Chapter 10

.::Networking is Everything::.

Morning came all too soon for Shouto. He felt a mild surge of disappointment when his dream began to drift away and he realized he was now awake, too groggy to react much other than to try to go back to sleep. It felt as if he hadn't slept this well in some time, the bed too comfortable—

Bed.

Just like that the morning haze clouding his mind vanished, his eyelids grudgingly snapping open despite wanting to remain firmly shut. For a moment he panicked as he took in the sight of an unfamiliar bedroom, the room still dim thanks to curtains blocking the windows. It was the first time he'd been in a proper bed since waking up in this strange other world, the rest of his nights spent in abandoned buildings or parks.

How did I get here? he thought desperately. Then the events of the previous night came rushing back, making him catch his breath and relax slightly. Right, Kuroe.

He'd ridden the bus to Odawara with the man he'd saved and taken him up on his offer to go to his house for food and a shower. Wary as he was of the stranger, Shouto couldn't deny he desperately needed a good meal after eating cheap convenience store food for the past five days. The prospect of a shower had only sweetened the deal.

From there, it just sort of... got out of his control. It was probably the most peaceful day Shouto had since waking up in this world, and standing in the shower with warm water washing away the thick layers of grime and sweat was the first chance he had to really relax. His mind began to calm down, and then the stress of his situation just... faded, along with most of his other thoughts. He didn't remember most of the shower honestly, he'd stood there in some sort of daze until Kuroe banged on the door saying it'd been an hour.

The rest of the night was only marginally clearer. His clothes had been filthy so Kuroe had given him a spare t-shirt and sweatpants to wear while he tossed Shouto's stuff in the washer. By the time it finished it was already late enough for dinner, another offer he couldn't turn down since he didn't know when he'd have a chance to eat a proper meal again. After that it had already grown dark outside, and when Kuroe offered him the spare bedroom Shouto was just too exhausted to even consider refusing.

It had been foolish and dangerous, an offer that could have easily been a trap. A risk he never would have accepted had he been in his right mind.

Did he use some kind of Quirk to mess with my head? he wondered as he got up, but deep down he knew that wasn't the case. Shouto had just been tired, five straight days of nothing but tension and anxiety leaving him weak, and the idea of an actual bed was too tempting to resist in that frame of mind.

"Dammit," he hissed to himself, running a hand through his hair. He took a moment to assess his state. At the moment he still wore the borrowed clothes, his now-clean original outfit folded atop the dresser, while the phone sat charging on the night stand. A glance at the clock revealed it was a bit after nine, and he grimaced at the realization he'd slept for nearly twelve hours. Twelve hours of total vulnerability if anyone had tried to enter the room. At least he'd had the sense to lock the door.

Mentally cursing his recklessness again, he quickly got changed and grabbed the eye patch. Though Kuroe had already noticed the bottom of the scar Shouto had made a point to keep it on around him, since the mismatched blue eye was still too distinctive for his liking. Once he pulled it on he paused to stare at the mirror, frowning at his reflection.

Right now, with his hair dyed black and his left eye covered, it almost felt like he was looking at a stranger. He leaned closer to the mirror as he touched the edges of his burn scar, just barely visible beneath the eye patch. Hesitating, he removed it to look closer at the scar, noting how its shape matched his memories. He didn't know what to think of its presence because it meant that for all the differences he'd found, this world's Shouto had still gone through some of the same things, still seen his mother break.

Bzz. Bzz.

He stiffened as he heard the night stand shake with the vibration of the cell phone, and his reflection's face immediately morphed into a scowl. Screw it. He jerked the eye patch back over his eye and adjusted it to hide his scar as much as possible before stalking out of the room. The phone was still vibrating when he closed the door.

Shouto found Kuroe sitting at the kitchen table, eating a bowl of cereal as he typed away on a laptop. Without his jacket and hood to add bulk to his figure he cut a much thinner figure. Kuroe had a thin and lanky physique, his straight black hair brushed to the side towards the right half of his face while the rest was left an unkempt mess.

He glanced up at Shouto as he entered, nodding at him. "Morning. Take it you slept well?"

"Well enough," Shouto muttered, still a bit wary as he slid into the seat across from him. There was an empty bowl and spoon sitting there along with two boxes of cereal, so he took it as a silent invitation to fill it with his choice and begin eating. Kuroe didn't bother trying to strike up a full conversation, turning back to his laptop.

