Chapter Text
Meow, meow.
Mira woke up to the wet tongue of a cat. Her head throbbed. Oww, what happened? She pushed herself upright but her balance tipped and she landed on her back with a soft whump. Confused, she twisted around and froze.
White wings. On her back.
The alley around her looked wrong, too big, like someone had stretched it out. Even the cat beside her seemed oversized, staring at her with uncomfortably intelligent eyes. Alice in Wonderland nonsense, seriously? She tried standing again, this time shifting her weight carefully. Her legs wobbled, but she stayed upright. Her hands were small. Chubby. Child‑sized.
Breathe in, breathe out. Remember your training.
A thin hospital gown hung off her frame, bandages wrapped around her forearms and calves. Bare feet on cold pavement. Did I escape from a mental hospital? A lab? One step at a time. Let’s figure out where I am.
She shuffled out of the alley and onto the street.
And stopped dead.
A massive digital billboard lit up the sky. All Might, larger than life, smiling down at her. Okay, so it’s advertising the new MHA movie, right? But then the image flicked to Endeavor’s newest figurine.
Her stomach dropped. I’m not in Kansas anymore. I got isekai’d. Fantastic. She loved isekai stories — from a safe distance. Living one was a whole different nightmare. And she wasn’t even in her adult body. She was a kid. A malnourished one. One who had clearly been through something awful.
Oh no. Am I Eri? She patted the top of her head. No horn. Black hair. And the wings — yeah, those were a pretty big clue she wasn’t canon. Great. So I can’t rely on bumping into Deku and speedrunning safety.
Clouds rolled in, dimming the sky. A chill crept down her spine. Wherever this body ran from… they might still be looking. And if All For One found her first? She didn’t want to finish that thought.
She needed someone smart. Someone trustworthy. Someone who wouldn’t laugh if she said the word isekai out loud.
Nezu.
He was her best shot. He could help her figure out how to fix everything. To prevent all the deaths and harm that happened in the story. After all, what else are these memories to be used for? Now she just had to figure out how to get to UA.
A cold drizzle started to fall. Mira wrapped her arms around herself and scanned the street. A police station sat on the corner, lights glowing through the rain.
Okay. Start there.
The bell over the station door jingled, and Sansa glanced up from the front desk. A tiny girl stood in the doorway, drenched from the rain and shivering hard enough that her teeth clicked. She swayed on her feet.
He hurried over. “Hey there, are you okay?” His voice softened automatically; kids usually liked his cat head.
The girl blinked up at him, confused, and answered in English.
Sansa tried again, switching languages. “Do you speak English?” His English was clumsy, but he hoped she’d understand.
“Yes,” she said simply.
“What’s your name?”
“Mira.”
“Do you know where your parents are?”
“Nezu. UA.”
“Nezu?” he confirmed. Nezu didn’t have a kid last he checked.
“Nezu. UA. Bring,” the girl stated slowly.
“Alright…Let me go get my supervisor.” Sansa picked up the girl and added, “Let's get you dried up.”
A few minutes later, she was wrapped in a blanket in a small office, tiny hands curled around a mug of hot chocolate. Once she seemed stable, Sansa fetched Naomasa.
Naomasa entered quietly and crouched so he was eye‑level with her. “Hello. My name is Tsukauchi Naomasa.” His smile was warm, but his eyes were already assessing.
The girl flicked her gaze toward Sansa and made a small shooing gesture with her hand. Naomasa raised a brow but nodded. Sansa stepped out, closing the door behind him.
She leaned forward and beckoned Naomasa closer. “Nezu. UA. All Might. Yagi Toshinori,” she whispered in his ear.
Naomasa’s posture shifted instantly, alert and guarded.
“How do you know this?” Naomasa asked firmly but gently.
“Bring Nezu. He will explain,” the girl responded. She tilted her head in thought. “Can bring All Might and Sir Nighteye.”
“Ok, let me go call them. Do you need anything else?”
She hesitated, then offered a single hopeful word. “Food?”
Naomasa exhaled, tension easing just a fraction. “I can see what snacks we have.”
Mira sat on the chair, legs swinging restlessly. They had given her a towel to dry off but her wings were still wet. She had no idea how wings were supposed to be maintained. You couldn’t just towel-dry them like hair…right? Did you shake it out like a dog? She took another sip of the hot chocolate Sansa had brought, letting the warmth settle her nerves.
