it… curiosity.”

Toshinori sighed but didn’t push further. He knew better than to try to rush Nezu when his mind was set.

With that, Nezu left the side room, feeling Toshinori’s uncertain gaze on his back. As he stepped into the living room, he glanced at Shigaraki, who was lounging on the sofa. The man’s shaky demeanour (Nezu never missed body language changes) was in stark contrast to the sharp intellect Nezu had witnessed during their chess match.

“Well, it was lovely meeting you,” Nezu said with his usual politeness, though his mind was still buzzing. “I look forward to our next conversation.”

“Same for you,” Shigaraki replied with a casual nod.

Nezu’s small paws padded silently across the floor as he let himself out. The cool evening air greeted him, and he paused for a moment on the walkway, his sharp mind running through everything he had observed.

The chess match… that wasn’t luck. That was precision, experience, and instinct. And yet, he claims to have no memory of it. Amnesia or not, something was deeply buried in that man’s mind. Something extraordinary.

Nezu’s whiskers twitched as a sly smile spread across his face. 

A man who beats me at chess without effort? Who navigates the world with instincts sharper than memory itself? Who could pick up information about anyone’s Quirk just by touching them, and use his knowledge however he felt so inclined?

Just who are you, Reiji Shigaraki? 

...

Oh, this is going to be FUN!

Chapter Text

The Junkyard Tornado: The flawed belief that one cannot achieve unlikely feats without external aid, simply due to the feat's improbability.

Reiji drifted in the haze of sleep, the world around him indistinct and blurred. In the darkness of his mind, a single image began to form. A hand. Pale and slender. Iit reached out toward him, the fingers trembling slightly as if desperate to make contact.

The hand was familiar, achingly so, though he couldn’t place why. It wasn’t attached to a face or a body, just suspended in the void, reaching for him. The image carried a weight that crushed his chest, a pull he couldn’t resist.

He tried to grab it, his own hand stretching out, but no matter how far he reached, the gap between them never closed. Panic rose as the hand began to recede, fading into the darkness like smoke.

“Wait!” he called out, his voice echoing in the emptiness. “Don’t go!”

But it was gone, leaving him alone in the void.

Reiji woke with a jolt, his breath hitching. His heart pounded in his chest, and for a moment, he didn’t recognize where he was. The dim outline of Yagi’s guest room slowly came into focus, the soft glow of the moon filtering through the window.

His cheeks were damp. He reached up, touching his face, and realized he was crying.

“Why…” he whispered to the stillness, his voice trembling.

The dream lingered like a shadow at the edge of his mind, the image of the hand vivid and raw. He pressed the heels of his palms against his eyes, trying to push back the wave of emotion that threatened to drown him.

It didn’t make sense. He didn’t know why the hand mattered so much, why it left him feeling hollow.

Reiji swung his legs over the side of the bed, sitting in the dark as he tried to steady his breathing. His hands trembled slightly, the sensation of that distant, unreachable hand still fresh on his skin.

"Who are you?" he murmured to the empty room, his voice barely audible. "And why do I feel like I’ve lost you?"

The silence offered no answers. Only the faint hum of the world outside, indifferent to his questions.

*

Naomasa leaned back in his office chair, a file spread open across his cluttered desk. His eyes skimmed the dense columns of data and case notes, but his mind struggled to piece together the puzzle before him.

Crime rates in the city had been steadily declining over the past week, not just in one neighborhood but across multiple districts. At first glance, this seemed like a positive development, something to be celebrated. But to Naomasa, it felt like the prelude to a storm.

He tapped his pen against the desk, the rhythmic clicking the only sound in the dimly lit office. The reports were unnervingly consistent: burglaries ceased overnight, gang activity dwindled to nothing, and even petty crimes had become almost nonexistent. Entire organizations that had been thorns in the police department’s side for years had simply gone silent.

“Where the hell did they go?” he muttered to himself, flipping to the next page of his report.

Theories swirled in his mind, none of them particularly comforting. It wasn’t uncommon for criminal groups to go underground when they were planning something big, but the scale of this vanishing act was unprecedented. Multiple crime rings didn’t just decide to lay low at the same time. Not without coordination, and certainly not without reason.

A knock at the door jolted him from his thoughts. He looked up to see one of his colleagues (what was his name again? He was new enough for Naomasa to not be too familiar yet) peeking in with a cup of coffee in hand.

“Hey, Tsukauchi. You still working on that crime rate thing?”

“Yeah,” he said, waving at the pile of papers on his desk. “It doesn’t add up. These groups don’t just disappear. They’ve got to be somewhere.”

“Maybe they finally got scared of the heroes,” the officer suggested with a shrug.

Lie.

Naomasa didn’t need his Quirk to tell him that his colleague didn’t really believe that. He let out a humorless laugh. “Heroes don’t work this fast or this quietly. No arrests, no sightings, just radio silence. That’s not fear. That’s strategy.”

The officer frowned. “Think some rival villain’s taking them out?”

Truth .

“Maybe.” Naomasa rubbed his temples. “Or maybe someone’s pulling the strings behind the scenes. Either way, I don’t like it.”

His eyes drifted to a map pinned to the corkboard on the far wall, covered in red pins and notes scrawled in marker. Each pin represented a known hotspot for gang activity or organised crime. Over the past week, more and more of those pins had become irrelevant.

If someone was cleaning house, the question wasn’t just how. It was why.

Naomasa picked up his pen again, his mind racing as he jotted down a few more notes. He couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever was happening, it wasn’t over yet. And when the other shoe dropped, it would be loud.

*

Reiji sat at the small kitchen table, a mug of tea warming his hands as he stared out the window. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting soft patterns on the table. Across from him, Yagi leaned back in his chair, his skeletal form relaxed but attentive.

“So, Nezu mentioned he’d be bringing some papers,” Yagi said casually, breaking the silence.

Reiji’s fingers tightened around the mug, and he let out a noncommittal hum. “Yeah. He said he wants me to fill them out. Didn’t say much else.”

Yagi tilted his head, studying him with those piercing eyes that saw more than Reiji often wanted to reveal. “How do you feel about that?”

Reiji hesitated. The question lingered in the air, heavy and pressing. He looked down at his tea, the steam curling up in soft wisps, as if searching it for answers.

“I don’t know,” he said finally, his voice quieter than usual. “I guess… I’m not sure how I feel about it.”

Yagi leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Not sure?” he prompted gently.

Reiji shrugged, his shoulders stiff. “It’s just… weird, you know? Having someone like Nezu so interested in me. I get that he’s curious. I would be too. But it’s not like I have all the answers he’s looking for. I don’t even have the answers I’m looking for.”

Yagi nodded, his expression encouraging, but he didn’t interrupt.

Reiji glanced at him, then quickly looked away, his grip on the mug tightening again. “It’s not just that, though. I mean, I should just do it, right? Fill out the papers, help him figure out what’s going on with me. But… I don’t know. The idea of putting everything down on paper, of digging into myself like that…”

“It makes you feel vulnerable?” Yagi offered softly.

Reiji’s head snapped up, his red eyes sharp and sudden. “Don’t assume things about me! You know nothing!” he snapped, his voice cutting through the room like a whip.

When the words burst from his lips, they felt like they weren’t entirely his own. The sharp, biting tone, the raw edge of anger, it all came so suddenly, like a storm breaking through an otherwise calm sky.

Reiji’s chest burned with a heat he couldn’t place, his pulse pounding in his ears. His body felt tight, like a string wound too far, ready to snap. A spike of frustration flared up, not just at Yagi’s words but at the vulnerability they struck in him. It wasn’t Yagi he was angry at, it wasn’t even himself, not fully, but the emotion was too wild to pin down, too overwhelming to process.

The second the anger spilled out, he felt the full weight of it slam back into him. The room suddenly seemed too small, the air too thick. He could see Yagi’s startled expression, his blue eyes wide with concern, and it only made the knot in Reiji’s chest tighten.

Panic clawed at the edges of his mind as he realized what he’d done. The anger began to unravel, leaving behind a hollow shame that felt just as sharp.

“I… I didn’t mean that,” he blurted, his voice trembling now. The rush of anger was gone, leaving him feeling exposed and raw, like a nerve laid bare. His hands trembled as he raked them through his hair, trying to pull himself together.

It was as though the outburst had emptied him, yet something still lingered. An unease that twisted in his stomach. The anger hadn’t felt like it belonged to him, but it had come from somewhere deep inside, a place he couldn’t fully understand. And that terrified him more than the words he’d said.

(Smooth move, smart guy.)

Oh, would that voice just piss off? His fingers gripped the edge of the couch tightly, knuckles turning pale. “I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry.”

