Chapter 1: The Beginning of a New Story.
They should never have survived.
The world of dreams shattered into bloody, golden, and anthracite splinters as two higher powers — the boundless, searing light of the Goddess and the all-consuming darkness of the Shadow Lord — collided in one final chaotic clash. Hallownest itself was tearing apart at the seams. Grimm, trapped in the middle of this apocalypse, fought until the very end to preserve the balance, to protect the divine crimson heart from the flames of Light and the hunger of the Void.
And then the dimensional catastrophe happened.
The fabric of reality simply could not endure it. It snapped like an overstretched string and dragged all three of them into the black throat of the unknown, mercilessly squeezing the divine essence out of their very beings.
When they regained consciousness, the world had changed.
There was no dampness of insect-filled caverns, no grandeur of Nightmare. Only cold, filthy rain lashing against their faces and strange, unbearably fragile bodies.
The bodies of human infants.
They were found on the doorstep of the state orphanage "Green Valley" on the outskirts of Mustafu. Three children wrapped in dirty rags who did not even cry. They merely stared at the caretakers who picked them up with expressions that sent chills crawling down the spines of grown adults.
Four years passed.
Four years of a secret, silent war hidden within the walls of the orphanage.
The headmistress's office resembled a battlefield, despite the fact that the children seated before her desk were perfectly still. The middle-aged woman nervously shuffled papers, trying not to meet the eyes of the trio secretly nicknamed "the cursed triangle" by the staff.
"You frightened the children in the yard again," the headmistress said quietly, struggling to keep her voice steady. "The caretakers say the other children can barely breathe from fear whenever you're nearby."
On the chair to the right sat a girl with incredibly thick, slightly messy golden-white hair. Her large amber-gold eyes, with vertical pupils like those of a reptile or an insect, stared at the woman with such open, arrogant defiance that the headmistress unconsciously clenched her fist.
This was Myla.
She crossed her arms and threw one leg over the other in an exaggerated display of contempt, her entire posture screaming that this conversation was beneath her dignity.
"They're weak and stupid," Myla snapped, her voice edged with metallic irritation as she shrugged dismissively. Exactly like a rebellious teenager, despite being only four years old. "They keep touching my things. If those losers can't keep their distance, that's their problem. Next time I'll just burn their eyes out, got it?"
"Myla, dear, your aristocratic outrage is, as always, a bit too loud for such a small room."
The calm, soft, yet strangely deep voice came from the left.
The boy with porcelain-white skin and sharp features smoothly adjusted the collar of his old gray sweater, which somehow looked on him like a custom-tailored tailcoat. Grimm's blue-black hair curled upward neatly at both sides, resembling small elegant horns. His deep crimson eyes narrowed slightly as he turned toward the headmistress, displaying flawless, almost adult-like manners.
"Please forgive my... sister," Grimm emphasized the word with a faintly theatrical smile. "Her light tends to weigh rather heavily on those around her. Much like my crimson flame. We promise to behave with greater restraint. Within reason, of course."
The headmistress swallowed the lump in her throat.
Grimm behaved the most maturely out of the three, yet there was something deeply wrong about that childlike elegance of his. Something predatory.
And between them sat the third child.
The smallest one.
Shade.
He hid his hands inside the sleeves of an oversized black hoodie. His ash-gray skin looked almost lifeless beneath the dull fluorescent lights, and his completely black eyes, where only two tiny white pupils glimmered, remained fixed on a single point on the desk.
Shade did not move.
He rarely moved at all, and almost never spoke. Ever since ending up in this body, he still could not adapt to the concept of human emotions. The world around him felt too bright, too loud, while his own facial expressions seemed like a foreign language he could not understand. Around his feet, the shadows on the floor lived lives of their own, stretching and shrinking like obedient hounds.
"Shade..." the headmistress addressed him carefully, but the boy did not even blink.
Whenever he was nearby, the temperature in the room dropped several degrees, and the lights always seemed dimmer.
The trio remained silent, each lost in their own thoughts.
They hated this orphanage.