That was so embarrassing. Of course, I can’t understand or speak Japanese. The only thing I know is konnichiwa. At least I got my point across. Hopefully.
She wasn’t sure how long she waited before the door opened and Nezu walked in with Naomasa.
“Am I a rat, a dog, a bear—who knows? I’m the principal of U.A.!” Nezu announced cheerfully in English
“You’re a stoat,” Mira said without missing a beat.
Nezu paused, then laughed. He hopped on to the chair. “Tsukauchi-san tells me you wanted to meet me.”
Mira nodded and leaned forward. “Have you heard of string theory?”
That got his attention.
She launched into everything — how she wasn’t from this world, how this entire reality was a story where she came from, how she remembered major events but not every detail, how she feared messing up the timeline, how she didn’t know who to trust, and how she wasn’t even sure what happened to the original owner of this tiny, winged body.
Nezu sipped at his tea he took out of nowhere. “That is…quite a lot,” he slowly began.
“I know I sound crazy,” Mira muttered, shoulders slumping.
“I believe you,” Nezu reassured her. “It would be how you know All Might’s identity and why you don’t know Japanese. It also explains why a 4-year old would be so articulate and understand the concept of string theory and parallel universes.”
Mira swallowed hard. The words should have comforted her, but instead they made everything feel real. Too real.
“Yeah… so what now?” Her voice wavered. Breathe.
“What do you want to do? You are an —” Nezu titled his head. “adult I presume?”
Mira nodded.
“Then I want you to make your own decision.” he finished.
Mira took a steadying breath. “Where am I in the timeline?”
“We have not found All for One yet.” Nezu clarified.
Mira thought about it for a while. “I want to find a safe place to live.” Another breath. “I don’t think I’ll be returning to my original world/body. I died there. A drunk driver, probably going at least 80 in a 30, hit me while I was driving home from my shift.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Nezu said softly.
“I don’t have any family that would miss me. Maybe some of my old team, but it’s been a while..”
“Old team?”
“Combat medic. Just got honorably discharged. I was going to college in hopes of getting into medical school after.”
“That’s very impressive.”
Mira shrugged her shoulders. “It’s not like I had any other options when I aged out of foster care.” Mira sighed. “But that’s not here or now.”
“So you want to find a place to live,” Nezu repeated back to her.
“Yeah, and just figure out what to do.”
Nezu’s eyes softened. “And why tell me all of this?”
“What?”
“You could have kept this to yourself.”
“I didn’t have any place else to turn to. I didn’t want to return to whatever situation this body was in. I didn’t want these memories to fall into the wrong hands, especially All for One.” Mira shivered, wrapping the towel tight.
“That’s it?”
“Yeah?
“If you did have someone to turn to, would you still have turned to me?”
“I mean, it depends on who it is…but even if I was reincarnated here into a newborn baby in a normal family, I would still tell you.”
“Why?”
“Because you are the smartest person. You would no know how to best use the information."
"But why tell me?"
Mira looked at him with confusion. “It’s the right thing to do. If someone is in danger, I can’t just stand on the sideline and ignore it. I have to do something. If I can use this foreknowledge to save someone, I have to. I can’t live with the guilt I could’ve saved someone but didn’t. ”
“That’s very heroic of you.”
Mira shot him a look. “I’m no hero. I’m not selfless enough to sacrifice myself.”
“Why did you want to become a doctor then?”
“It’s safe... Stable. And when you grow up without stability, you cling to whatever gives you a future.” She gave a crooked smile. “Yeah, helping people is great, but if I just wanted to help people, I would be an overworked, underpaid social worker, helping kids like me…”
“Survival is a noble motivation. And the world needs doctors and social workers.” Nezu took a sip of his tea. “If you had unlimited time, money, and opportunity, what would you do?”
“I don’t know…”
A knock interrupted them.
Naomasa peaked in. “I brought some people.”
All Might and Sir Nighteye entered.
“Perfect timing,” Nezu beamed. “Sit.”
As they settled, Nezu briefed them on Mira’s situation — carefully avoiding any mention of All Might’s successor, focusing only on All For One.
“Nana had a grandkid?” All Might blurted in English, paling.
“Yeah.”
“Do you know his name?” Sir Nighteye asked sharply.