For a while they just ate in silence, only the clicking of the keyboard filling the room. Shouto couldn't help but notice the laptop was surprisingly nice and high-end given the rest of the house looked rather worn-down. Most of the furniture was obviously old and used, collected and arranged with minimal attention to aesthetic taste and more focused on practicality. Some of it looked like it'd been found in a dumpster.

But Kuroe had a house. A small one, with two floors and maybe six rooms total, but an actual house and not a cheap apartment. Sheltered as Shouto admittedly was, he knew that single adults typically could not afford such a place.

As he thought over it the man's eyes flitted upwards, catching how Shouto's eyes focused on his laptop. "Lemme guess, wondering about the money?" he commented, making Shouto pause.

"Are you a mind reader?" he deadpanned, though he spoke carefully, wondering if that might be the case. Kuroe just snorted though, rolling his eyes.

"Nah, I just know the worn-down house and nice laptop is a weird combo. I'm a freelancer. Do a lot of programming work, among other things. A friend agreed to help buy this place in exchange for some favors, and the place was already super cheap on the market at the time."

"Why?" Shouto asked, and Kuroe's smirk became morbid.

"Suicide in the bathroom upstairs," he replied wryly. "Drowned themselves in the bathtub. Body wasn't found for over a week. They had to rip out the tub before putting this place on market. Odor was still there for a while after I moved in, and that was months later." Shouto blinked slowly as he processed that, the cereal in his mouth suddenly feeling lumpy and tasteless. He forced himself to swallow as he set down his spoon.

"I... see." An uncomfortable tension fell over the room, or at least for Shouto. Kuroe seemed relaxed, returning to his typing. Shouto sat uncomfortably for a moment, trying to ignore thoughts of a person dying near where he'd spent an hour in the shower. Frowning, he pushed the thought aside and asked, "So if it's not mind-reading, what is your Quirk?"

Kuroe's fingers briefly stilled, dark orange eyes flitting his way. "Kind of a personal question, don't you think?" Shouto frowned, knowing he was right, but he couldn't get the thought out of his head.

"You know mine though," he pressed. "You saw it yesterday when I used it on that mugger. It's only fair." Kuroe was silent at that, his eyes unreadable as he gazed at Shouto searchingly while Shouto met his gaze evenly. For all the man had helped him so far he still found himself suspicious of Kuroe's motives, and knowing his Quirk could help alleviate some of that.

Finally Kuroe sighed, turning back to his laptop. "...Damn, guess you've got a point," he muttered. He didn't say anything else though, just went back to typing. As the silence stretched on Shouto felt himself grow more and more apprehensive, his unease growing. He was just about to demand he elaborate when Kuroe finally spoke. "I'm Quirkless."

The answer threw Shouto for a loop, the teenager blinking once. "Come again?"

"You heard me. I'm Quirkless." Kuroe didn't look at him, just kept his attention focused on the screen as he talked. "I don't have a Quirk. All I've got going for me is my wits and connections."

Now Shouto was openly staring at him, not bothering to hide his shock. Quirkless people weren't exactly an alien concept to him—his father's head accountant was Quirkless, and so was one of his elementary school tutors—but he'd never met one who admitted it so openly and bluntly. Most people seemed to be ashamed of it.

He frowned, closing his mouth as his gaze turned calculating. "How do I know you're telling the truth? If you are, you're basically telling a stranger who you know has a powerful Quirk that you can't defend yourself."

"Yeah, I know," Kuroe grunted. "But it's not like you're a threat. After all..." His fingers stilled again, sharp orange eyes flicking his way briefly before turning back to the screen. "Pretty sure Endeavor's kid won't randomly attack a defenseless civilian."

A loud bang echoed through the house as Shouto stood abruptly with enough force to topple his chair, his hands slamming on the table. He stared at Kuroe wide-eyed, his face contorted into a cross between a scowl and grimace as he tried to control his breathing. "You," he started but stopped, unable to finish the thought. As his heart continued to pound in his ears he swallowed, his fingers curling atop the table and his nails dragging along the wood. "How—?"