They hated this world, where their once limitless divine powers had been reduced by government records to mere "quirks." Between Myla and Shade still lingered the heavy, almost tangible tension — the echo of the ancient war that had cast them into this place. They despised each other.
Every day Grimm balanced between them, acting as the sole diplomat who understood one terrifying truth: if Light and Void clashed again within these fragile human bodies, the authorities would lock them away in some government laboratory as experimental rats.
They stayed together for one reason only.
Survival.
Two hours later, the caretakers led the children on their weekly walk to the local shopping district — another failed attempt at "socialization."
People on the streets of Mustafu avoided the trio as if they carried a plague.
Myla walked ahead with her chin raised high, her amber eyes sweeping over passersby with open disdain. Grimm walked neatly beside her with his hands behind his back, while Shade trailed behind, barely keeping pace, completely submerged in his silence.
They sat down on a long wooden bench near the produce stalls, far away from the other children from the orphanage. Even the caretaker stepped several meters away from them, pretending to examine a shop window.
They were outsiders.
Rejects of this world whom no one wanted to acknowledge.
That was when a woman happened to pass by the bench.
Inko Midoriya carried a heavy bag of groceries in her hands — fresh vegetables for dinner. Her thoughts were far away. Just a few days earlier, a doctor had delivered the final, merciless verdict regarding her little son Izuku:
"Quirkless."
Since that day, her four-year-old boy had almost faded away. The children at the playground had begun avoiding him, while his former best friend, Kacchan, now looked at him with contempt. Izuku spent hours alone in his room, clutching his All Might figure and crying quietly, abandoned by society and pushed to the sidelines.
Inko's heart was breaking from helplessness.
Then her gaze accidentally landed on the bench.
Three children sat there.
A golden-haired girl glaring hatefully at the world, her tiny fists clenched tight.
A pale boy with crimson eyes desperately maintaining a proud posture despite his worn-out clothes.
And the third child — small, grayish, curled into the corner of the bench with his face hidden beneath a hood, utterly alone inside his mute vacuum.
Passersby glanced nervously at them and hurried away.
"They're creepy... let's go faster. Feels cold just standing near them..." someone muttered quietly.
Inko froze.
Something inside her clenched so sharply that the grocery bag nearly slipped from her fingers.
She recognized that look.
That isolation.
The invisible barrier society had built around those three children was exactly the same one now suffocating her little Izuku alone in his empty room.
They were just as lonely.
Just as abandoned.
Inko Midoriya had no idea who they were. She did not know what powers slumbered within those tiny bodies.
She only saw children who needed protection.
Taking a deep breath, Inko tightened her grip on the grocery bag and firmly walked straight toward the bench, ignoring the warning look from the orphanage caretaker.
Grimm was the first to hear the footsteps approaching the bench.
His crimson eyes instantly swept over the woman's figure, analyzing every movement. An ordinary mortal. Weak breathing, heavy grocery bags, shoulders lowered with exhaustion. And yet, there was something in the way she walked that made him subtly tense — a strange, gentle determination.
Myla did not even move. Only her golden pupils narrowed into thin blades. She gave a disdainful snort and crossed her legs more dramatically, though inside her tiny body the essence of Light instinctively tightened, ready to erupt into protective fire at the slightest threat.
Shade remained motionless, but the shadows near his shoes twitched almost imperceptibly toward the woman.
Inko Midoriya stopped two steps away from the bench. Carefully setting the heavy grocery bag down on the ground, she looked at the trio with a warm, gentle smile.
"Hello," she said softly. "It's pretty cold to be sitting out here. Aren't you freezing?"
Myla sharply turned her head toward her. Her face twisted into its familiar arrogant expression.
"What's it to you, lady?" she snapped rudely, frowning. "Go wherever you were going. We're not cold. And we don't need help, got it?"
Grimm closed his eyes for a brief moment and sighed internally at such terrible manners. He smoothly inclined his head and lightly nudged Myla with his elbow, earning an irritated hiss from her.
"Please forgive my sister, ma'am," Grimm said, maintaining his flawless, faintly theatrical composure. "She simply isn't accustomed to strangers showing us any interest. We appreciate your concern, but we are perfectly fine."