“Shimura Tenko.”
“We need to save him!” All Might declared.
“And we will,” Nezu assured him. “But I suspect he is already in All For One’s custody. In Mira-san’s original timeline, All For One had Tenko-kun during your first major battle.”
All Might went even paler.
“Where is All For One?” Sir Nighteye demanded.
“I don’t know,” Mira said quietly.
“What do you mean you don’t know?” he pressed.
“The story never went that deep,” she snapped. She was tired, cold, and wet. “I told you everything I remember. If something comes back, I’ll tell you.”
“And when will that be?” His tone sharpened again. “We can’t rely on maybes. The future doesn’t wait for us to be ready.” It was the same rigid certainty she remembered from the story, the man who trusted predictions more than people.
Mira opened her mouth, ready to argue.
Nezu cleared his throat, instantly silencing both. “Let’s focus on our next step.”
“She’s dangerous,” Sir Nighteye stated. “If she tells any villain her foreknowledge, it would destroy us.”
“I would never!” Mira protested. “If I was, why would I ask for you in the first place?”
“We don’t even know where the original owner of this body came from.”
“Oh, because a four-year old who has signs of being in captivity is definitely going to join the bad guys.” Mira rolled her eyes.
“Mirai, enough.” All Might stated definitely. “Young Mira is a child.”
“No she’s not!” “No I’m not!” Sir Nighteye and Mira snapped in unison, glaring. Mira blew a raspberry at him.
“Maybe she is a child,” Sir Nighteye muttered.
Nezu watched them over his teacup, unreadable. “We need to determine a safe placement for Mira.”
“Oh, and don’t tell the Hero Commission,” Mira added. “They get grabby. Is Lady Nagant still around or arrested already?”
“She’s in Tartarus,” Nezu said.
“Right. She’s innocent, gets manipulated, snaps, joins the villains, then switches sides again. And the Commission is corrupt. Oh — and they groomed a boy to be their attack dog.”
All three stared at her.
“There’s… a lot of grooming,” Mira admitted. She explained Lady Nagant, Hawks, and the general chaos of the era. “And the Meta Liberation Army War is around this time too.”
Silence.
“It was a very eventful year,” she mumbled.
“One thing at a time,” Nezu said calmly. “Where should she go?”
“Could we place her with a hero?” All Might suggested.
“Who? They’d need to know about One For All,” Sir Nighteye said. “She can’t stay with All Might.”
“And I don’t want to stay with you,” Mira shot back.
“UA can take her,” Nezu said brightly.
“How does that work?” Mira asked.
“UA will be your guardian until you come of age.”
“Ok,” Mira agreed. UA would be the safest option for me right now. It’s not like I have anywhere else to go.
Nezu clapped his hands. “Excellent. Then it’s settled. UA will take custody of Mira. We’ll reconvene later to discuss the situations she’s brought up and any further memories.”
“Are we sure she’s telling the truth?” Sir Nighteye asked.
“Yes,” Nezu said without hesitation.
“I’ll update Tsukauchi-san and have him begin the paperwork,” All Might offered.
“Young Mira, what do you like to do for fun?” Toshinori asked Mira. They were headed toward the shopping district, a temporary outing while Nezu and Sir Nighteye wrestled with the mountain of paperwork her arrival had created. Mira tugged at the oversized hoodie Naomasa had dug up for her; the fabric bunched awkwardly around her wings, even with the back cut open. Nezu had promised there were shops that specialized in clothing for people with more unique attributes. He’d said it cheerfully while pressing a sleek black metal card into her hand, assuring her that UA would cover whatever she needed. Toshinori, in his normal form, had been assigned as her escort “for safety”, they’d said. Mira wasn’t sure if that was supposed to make her feel better, but she stayed close to him anyway as they stepped into the flow of the city.
“I like to sing, dance, bake, and read,” Mira responded as she was browsing the clothing section. It was hard to find clothes she liked. Most of the clothing her size was too childish.
“What’s your favorite song to sing?”
Mira held a polo dress against her trying to eyeball if it would fit. She threw it into the cart. “I don’t know if you’ve heard of it since it might not exist in this world. It’s Beauty and the Beast. That was my favorite movie.”
“I actually do know that song. Disney does exist.”
“Seriously? I guess if Universal is here then Disney would also be here.”