Yagi placed his mug down carefully, his movements slow and deliberate. “It’s okay,” he said gently, his voice steady. “It’s not easy to talk about things that make us feel exposed. I didn’t mean to push.”

Reiji nodded quickly, but his breathing remained uneven. His hands dropped into his lap, clenched into fists as he stared at them like they belonged to someone else.

“I just…” He hesitated, his voice quieter now, almost fragile. “I hate feeling like I’m being analysed. Like I’m some kind of puzzle for people to solve.”

The hero leaned forward slightly, his expression softening. “You’re not a puzzle, Shigaraki. You’re a person. A complex one, sure… but you’re allowed to feel however you feel. You’ve evidently been through a lot, and you’re still figuring things out. There’s no shame in that.”

Reiji let out a long, shaky breath, his fists slowly unclenching. “It’s weird,” he said after a moment. “That anger… it wasn’t just at you. It felt like something deeper. Like it wasn’t even mine.”

Yagi studied him carefully but didn’t press further. “Sometimes emotions come from places we don’t fully understand yet. But the fact that you recognized it and pulled back? That says a lot about you.”

Reiji gave a small, hesitant nod, though his gaze remained distant. “Thanks,” he muttered.

They sat in silence for a while after that, the air slowly losing its earlier tension. But deep down, Reiji couldn’t shake the unease bubbling inside him. The anger hadn’t felt like his, and yet it had come from somewhere. Somewhere he couldn’t yet reach.

The awkward silence was broken by a polite knock at the door. Before either of them could rise, the door swung open to reveal Nezu, a stack of papers tucked neatly under one arm and a clipboard in his other paw.

“Oh, hello again!” Nezu said cheerfully, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. His sharp eyes quickly darted between the two, picking up on the tension in the air. If he noticed anything amiss, he didn’t comment. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“No, not at all,” Yagi said, quickly composing himself. He stood and gave Nezu a polite nod. “I assume you’re here with the materials you mentioned?”

Nezu smiled, setting the stack of papers on the coffee table in front of Reiji. “Indeed. These are the forms I’d like you to fill out. They’re fairly straightforward. I’ve included a variety of questions to assess your analytical abilities, reasoning, and creative problem-solving.”

Reiji raised an eyebrow, staring at the intimidating pile. “That’s… a lot of paper.”

“It’s less daunting than it looks,” Nezu assured him. “You’ll have two hours to answer as many questions as you can. Just do your best.”

Before Reiji could respond, Yagi’s phone buzzed. He glanced down at it, his expression shifting into something more serious. “Blast,” he murmured, then turned to Reiji. “I have to head out for a bit. Hero work calls.”

Reiji gave a small nod. “Yeah, go ahead. I’ll be fine.” In truth, he was hoping for Yagi’s All Might duties to present themselves. It’d help shake off some of the tension, surely? But then Yagi hesitated for a moment, his eyes lingering on Reiji… as if silently asking if he really would be fine? 

(You can’t read his mind, you know.)

Of course. 

Yagi gazed upon him for a couple more seconds and then headed for the door. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

The moment he left, Nezu turned his attention fully to Reiji. The lighthearted demeanour he often carried seemed to shift into something more focused and calculating.

“Let me explain how this works,” Nezu said, pulling up a chair across from Reiji. He gestured to the papers. “Each page contains hypothetical scenarios involving Quirks. Some are theoretical, while others are practical applications. Your job is to analyze the situation and propose solutions or insights. You don’t need to worry about ‘getting it right’, this is about seeing how you approach problems. It’ll give you an idea of where your cognitive functions are at.”

Reiji nodded slowly, his eyes flicking over the stack again. “And you want me to do this for two hours?”

“Yes,” Nezu confirmed. “Take your time and answer thoughtfully. There’s no penalty for skipping a question if you’re unsure, but I have a feeling that won’t be an issue for you.”

Reiji frowned, picking up the first sheet. “Why do you say that?”

Nezu’s smile widened, though there was something unsettling about it. “Let’s just call it an educated guess.”

With that, Nezu settled back in his chair, pulling out a small book from his pocket to read as Reiji got to work. Reiji glanced at the first question and sighed. Whatever Nezu’s intentions were, there was no turning back now.

* 

Reiji stared at the first question on the page, tapping the pen against the table as he read it again.

"A Quirk allows the user to generate bubbles filled with various gases. How could this be used effectively in rescue scenarios?"

It was oddly specific, but as soon as he let his mind settle, answers began flowing effortlessly. He scribbled quickly, noting the potential for creating oxygen-filled bubbles in smoke-heavy environments or using carbon dioxide bubbles to extinguish small fires. The ideas came naturally, each one leading seamlessly to the next.

He flipped to the next page without thinking, diving into another hypothetical. His focus sharpened, and the world around him faded as he worked through each question with ease.

"A Quirk produces a glowing light beam, but it has no heat or force. How could this be adapted for combat or support roles?"

"A Quirk generates a low-level magnetic field. Suggest three innovative applications in urban settings."

Question after question, his pen moved almost instinctively. The scenarios felt like puzzles, their answers fitting together as if he already knew them. The paper wasn’t a challenge. It was an outlet, a rhythm, and before long, his thoughts and the ink on the page blurred into one fluid motion.

When he reached for the next sheet, his hand paused, finding nothing but the edge of the stack. Confused, he blinked and glanced up.

Nezu, who had been silently observing him from across the room, lowered his book and arched an eyebrow. “You’re finished already?”

Reiji looked down at the completed stack, his heart skipping a beat. “What? That can’t be right.” He glanced at the clock on the wall. Barely 30 minutes had passed.

Nezu smiled faintly, folding his book and placing it neatly on the table. “It seems you’ve exceeded my expectations.”

Reiji leaned back in his chair, staring at the papers as if they might suddenly multiply in front of him. “I didn’t even realise…”

“You didn’t need the full two hours,” Nezu said, his voice calm but tinged with something thoughtful. “That’s quite impressive.”

Reiji frowned, his hand still gripping the pen. He didn’t feel impressive—he felt unsettled. He couldn’t explain how he’d done it so fast or why the answers had come so naturally. Something about it left a strange weight in his chest, like he was brushing against a memory that refused to fully reveal itself.

Nezu collected the neatly stacked papers with practiced precision, his movements smooth and deliberate. Reiji watched him in silence, his hands resting idly on the table.

“Well,” Nezu said, his cheerful tone returning as he tucked the papers under his arm, “this has been most enlightening. Thank you, Shigaraki.”

Reiji opened his mouth to respond but stopped short, unsure of what to say. He wasn’t even sure what had just happened. The way the answers had come to him so easily, the speed at which he’d finished… it all felt surreal.

“What happens now?” Reiji asked, his voice quieter than he intended.

Nezu tilted his head slightly, his black eyes gleaming with something unreadable. “Now? Now, I’ll review your responses, of course. You’ll hear from me soon enough.”

“That’s it?” Reiji frowned. “You’re just… leaving?”

“I wouldn’t want to impose on your living quarters any further,” Nezu said, his tone light, though there was a subtle sharpness beneath the surface. “Rest assured, you’ve given me much to think about.”

Reiji hesitated, his mind whirring with questions he didn’t know how to ask. “Why did you even want me to do this? I’m not-” He gestured vaguely at the papers. “I’m not trained for this kind of thing.”

Nezu smiled, a curious, almost playful expression. “Or maybe you are! That’s the thing with amnesia, you realise. You could know so much more than you think.”

Reiji’s frown deepened, but before he could press further, Nezu gave a polite bow and turned to leave. “Thank you again for your time. I’ll see myself out.”

The door clicked shut behind him, and Reiji was left alone in the room, the faint sound of the clock ticking in the background.

He leaned back in his chair, staring at the table where the papers had been moments ago. The silence felt heavy, pressing against him like an unanswered question.

“What just happened?” he muttered to himself. His fingers curled into his palms as he tried to make sense of it. The ease with which he’d answered the questions, the strange satisfaction of completing them, and Nezu’s unsettlingly vague demeanour… it all left him feeling off-balance.

*

Nezu sat at his desk in the quiet of his office, the stack of papers spread neatly before him. A cup of tea steamed at his side, untouched as he read through the man’s answers with meticulous focus.

Page after page, he turned, his sharp eyes scanning each response. His small paw moved occasionally to make a note in the margin, though more often than not, he found himself nodding in approval.

The level of detail was astonishing. Shigaraki hadn’t just answered the questions; he’d dissected them, analyzed them from multiple angles, and proposed solutions that were both innovative and practical. His explanations were concise yet rich with insight, demonstrating a depth of understanding that Nezu rarely encountered, even among seasoned professionals.