Inko did not back away.
Hearing this four-year-old child speak like an elderly aristocrat only made the ache in her chest tighten further. She crouched down in front of the bench until she was level with their eyes. Her gaze moved over the golden-haired girl, the pale little gentleman, and finally settled on Shade, who still had not lifted his head and continued gripping the sleeves of his oversized hoodie tightly.
There was so much loneliness in his posture that Inko instantly thought of her Izuku.
Her son was probably sitting exactly the same way in his room right now — hiding from the world, crushed by the doctor's recent diagnosis of being quirkless and by the contempt of former friends. The invisible wall society had built around these three children was one she recognized immediately.
She saw it every day in her own home.
"You know..." Inko carefully rested her hand on the edge of the bench beside Shade. "My son is probably sitting home alone right now too. It just made me really sad when I saw you all sitting here by yourselves. His name is Izuku, and he's... been very lonely lately."
Shade slowly — very slowly — raised his head.
His completely black eyes, with only two tiny white pupils, met Inko's gaze.
For the first time in four years inside this body, he felt something strange.
It was not Myla's searing light, nor Grimm's burning crimson flames.
It was human warmth.
Pure warmth that demanded nothing from him — neither Vessel nor Lord of Void.
His expressions were still locked away by his inability to understand human emotions, but somewhere deep inside, something tiny and forgotten stirred for the very first time in response to that softness.
The shadows around his feet suddenly calmed, gently curling around Inko's shoes as though trying to keep this source of warmth close and never let it leave.
At that moment, the orphanage caretaker slowly approached the bench from where she had been standing near the shop window.
"Ma'am, excuse me," she said calmly, though somewhat stiffly, casting a tired glance at the children. "It's better not to disturb them. They're orphans from our institution, and they're rather... peculiar. We should be heading back now. Children, stand up and line up."
The caretaker stepped forward and casually reached out to place a hand on Myla's shoulder, intending to guide her back toward the others. There was no aggression in her actions — only the routine sternness of an exhausted woman eager for her shift to end.
But to Shade, who had only just found his very first anchor in this cold and alien world, that hand felt like a threat.
Some instinctive fear seized him — fear that this woman, Inko, would be taken away from him and that he would once again be left alone in the emptiness of the gray orphanage.
Shade rose from the bench first.
The light around them dimmed several shades darker, and the temperature dropped sharply.
The caretaker froze in startled fear as the shadows beneath the bench stretched forward like living black ribbons, blocking her path and forming a wall between her and Inko.
The boy merely stared at the adult with his empty black eyes.
There was no emotion on his face, but something about that unmoving gaze suddenly made it hard for the caretaker to breathe. Primitive terror crawled down her spine.
The shadows around him moved on their own, subconsciously reacting to his inner panic and his desperate unwillingness to let Inko go.
The moment Myla saw the caretaker dare to reach toward them, anger instantly flared within her — though for completely different reasons. The very idea that some mortal woman would try to command her offended her pride.
She slapped the caretaker's hand away, lifting her chin proudly.
"Take your hands off me!" she barked in her usual arrogant tone. "I'm not going anywhere until I decide to, got it? Stop ordering me around, you stupid cow!"
Grimm, meanwhile, reacted purely as a diplomat.
Quickly standing beside Shade, he placed a hand on the smaller boy's shoulder, trying to soothe the agitated Void before the shadows terrified the entire shopping district and attracted the attention of heroes.
"It would be wise not to make any sudden movements, ma'am," Grimm said calmly, though there was iron beneath his voice as he fixed the caretaker with his crimson eyes. "My brother is... somewhat sensitive to unwanted contact. Please take a step back."
Inko watched the entire scene in stunned silence.
She saw the golden-haired girl's arrogance. She saw the strange adult restraint of the boy beside her.
But her eyes kept returning to the smallest child.
Shade still clung tightly to his shadows, protecting that brief moment of warmth she had given him. He was afraid of losing it.
His abilities looked terrifying.
But the child himself was simply frightened and alone.