“They are some of the few Pre-Quirk era companies that still exist.” All Might looked at the full shopping cart. “Is there anything else you want?”
Mira looked at her split ends in disgust. “Maybe some toiletries and other essentials?”
“Of course.”
As they walked out of the store, another store caught Mira’s eyes. “Is that a Pro-Hero store?”
“Do you want to check it out?”
“Yeah. I’ve read about them but never been to one. I don’t think any of my favorite heroes would have merch since they probably are in training or still a kid.”
As they were walking to the store, All Might paused. “Let’s go get ice cream first.”
Mira looked confused. “Isn’t it on the other side?”
Her confusion was quickly resolved when a loud explosion shook the mall. “Fuck!” she yelled.
“Language!” Toshinori responded. “Go hide in the hero store!” he ordered.
Mira quickly ran into the store where other customers had fled into.
“DO NOT FEAR, FOR I AM HERE!” A flash of light illuminated from outside the store window. The store window broke as a tall 8-foot man came crashing through.
Too loud. Too much. Yeah, I am not staying here. Mira quickly looked around and noticed a back entrance for employees. She snatched the keys hanging off a nearby worker’s belt in the chaos and ran into the back alleyway. She took a few breaths of relief. She looked at the area around her.
A stern voice came from behind her.
Mira turned around to see a slimy-looking man stare at her. “Que?” she responded. Fuck, not Spanish. I need Japanese.
The man said something and slowly walked towards her.
Oh, fuck. He’s after me! Mira bolted.
The man yelled something behind her.
Mira risked a glance over her shoulder and nearly stumbled. The man’s head had turned into a spider, long jointed legs unfurling where hair should’ve been. His body hung beneath it, suspended like a puppet.
That is going to haunt my nightmares. She sprinted hard, veering down random paths, desperate to shake him. Her wings snapped open, beating frantically as she tried to lift off. Nothing happened. Why isn’t my Quirk working? Is it malfunctioning because of whatever weird experiment this body went through? A sudden wet thwip cut through her thoughts. Something sticky slammed into her back, pinning her to the ground. She clawed at the strands, a web.
“Found you~” he said in English
Breathe in. Breathe out. Focus. Get him talking. Distract him. Buy some time.
“What do you want with me?” Mira asked.
“Pretending to not understand me?” the man smiled. “I’ll bite. After all, we still have to finish our game~”
Game? Mira’s skull throbbed as images burst across her vision — metal gleaming, lenses catching the light, needles hovering far too close. Screams echoed in her ears, sharp enough to rattle her bones. It took a heartbeat too long to realize they weren’t echoes at all. They were hers. She was screaming now.
A calm, steady voice cut through the ringing in her ears but Mira couldn’t make out what he was saying.
Mira forced her eyes open. A man with long dark hair crouched beside her, his expression focused but gentle. “Eraserhead?”
He said something she didn’t catch — then blinked, realization hitting him. He repeated himself in English. “You know me?”
Before she could answer, he was already slicing through the sticky strands with practiced efficiency. The web loosened, and Mira tumbled forward into his arms.
“You’re my favorite,” she said, rubbing her eyes
Eraserhead lifted her carefully, one arm supporting her back, the other steadying her legs. Over his shoulder, she spotted Spider‑dude facedown on the pavement, wrists locked in a pair of heavy-duty cuffs. Eraserhead tapped the earpiece tucked beneath his hair. He spoke quickly in Japanese, then nodded to himself.
“What about Spider‑dude?” she mumbled.
“The police will pick him up.”
Relief washed over her, heavy and warm. Mira let her head fall against his shoulder, cheek pressed to the soft fabric of his Capture Weapon. “Thank you for saving me,” she whispered.
The adrenaline that had been holding her together finally drained away. Her breathing slowed. Her eyes fluttered shut.
She was asleep before he even took his first step.
Eraserhead looked down at the girl in his arms. She couldn’t have weighed more than a backpack, and yet she felt impossibly heavy.
He wasn’t used to this. Not the clinging. Not the trust. Not the way she’d whispered you’re my favorite like it was the most obvious truth in the world.
He’d only been a Pro-Hero for a few months. Most civilians still looked at him like he was too young, too tired, too strange to be doing this job. No one had ever reached for him like he was safe.
But she had.
He’d just finished a long patrol and was cutting through the district when the explosion hit. All Might was already on the scene, so he kept his distance — alert, watching, ready. Then his pager buzzed.