As he reached the final page, Nezu leaned back in his chair, folding his paws in front of him. His mind buzzed with thoughts, each one branching out into new possibilities.

“This is no ordinary man,” he murmured to himself, his voice quiet but resolute.

He’d suspected as much from the beginning, of course. The circumstances of Shigaraki’s appearance, his amnesia, and his peculiar behavior had all pointed to something unusual. But these answers, this level of intellectual capability, confirmed it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Nezu turned his gaze to the window, his reflection faintly visible against the night outside. The corners of his mouth tugged into a small, contemplative smile.

“An enigma,” he mused. “And one with extraordinary potential. But where does that potential come from? And what does it mean for the future?”

He picked up his tea, sipping it slowly as he considered his next move. The gamble he was contemplating wasn’t small. But the potential rewards were staggering. If this man’s mind was truly as exceptional as these papers suggested, Nezu's plan could be groundbreaking, in one way or another.

“Every great discovery involves a leap of faith,” he said softly, his eyes glinting with a mixture of curiosity and determination. “And I think it’s time to make mine.”

Nezu leaned back in his chair, the faint hum of his office filling the silence as he dialed the number. He waited patiently as the line rang, his sharp mind already preparing how to approach the conversation.

The call connected with a faint click. “Hello?” Shigaraki’s voice came through, hesitant as usual.

“Ah,” Nezu said, his tone warm and polite. “I hope I’m not interrupting your evening.”

“No, it’s fine,” the amnesiac man replied. “What’s this about?”

Nezu smiled to himself. Straight to the point, as expected. “I’ve finished reviewing the papers you completed earlier today, and I must say, your performance was remarkable.”

Hesitation. “Remarkable?”

“Yes, quite,” Nezu continued. “In fact, you scored a perfect 100%—an exceedingly rare feat.”

The other end of the line went silent for a moment before he responded, his tone laced with confusion. “Wait… what? I thought those were just hypothetical exercises. I didn’t think you’d be scoring me.”

Nezu chuckled softly. “Oh no, not quite. Those questions were part of an official examination used to assess individuals applying for a Quirk consultant’s license. It’s a rigorous test designed to measure analytical thinking, creativity, and practical application of knowledge regarding Quirks.”

“A… Quirk consultant’s license?” Shigaraki echoed, his voice faltering.

“Yes,” Nezu affirmed. Remembering that the man likely didn’t remember what a Quirk consultant did, he elaborated. “Professionals in this field provide information and analysis to various industries, advising on the use and counters of various Quirks. Hero agencies generally employ them, but they’ll also be commonly found in hospitals in the event of a Quirk awakening, or to help young children discover the boundaries of their Quirk and what it can and can’t do.”

His confusion deepened. “Why did you give that to me? I’m not… I don’t even have a Quirk consultant background.”

Nezu’s tone remained light, though there was an undertone of intrigue. “Consider it a means of gauging your potential. And if I may say so, your performance indicates an exceptional aptitude for this line of work. Few would have completed the test so quickly, let alone with perfect accuracy.”

“I don’t… I don’t even know how I did that,” Shigaraki admitted, his voice dropping.

“That is part of what makes you so fascinating,” Nezu said, his voice tinged with genuine curiosity. “And why I believe you may have a role to play in this field. After all, your Quirk allows you to immediately identify another’s through touch, correct?”

“...Yes.” The man murmured.

Nezu laughed. “The point is, an ability like that is a Quirk consultant’s dream. You could streamline the entire process of information-gathering and analysis. I wouldn’t be surprised if you had a background in the field before your memory loss. I’m sure that you’ve noticed that in our society, your career is often shaped by your Quirk.”

Shigaraki had gone silent, but Nezu’s enhanced hearing made him confident the man was still listening.

Nezu tapped his claws lightly against the desk. “You know, UA does not currently employ a Quirk consultant. Typically, our faculty handles Quirk-related matters directly, given their expertise in heroics. Hiring someone solely for that role is common practice in hero schools, but we haven’t had one for quite some time..”

Shigaraki’s confusion deepened. “... Why are you telling me this?”

Nezu smiled, his tone now carrying a subtle note of encouragement. “Because I believe you could fill that role. Reiji Shigaraki, on behalf of UA High, I’d like to formally offer you a position as our official Quirk consultant.”

The silence on the other end of the line was deafening. Nezu could hear the faint sound of breathing, followed by a soft thud. The unmistakable sound of a phone being dropped.

Maybe he should have made the offer a little more gradually.

Chapter Text

Disciplinary Blinders: The flawed belief that just because a discipline neglects or does not cover particular problems, those problems do not exist.

Reiji wandered down the brightly lit aisles of the grocery store, the soft hum of fluorescent lights overhead barely registering in his mind. The cart he pushed rattled slightly with every crack in the tile, its basket holding a mix of staples he’d mentally catalogued as “safe bets”: rice, eggs, a few vegetables, and some coffee for Yagi. His eyes scanned a shelf of instant ramen, but his thoughts were miles away.

Nezu’s offer had been playing on a loop in his head for days now, like a song he couldn’t turn off. A job at UA, a school for heroes. It sounded absurd every time he thought about it. Him, working with heroes-in-training, analyzing Quirks, and giving advice to people who probably already had their lives figured out. What could he possibly contribute?

Reiji picked up a pack of noodles and tossed it into the cart, not really paying attention to which flavour it was. He sighed, running a hand through his hair as he turned into the dairy aisle.

Was he even suited for a job like that? Sure, Nezu had said his test results were “exceptional,” but that didn’t mean he was cut out for this kind of work. He didn’t even know where his knowledge came from. Half the time, it felt like the answers just appeared in his head, as if by instinct. What if that instinct failed him when it really mattered? What if he gave someone bad advice and they got hurt because of it?

He stopped in front of the milk, his hand hovering over a carton. It felt ridiculous to even be entertaining the idea. He wasn’t a hero or a teacher. He didn’t belong in a place like UA. He was just some guy who woke up with no memory and a strange knack for understanding Meta Abilities… understanding Quirks. That didn’t make him special. It just made him… weird.

Reiji grabbed the milk and placed it in the cart with more force than necessary. A woman nearby glanced at him, startled by the sound, and he gave her an apologetic nod before moving on.

(You’re scared.)

No he wasn’t.

(Yes you are.)

…Fine. He was scared. Scared of failing, scared of being put in a position where people expected something from him. Scared of being seen as a fraud. The thought of standing in front of students and faculty at UA, trying to act like he had any idea what he was doing, made his chest tighten uncomfortably.

He passed by the snack aisle and hesitated, his gaze lingering on a bag of chips he remembered Yagi liking.

Yagi.

Reiji frowned slightly as he added the chips to the cart. Yagi believed in him. The man barely knew him, but he’d taken him in without hesitation, given him a place to stay, and supported him when he was at his lowest. Yagi seemed to trust Nezu’s judgment, too, which was saying something.

But why?

Why did people like Nezu and Yagi see something in him that he couldn’t?

Reiji paused in the middle of the aisle, gripping the handle of the cart tightly. Maybe he wasn’t suited for the job. Maybe he’d fail spectacularly and prove everyone wrong. But… maybe he wouldn’t.

The thought lingered as he headed for the checkout, the cart heavier than it had been when he started but his mind no closer to an answer. The only thing he knew for sure was that the decision wouldn’t get any easier with time.

*

Izuku sat at his desk, his head propped up on one hand as his pencil lazily twirled between his fingers. His notebook lay open, but the page remained blank, save for a few stray doodles in the margins. He couldn’t focus today, not when his thoughts kept circling back to One for All.

It still didn’t feel real. “I won’t be Quirkless for much longer,” he thought, his chest tightening with excitement and fear in equal measure. It was the one thing he had always wished for, but now that it was happening, it was almost too much to process.

He could already imagine the power coursing through him - the ability to leap into danger, to save someone the way All Might had saved him. Would people finally see him as a real hero? Would he see himself that way? Izuku’s pencil slipped from his fingers, rolling across the desk as he stared blankly at the front of the classroom, his mind elsewhere.

“Midoriya!”

His teacher’s voice cut through the haze like a snap of a whip, and Izuku jerked upright, startled. The other students snickered, their eyes flickering between him and the stern glare of their teacher.

“Are you even listening?” The imposing teacher demanded, arms crossed, his expression severe. “I asked you to read the next passage. Or are you too busy daydreaming to participate?”

“S-Sorry!” Izuku stammered, his face instantly heating up as he scrambled to find his place in the textbook. His hands trembled slightly as he flipped through the pages, his heart pounding in his chest.

The teacher sighed, clearly exasperated. “This is exactly what I’m talking about, Midoriya. You can’t keep zoning out in class if you expect to get anywhere in life. Pay attention.”

