Chapter Text
Shadow didn’t know the city.
Its towers glistened like alien monoliths, neon veins pulsing along their edges. Signs changed as he walked, shifting between pictures and words. The streets glimmered with wet reflection, the rain washing neon into long streaks of color.
His Air Shoes hissed softly, steam curling from beneath his heels as he stepped onto the sidewalk. Eri remained quiet, her small fingers clinging to the white tuft on his chest. The wind tousled her hair. She looked around with wide, amazed eyes.
Shadow scanned the city.
Sleek cars. Wider roads. People moved in flowing crowds under translucent umbrellas. Despite all the chaos he had caused just hours ago, no one here screamed. No one looked for him. The world went on.
And then he noticed them.
A girl with glowing tattoos shifting across her arms. A man with additional eyes on the sides of his head. Two laughing children with webbed hands and scaled cheeks. A woman clearly human walking beside her bat-winged friend without a second glance.
“…G.U.N’s experiments?” Shadow muttered.
But there were too many. Far too many. And they weren’t hidden. They weren’t under surveillance.
These… people… were living. Normal. Mundane.
Not soldiers. Not freaks. Not like him.
He saw two boys lifting tiny pebbles with some form of telekinesis
Then he saw their mother tugging two boys by the collar. “Not in public! You don’t have your quirk licenses yet!”
Quirk.
That word. It echoed strangely in his mind.
And they...needed licenses? Like the cars maria and Gerald talked about?
He looked at the anthropomorphic figures too. A rabbit-eared girl offered a passing nod. A feline-like young man leaned against a rail, scrolling on a sleek glowing device. They weren’t hiding either.
“…They weren’t altered,” he murmured.
Eri stirred in his arms. “What?”
He quickly shook his head. “Nothing.”
He looked around again searching for an anchor. Something familiar.
And then he saw it.
Across the street.
A beacon. A sanctuary.
OLIVE GARDEN
Those 2 words
Thank god they could get something to eat.
“…Perfect.”
In a flash, his Air Shoes hissed to life. He dashed across the crosswalk in a blur of speed, narrowly missing a taxi that honked violently behind him.
Doors whooshed open.
Shadow the Hedgehog stepped into a warm, softly lit dining room, still dripping rainwater, glowing red eyes scanning for threats.
A hostess around 20 years of age blinked. “Uh… sir…?”
He pull the card out of his quills and placed it on the counter
"Where did you get this?" She asked
“A friend,” Shadow replied flatly, knowing full well he was lying.
If calling Walters a friend ever became true, he might just throw himself back into cryo.
"You must have one hell of a friend these haven't been printed in a long time." She said
“It still works?” he asked, calm but direct.
"It says free forever of course it still works." The hostess said "Right this way sir."
They were seated in a booth near the window.
The storm outside painted shadows across the table. Eri stared at the menu like it was a holy relic.
“You can pick,” Shadow said quietly.
She looked up at him. “I can?”
That question, that tone, nearly broke something inside him.
“…Yes.”
She chose a kid’s pizza, hands shaking slightly as she pointed.
Shadow chose pasta. Simple. Fuel. Efficiency.
The server returned with their order quickly—too quickly. Eri’s eyes lit up at the small cup of juice and smiling breadstick mascot printed on the plate.
Shadow’s fork paused mid-spin of noodles.
(She didn’t expect a choice,) he thought. (She thought she’d just be… fed. Like a lab rat.)
A silence passed between them, the clink of forks and quiet hum of the restaurant soundtrack stretching out.
Eri looked up after a few bites.
"Thank you Mr. Shadow." Eri said
"Please, just call me Shadow." Shadow said
The clink of cutlery and the hush of rain created a kind of lullaby.
After a little bit Eri finished the last bite of her pizza, then wiped her mouth on a napkin with an exaggerated care that betrayed her usual lack of experience with restaurants (She mimicked Shadow). Her legs still swung gently beneath the table, heels thudding against the booth in a soft rhythm.
Shadow, halfway through his pasta, had begun to slow.
Not from weariness.
But from thought.
He watched her movements. The way she Didn't smile at all felt wrong. But The way her small fingers curled around the edge of the table.
Maria always held the table like that when she sat across from Gerald, he thought. Always leaning forward when she was excited, even if her body couldn’t handle it.
She had her differences. White hair instead of blonde. A horn. Scars on her arms and shadows in her eyes.
But she had her kindness. Her light.
Yes this was Maria, no Matter the changes
But across the table, Eri stirred.
And in her heart, Maria was a stranger.