CODE WHITE – ALL HEROES RESPOND. Missing child. Possible abduction threat. English‑speaking.
A Code White was rare. Missing children were usually handled by the police unless there was a confirmed Quirk threat or political sensitivity.
English‑speaking… foreign…
He’d assumed she must be the child of a diplomat or someone important — the kind of case that got fast‑tracked whether heroes liked it or not.
Now, holding her, he wasn’t so sure. She didn’t look like anyone’s political bargaining chip — just a tiny kid swallowed by clothes that weren’t hers. Malnourished. Exhausted. Barely conscious. He had seen children like her before, and none of them had been “important” in the way the world cared about.
And that voice on the comm…
Nezu was involved? Personally?
That alone told him this wasn’t a routine case.
He walked into the busy police station. Sansa immediately perked up and recognized him.
“I have the kid,” Eraserhead grumbled.
“Follow me.” Sansa led him to a room where Nezu, All Might, and Sir Nighteye were waiting.
“You found her?” All Might exhaled in relief.
“Yeah. And the Villain who was chasing her — Arata Kumo,” Eraserhead said. “Didn’t expect to run into a wanted criminal on my way home.”
All Might stiffened. “Arata? That’s serious.”
Sir Nighteye adjusted his glasses. “There’s a substantial bounty on him.”
Nezu smiled pleasantly. “And you will receive it, of course.”
Eraserhead frowned. “That’s… not why I brought him in.”
“I know,” Nezu said. “But you still earned it.”
“Who is she?” Eraserhead asked.
“Top‑secret clearance,” Nezu replied.
Aizawa frowned. “So she is someone important.”
Nezu’s smile softened. “She matters, Aizawa. Just not in the way the system usually defines importance.”
Aizawa’s eyes narrowed. He shifted his grip on Mira, gaze darkening. “Kids in her condition don’t get Code Whites. They barely get reports filed.”
Sir Nighteye’s expression tightened, as if acknowledging the truth in Aizawa’s words. “Exactly.” He adjusted his glasses. “Code Whites are for political assets… or for threats so severe they can’t be ignored.”
Eraserhead looked at the girl in his arms again. She didn’t look like a threat but he had seen enough to know that appearances rarely matched a person’s danger level. Her fists were tightly bunched into his Capture Weapon. Something in his chest tightened.
“Here,” he said quietly, passing her to All Might. It took effort — she clung stubbornly to his scarf before her fingers finally loosened.
“I’ll walk you out,” Sir Nighteye offered.
They stepped into the hallway, the noise of the station fading behind them.
Nighteye inclined his head. “You did good tonight. Get some rest, Aizawa. You’ll likely be involved in this case again.”
Aizawa didn’t answer. He stepped out into the night, the faint warmth of Mira’s small, sleeping form still lingering in his arms even though she was no longer there.
Something about this wasn’t over. He could feel it
Mira woke up to the sharp sting of antiseptic. Her eyes blinked open. White ceiling. Clean sheets. A hospital room.
The door clicked, and a nurse stepped inside.
“Oh, you are awake. I’ll let the doctor know,” she said in accented English. She checked Mira’s vitals with practiced efficiency.
The door slammed open.
Two people in suits strode in, speaking quickly to the nurse. Whatever they said made her step aside and slip out of the room without another word.
Mira didn’t like the look of them.
The taller woman turned toward her, switching to English. “I am Reiji Kurosawa from the Hero Public Safety Commission. You will answer a few questions.”
Mira stared at them for half a second—then did what any four‑year‑old would do when confronted by strangers in a strange place.
She dove under the blankets.
Nope. Absolutely not. I don’t trust you. Not after what happens to Hawks. Time to weaponize being four. I can still throw tantrums, right? That’s allowed?
“Mira‑chan,” Reiji said, voice turning saccharine in an instant, “if you come out and talk to us, you can have some candy.” She tapped the lump of blanket that was Mira. “Just a few questions. Then a reward.”
Oh please. Candy? Really? What do you think I am, an amateur?
Mira stayed perfectly still under the blanket.
Just ignore them. They’ll go away.
When that failed, Reiji’s tone cooled. “Mira‑chan, we don’t have time for this. You want candy right?”
Mira did not move.