The laughter from his classmates grew louder, and Izuku hunched over his desk, trying to make himself as small as possible. He could feel their eyes on him, their smirks cutting deeper than any words.

“Of course he’s distracted,” Sasikuchi whispered, just loud enough for Izuku to hear. “What does a Quirkless loser like him even have to look forward to?”

Izuku gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles turning white. They didn’t know. They didn’t know that everything was about to change. That he wouldn’t be Quirkless forever.

But still, the words stung.

“I-I’ll read it,” he mumbled, forcing his voice to stay steady as he located the passage. His cheeks burned, and his eyes stung, but he blinked rapidly, willing the tears to stay put. He couldn’t let them see him cry. Not today.

As he read aloud, his voice faltering on a few of the words, his mind drifted back to One for All. To All Might. To a future where he wouldn’t have to endure moments like this anymore.

*

The atmosphere was light and excited, most students eager to share their dreams. But Ochako sat with her hands clasped tightly on her lap, her expression carefully neutral.

“Alright, everyone,” the teacher said with a warm smile, turning back to the class. “We’ll go around and share what you’re planning to do after graduation. Don’t worry, it doesn’t have to be set in stone. Just tell us what you’re aiming for right now.”

A boy Ochako had never paid much attention to grinned and spoke first, announcing his plans to become a self-made millionaire. It made sense with his analysis Quirk, Ochako supposed. The class laughed and clapped, and one by one, the other students shared their aspirations.

Ochako felt her chest tighten as her turn grew closer. Her smile stayed in place, but her mind was racing. Did she say the truth? Or did she just go with what they’re expecting?

“Uraraka, how about you?” the teacher finally asked, her voice pulling Ochako out of her spiraling thoughts.

She straightened up in her seat, forcing a bright smile. “Oh, um, I’m planning to go into construction, like my family!” she said cheerfully.

The teacher nodded approvingly. “That’s wonderful! A practical and admirable choice. Your family must be proud.”

Her classmates murmured polite encouragements, and the conversation quickly moved on to the next person. But Ochako barely heard them.

Her smile faltered as she stared down at her desk, her fingers tracing invisible lines on the wood. 

Construction. It’s a good job. A stable job. It’s what my parents do, and they’ve worked so hard for me. I should follow in their footsteps.

But the words felt hollow, even as she repeated them to herself. Because deep down, there was another dream, a bigger one, tugging at her heart.

She wanted to be a hero.

Not for the glory, not for the fame, but because heroes made money. A lot of money. Enough to help her parents stop working themselves to exhaustion, enough to give them the comfortable life they deserved after all their sacrifices.

Ochako squeezed her hands together under the desk, her knuckles turning white. 

But isn’t that selfish? Wanting to be a hero just for the money?

She’d heard the whispers before, about how people looked down on heroes who seemed more interested in their paychecks than saving lives. One of her weirder classmates had fallen down a rabbit hole of researching a new villain whose motive seemed to be based on “purging” false heroes. 

And yet, wasn’t this part of being a hero? Helping people? Her family were people who needed help more than anyone else she knew.

Her chest felt heavy with guilt and confusion. She wanted to do right by her parents. She wanted to make them proud. But could she really chase this dream for herself while pretending it was for them?

The bell rang, snapping Ochako out of her thoughts. She stood up, grabbing her bag and following the flow of students out of the classroom.

As she walked home, the same question echoed in her mind.

Am I doing this for me? Or for them?

*

The city sprawled out beneath him, a maze of buildings and busy streets, all glinting with the golden light of late afternoon. Toshinori soared high above it all, his sharp eyes scanning for any sign of trouble. The wind whipped past his face as he leapt from rooftop to rooftop, his iconic smile absent, replaced by a steely focus.

He landed on a high-rise with a controlled thud, his cape billowing dramatically behind him. His mind raced as he pieced together the reports he’d heard just moments ago: a villain with the bizarre ability to encase people in miniature snow globes. Entire city blocks had gone silent, storefronts and offices frozen in time.

Toshinori’s jaw tightened as he recalled the details. The quirk allowed the villain to trap people, alive but immobilised, inside shimmering spheres no larger than a grapefruit. The captured victims could still be seen inside, their tiny forms frozen mid-scream or mid-run. And so far, no one had figured out how to free them.

A cold, unnatural silence had descended over the affected areas, the kind of quiet that only came with fear. It reminded him of the early days of his career, when villains could shut down an entire city with just their presence.

Suddenly, his earpiece crackled to life.

“Toshinori!” Tsukauchi’s voice was urgent but steady. “We’ve spotted the villain heading west on 5th Avenue. He’s carrying a satchel filled with the snow globes. Repeat, west on 5th!”

“Understood!” Toshinori barked, his voice brimming with determination. “I’ll handle this.”

He launched himself into the air with a powerful leap, the wind rushing past him as he closed the distance to the street below. As he approached, he spotted the villain in question. He was a lanky European man with clumped messy hair and a long trench coat, clutching a brown satchel that clinked ominously with every step. His free hand was stretched out, preparing to target a young woman frozen in terror just a few feet away.

“Not on my watch!” Toshinori roared, landing between the villain and his would-be victim in a blur of motion. The ground beneath him cracked from the force of his landing, and the villain stumbled backward, startled.

“All Might…” the villain hissed, his voice sharp with panic. He clutched the satchel protectively, his hand trembling.

“I suggest you put that bag down and surrender,” Toshinori said, his voice booming with authority. His smile returned, wide and confident, but there was a dangerous edge to it now. “Or we can do this the hard way.”

The villain hesitated, his eyes darting between Toshinori and the bag. “You don’t understand!” he said, his voice desperate. “They’re safer this way! I’m protecting them!”

Toshinori’s brows furrowed, his tone hardening. “You’ve imprisoned innocent people and thrown this city into chaos. That’s not protection. That’s terror.”

The villain’s face twisted, and before Toshinori could react, he thrust his hand forward. A shimmering, crystalline sphere shot toward him, glinting like ice in the sunlight. Toshinori dodged, moving with practiced precision, but the sphere veered midair, curving toward him.

He leapt to the side, narrowly avoiding the attack as it shattered against the pavement. The ground beneath it frosted over, glittering like snow. Toshinori turned back to the villain, his smile gone.

“You leave me no choice,” he said, his voice dropping an octave. He took a step forward, his towering form casting a long shadow over the villain.

The fight ended in a blur of speed and precision. Toshinori’s movements were a symphony of strength and control, every punch and dodge executed with exact purpose. The villain’s erratic snow globe attacks were no match for the sheer power of the Symbol of Peace, and within minutes, the satchel had been secured and the man restrained against a brick wall.

Toshinori stood over him, his breathing steady but sharp, his fists still clenched. The brown satchel rested beside him, its ominous clinking silenced.

“It’s over,” Toshinori said firmly, his voice cutting through the heavy silence. He bent down, meeting the man’s wild eyes. “No one else has to be hurt. This stops here.”

The villain’s head hung low, his shoulders trembling. His lanky frame sagged against the wall, as if all the fight had drained out of him. When he finally spoke, his voice was broken, barely above a whisper.

“You don’t understand,” he croaked, his face hidden by the tangle of his messy hair. “I wasn’t trying to hurt anyone… I was trying to save them.”

Toshinori’s sharp gaze softened slightly, though he didn’t relax his stance. “Save them?” he repeated. “You’ve trapped them in those globes. They’re scared, helpless. That’s not saving.”

The man let out a bitter laugh, hollow and pained. He looked up, tears streaking his cheeks. His eyes burned with an anguish that took Toshinori aback.

“I wanted to be a hero,” the man choked out, his voice cracking. "I… I trained for it. I studied. I did everything I could, but it wasn’t enough. My Quirk wasn’t enough. They told me I didn’t have what it takes, that I’d never make it… that I couldn’t protect anyone.”

Toshinori’s eyes narrowed slightly, but his heart twisted. He’d heard similar stories before. Dreams crushed by the reality of a society that valued only the strongest Quirks.

“I thought maybe… maybe this could be my way,” the man continued, his words tumbling out in a flood. “The world’s dangerous! People get hurt, they die... and I couldn’t stand it. So I thought, if I could just… keep them safe. Freeze them, where nothing bad could happen to them…” His voice broke entirely, and he slumped.

Toshinori was silent for a long moment, the weight of the man’s words settling over him. He looked at the satchel, at the fragile globes inside, each containing a person, still alive, still waiting to be freed.

“You’re mistaken,” Toshinori said finally, his voice gentler now. He crouched down so he was at eye level with the man, his towering frame shrinking into something less intimidating. “But I understand, you know.”