"I noticed your roots last night when we got here," Kuroe explained. He closed the laptop and pushed it to the side, turning to face Shouto with a steely gaze. "It's not much, but your hair's starting to grow out and some of the original color's showing. Red and white isn't exactly common. Coupled with the scar and the ice it's pretty obvious, though I had to look up a photo of you while you were in the shower just to make sure."

Shouto's mouth thinned at the explanation, glaring at him warily. "What do you want?" he demanded, his tone low and dangerous. Kuroe held up his hands.

"Nothing. I only bothered looking you up to make sure I wasn't letting a guy who'd murder me in my sleep stay over. I have a pretty good idea of why you're on the run and hiding out, and as long as you don't go villain it's none of my business. Seeing as you went out of your way to stop that mugger, I'm assuming you haven't gone darkside since disappearing."

Shouto didn't respond to that, just continued to stare down Kuroe suspiciously as he silently debated if he was being truthful. The other man remained still, hands still raised in the air and his face calm, but as the silence stretched on he could see a hint of nervousness flicker in his eyes. Finally, though, Shouto slowly sat back down, and Kuroe released a small sigh as he let his hands fall to his sides.

"I still don't trust you, but I'll give you the benefit of the doubt for now," he informed Kuroe dryly as he picked up his spoon to resume eating.

"That's fair," Kuroe agreed. "And smart, too. Better than some kids I know. Though that said," he added, his eyes becoming a little sharper, "I'm more interested in what you want."

"What I want?" Shouto echoed, not bothering to mask his distrust and suspicion. Kuroe nodded, seeming to take a moment to plan his next words before speaking.

"Odawara is nice, but it's more of a tourist destination, not the kind of place a runaway would go unless they're passing through. You have a goal here, don't you?"

Shouto didn't respond immediately, peering at the man with narrowed eyes. "If I did, why would it matter to you?"

"Because if you're here chasing some sort of Villain activity, then there's a good fucking chance it'll affect us too," Kuroe responded bluntly, his expression growing hard. "I don't know why, but this city's avoided a majority of the organized crime. If there's a chance that will change, I need to warn everyone else ASAP so they can prepare."

Shouto frowned at that, his mouth opening to respond when something the older male said suddenly stuck out to him. "Everyone else?" he repeated, and Kuroe paused one again, his expression becoming more thoughtful. When he spoke next his words were careful, his tone measured.

"Society's become rougher for people with strong Quirks. With the balance so off-kilter there's practically a power vacuum on the hero side, and the villains want to keep it that way. Flashier Quirks get targeted all the time, either for recruitment or to snuff them out before they get any ideas. Odawara's one of the only places that's not gone to hell in the last ten years. As long as people keep their heads down, it's safe. Or at least," he added, offering Shouto a pointed look, "It should be. And they need to know if that's about to change."

The burnt orange color of his eyes reminded Shouto of fire in its intensity as he stared at him. The teen suspected Kuroe wouldn't elaborate on that any more, but he didn't need to. Beneath that cold edge in his tone Shouto could pick up a note of protectiveness, a desire to help someone he considered more vulnerable. From a man who claimed to be Quirkless and thus considered vulnerable by a large majority of the population, that definitely said something.

After a few moments of consideration he reached a decision, meeting Kuroe's gaze squarely. "My reasons for being here are private," he said bluntly. "However, I promise you I have no intentions to seek out any major villain organizations, and have no knowledge of any being here."

It wasn't quite a lie, since he'd come here seeking out Gentle Criminal and Tokoyami, but his research indicated that they operated independently. He didn't think they'd pose a threat the way Kuroe implied.

Kuroe eyed him silently, seeming to consider Shouto's response in a strange reversal of the stand-off from just minutes earlier. Soon though he nodded and relaxed. "Alright, I guess that'll have to do for now. But just in case, here." He pulled something out from his pocket and placed it on the table, sliding it towards him. Shouto's head tilted downward to follow its trail across the wood, surprised to see a flip phone and charger.

"What's this for?"

"It's hard surviving alone out there," Kuroe responded cryptically. "Especially for a kid on the street. Having a network... helps."

Shouto's eyes narrowed suspiciously before picking up the phone and flipping it open. It had far less apps than his own phone, the functionality clearly more limited. Taking a second to figure out how to use a phone with only a keypad, he opened the contact list and noticed it seemed to be almost exclusively businesses.