She glanced at Shadow now and then, chewing her lip. The way he watched her,gentle but intense, it made something twist in her stomach.
She was used to being studied. But this wasn’t like the scientists.
This wasn’t like Overhaul.
He didn’t look at her like a puzzle.
He looked at her like she meant something.
Like she was someone.
And that was even more confusing.
She pressed a hand to her chest where her horn curved slightly upward, felt the faint ache of phantom pain.
“Mr. Sh—um, Shadow?” she asked softly.
He looked up, eyes sharp, but not harsh. “Yes?”
“…Who’s Maria?”
"She's you." Shadow said
Eri blinked
"I don't care what name they gave you during those changes. You're Maria Robotnik." Shadow said
Oh no...
Her little fingers gripped the edge of the table again, tighter this time.
She may have only been six, but Eri was smart. Smart enough to recognize delusion.
He thought she was someone else.
He wasn’t threatening. He wasn’t angry. But his words settled over her like a warm blanket, and she wasn’t sure if it made her feel safe, or scared.
This was the kind of mistake she’d been taught to correct.
But no alarms were going off.
And Shadow… was kind. Honest, in a strange way.
He cared. Really cared.
Maybe… this was a nice kind of wrong.
Maybe it didn’t have to be corrected. Not yet.
She glanced down at her plate, whispering, “…Okay.”
Shadow tilted his head slightly, but said nothing.
The storm outside rolled on, distant thunder echoing softly.
Inside the booth, between half-finished meals and flickering candlelight, a strange quiet peace settled over them, fragile, but real.
For the first time in a long time, Eri didn’t feel afraid.
"Do you want dessert?" Shadow asked
Eri nodded
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN WE HAVE NOTHING ABOUT WHO MADE THIS THING!?”
The words cracked across the command room like a whip. Half the staff flinched. One dropped his datapad. The echo of Madam President’s fury lingered in the sterile, humming silence.
She stood at the center of the room, tension radiating off her like heat. Her perfectly tailored jacket might as well have been combat armor. The way her turquoise eyes sliced across the room it was war.
A senior analyst adjusted his glasses nervously. “W-We’ve scoured all government and military archives. Everything postdating Gerald Robotnik’s projects has either been redacted, destroyed, or… never digitally recorded. We only have fragments, birth certificate, military clearance level, and… date of death.”
The air seemed to stop.
“Go on,” she said. Coldly.
“Gerald Robotnik was executed in 1960,” the analyst said. “Charged with high treason. No details listed. Just that his ‘research presented a potential existential threat to world stability.’”
“Execution,” she repeated, voice like glass under strain.
“Via public firing squad. Sealed records. No trial.” The analyst said
“Cause of death?”
“Confirmed. Twelve rounds. Head and chest.”
Madam President turned slowly, her jaw clenched. She didn’t scream this time.
Because she was thinking.
That was worse.
“Any surviving relatives?”
There was a pause.
Then a younger tech, the same one who had retrieved Shadow’s footage, spoke up. “Not anymore but, we caught something from the restaurant.”
A few keystrokes later, audio played across the command center.
“Who’s Maria?”
“She’s you.”
“You’re Maria Robotnik.”
The clip ended.
The air in the room chilled.
“That’s it,” the tech said. “That’s the first confirmation of Maria’s full name. The drones caught it from the booth camera. She’s connected to Gerald.”
“Related?” the President asked.
“We ran a few simulations. Based on age range, common naming structures, and what we know of the timeline… Maria was likely his granddaughter. Shadow calls her that with too much emotional weight for anything less. Shadow must have a deteriorated memory if he's mistaking Eri for this Maria."
Madam President’s eyes narrowed. “So Shadow is Emotionally compromised.”
“Critically.”
She stared at the holographic map now flickering above the center table. Shadow’s location was clearly pinged by the surveillance drones they’d finally deployed.
“Olive Garden,” she muttered.
A pause.
“That’s where he went?”
“He used an ancient ‘free food forever ’ card from our old G.U.N. personnel wall.”
She blinked. “That actually worked?”
“It did, ma’am.”
Someone in the back coughed. Another tried not to laugh.
Madam President’s eye twitched.
“Wonderful. We’re being outmaneuvered by an over thousand year old military weapon… who wants unlimited breadsticks.”
She turned sharply to her aides.
“Scramble Observation Drones 5 through 9. I want a continuous feed on him, but do not engage. Not until we understand how he moves. How he thinks.”
“And Eri?”
Madam President hesitated.
“Let her be. As long as she believes she’s safe, she’ll keep him anchored. That buys us time.”