That desperate, silent attempt at protection overturned something deep inside Inko completely.
She realized that if she allowed the caretaker to take them back to that gray institution now, she would never forgive herself.
"Enough," Inko said quietly but firmly as she stood up.
She gently touched Shade's shoulder.
The moment her warm hand rested against him, the boy shuddered slightly, and the black ribbons of shadow obediently retreated beneath the bench.
Then Inko turned toward the bewildered caretaker.
"I'm taking them."
"What?" the woman blinked in shock, glancing between Inko and the children who still radiated that unnatural chill. "Are you sure? They're very difficult, and they barely speak to anyone—"
"I'm taking them," Inko Midoriya repeated, and there was not a trace of doubt in her voice. "I'll complete whatever paperwork is necessary. They are not staying in that orphanage any longer."
Her gaze softened as she looked back at the three children.
"They have a home now."
The paperwork took far longer than Inko could have ever imagined.
The headmistress of the "Green Valley" orphanage processed the documents with such haste that it almost seemed as though she feared the strange woman might change her mind and return the trio. She signed form after form without even attempting to hide the relief in her eyes. Getting rid of the three most unpredictable and unsettling children in the orphanage — children who, over four years, had failed to make a single friend and had only succeeded in frightening the staff — felt like a blessing from fate.
Throughout all of this, Myla, Grimm, and Shade sat together on a couch in the hallway.
Myla swung her legs irritably while inspecting her nails with the expression of someone doing the world a tremendous favor simply by existing in it. Grimm sat perfectly straight with his small hands resting neatly on his knees, occasionally glancing toward the closed office door.
And Shade...
Shade had curled himself into the corner of the couch, pulling the hood of his black sweatshirt almost down to his nose. The shadows beneath his feet no longer lashed out in different directions. Instead, they remained still, stretched into one long thin line pointing toward the office where Inko was.
His connection to that woman — born from the Void's first-ever response to warmth — kept him in a state of taut tension.
When the office door finally opened, Inko stepped into the hallway.
She looked exhausted, yet a soft victorious smile glowed on her face. In her hands she carried a thick folder of documents along with three small backpacks containing the children's meager belongings.
"Well then, little ones?" Inko said quietly as she crouched in front of them. "Everything's officially finished. You're coming with me now."
Myla snorted and immediately jumped off the couch, snatching her backpack from Inko's hands.
"Finally. I was sick of that dump already," the girl muttered, slinging the bag over one shoulder and turning away dramatically, though her amber pupils widened for a brief moment with hidden excitement.
"We are sincerely grateful for your efforts, Mrs. Midoriya," Grimm said as he rose smoothly to his feet, carefully taking his own backpack before bowing his head with elegant precision. "I assure you, we shall try not to become an excessive burden. As much as our circumstances allow, naturally."
Shade stood last.
He did not take his backpack — Inko gently placed it onto his shoulders herself. The boy took a small step forward and stopped beside her grocery bags, silently waiting for instructions.
He still did not know how to express what was happening inside his small human body, but his shadows obediently wrapped themselves around the handles of the heavy bags, as though trying to lighten the weight for her.
"Oh, thank you, sweetheart," Inko smiled warmly when she noticed the gesture. "Well then, shall we go home? There's someone very special waiting for you there."
The walk to the apartment complex where the Midoriyas lived passed mostly in silence.
Myla walked slightly ahead of the group, pretending to study the shop signs while actually watching every passerby who came too close to Inko. Grimm walked beside the woman, occasionally maintaining polite small talk about the weather or Mustafu's architecture, repeatedly leaving Inko mildly stunned by the fact that his vocabulary sounded nothing like that of a four-year-old child.
Shade stayed behind them all, walking so closely behind Inko that he almost stepped on her heels, as if terrified of falling even a centimeter behind.
When they finally reached the correct floor and Inko inserted the key into the lock, the trio of fallen gods instinctively tensed.
They were entering entirely unfamiliar territory.
The territory of another mortal.
The very son the woman had spoken about.
The door opened with a quiet creak.