The man stared at him, his tear-filled eyes wide and disbelieving.

Toshinori placed a steady hand on his shoulder, his grip firm but not harsh. “You wanted to save people. That’s not something to be ashamed of. But saving them doesn’t mean controlling them or trapping them. It means giving them the freedom to live their lives. Even if that means facing danger. You understand that now, don’t you?”

The man nodded slowly, his sobs quieting.

“Then let’s fix this together,” Toshinori said, his iconic smile returning, though softer this time. “I’ll make sure those people are freed safely. And I’ll make sure you get the help you need.”

The man broke down entirely, nodding as tears streamed down his face.

As the police arrived to take him into custody, Toshinori stood tall again, his cape catching the breeze. He handed the satchel to the officers, his smile unwavering, but his mind lingered on the man’s words.

The world’s dangerous. People get hurt, they die.

Toshinori’s chest tightened. He knew those truths all too well. 

He wasn’t a fan of how much he found himself agreeing with the villain.

*

Izuku walked out of the school gates, his head low and his bag slung over one shoulder. The sun was starting to dip in the sky, painting the horizon with soft oranges and pinks, but he barely noticed. His teacher’s scolding and the stifled laughter of his classmates lingered in his mind, replaying over and over like a broken record.

Still, as he turned the corner away from the school, his hand instinctively reached for his phone. It was almost automatic now; this urge to connect with someone who understood, someone who believed in him. Someone who gave him hope.

His heart fluttered, a mix of nerves and excitement, as he pulled up the contact on his phone: All Might .

I still can’t believe I have All Might’s number, he thought, his fingers hovering over the keyboard. A giddy thrill shot through him despite the bad day, but it was quickly followed by a wave of anxiety. 

What if he’s too busy? What if I’m bothering him?

He shook his head, forcing himself to focus. “He gave me his number,” he mumbled under his breath, “so it’s okay to text him, right?”

He took a deep breath and typed “Hi, All Might! When should we meet for training today?”

He stared at the message for a moment before hitting send, his thumb trembling slightly. The second it was sent, a wave of doubt hit him. 

Was that too casual? Should I have been more formal? What if he thinks I’m annoying?

The phone buzzed in his hand almost immediately, and Izuku’s heart skipped a beat. All Might had replied.

“I’m so sorry, Young Midoriya! I got caught up in a villain attack, I’m surprised you didn’t see it on the news. I’ve got to sort out the paperwork, so I’ll have to cancel. Tomorrow, perhaps? Keep up your hard work! :)”

Izuku stared at the message, reading it over and over. He could practically hear All Might’s booming voice in the text, and it made him smile despite himself. But the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

He tucked his phone back into his pocket, sighing softly as he started walking again. Of course, he was busy. He’s All Might. He was the Number One Hero. He had so much to do, so many people to save. Izuku knew that better than anyone else. He'd spent far too long poring over clips of his hero as a kid.

Izuku tried to push down the disappointment that bubbled up in his chest. He wasn’t upset at All Might. He could never be upset at him. But the idea of going home, of sitting in his room with nothing to do but think about how much further he still had to go… it weighed on him.

He kicked a loose pebble on the sidewalk, watching it bounce a few times before skidding to a stop. His hands clenched the straps of his bag tightly as he whispered to himself, “Tomorrow. I’ll train even harder tomorrow.”

The streets grew quieter as he neared his apartment complex, the glow of streetlights flickering on as the evening settled in. Izuku tried to focus on the positives. He had been offered One for All. He had a chance to change everything.

But as he reached the door to his home, his shoulders sagged just a little. One for All might change his future, but right now, he was still the same Quirkless boy the world had already written off.

*

The alleyway twisted around her like a living thing, shadows stretching unnaturally as she ran. Her breath came in ragged gasps, her boots slamming against the damp pavement, but no matter how fast she moved, she couldn’t outrun the hunger clawing at her insides.

Stop thinking about it. Stop thinking about it.

Her hands clenched into fists, nails digging into her palms. Her vision pulsed, the world around her warping, darkness curling at the edges like ink spreading through water. Everything blurred except for the phantom red staining her thoughts, the imaginary scent thick in her nose, the phantom taste lingering on her tongue.

Her stomach twisted violently.

No, no, no!

A sharp sob tore from her throat, but it wasn’t sadness as much as it was frustration, desperation. The craving was unbearable, a relentless itch beneath her skin, a suffocating need that wouldn’t let her go. She squeezed her eyes shut, stumbling forward, her head pounding.

She slammed her shoulder against the brick wall beside her, trying to ground herself, trying to breathe, but the pressure only made her feel more trapped. Her body was burning, her heartbeat pounding too fast, too loud-

And then it all cracked.

A scream ripped from her lips, raw and unfiltered, echoing off the alley walls. It was too much. Too loud. Too bright. Too empty.

She slid to the ground, hands gripping her head, trying to crush the thoughts before they swallowed her whole.

*

The dim neon lights of the hideout barely cast a glow over Tomura’s pale features, making the dark bags under his red eyes stand out even more. His leg bounced restlessly under the counter, the only thing keeping him from destroying the glass in his grip.

Kurogiri familiarly stood behind him, his mist-like form as composed as ever, though there was an undeniable tension in the way he addressed the man on the other end of the call. The swirling black of his mist shifted subtly as he listened, his tone clipped yet professional.

“So you really don’t know?” Kurogiri asked, voice level despite the weight of his question.

On the other end of the line, some broker whose name Tomura had already forgotten exhaled sharply, the scratchy sound of a lighter flicking on coming through the speaker. “No clue, my friend. I deal in information, but your boss? He’s a ghost. No one’s seen or heard a damn thing about him.”

Tomura gritted his teeth, fingers twitching at his side. “Tch. Useless.”

“Hey now,” he chuckled dryly, unfazed. “You called me, remember? I’m just giving you the facts. If he doesn’t want to be found, no one’s finding him. Not even me.”

Tomura turned away, his foot tapping against the wooden floor as frustration burned in his gut. He hated this. The uncertainty. The waiting. All his life, he had relied on Sensei - on his presence, his power, his guidance. Now, without him, everything felt… wrong. Unstable.

Kurogiri, ever the composed one, shifted the topic. “If All for One is truly out of reach, then we must adjust our approach in the meantime. We still have goals to achieve.”

The broker hummed, exhaling smoke through the receiver. “That’s why you called, huh? I do have some contacts that might be useful. A few fresh faces, some with a real grudge against hero society. They obviously can’t compare to the big man, but they could help hold the fort until your boss resurfaces.”

Tomura scoffed, finally turning back to the conversation. “And what, I’m just supposed to babysit a bunch of nobodies?”

“More like mold them into something worthwhile,” the man corrected smoothly. “Look, kid, you wanna tear down the heroes, right? Well, you can’t do it alone. All Might’s still out there, and he won’t go down easy. You need people, followers, if you want to pull this off.”

Tomura didn’t answer right away, his nails scraping against the counter in irritation. He knew Giran wasn’t wrong. He hated admitting it, but without Sensei, he had to figure things out himself. He had to build something.

Kurogiri inclined his head slightly. “We’ll consider your offer.”

Giran chuckled again, the sound low and knowing. “Good. I’ll leave you Tokoname’s number for now. Use it, or don’t. Up to you.”

The line went dead, and for a moment, there was silence.

Tomura clicked his tongue and slumped back into his seat, glaring at nothing in particular. “Tch. Annoying. Like some two-bit thugs are gonna make a difference.”

Kurogiri, ever patient, simply set a fresh glass in front of him. “Perhaps. But even a pawn can change a chess game. That’s what All for One said, at least.”

Tomura scowled but didn’t argue. Because deep down, he knew Kurogiri was right. 

But he wished it was his Sensei saying it directly. 

*

Reiji hadn’t meant to wander this far, but his feet had carried him aimlessly, his mind tangled with too many thoughts.

The weight of Nezu’s offer still sat heavy in his chest. A job at UA. A role that felt too big, too deliberate, too right in a way that made him uneasy.

But all those thoughts scattered the moment he saw her.

A girl, curled against the brick wall, her body drawn tight like a wound-up spring about to snap. Even in the dim light, he could see how violently her fingers gripped her sleeves, her whole frame shaking with sharp, uneven breaths.

And the second his eyes landed on her, something deep in his bones ached.

It wasn’t empathy. It was something worse. A raw, piercing pain that settled in his ribs, latching on like a memory he couldn’t quite grasp. His head throbbed, a dull, pulsing pressure, as if something in him recognized this sight, this feeling .

(Oh, Reiji…)

Before he even realized he was moving, he was stepping toward her.

“Hey,” he said, voice gentle but firm, “are you okay?”