"An arborist and a tailor?" he asked dryly, turning an unimpressed look at the man. Kuroe shrugged, a wry smirk playing across his lips.

"Don't expect any of those to be actual businesses. If you need anything, or see anything, just call one of the numbers in there. I'll let them know to keep an eye out for you." He pushed back his chair and got up, nodding at Shouto as he picked up his laptop. "Anyways, I need to get to work. Let yourself out whenever, and grab a hat if you want." With a final nod he turned and left, leaving Shouto to stare blandly at the flip phone.

He still didn't trust Kuroe, didn't know if he even trusted anyone on the phone's contacts to actually be helpful. But he thought back to the fiery intensity in those orange eyes, that note of protectiveness he'd heard so often during his time at UA. After a long moment of contemplation, he silently slid the phone and charger into his pocket and resumed eating the cereal.

Once he finished he returned to the bedroom to grab the other phone and its charger, and dug through the drawers to find a worn-looking gray beanie to cover his roots before slipping out of the house.

Day six of living in an alternate reality. Mina had officially reached the boredom threshold.

Going to a new school kept her busy and all that, but today was a Sunday. School didn't meet on Sundays. Apparently this one didn't even have class on most Saturdays, unlike UA which had a super-busy six-day schedule. The previous day they'd only had classes because of that villain attack shutting it down on Tuesday.

Now, normally, the weekend was a good thing. School was boring, Mina had enough trouble focusing on classes at UA, and that was a school that split between hero-related subjects and regular academics. Her new high school? Which had no hero course and focused purely on all the other stuff? It sucked. Sitting in classes all day going over stuff they hadn't covered at UA got really boring and frustrating, especially when she didn't need it.

The only things keeping Mina from just skipping classes entirely were Kumiko, Anjou and Kirishima. Hanging out with Kumiko again and getting to know Anjou was really fun, and while he still wasn't quite her Kirishima, Kirishima was still Kirishima. He'd been one of her best friends once they went to UA, and she could see more than enough of hers in this version to make up for the differences. Yeah, Mina really didn't see any point in going to school except to hang out with them at lunch and stuff.

But today Kumiko had to meet with her family and Anjou had unspecified stuff to do, leaving Mina with limited options for the day. Part of her contemplated going over to Kirishima's apartment two doors down and dragging him out to do stuff, but he'd said something about needing to do a major project for their science class due Monday. He'd sounded kind of panicked about it, so interrupting him might not be the best idea.

Maybe I should do that too, then, she thought, grimacing slightly at the prospect of homework, but then paused.

...She had no idea what science project was due on Monday.

"Well, guess that's out!" she declared with a cheery smile, throwing up her arms in celebration. Not like she could do the homework if she didn't know what it even was. Legitimate excuse! (Maybe she should be worried about how the teacher would respond tomorrow to her not having it, but that was a problem for Monday's Mina, not today's.)

But that still left her with nothing to do.

Smile fading, she hummed in heavy contemplation before going over to her laptop to flip it open. When in doubt, internet. Mina always did like the internet, it gave her plenty of stuff to do and look at when she couldn't come up with any ideas of her own. So far the internet here had been really depressing though; every time she searched something to find more about this world, it just seemed to give her bad news.

Except Ingenium. Iida would be so happy to know his brother was totally fine here and was still an active hero.

Mina's eyes lit up as she recalled her ever-serious classmate. They hadn't been particularly close, the class representative a bit too straight-laced for her carefree personality, but they still had plenty of fun moments. It was so funny to see him react to stuff. Their first week in the dorms someone dropped a banana peel in the kitchen and he actually slipped on it! That was hilarious.

She grinned as she remembered more stuff, like way back at the start of the year when the press managed to invade UA. She'd been one of the many kids in the packed hallway who saw him floating and sticking against the wall above the door, yelling at them to calm down. His body's position at the time led to people calling him "Emergency Exit Sign" for a couple of days afterwards. Of course Mina and several others had tried to convince him that would be a totally awesome hero name—

Ding.

Just like that Mina jolted upright, inspiration striking. Opening a new tab to FacePage, she went to her account settings and scrolled until she reached the option she wanted. This world's FacePage had some differences from the one she knew, namely the ability to create a "child" profile that could send and receive messages without being openly linked to the main one. It was a security precaution for people who were extra-paranoid about sharing their accounts with potential new friends, and they could be deleted easily.

