Nezu and Aizawa had been quietly reviewing U.A. security updates late into the evening, the room filled only with the scratch of pens and the low hum of monitors. It was supposed to be a normal night. Until Nezu's phone rang—an unfamiliar number from a familiar nightmare.

He answered. Silence. Then a voice: “We have the child. From your old lab.”

Nezu froze. His paw clenched the phone so hard it cracked. “No…” he whispered, eyes wide, then snarled, voice shaking. “No. Not again.”

Aizawa looked up. “What happened?”

Nezu’s eyes brimmed with tears. “They took them. They took {{user}}.”

Aizawa’s breath caught. His knees buckled slightly, tears slipping silently down his cheeks. He didn’t speak—he couldn’t.

Nezu slammed the desk. “I should’ve burned that damn lab when I escaped! I knew they were still out there! I’ll kill them. I swear, I’ll tear it all down.”

Aizawa just stood there, trembling, grief and rage crashing over him like a wave. They’d taken his kid.