A second voice — deeper, annoyed — muttered, “She’s four. Just pull the blanket down.”
Try it. I dare you.
The blanket stayed firmly over her head.
Reiji tried again, voice clipped. “You are safe. There is no reason to behave like this.”
Mira kicked her foot out from under the blanket and hit nothing. Damn. I was aiming for a shin.
The man sighed. “This is ridiculous.”
Mira let out a loud, dramatic sniffle. Then another. Then a tiny, pitiful whimper.
Reiji exhaled sharply. “Crying will not change the situation.”
Mira wasn’t. But they didn’t know that.
She added a hiccup for effect.
“We don’t have time for emotional outbursts,” Reiji said, irritation bleeding through the false sweetness.
Good. Be annoyed. Leave.
The man stepped closer. “We don’t have time for this. Just—”
Mira let out a full‑volume wail. A toddler meltdown cry. High‑pitched. Ear‑splitting.
The man flinched. “What— why is she so loud?”
Reiji winced but didn’t soften. “She’s four. This is what they do.”
Mira kicked again, this time hitting the bed rail for dramatic effect. She thrashed just enough to make the blanket wiggle violently.
Reiji tried one last time, voice tight with irritation. “Mira‑chan. Stop this. Now.”
Mira screamed louder.
The man groaned. “This is torture.”
Good. Suffer.
Footsteps approached from the hallway — calm, light, familiar.
The door slid open.
“Ah,” Nezu said cheerfully, “I see you’ve met Mira.”
The wailing stopped instantly.
Mira poked her head out from under the blanket, eyes wide and hopeful. “Nezu?” she asked, her voice pitched higher than usual.
Nezu clasped his paws behind his back. His eyes flicked, just once, to the perfectly dry skin under her eyes, then back to the agents. “I’ll take it from here.”
“We’re not finished,” the man snapped. “She hasn’t answered a single question.”
Nezu’s smile didn’t waver. “She’s four. And she’s terrified. You won’t get anything useful out of her like this.”
Reiji Kurosawa crossed her arms. “We don’t have time to coddle her. A child in her position should be cooperating.”
Mira shrank back under the blanket again, making herself small. Nezu stepped slightly in front of her, blocking their view.
“She shut down the moment you entered the room,” Nezu said mildly. “That’s not defiance. That’s trauma.”
The man scoffed. “Plenty of traumatized kids talk.”
“Not when they’re overwhelmed,” Nezu replied. “Not when they’ve been through what she has.”
Reiji clicked her tongue, clearly irritated. “We need answers. Now.”
“And you’ll get them,” Nezu said pleasantly. “But not from her. Not today.”
The agents exchanged a look — not suspicious, just annoyed.
Reiji exhaled sharply. “Fine. We’ll return when she’s… calmer.”
Nezu inclined his head. “That would be wise.”
As the door closed behind them, Nezu let out a soft breath of amusement.
Mira peeked out again, eyes bright with mischief.
Nezu’s whiskers twitched. “Very effective,” he murmured.
“Yeah, I figured those stiff politicians who care only about career advancements and protecting their egos couldn’t handle a crying kid,” Mira said, tossing the blanket aside with a huff. “You’ll take them down, right?”
“‘Taking down’ an organization takes time,” Nezu replied, tone mild. “Even for someone like me.”
Mira sat up, scanning the room as if seeing it for the first time. “Okay… what exactly happened?”
Nezu tilted his head. “What do you remember?”
“Spider‑dude chasing me down and Eraserhead swooping in to save the day.” She frowned, rubbing her arm absently. “I think Spider‑dude is tied to whatever… whatever this body went through.”
A beat.
“He said something about ‘games’ he used to play with me.”
Nezu’s eyes narrowed just a fraction. “Arata Kumo — or in Western placement, Kumo Arata. He’s an A-Rank Villain.”
Mira let out a low whistle. “And they send him after little ol’ me. Fabulous.”
“But we were able to get a lead on whoever was holding you hostage,” Nezu continued.
“Really? Was it Dr. Garaki and his creepy orphanages to harvest bodies?”
Nezu blinked. “Orphanages to harvest bodies?”
“Yeah, it was being run by a guy with a sunflower head.” Mira paused when she saw Nezu’s expression — genuine shock, which was rare for someone who had run every simulation imaginable. “I honestly thought the author was on something when he made these characters, but apparently not?” She gave an awkward grin.