Clicking the "create new" button she quickly filled out the form fields needed to generate a new profile, a giant Cheshire cat grin spreading across her lips when she saw her desired name was available. Her fingers flew across the keyboard as she set it up, quickly grabbing a picture online and messing with it in an art program to use as the profile picture. At the end she hit "submit" and leaned back, nodding to herself in satisfaction once it posted.

...Now if only she knew what to do next.

Kayama Nemuri's heels clicked against the tiled floor as she walked down the hallway, her fingers combing through her low ponytail with a mildly frustrated sigh. Today she wore a simple outfit, a long powder blue sweater to ward off the chill and a pair of thick navy leggings paired with black heeled ankle boots. It made for a rather casual looking outfit, much more cozy and fit for the late autumn chill than her old hero costume.

Of course, it would probably be warmer if not for all of the rips along the sleeves, strategically hidden along the seams to minimize the chances of anyone noticing. That one detail made this the closest thing she'd worn to a proper costume in a while.

Honestly, she missed her hero costume. Some people found Midnight's dominatrix-style outfit to be tasteless and too "racy" for a Pro Hero, but Nemuri didn't care about a "family-friendly" image. She hated the idea that Pro Heroes had to be "appropriate for all ages," had since she chose to use the title "18+ Only" when deciding her codename way back in high school. She didn't want to be limited to some preconception of how heroes should be. Plus, the thin bodysuit was so much easier to rip than literally all of her other clothing, only one step below her original concept.

Unfortunately though, the current state of society forced Nemuri to put her days as Midnight behind her to operate more behind the scenes. While Nemuri was perfectly fine at combat and didn't mind the increasing risk that came with operating publicly, her Quirk, Somnambulist, proved much more suitable for larger operations. The ability to put large amounts of enemies to sleep at once could easily turn the tides of a battle, and so she and her allies wanted to keep her continued career as low-key as possible to keep the edge of surprise.

That in turn meant no more patrols or slipping into her costume unless she was participating in a planned raid. Her Midnight persona just drew too much attention to herself to justify keeping in the public eye when the element of surprise could be so crucial. Sure, people still knew Midnight existed once, but after years out of the spotlight most villains forgot about her or wrote her off as a glorified sex icon who got scared off.

Though by no means did she just sit around doing nothing outside those raids. She'd just had to take a different approach to her activities.

Still miss being Midnight though, she thought wistfully as she opened the door to the meeting room. Several other former UA staff had already gathered around the table, Nezu flashing her a bright smile from the back. "Ah, Kayama-san!" he greeted politely. "Thank you for joining us today! I apologize for calling you out on short notice."

"No problem, I don't have to do anything scheduled until tomorrow," she replied, slipping into the empty seat next to Hizashi. She glanced over at her old friend, her eyebrows pinching together with worry. "Mic, are you holding up alright?" The blond huffed quietly, not looking at her.

"I'm fine," he muttered, not really easing her concern. He'd certainly looked better; while he'd largely stopped with his iconic cockatiel hairstyle outside publicized appearances a while back (too much time and work to prepare on short notice), his loosely looped ponytail looked more like a tangled rat's nest. She had to suppress a wince as she imagined how much it would hurt to try to remove it; they'd probably have to cut the band off.

Apparently the others shared her sentiments. "Mic, that mopey look on your face doesn't suit you," Snipe huffed. His gas mask made it impossible to see his expression but she could imagine a sharp glint in his eye as he stared at the Voice Hero. "You're supposed to be loud and proud, aren'tcha? Act like it!"

"Not in the mood," Hizashi grumbled, and across from them Kan sighed.

"Mic, you can't keep moping forever. It's been, what, almost six months now? That's a long time. Even Blank Slate doesn't know anything. By now—"

"Kan," Nemuri cut in sharply, shooting a pointed look towards Hizashi. His head bowed forward, his fists clenching on his lap beneath the table and his teeth visibly grinding in frustration. The silver-haired man looked at him and promptly shut his mouth, huffing softly through his nose. On Hizashi's other side Ectoplasm placed a hand on his shoulder, offering the blond silent comfort. Nemuri could see him tense briefly at the contact, but he soon relaxed.