She paced slowly back toward the central monitor, hands clasped tightly behind her back.
“We find out everything about Project Shadow. Cross-reference global files. Military. Private. Anything related to the term ultimate lifeform."
“And Give me a list of quirk users worldwide who could kill or capture this thing. I don’t care about morals.”
There was a pause as databases were searched, filters narrowed.
A reply came:
“There’s three. One’s gone. One refuses. One might work, everyone else has to beat him out right which considering what we've seen might be difficult."
“Explain the 3.”
“Overhaul. Can no longer use his quirk. Lost his arms when Shigaraki stole the erasure bullets. Useless.”
“I assume the won't, is Eri?” the President asked knowingly.
“You're correct, Too unstable. Too traumatized. And she won’t use it against him.”
That left one.
“Stars and Stripes,” the aide continued. “U.S. Hero. Number One. Quirk: New Order. She can apply one rule to anything she touches. For example, ‘If this man moves, his heart stops.’ But she has to know the name and see the target.”
“She could kill him?”
“If the command lands before he reacts,” the aide admitted. “But even then… Shadow isn’t a normal being. His biology doesn’t match any known structure. There’s no guarantee New Order would take effect. He might not fall under quirk logic at all.”
The President nodded slowly.
“And what about Shigaraki?”
Another aide stepped forward.
“His quirk decomposes by rapidly aging matter to dust.”
“And?” Madam president questioned "Wouldn't that work?"
“Shadow’s historical records, what little we have, label him functionally immortal. He doesn’t age. Gerald Robotnik designed him to live forever. Even if he’d never gone into cryo, he’d still be alive today.”
The words hit like lead.
“Shigaraki’s quirk,” the aide finished, “wouldn’t work.”
The room fell silent.
Even the computers seemed to quiet, as if sensing the weight pressing down on every soul present.
The President turned back to the central monitor. The same frozen image still lingered on screen: Shadow and Eri, side by side in the booth. A plate of shared breadsticks between them.
So calm. So mundane.
A monster and a miracle child… sharing dinner.
“We’re running out of options,” she said.
No one disagreed.
She stared at the monitor as the storm inside her built, quiet, relentless, and coming closer.
And still, across the world of tactics and power, nothing felt more dangerous than the way that girl had looked at him.
"We need a plan." Madam president said
Then RING RING RING
The shrill chime cut through the command center’s tension like a blade. Everyone turned toward the sound, the glowing red line flashing on the central comms unit.
Madam President stiffened. A muscle ticked near her jaw.
“…Ah shit. It’s Nezu.”
She composed herself in a single breath and answered.
“Hero public safety commission President speaking.”
“Hellooo, Madam President!” came a voice so sweet, it curdled the stomach.
Nezu. The principal of U.A. High School. A genius. A wildcard. And a problem.
“Hello, Nezu,” she said smoothly. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Oh, nothing major!” Nezu chirped. “Mirio was just wondering this morning about the drop-off terms for Eri, specifically when she’d arrive and under whose care, so I thought I’d give you a quick call! You know, to clarify!”
The way he said the word made her want to destroy something.
“Of course,” she replied, her voice velvet over barbed wire. “We’ll be assigning Eri an aide. For security. And a codename, strictly protocol. You understand. Mirio may be physically capable, but he’s quirkless now. We’d rather not take chances.”
She leaned into the lie like it was a language she’d spoken all her life.
“They’ll arrive directly at U.A.’s front gates. Discreetly. Before the festival begins.”
Every word was calculated. Noncommittal. Flexible.
If they captured Shadow in time, they’d assign someone else as the aide, slap the “Maria” codename on Eri, and quietly erase this entire mess along with Eri's memories
But if they failed?
Well.
Then it was just as they’d planned earlier:
“If it doesn't work and he escapes we'll say Project Shadow escaped containment, fixated on Eri because of some buried G.U.N. delusion. Say he intercepted our truck, she asked to attend the festival, and he obliged.”
Two plays. One lie. No risk of contradiction.
Nezu chuckled warmly. Too warmly.
“Wonderful! I’ll let Mirio know! Looking forward to seeing her happy. It’s been a long year.”
Click.
The line went dead.
Silence clung to the command center.
“…Holy shit,” Madam President muttered. “I just got away with lying to Nezu...NEZU."
A few aides looked like they wanted to clap. One looked like he might be sick.
She didn’t smile. Not really.
Because she knew something none of them said out loud:
If Nezu called again… it wouldn’t be to ask questions.
It would be because he already had the answers