The hallway was warm and smelled like homemade food. Standing at the entrance, clutching a worn All Might figure tightly in his hands, was a small boy. His curly green hair was messy, freckles dotted his cheeks, and his large green eyes — still red from recent tears — stared at the three guests in surprise and fear.
This was Izuku.
He knew his mother had gone grocery shopping. He knew she had promised him some kind of "surprise," but he certainly had not expected three children his age to appear at the doorway looking as though they had stepped straight out of some strange fairy tale.
Myla immediately stepped forward from behind Inko.
She looked Izuku up and down critically, examining him from the tips of his curly green hair all the way to his red sneakers.
"Hm. So this is the famous Izuku?" she drawled arrogantly, crossing her arms and lifting her nose high into the air. "He's kind of tiny. And way too green. Looks like a broccoli."
Izuku instantly flinched at her sharp tone, clutching the All Might figure tighter against his chest as he took a nervous step backward.
"Myla, your manners once again leave much to be desired," Grimm's calm voice interrupted as he smoothly stepped around the girl and moved forward instead.
Unlike Myla, he made no attempt to pressure the boy. His crimson eyes studied their future brother gently.
"Please forgive her, Izuku. My name is Grimm. And this," he said with a graceful gesture toward the golden-haired girl, "is my exceptionally loud sister, Myla. It is a pleasure to meet you."
Izuku blinked in confusion, shifting his gaze between the golden girl and the pale boy who spoke like an actual prince. His childish mind struggled desperately to process everything.
Then the third child slowly emerged from the shadows of the hallway.
Shade stopped beside Grimm.
His oversized hood slipped back slightly, revealing an ash-gray face and completely black eyes marked only by two tiny white pupils. He did not say a single word. His expression remained utterly motionless, as though carved from stone.
And yet, the moment he looked at Izuku, the shadows around his small feet stirred.
Not aggressively like before the caretaker.
Slowly.
Carefully.
The shadows crept across the floor toward Izuku's green sneakers like curious little puppies trying to sniff a new friend.
Izuku held his breath.
He stared at the black ribbons gently brushing against his shoes and, instead of fear, he felt something strange.
A deep loneliness radiated from this boy.
The exact same loneliness Izuku himself felt every night lying alone in his bed.
For several seconds, complete silence filled the hallway.
Still clutching his All Might figure, Izuku lowered his gaze toward the black ribbons of shadow gently curling around his sneakers. They did not hurt him. They did not sting like Kacchan's explosions, and there was no threat radiating from them.
They simply... sought warmth.
Carefully, as though afraid a single careless movement might shatter this strange magic, Izuku took a small step toward Shade.
The shadows responded immediately, stretching softly after his movement.
Izuku lifted his large green eyes, and pure childish curiosity suddenly ignited within them, momentarily eclipsing all the sadness that had weighed him down for days.
"Whoa..." Izuku whispered in amazement, staring at Shade. "Is that your... your quirk? Are they alive? They're so... amazing. It's like they're drawing on the floor."
Shade flinched slightly.
He had expected anything — screaming, crying, fear, the usual mortal disgust.
But this green-haired boy had not recoiled from his Void.
More than that, he had called it amazing.
Something deep inside the small body of the former Vessel stirred again with a dull ache.
Shade slowly tilted his head to the side, studying Izuku with his empty black eyes. His facial expressions still refused to obey him, but the black ribbons on the floor suddenly became more animated, lifting slightly before settling again near the feet of their new acquaintance, as though expressing mute, clumsy surprise.
Hearing the admiration in Izuku's voice, Myla let out an irritated snort and stepped forward, partially blocking Shade from view.
The ego of the Goddess of Light simply could not tolerate some mortal child praising gloomy Void in her presence.
"Seriously? That's what impressed you?" Myla scoffed sharply, proudly puffing out her chest and showing off her amber eyes. "They're just dirty black stains. My light is real power. I can burn away any darkness if I want to, got it? So don't start thinking he's cooler than me, runt!"
Izuku jolted at her sudden tone, but instead of hurt, sparks of genuine fascination lit up his eyes.