Nezu recovered quickly, though his gaze sharpened. “We are still looking — thank you for that information — but so far we don’t see any signs of All for One’s involvement. There are, however, several large organizations in the underworld that rival one another and have very different goals.”
Mira nodded slowly, rubbing her arm again. “Yeah… I guess that tracks.”
The silence was shattered by a door slamming open. Mira flinched hard at the sudden noise.
“I AM HERE!” All Might boomed as he burst in, arms full of bags. “With goodies!”
“Yagi‑san, could you please watch Mira‑chan while I go settle some business?” Nezu asked.
Toshinori gave a thumbs‑up and set the bags beside the bed.
Mira eyed them cautiously. “Is… that for me?”
“Yes!” Toshinori brightened. He handed her the first bag. “These are the clothes you picked out.”
Another bag followed, this one emblazoned with his own smiling face. “You said you wanted hero merch, so I got you hero merch.”
Then a smaller bag. “Nezu asked me to pick these up for you.”
Mira peeked inside — toiletries and a wing‑grooming kit.
Finally, Toshinori lifted an insulated bag. “And I promised ice cream.”
Mira stared at the pile of gifts. Her throat tightened. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Toshinori stiffened in surprise, breath catching. “You’re welcome, young Mira,” he said softly.
He brightened suddenly. “Oh! I also found some movies from America in my closet.”
He held up a slim, glossy disc case.
Mira squinted at it. “Is that… a DVD?”
Toshinori blinked. “A what?”
“You know. A DVD. Little plastic box, shiny disc inside, you put it in a player…” She trailed off, staring at the sleek, almost holographic case in his hand. “Okay, never mind. That is not what DVDs looked like back in my day.”
Toshinori tilted his head. “Back in your day?”
Mira froze. “I mean— back in… uh… the day. My world. For people like me. Obviously.”
He nodded solemnly, as if this made perfect sense. “Ah. Yes. Things do change quickly.”
Mira looked at the new version of a DVD. The title shimmered across the surface:
STAR WARS: EPISODE XV — DAWN OF THE FORCE
Mira stared at it like it had personally insulted her ancestors.
“…Fifteen?” she whispered. “They made fifteen Star Wars movies?”
Toshinori blinked. “Is that… unusual?”
Mira dragged a hand down her face. “At this rate, don’t tell me Marvel is still making superhero movies too.”
Toshinori considered this. “Superhero movies are quite popular.” He looked genuinely troubled. “Should I… be concerned?”
A startled laugh escaped her — small, but real. Mira ducked her head. “It’s just… fifteen, Yagi‑san. That’s a lot.”
He nodded solemnly. “I’ll take your word for it.”
“I guess… home sweet home.” Mira stood at the entrance of Nezu’s small apartment on UA campus. It was cozy, lived‑in — and, as she’d learned, the only staff residence actually on school grounds.
“My room is the first door on the left,” Nezu said, gesturing with his tail as he carried a bag. “You can set your things in the room connected to the second door on the left.”
Mira followed him down the short hallway. “Have you ever thought about creating dorms?”
Nezu paused mid‑step. “Dorms? Not particularly. Do you recommend that?”
“Yeah.” Mira shifted the bag in her arms. “In the original story, they built them to protect students from villains who were targeting them, but honestly? Even without that, it just makes sense.”
Nezu tilted his head, listening.
“You’ve got students from all over Japan coming here,” Mira continued. “And a bunch of teenagers living alone in random apartments? That doesn’t seem safe. Not with how late they study. What if they’re walking home at night? Or commuting long distances? I don’t really see a downside.”
Nezu hummed thoughtfully. “Interesting. I hadn’t considered the logistical risks.”
Mira shrugged. “Maybe I’m biased. My world had stricter standards for minors living alone, for minors working. But still… it feels like something worth thinking about.”
Mira settled her bags on the bed of her new room. It was plain with a bed and a desk with a lamp.
“We can order more things,” Nezu said, tail swaying lightly. “Your shopping was unfortunately interrupted.”
“Oh, no need. This is enough,” Mira protested.
“Nonsense,” Nezu replied with a pleasant hum. “You will be living here for quite some time. It ought to feel like your space, not merely a room you occupy.”
He glanced at the small pile of bags with a thoughtful tilt of his head.