The girl jerked at the sound of his voice. Her head lifted slightly, golden eyes wide and unfocused, her pupils blown like she was fighting to stay tethered to reality. There was something wild in her gaze, something on the verge of breaking entirely.

“You should leave,” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the distant hum of the city. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

There was something about the way she said it—so quiet, so resigned—that made Reiji’s chest tighten.

(She thinks she’s a weapon.)

His breath hitched. 

(Where have you heard that before?)

He needed to know what was wrong. But if she was in this much distress, he couldn’t get any information out of her. If only he could find out information without needing to ask for it-

Oh. Right.

Grabbing the girl’s hand was a risky move, given he didn’t want to scare or hurt her, but it paid off.

Transform. Transformation. Allows the user to perfectly replicate another’s appearance, provided that they consume the blood of the person they wish to become. 

As little as Reiji knew, he knew that was a unique Quirk. And not necessarily unique in the good way. She flinched at the touch, her skin cold and clammy, fingers twitching like she wasn’t sure whether to pull away or hold on. But Reiji didn’t let go.

“It’s okay,” he murmured, squeezing just slightly. “I’m not going anywhere.”

For a moment, she just stared at him. Her breathing hitched, something flickering behind her eyes, something wary and fragile and desperate.

Slowly, her body started to relax. The shaking in her fingers dulled, her shoulders slumping just a bit. Her breathing evened out, still shallow but no longer sharp and erratic.

Reiji exhaled softly, the tension in his own body easing. “Can you tell me your name?”

A pause. Then, quietly…

“Himiko. Himiko Toga.”

The name settled in the space between them. Reiji didn’t react immediately, just let it rest in his mind as he watched her, still holding her hand as though letting go would break whatever fragile calm had settled over her.

And then it hit him - this moment, this feeling, the unbearable weight of seeing someone so young, so vulnerable, so alone.

It felt important. Like a piece of something vast and unknown had just slotted into place.

And in that moment, sitting in a dark alleyway beside a girl who looked far too used to being hurt, the hesitation that had been plaguing him vanished.

He knew.

He was going to accept Nezu’s offer.

Chapter Text

The Masked Man: The flawed belief that if one knows something under one description, they do not also know it under another.

The police station was cold. Not just in temperature, but in the way the air sat; sterile, impersonal, and heavy with the weight of too many stories that ended in cuffs and concrete walls. Himiko sat in the hard plastic chair, her arms curled around her knees, chin resting just above them.

She hadn’t expected to end up here tonight.

She also hadn’t expected him .

The fluorescent lights buzzed softly above her, their hum pressing against the edges of her thoughts. The officers weren’t paying much attention to her. No one ever did, not really. They saw a messy, tired girl, a problem to be filed away. No one saw her. No one ever had.

Except…

Her fingers curled against the fabric of her sleeves.

That man. He had seen her. Stopped for her. Sat with her. And she didn’t understand why.

No one did things like that for free. No one cared for nothing. It was a rule, an unspoken law of the world she had long since accepted. People either feared you, pitied you, or used you. But he hadn't looked afraid. He hadn’t looked disgusted, either.

So what did that leave?

She frowned, pressing her nails into her palm.

Did he want something from her? Something nefarious? It would make sense. It would make things easier if that were true. She could wrap it up in a neat little box labeled “ulterior motives” and be done with it.

But the way he had looked at her… ached.

She hadn’t been able to place it, but there had been something familiar in his eyes… something lost, something searching. Like he was looking at her, but also through her.

Like he had seen someone else in her place.

Himiko swallowed, her throat tight.

It didn’t matter. It didn’t mean anything.

…Right?

The previous night felt like a dream, hazy around the edges. Himiko sat in that same plastic chair, staring at the floor, but her mind wasn’t in the police station anymore. It was back in that alleyway, back where she had spoken words she had never meant to say out loud.

She hadn’t planned on telling him.

She didn’t tell people things.

But there had been something about the way the stranger had looked at her. Something steady, something patient, something unique in his piercing ruby eyes. She had felt like she was being heard instead of just tolerated. So the words had tumbled out before she could stop them. She had told him about the hunger, the need, how it had gnawed at her since she was small. How she had been born this way, but her parents had treated her like a problem to fix. How they had forced her to pretend she was something she wasn’t.

She had expected him to flinch, to look at her with the same horror and revulsion that had filled her parents’ eyes. To tell her she was a problem. That she was sick, wrong, broken.

But he hadn’t.

Instead, he had frowned. Not at her, but at the world. And then, in a voice so calm and sure that it had shaken her, he had said:

“They did what ?.”

Not you were wrong , not you should have tried harder … he was actually shocked on her behalf. Like it was their failing. Like they had taken something from her instead of the other way around.

Himiko had sat there, stunned, feeling her whole world tilt sideways. She hadn’t known what to say. No one had ever taken her side before. No one had ever said, maybe it wasn’t your fault . She should have felt relieved. Instead, she was just confused. Why had he seen it that way? Why wasn’t he disgusted?

Why did he sound like he understood?

*

Toshinori was halfway through making tea when his phone rang. He took a quick glance at the caller ID from the corner of his eye, and… Naomasa. Huh. That was unusual. He wiped his hands on a towel before answering.

“Hello, my friend! To what do I owe the pleasure?”

There was a slight pause on the other end before Naomasa’s voice came through, steady and professional as always. “I thought you’d want to know. Shigaraki just brought in a teenage girl to the station. Seems like her parents were practicing Quirk Suppression Therapy.”

Toshinori resisted the urge to power up and throw something. Quirk Suppression Therapy had been illegalised years ago after it was proven to be disastrous for both physical and mental wellbeing, and someone was treating a teenage girl with it? He had encountered enough victims of it in his career to know it led to nothing but trouble, that it could cause irreversible psychiatric injury… but then the weight of Naomasa’s words set in. And Toshinori blinked. “Shigaraki did that? He found her?”

“He was calm about it,” Naomasa continued. “Spoke to her, sat with her for a while before convincing her to come in. Didn’t try to force her, just… let her know she wasn’t alone.”

Toshinori exhaled, leaning against the counter. He hadn’t been sure what to expect when he took Shigaraki in. The man was sharp, observant, and had a mind that worked in ways Toshinori still couldn’t fully grasp… but more than that, he was lost. Drifting through life with no memory, no past, no place to call his own. And yet, despite all that uncertainty, he had chosen to help someone. A warm feeling settled in Toshinori’s chest. He found himself smiling, just slightly. “He’s got a good heart,” he murmured.

“You sound proud.”

Toshinori blinked at Naomasa’s words, his fingers tightening around the phone. Proud? He hadn’t thought about it like that, but…

Yes. That was the feeling. He was proud of his new friend. For stepping forward. For offering kindness when he could have walked away. For choosing, even without his memories, to do something good.

Toshinori straightened, voice lighter now. “Of course I’m proud. The man’s staying under my roof - I’d be a poor mentor if I wasn’t!”

Tsukauchi chuckled on the other end. “Mentor, huh? I thought you were just giving him a place to stay.”

Toshinori hesitated, then chuckled himself. “So did I.”

*

Naomasa sat at his desk, flipping open the file with a quiet sigh. He had already skimmed through it earlier, as was customary for new cases, but now he was taking the time to really read it.

Himiko Toga.

A history of acting out in school, minor disciplinary reports stacking up as she got older. Trouble with teachers, occasional fights with classmates, but nothing that screamed dangerous . 

His eyes landed on the highlighted section of the report.

A black mark on her record. No doubt from the blood-based Quirk.

Underneath was a note, one that had been added early in her schooling years:

"Displays an unnatural fixation with blood. Monitoring recommended.”

Tsukauchi exhaled, rubbing his temple. It wasn’t the first time he had seen something like this. A child marked early, labeled troubled before they even had a chance to grow into themselves. Of course she had a fixation with blood! She had a blood Quirk, for the love of- 

He needed to breathe. He had seen this pattern before. A kid with a Quirk that didn’t fit in with hero society. A kid who had been told, over and over, that they were wrong, unnatural. More often than not, they’d buy into the narrative, and fall through the cracks into villainy.

But Toga wasn’t a villain. Toga was here, sitting in his station because an amnesiac man had decided she deserved a chance.

Naomasa closed the file and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling.

This was going to be complicated.

*

Reiji stepped into the police station, hands in his pockets, eyes scanning the room. It felt strange to be back here so soon, but he couldn’t shake the thought of her; the girl he had found in the alleyway, shaking, alone, trying so desperately to hold herself together.

An officer directed him to a side room, where Toga sat at a small table, arms folded, catlike eyes flicking up the moment he entered.

“You again?” she muttered, tilting her head.