"Is this everyone who's meeting today?" he asked, turning back to Nezu.

"It should be," the former principal confirmed with a bob of his head. "Recovery Girl is busy with a patient right now, but she's already been briefed on the situation."

"No Hound Dog or Cementoss?" Snipe piped up, glancing around the room. At the moment the long table had seven of its chairs occupied: Nemuri, Hizashi, Snipe, Kan, Power Loader, Ectoplasm, and Nezu himself.

"They're helping Thirteen up in the mountains," Power Loader offered on Nezu's behalf. "There was a landslide last night so they're trying to find people. They woke me up at two last night to get some gear before heading out."

Snipe scoffed as he leaned back. "Tch, should've guessed. Must be nice to work so openly like that." The complaint held no real heat or animosity. Of the former UA staff, those two had been the ones most suited to rescue operations. Villains thankfully tended to leave rescue heroes alone since they focused on saving people from natural disasters over fighting crime. Hound Dog and Cementoss still hung around, but they often got called to help.

"We can brief them later," Ectoplasm added. "We're recording this meeting to send a copy to Sir Nighteye, so we can just send them the tapes too."

"What is today's meeting about, anyway?" Nemuri asked, eager for the subject change. Searching her memory for joint ventures with Sir Nighteye's agency, she leaned forward and added, "Sir said they were going to investigate Shigaraki's 'brother,' right? Did they find something?"

Nezu perked up at that, his typical smile growing slightly as he bobbed his head. "Yes, there actually has been some progress on that front!" he confirmed cheerfully, and hopped out of his chair to pad over to the computer terminal in the corner of the room. Typing away at a speed they all struggled to follow, he explained, "We have not definitively confirmed anything, but they've narrowed it down to one suspect and used old photos in conjunction with the witness accounts to put together a detailed recreation of his face."

With a flourish he pressed a button and the computer monitor comprising the wall behind him lit up with three images. One showed a young boy about seven or so walking along a snowy playground, tufts of curly dark green hair poking out beneath a knit blue hat and face half-turned towards the camera to reveal freckled cheeks and bright green eyes. Next to it was a more direct photo of him at an even younger age, his smile almost timid as he gazed at the camera.

However, front and center was a computer-generated image of the same boy as a teenager, his curly hair just a bit more bushy and unkempt than before, and his face a bit sharper but still soft and round. His green eyes lacked the spark of life a real photo would hold, his expression blank and pushing the image just over the edge of the uncanny valley to send prickling unease creeping down everyone's spines.

Nezu appeared immune to its effects, turning to them with a smile as he clapped his paws together. "Everyone, please meet Midoriya Izuku, our most likely candidate for Shigaraki's brother."

Nezu's cheery proclamation was followed by silence as the gathered Heroes stared at the monitor, studying the three pictures intently. All of them had heard of Shigaraki's younger brother, the boy having been on their radar for over a year since he'd first been reported by one of Nighteye's interns. The computer-generated image certainly fit the description he'd given. However, as realistic as it looked, they knew it didn't guarantee total accuracy.

"Are those the only pictures you could find?" Power Loader muttered, his scowl perfectly clear without his helmet obscuring his face. "He looks like he's only five in one of them. Aren't there any other school photos?"

"Yes, well, the situation is delicate," Nezu hummed. "We can't make our search into this matter too obvious without risking negative backlash or unwanted attention, so that limits our options for how to investigate. That said, there isn't much information available about Midoriya-kun. He disappeared roughly eight years ago at the age of eight shortly after his parents died. A year later, his elementary school was destroyed after a bombing during its summer break, destroying all records and photos from his enrollment there."

"That is awfully convenient," Snipe remarked sarcastically. "I'm guessing finding a yearbook's a no-go, too."

"Sir Nighteye's agency did manage to attain two yearbooks," Ectoplasm spoke up, "from when he was six and seven. The one up there is from when he was six, but for some reason he couldn't take a photo when he turned seven. The next year, the company that printed the yearbook encountered some... problems, due to the actions of a disgruntled former employee with a technopath Quirk. It resulted in a large number of missing photographs."

"Right, I think I know what you're talking about," Nemuri murmured thoughtfully. "It screwed over schools all across the country, didn't it? I remember my cousin was really upset because that was the year he graduated middle school. I think they just recycled some of the photos from the previous year for individual pictures, but they lost most of the special class photos."