The little quirk analyst inside him — buried beneath depression for days — instantly awakened.
"Golden light?" Izuku murmured, already forgetting his fear of the rude girl. "Can you make flashes? Or beams? How hot is it? And can it maybe—"
"Easy there, little researcher," Grimm interrupted with a graceful smile, gently placing a hand on Myla's shoulder before she exploded in anger again. "Your curiosity does you credit, but we have only just arrived. I believe it would be wiser for all of us to remove our shoes and head inside first."
Inko, who had been silently watching the scene unfold near the doorway the entire time, suddenly felt tears rolling down her cheeks — this time from overwhelming relief.
She had not been wrong.
Her Izuku, who only an hour ago had been hiding from the world, was coming back to life right before her eyes. These strange, sharp-edged children from the orphanage had not pushed him away.
And he had not been afraid of them.
"Yes, yes, come on inside, little ones," Inko fussed warmly, wiping her tears with the edge of her sleeve as she shut the front door behind them. "Take off your shoes and leave your backpacks here. I'll make lunch really quickly — you must all be starving! Izuku, sweetheart, could you show them the living room?"
"O-Okay, Mom!" Izuku nodded quickly, still clutching the All Might figure, though now his attention remained completely fixed on the trio. "Come with me. It's... kinda small, but there's enough room."
Myla was the first to kick off her old shoes, not even bothering to line them up properly, and confidently marched after Izuku as though she already owned the apartment.
Grimm carefully removed his own shoes, aligning them perfectly parallel to the wall before adjusting his collar and following after the others with smooth elegance.
Shade lingered behind.
For a long moment he awkwardly struggled with his shoelaces, his childish fingers still refusing to cooperate properly with his restrained mind. By the time he finally managed it, Inko had already disappeared into the kitchen, while Grimm and Myla had vanished deeper into the apartment.
He was left alone in the empty hallway.
Then, suddenly, messy green curls peeked back around the corner of the living room.
Izuku had returned.
He looked at Shade, who stood alone near the entrance with his hands hidden inside the sleeves of his hoodie, and smiled softly.
"Hey... why are you still standing there?" Izuku called quietly, holding out his hand toward him. "Come on."
Shade froze.
A human being stood before him, voluntarily asking him to come along.
Not like the caretakers who dragged him around by the collar.
Not like Grimm, who called him over out of necessity because they had to stay together.
Izuku was simply inviting him.
For a brief instant, the tiny white pupils in Shade's black eyes gleamed faintly.
Slowly, he stepped forward, ignoring the offered hand — he still feared human touch too much for that — but his shadows obediently slid across the floor instead, forming a thin black path connecting his feet to Izuku's.
Binding them together within this strange, unfamiliar new home.
The Midoriya apartment's living room was small, but cozy.
Light-colored wallpaper, a soft couch buried beneath All Might toys, and a large window through which the final rays of evening sunlight slipped into the room.
Myla immediately jumped onto the couch like she owned the place, shoving several toy figures aside before throwing her arms behind her head. Her amber eyes lazily scanned the room.
Grimm, meanwhile, remained standing near the entrance with his hands delicately folded behind his back.
Shade entered last, quietly settling himself on the very edge of a chair near the table, trying to occupy as little space as possible. His shadows, which had followed Izuku all the way there, now rested sluggishly beneath the couch, exploring the unfamiliar corners of the room.
Izuku stood in the middle of it all, shifting awkwardly from foot to foot.
His childish fear had completely vanished, replaced instead by an overwhelming desire to learn more about his strange new housemates.
"U-Um... what are your names in the papers?" he asked shyly, glancing between Grimm and Myla. "Mom said you stay together because you're family."
"We're not family," Myla snapped instantly, curling her lip in disgust. The mere thought of being connected to Shade's Void stirred ancient divine irritation deep inside her. "Circumstances just worked out that way. I'm Myla. That's more than enough for you to remember."
"What my sister means to say," Grimm smoothly interrupted, sending Myla a warning glance, "is that our bonds are somewhat... more complicated than those of ordinary humans. In the orphanage records, we are listed under the same names I gave you earlier. We do not possess surnames. Only Grimm, Myla, and Shade."