Reiji gave a small shrug. “Figured I'd check in.” 

(Not gonna acknowledge that she reminds you of-)

Not now!

He pulled out the chair across from her and sat down. “How’re they treating you?”

She scoffed, slumping back, her hair falling beside her. “They’re not throwing me in a cage, so I guess that’s something.” Her eyes narrowed slightly. “Why do you care?”

Reiji hesitated. He had no answer that would make sense. Because I saw myself in you? Because something about you being alone made my chest ache? Because I think the world is failing you, and I don’t even know why I care so much about that?

Instead, he just said, “I care.”

Toga stared at him for a long moment, then smirked, resting her chin in her hands. “You're weird.”

“Probably,” Reiji admitted.

She hummed before glancing away. “I almost lost control last night,” she murmured. “I…” Her fingers curled against the table. “It’s not like I want to be like this. But I get so hungry.” She clenched her jaw. “And I don’t mean for food.”

Reiji nodded, taking in her words. He thought back to their conversation the night before, when she had told him how her parents tried to force her to be normal, how they denied her the thing that made her feel whole.

(Despicable.)

“They keep calling me dangerous,” she muttered. “They say I shouldn’t feel this way. But I do. I always have.”

Reiji tapped his fingers against the table. “You know, humans crave a lot of things. Comfort, warmth, connection.” He looked at her. “Why should your cravings be any different?”

Toga blinked, clearly not expecting that response. “You… you get it?”

Reiji sighed, running a hand through his white curls. “I don’t know if I get it, per se, but I know what it’s like to feel like something’s missing. And I know it’s not fair for people to punish you for being yourself.”

For the first time, she looked at him. Not as a stranger, not as someone who was just saying things, but as someone who meant them. She grinned, fanged teeth showing. “You are weird.”

Reiji huffed a laugh. “You said that already.”

Toga tilted her head. “So? You keep proving me right.”

Reiji just shook his head, but he could tell something in her had eased, even if just a little.

The girl tapped her fingers against the table, watching Reiji with a curious glint in her eyes. “Alright, I gotta ask,” she said, leaning forward. “Why do you care so much? About me, specifically?”

Reiji hesitated, gaze flickering away. He hadn’t really put it into words before, not even to himself.

“I… don’t know,” he admitted lamely. “I guess because I feel like I should.”

Toga raised an eyebrow. “That’s not an answer.”

He sighed, shifting in his chair. “I don’t remember anything about my life before a couple of weeks ago,” he finally said. “My name, my past, all gone. All I know is that I woke up in the middle of nowhere, and the only reason anyone even knows I exist is because a hero found me.”

Toga’s smirk faltered. “Wait… you’re serious?”

“Yeah.” Reiji tapped the side of his head. “Total blank slate. No ID, no records, nothing. Just a name that might not even be real and a Quirk that tells me about everyone but me.”

Toga studied him for a long moment, eyes searching his face. Then she sat back, humming. “Huh. That’s weirdly sad.”

Reiji let out a short laugh. “Yeah, tell me about it.” He rested his elbows on the table. “So… since I don’t have a past to go back to, I’ve been trying to figure out what I should do in the meantime. And I guess… helping people seems like the right answer.”

Toga’s nose scrunched up. “That’s kinda corny.”

“Maybe.” Reiji shrugged. “But when I found you in that alleyway, when you were alone and afraid… it felt wrong to leave you like that. And I guess that’s all I have to go off of. This feeling that I should do something when I see people suffering. If I had been in that situation as a kid…”

He trailed off.

(...)

Toga was quiet for a moment, her gaze flicking downward. Then, in a softer voice, she said, “You know, most people just see me as a problem. Something to be fixed.”

Reiji leaned forward slightly. “I don’t think you’re a problem. And I don’t think you need to be fixed."

“…You really are weird,” she muttered.

Reiji huffed a small laugh. “Yeah. I’m getting that a lot lately.”

A creak at the door. Reiji glanced over to see Tsukauchi stepping into the room, his usual serious expression softening just a little. “Himiko Toga,” he said, gesturing towards the girl, “I wanted to inform you that we’re officially looking into Ayumu Toga and Karen Toga on suspicion of abuse.”

Toga blinked, tilting her head. “My parents? Why? They didn’t do anything!”

Oh.

Oh hell no.

Reiji exhaled, watching her carefully. “Toga… they did do something,” he said gently. “They hurt you. They punished you for something you couldn’t control. Denying you blood wasn’t just strict parenting, that was abuse.” 

At this, Tsukauchi chimed in, pointing out that forcing a minor to suppress their Quirk was against the law. Now, Reiji hadn’t known that, but at least he had a pretty good excuse. Toga… why was Toga so shocked?

“But… but they were just trying to make me normal.”

Reiji shook his head. No, no, no! He didn’t know why he felt so strongly about this, but he couldn’t let Toga believe that mistreatment was her fault. “They were trying to force you to be something you’re not, and in the process, they hurt you over and over again.” He hesitated before adding, “I don’t remember much about the world, but I do know that people shouldn’t be punished for who they are .”

She lowered her gaze, processing his words. After a moment, she let out a small, breathy laugh. “So what? If I drink blood, I can be normal?” She glanced at Reiji, eyes searching for something. Hope, maybe. “If I just do what my body wants, does that mean I get to live like everyone else?”

Tsukauchi remained silent, watching the exchange closely.

Reiji exhaled slowly. “I don’t have that answer, Toga. But I think if there is a way for you to live happily as yourself, then someone should have helped you find it instead of punishing you for needing it.”

Toga was quiet for a long moment. Then, almost in a whisper, she muttered, “Nobody’s ever said that before.”

Reiji frowned, something deep in his chest twisting at her words. He didn’t know why, but hearing her say that felt wrong, like it was scratching at something buried in his own past.

As Tsukauchi stepped toward the door, he glanced back at Reiji. “When you’re done here, come to my office. There’s something I want to discuss with you.”

Reiji nodded absently, watching as Tsukauchi left. The door shut with a soft click, leaving just him and Toga in the quiet room. She was still staring down at the table, her fingers idly tapping against its surface.

He had a crazy idea.

(Are you insane?)

Yeah. He was.

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice like he was sharing a secret. "Hey, Toga."

She glanced up, her golden eyes wary.

“Do you want some of my blood?”

Toga stiffened. 

He rolled up his sleeve, tilting his head as if it was the most casual offer in the world. “I mean it. You’ve been craving blood, right?” He flexed his fingers, watching her carefully. “I don’t know if it’ll actually help, but… maybe this way, you won’t feel like you’re starving.”

Toga’s breath hitched, her expression shifting between shock, suspicion, and something raw and unspoken. “You… you’re joking.”

“I’m really not.”

She pushed herself back slightly. “That’s, that’s dangerous. What if I-” She cut herself off, swallowing. “What if I lose control?”

Reiji tilted his head. "Do you want to lose control?"

Her mouth opened, then closed again. She didn’t have an answer.

“Exactly,” he said. “I don’t think you will. And if you do, well… I have a feeling I can handle myself.” He offered a small, reassuring smile.

(You did get into a few fights when you were young.)

Huh! New information! Maybe the voice was good for something after all. But anyway, Reiji had priorities. 

Toga stared at him like she didn’t understand. “Nobody’s ever…” She trailed off, voice barely above a whisper.

Reiji exhaled through his nose. “I don’t know why, but something tells me this is important. You shouldn’t have to suffer just because other people don’t understand you.”

She swallowed hard, her fingers trembling. “...You’re serious.”

“Dead serious.” He offered his arm to her. “Go on.”

Toga hesitated, her breath quickening. She reached forward, stopping just short of his skin, her fingers hovering above his wrist. She looked at him again, searching for any hesitation in his eyes.

She found none.

Her shoulders rose and fell with a shuddering breath. Then, almost reverently, she leaned in, pressing her lips against his skin before her fangs pierced through.

A sharp sting. Then warmth. Reiji exhaled as she drank, feeling her grip tighten around his arm. He could feel her trembling, but not out of hunger, out of something deeper.

She wasn’t just drinking his blood.

She was trusting him.

Reiji carefully pulled his arm back as Toga released her bite, her lips lingering over the mark for just a second too long. She swallowed, her golden eyes hooded, pupils slightly blown. He rolled his sleeve back down, flexing his fingers as he gauged the light dizziness creeping in - not too bad, he felt like he’d been worse.

But now, he had somewhere to be.

“I’ve got to go for now,” he said, pushing his chair back. “Tsukauchi wants to talk. About my amnesia, I assume.”

Toga’s gaze flickered, her expression unreadable. She shifted slightly, her fingers twitching on the table like she wanted to reach out but stopped herself.