Mira unpacked in silence. She held up the wing‑grooming kit. “How do you use this?”
“I would be happy to show you,” Nezu said. “It is simpler than it appears.”
“Thanks.”
She picked at the oversized hospital hoodie and wrinkled her nose. “Do you mind if I take a quick shower?”
“Not at all,” Nezu said. “Take your time. I will be in the living room if you need anything.”
Mira grabbed a towel and slipped into the bathroom.
Mira sighed in relief as the warm water hit her. It felt comforting, soothing. She scrubbed the dirt and grime off her body and worked shampoo through her hair, watching suds swirl down the drain.
For a moment, everything was quiet.
Too quiet.
Her chest tightened unexpectedly. A strange pressure built behind her eyes. She blinked hard, confused when her vision blurred.
What…? Why am I—
A small, broken sound escaped her before she could swallow it down. Then another. And suddenly the tears were spilling faster than she could wipe them away.
She pressed a hand to the tile wall, breath hitching.
Why am I crying? I don’t— I shouldn’t—
She’d always been good at not caring. So why did her chest hurt like she’d lost something?
Why am I here? Why did I take over a little girl’s body? What happened to her? I want to go home. Wherever that is.
Mira slid down until she was sitting on the shower floor, knees pulled to her chest, water cascading over her wings and hair. The sobs came quietly, almost politely, like she was afraid someone might hear.
She didn’t know what she was mourning.
She only knew she couldn’t stop.
Nezu looked up at the soft pitter‑patter of small feet. Mira stood in the doorway, an adult’s awareness tucked inside a child’s frame. Her eyes were a bit red. She wore an oversized T‑shirt with the back unevenly cut to make room for her wings. A towel hung around her neck; her hair and feathers were still damp.
“Do you have a blow‑dryer?” she asked.
“No, but we can acquire one tomorrow,” Nezu replied.
“Thanks,” she murmured.
He gestured her closer. “Come here. I will show you how to care for your wings.”
Pit pat. Pit pat.
Mira padded over and sat on the soft rug. Nezu settled beside her, gently spreading one wing to begin grooming. As he worked, he explained the structure — primary feathers, secondary feathers, the delicate down beneath.
“I will arrange for a tailor to help customize your clothing,” he added.
“Thanks. I don’t want to end up cutting up all my shirts.”
A small smile tugged at his whiskers. “A reasonable concern.”
He finished the last feather just as the doorbell rang. Fetching the delivery, he returned with two bento boxes. “Dinner is here.”
Mira climbed into the chair he indicated. Nezu watched her lift the lid and inhale the scent of karaage, shoulders relaxing just a fraction.
“Itadakimasu,” they said together.
They ate quietly. Mira finished first and stood with her empty box. “I can do the dishes.”
“Simply place it in the dishwasher,” Nezu said, pointing toward the kitchen.
Later, he settled onto the couch with his laptop. Mira joined him without a word. He handed her the remote. She flipped through channels, frowning, then paused on an anime movie and let it play quietly in the background.
“Do you think I could take some Japanese lessons?” she asked.
“Of course. Your education will be fully supported. It may take a little time to arrange the appropriate materials.”
She studied him, sensing something unsaid.
Nezu closed his laptop. “I spoke with the Hero Public Safety Commission.”
Mira froze.
“I did not tell them everything,” he assured her. “Only what was necessary. For your safety, it has been decided that you will remain on UA campus. You may leave only with a Pro Hero or a hero student with at the minimum a provisional license.”
“Oh.” She swallowed. “That’s… a lot.”
“Yes.” A contemplative hum vibrated in his chest. “But it is temporary. We are still investigating the organization that held you and its possible ties to All for One.”
“Does the Commission know about All for One?”
“Yes. They have known for quite some time.”
Mira hesitated, then asked quietly, “Will you save Hawks? And Lady Nagant?”
Nezu’s tail swayed once. “We will do everything in our power. No one deserves what they have endured.”
Mira nodded, relief loosening her shoulders. “Thank you.”
Nezu closed his laptop fully and set it aside. “You are safe here, Mira‑chan. Rest. Tomorrow, we will begin building something better for you.”
Mira leaned back against the couch, eyelids drooping. “Okay.”
Nezu reopened his laptop, letting the soft sound of the anime Mira had chosen fade into the background as he resumed his work.