"No surnames..." Izuku whispered, and that same warm sadness returned to his eyes. "Then... now you're Midoriyas too. If Mom said so. Grimm-kun is a really cool name! It sounds like the name of some mysterious hero!"
Grimm fell silent for a moment.
His pale face remained composed, but his crimson eyes narrowed slightly in surprise.
Midoriya Grimm.
The idea sounded so strange and foreign to a being who had ruled Nightmare for millennia that he unconsciously adjusted his collar, hiding a flicker of embarrassment beneath his usual aristocratic mask.
"That is... a rather unusual concept, Izuku," Grimm replied quietly, inclining his head slightly. "But I do not object to it."
While Izuku eagerly tried to question Grimm about his crimson flames, the incredible aroma of fried meat and spices drifted in from the kitchen.
A few moments later, the kitchen door opened, and Inko entered the room carrying a large tray while breathing heavily but still smiling warmly.
"Lunch is ready!" she announced cheerfully, placing the dish at the center of the table. "Fresh katsudon! Come on, wash your hands and sit down before it gets cold."
For the trio of gods, who had survived for four years on tasteless gray porridge in the orphanage, the sight and smell alone came as a genuine shock.
Even proud Myla immediately sat upright, her nostrils twitching faintly.
Grimm swallowed discreetly, trying to maintain his composure.
And for the first time since arriving, Shade slowly pulled both hands out from the sleeves of his hoodie, staring in silent fascination at the plate Inko set directly in front of him.
"Enjoy your meal!" Inko and Izuku said together.
At first, silence filled the table, broken only by the soft clicking of chopsticks.
Myla ate quickly and shamelessly, snatching the best pieces while chewing loudly as though demonstrating that Light had the right to claim everything.
Grimm, in complete contrast, handled his chopsticks with such flawless grace that it looked as though he had spent his entire life dining at royal banquets, carefully dividing each piece into neat portions.
And Shade simply froze.
He picked up a piece of meat, brought it to his mouth, and swallowed slowly.
His completely black eyes widened.
The taste of warm, lovingly prepared homemade food was so rich that a pleasant tremor instantly spread through his small body.
He looked toward Inko, who gently placed another helping onto his plate, and beneath the table his shadows suddenly curled themselves into tiny neat rings — the highest form of peace and satisfaction his weakened Void-born existence was still capable of expressing.
Izuku, who sat across from him, suddenly leaned forward with his chopsticks and dropped the biggest, juiciest piece of meat onto Shade's plate.
"Here," Izuku said with a sincere smile, the freckles on his cheeks crinkling adorably. "You're really skinny. Mom always says you have to eat properly if you want to grow strong!"
Shade looked down at the meat.
Then at Izuku.
His expressions were still trapped behind the alien rules of this human world, incapable of forming a smile in return.
But in that moment, an unshakable silent bond formed between the two four-year-old boys.
Shade slowly nodded.
It was the first voluntary interaction he had ever shared with anyone in this universe outside of their trio.
Once lunch was over, Inko began clearing the table.
The trio of fallen gods gathered together on the couch again while Izuku settled comfortably onto the carpet beside them.
For the first time in four years, the tension that had haunted them inside the orphanage began to weaken.
They were still enemies from another world.
Myla still despised Shade.
Shade remained indifferent to her light.
And Grimm still watched over both of them carefully.
None of them would ever reveal the truth to Inko or Izuku about what they truly were. To this world, they would remain nothing more than orphaned children with strange and frightening quirks.
But here, inside this small warm living room, listening to the sincere laughter of the green-haired boy and the gentle sounds of Inko moving around the kitchen, the three of them unconsciously realized something for the very first time.
They would protect this home.
Not because they had suddenly become a family.
Not because they had learned to love humanity.
But because this little green-haired boy and his mother were the only beings who had looked at them and failed to see monsters.
And if anyone in this cruel mortal world ever tried to hurt or take away their new "safe place"—
The three gods, without needing to speak a single word, would reduce the attacker to ash.