"That is correct," Nezu confirmed with a nod. "Midoriya's elementary school opted to publish a special edition just for the graduating class rather than retake all of the photographs."

"At least we can probably rule out sabotage in that case," Kan muttered, leaning back in his seat with a frown. "It doesn't help us much now, though."

"What about the police investigation?" Hizashi piped up. The discussion seemed to have helped assuage his initial bad mood, the blond's eyes looking a bit more lively as he focused on Nezu. "You said he vanished when he was eight. Even if his parents were dead, there's no way they wouldn't investigate it. He had to at least be staying with a foster family, right? Or have other relatives?"

"Yes, well, that's where things get complicated." Nezu's smile faded, invoking a sense of foreboding among the gathered former teachers. "Neither of his parents had any living relatives beyond some distant cousins on his mother's side, all of whom declined to take custody of him. Midoriya-kun was placed with some family friends, the Bakugou family, ostensibly until more permanent arrangements could be made. He ran away two months later, taking with him the only recent photos he had of himself.

"That same day," he continued, giving them all a pointed look, "his family's apartment complex coincidentally caught fire and burnt down, destroying nearly all other remaining photos. The only recent photo the Bakugous could present the police is the other one on the screen."

A brief silence fell after he finished. "What," Nemuri said flatly, voicing the sentiments of everyone in the room.

"Yeah, no, this is definitely suspicious," Snipe declared with a snort. "Even if he's not the Izuku we're looking for, there's definitely something up with this."

"So how'd he end up with the Alliance, then?" Power Loader asked. "It sounds like they either targeted him specifically, or just picked him off the street."

"But if he got picked up back then, it doesn't make sense he's never appeared until last year," Kan muttered. "The kid would be fifteen or sixteen by now, and the Alliance definitely has members who're younger than that."

Nemuri hummed as she listened to the idle speculation of her colleagues, turning over the information in her head. "Maybe his Quirk is something more suited for behind the scenes? Like an intelligence or foresight Quirk?"

There was a distinct pause after her question, Nezu and Ectoplasm exchanging knowing glances that made her want to groan. Dammit, whatever they had to say would not be good. "Yes, about his Quirk," their former principal began carefully.

"He doesn't have one," Ectoplasm finished dryly.

Dead. Silence.

"...He what," Snipe deadpanned.

"According to all records Midoriya Izuku is, in fact, Quirkless," Nezu confirmed with a nod. "In fact, it seems he experienced a good deal of bullying for it. If he does have a Quirk, he is a remarkably late bloomer, and a rare one with the extra toe joint."

"The hell?" Hizashi blurted, slamming his hands on the table as he rose. "You mean the Alliance took in someone Quirkless!? Why would they do that?" His voice held no derision towards the boy's apparent Quirkless status, just mere incredulity at the notion which Nemuri shared. After all, what use could a group of villains have for a traumatized eight-year-old orphan with no obvious skills they could exploit?

"We... honestly do not know," Nezu admitted, and now he sounded almost sheepish. "Our limited interrogations of captured Alliance members have confirmed Shigaraki is highly protective of him though, as he always made a point to keep Izuku away from business deals and threaten new members to stay away. Him being Quirkless may at least explain that attitude. Just not why Shigaraki cares for him so deeply."

"My money's on Shigaraki just being impulsive," Power Loader offered almost lazily. "He would've still been an actual child if he'd grabbed the kid back then. He could have found him in the park and decided to just take him back like a stray puppy."

"That's one hell of a start to his villain career," Kan grumbled under his breath. "Kidnapping a Quirkless kid. Seriously, what's the angle?"

As the staff began debating the new information Nemuri just sank into her seat with a sigh, staring down at the table. Her eyes flitted to Hizashi as he vigorously voiced his own thoughts, feeling a pang of relief at the burst of energy. It had been a while since she'd seen him so worked up, usually he spent the meetings in gloomy silence.

I really need to see him more, she thought guiltily. Being busy with work was no excuse to not see one of her best friends, especially after everything that had happened. Her gaze trailed to the empty chair pushed against the wall behind where Ectoplasm now sat, a pang of grief twisting in her chest.

It had now been nearly six months since Aizawa Shouta had disappeared.