The alleyway behind the dinky convenience store smelled like old grease and rain. It was the dead of winter, well past midnight, and the temperature was dropping fast. Nemuri Kayama—known to the public as the R-Rated Hero, Midnight—shivered slightly beneath her heavy civilian trench coat. She had just finished a grueling late-night patrol, tracking a minor lead on a quirk-trafficking ring. The trail had gone cold right here, in a forgotten corner of Musutafu. She was about to turn back toward her apartment when she heard it. A ragged, wet cough, followed by the terrifying, distinct metallic shring of solid steel sliding against bone. Nemuri stopped. Her hero instincts flared instantly. She stepped deeper into the shadows, her hand resting near the collar of her shirt, ready to rip the fabric to release her Somnambulist quirk if things got ugly. Instead of a villain, she found a pile of discarded cardboard boxes. Moving closer, she realized the boxes weren't empty. Huddled together in the cramped, freezing space were two children. The older one was a boy, about fourteen years old, with a wild mop of curly green hair. He was shivering violently, his arms wrapped tightly around a much smaller girl, who couldn't have been more than six. She had stark white hair, a tiny, budding horn on the right side of her forehead, and eyes wide with terror. But what caught Nemuri's breath was the teenager's hands. Extended from the knuckles of each fist were three lethal, razor-sharp claws made of polished, indestructible metal. They gleamed like silver under the dim streetlamp, dripping with fresh, dark blood. His knuckles were split open where the metal had torn through his skin, but even as Nemuri watched, the flesh was already knitting back together, sealing the wounds in seconds. A faint, low growl vibrated in the boy's chest, his animalistic posture screaming that he was cornered, dangerous, and completely desperate. "Hey there," Nemuri said, her voice dropping its usual theatrical stage presence, replaced instantly by a soft, grounding warmth. She knelt on the wet asphalt, completely unbothered by the dirt. "It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you." The green-haired boy flinched violently. He bared his teeth, stepping in front of the little girl to use his body as a shield. His green eyes had a wild, feral gleam to them, and he was wearing a tattered, sterile hospital gown covered in barcodes. "Don't... don't touch Eri," the boy croaked, his voice cracking from the cold. "Please. Go away. I'll cut you if I have to." "I'm a hero, kiddo," Nemuri murmured gently, slowly pulling her hero license from her pocket and holding it out so the dim street lamp could catch the holographic seal. "My name is Nemuri. You two look freezing. And those hands... that look like it hurts." The boy looked at the license, then down at his bloody knuckles, which were already completely healed, leaving only the silver metal claws extended. A flicker of recognition passed through his eyes, followed quickly by a crushing wave of relief. "They... they don't hurt," the boy muttered, his shoulders dropping. "The healing fixes it. But we ran away. I broke out of a research facility. They... they laced my bones with this metal. They wanted to make me an unkillable weapon. I escaped, and when I was running through the city, I found Eri. She was running from a yakuza group called the Shie Hassaikai. They were cutting her up to make weapons, too. I used these to protect her from them." With a sharp intake of breath, the boy balled his fists, and with another sickening shring, the metal claws retracted completely beneath his skin. The tears in his knuckles closed up instantly, leaving no scars behind. "You did an incredible job protecting her," Nemuri said, her heart aching as she realized this boy had literally clawed his way out of a laboratory nightmare and immediately used his freedom to save another kid. "But you don't have to fight anymore. Let me help you." She shed her heavy, fleece-lined trench coat and held it out open-wide, like a blanket. The boy hesitated for a single, agonizing second. Then, his defenses completely crumbled. He collapsed forward, dragging the little girl with him into the warmth of Nemuri's coat. Nemuri wrapped her arms around both of them, pulling their small, freezing bodies tightly against her chest. She could feel the teenager's chest heaving as he finally let out a quiet, muffled sob against her shoulder, his heightened senses finally registering a scent that meant safety. "I've got you," Nemuri whispered, kissing the top of the boy's messy green head, then doing the same for the little girl. "You're safe now. Both of you."

The R-Rated hero, the wolverine and the Unicorn