“…Will I see you again?” she murmured.

Reiji paused, watching her for a moment. He hoped so. So…

“Yeah. You will.”

Toga's grip on her sleeves tightened, but the tension in her shoulders eased just a bit.

Reiji gave her one last nod before heading for the door. Just as he stepped out, he swore he heard the quietest, almost disbelieving whisper behind him.

“…Thank you.”

*

Reiji sat across from Tsukauchi, arms crossed loosely. The detective's office was dimly lit, the scent of coffee lingering in the air, grounding yet slightly suffocating.

Tsukauchi leaned forward slightly, his voice careful. “Alright, Shigaraki. I wanted to check in with you. I know this is a sensitive topic, but… are you feeling up to talking about your memories?”

Reiji hesitated, something inside him twisting at the question. He had spent his short new life adapting to the unknown, to the strange sense of familiarity in things he couldn’t quite grasp. A part of him wanted to avoid this entirely. But another part - the part that had felt that inexplicable ache when he looked at Toga alone in that alley, the part that still shuddered at the name Yoichi - told him he couldn’t keep running from it.

“…Yeah,” he said finally, keeping his tone neutral. "Go ahead."

Tsukauchi nodded, as if he'd expected the hesitation. “I have a contact in the underground hero scene. She has a Quirk that allows her to restore lost memories.”

Reiji stiffened, his pulse skipping.

“She’s not a miracle worker,” Tsukauchi continued, watching him carefully. “Her Quirk doesn’t work on every case, but memories that have been artificially tampered with are a lot easier for her to deal with than those that have just been forgotten. Although… there’s always a risk that what comes back won’t be… easy to deal with.” He folded his hands on his desk. “But if you want to try, I can arrange a meeting.”

Reiji exhaled slowly, trying to mask the sudden wave of unease that curled in his stomach.

A part of him had assumed that he might never get his memories back. That he could move forward, build something new without the weight of a past he didn’t understand. But now…

Now he had a choice.

Reiji sat motionless, his fingers loosely clasped together as Tsukauchi’s words settled into his mind like heavy stones. A hero with a memory Quirk. The possibility of retrieving what was lost.

His heart should have leaped at the chance. He should have been asking when, where, how soon. But instead, a strange unease curled in his stomach.

What if he didn’t like what he remembered? What if his past self was someone he didn’t want to be? He had no idea what kind of person he used to be, what kind of life he had lived. And part of him was terrified that he had been someone he wouldn’t recognise. And that his memories being restored would wipe Reiji Shigaraki from this world, replacing him with someone entirely new.

But wasn’t this what he had wanted? Answers? Direction? A sense of who he was beyond the instincts that guided him?

He swallowed, flexing his fingers against his palms. “Alright,” he said finally, his voice quieter than he expected. “Set it up. I’ll meet with her.”

Tsukauchi nodded, though he didn’t look surprised. “I figured you’d say yes,” he admitted, leaning back slightly. “I’ll make the arrangements. It may take a few days, but I’ll let you know as soon as I hear back.”

Reiji exhaled, forcing his body to move, to push himself up from the chair. “Thanks,” he muttered.

Before Tsukauchi could reply, a knock at the office door cut through the moment. It creaked open, and Yagi stepped inside, his usual warm, if slightly concerned, expression in place. He didn’t seem to need to ask how the conversation had gone. He just offered a small smile and gestured toward the hallway. “Ready to go?”

Reiji nodded on instinct but hesitated just before stepping out. He turned back to Tsukauchi, something gnawing at his chest. He couldn't just leave without saying it.

“…Toga.”

Tsukauchi raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”

Reiji met his gaze steadily, something firm and quiet settling into his expression. “Make sure she’s looked after.”

There was a brief pause before Tsukauchi sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “She’s still in holding while we investigate the situation with her parents, but… yeah. I’ll make sure she’s alright.”

Reiji exhaled softly, something in his chest unclenching, even if just a little.

“Alright.”

He turned and followed Yagi out of the station, but his mind wasn’t entirely with him. It was still lingering in that dimly lit office, still turning over the uncertainty of what came next.

*

Nezu sat alone in his office, the golden glow of the evening sun casting long shadows over the meticulously arranged papers on his desk. The rhythmic ticking of the ornate clock on the wall was the only sound accompanying his thoughts, but his mind was far too preoccupied to take notice.

His paws rested lightly on the keyboard of his laptop, though he hadn’t typed anything in several minutes. Instead, he was staring at the screen, deep in contemplation.

Reiji Shigaraki. A man with no past, yet an undeniable intellect. A ghost without a history, yet an instinct for Quirks that rivaled the greatest minds in modern science.

The test had been designed to measure more than just knowledge. It was a test of creative problem-solving, of lateral thinking, of understanding Quirks beyond their surface-level applications. Even the top consultants struggled to score in the upper ranges - a score above 90% was virtually unheard of barring the world leaders in Quirk theory. And yet, a man with two weeks of memory had completed it in under thirty minutes with a perfect score.

It had confirmed everything Nezu had begun to suspect.

Nezu’s ears twitched as his laptop chimed softly. An incoming email notification. He refocused his attention and clicked it open.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Job Offer

It was brief.

I’ve thought about it. If the offer is still open, I’d like to accept.

Nezu let out a quiet hum, the corners of his mouth curling slightly. How interesting.

He had expected the man to take longer to decide. He had been deeply unsure of himself, cautious about taking a step forward into the unknown. But something had pushed him toward a decision faster than anticipated. Nezu made a mental note to ask about that later.

Just as he was about to compose a response, another email arrived.

From: [email protected]

Subject: Inquiry Regarding New Consultant Position

Nezu’s expression didn’t change, but he felt a flicker of annoyance. 

The Commission rarely reached out to him directly, not if they knew what was good for them. The fact that they were now inquiring about Shigaraki, so soon after his test results had been submitted, told Nezu that they had taken notice. They had their hands in every aspect of hero society, after all. The mere existence of someone like Shigaraki - a young man with no recorded history, no identifiable quirk, yet possessing an almost preternatural ability to analyze quirks- was something that would undoubtedly pique their interest.

Nezu’s gaze flickered across the words, parsing the carefully worded request.

"UA has never employed a Quirk consultant before. Your decision to do so now is unusual. We request further details on this hiring process and the qualifications of the candidate."

In other words… what are you doing, Nezu?

Nezu’s smile didn’t waver, but his fingers tapped idly against the desk. The HPSC was watching, which meant he had to be careful. He would respond to them later, with the same precision and ambiguity they had afforded him.

Before he could close the email, another notification popped up. From Tsukauchi. Nezu’s eyes glimmered with interest as he opened the message.

How curious.

So, Tsukauchi was taking the initiative. That was good. The detective was sharp and meticulous, and if he believed that an underground hero could restore Shigaraki’s memories, then there was a real possibility that answers could finally be uncovered. He recognised the name Tsukauchi had given, and Nezu saw no reason to think that it could go wrong.

But…

Nezu wasn’t sure if that was a good thing.

Shigaraki, as he was now, was a mystery, but a manageable one. A blank slate, eager to learn, capable of astonishing insight. What would happen if his memories returned?

Would he remain the same? Would he still be the promising mind Nezu had decided to take under his wing?

Or would he become something else entirely?

Nezu closed the laptop, his mind racing through the possibilities.

*

Toshinori collapsed onto his bed with a sigh, exhaustion seeping into his bones. The day had been long - patrolling, training Young Midoriya, keeping an eye on his new roommate, and now… thoughts of the future weighed heavily on his mind. He shut his eyes, willing himself to rest. Sleep came quickly.

And with it, a dream.

A man stood before him, his long white hair wild and untamed. His green eyes burned, not with warmth, but with desperation. He was screaming, but the words were fractured, slipping through Toshinori’s grasp like water through his fingers.

"You have to—!"

The voice cracked, grief strangling it.

"I—he’s—my brother—!"

The man’s hands trembled as they reached outward, toward someone that Toshinori couldn’t see. Shadows swallowed the edges of the scene, warping and twisting, shifting the world around him into something unreal. Toshinori tried to move, tried to listen, but the words slipped away, drowned out by the rush of static in his ears. The figure’s face was distorted now, flickering between rage and sorrow.

"Don’t let him—!"

And then, darkness.

Toshinori’s eyes snapped open.

His heart was pounding against his ribs, a dull ache settling in his chest. He took a deep breath, willing his pulse to slow. It was a dream. Just a dream. The details were already slipping from his grasp, fading into the haze of sleep. Something about… a man. Someone shouting. Something important. 

But by the time the morning light streamed through his window, the dream had dissolved completely, leaving only a vague sense of unease he couldn’t quite place.