Deku stood at the gates of the stone fortress with empty hands and no name to chase. Six children were safe inside. Two men sat chained where he and his partner had left them. The job should have felt finished. It didn't. Somewhere beyond these walls, another inheritor was breathing, growing, learning what he could do — the twin shadow of the power Deku carried in his own bones. One For All had been given to him. Its cursed match had gone to someone else. Until Deku found that someone, every fight he won was borrowed time. He pushed open the heavy door. The old woman was already waiting in the entry hall, receipt bag on her hip, a page pinched between two fingers like evidence. "You," she said. "Hero. The blankets I ordered for those children were thin. Thin. And the porridge tasted like paste. I want it noted." "Noted," Deku said. He kept his voice even. He needed her, and she knew it. She ran this shelter. She had spoken to every rescued child. "The prisoners. Did either of them talk?" "Talk." She snorted. "The one at the lamppost sang like a kettle once I stopped feeding him. Names, routes, a bank. Nothing about your ghost." Deku's jaw tightened. "And the children?" "One of the little ones said something odd." She rifled through her bag and produced a folded napkin covered in a child's crayon scrawl. "Drew it for me. Wouldn't stop drawing it. Said the man in the cave was afraid of him." The napkin showed a stick figure with black lines pouring out of its hands. Above the figure, in shaky letters: HE SAID HIS NAME BUT I FORGOT. Deku's stomach dropped. "The leader was afraid of someone. Someone who visited the cave." "That's what she drew. I'm not a translator, I'm a caretaker, and a poorly compensated one — " "Where is she?" The old woman jerked her chin toward a side room. Deku knelt at the doorway. A girl of maybe seven sat on a cot, hugging her knees. He kept his hands visible and his voice small. "The man who came to see the boss," he said. "Do you remember anything? A word. A sound." She watched him for a long moment. Then she whispered two syllables. Deku wrote them on the napkin. He read them back. She nodded. It was not a full name. It was a nickname, maybe a title. But it was a thread. He folded the napkin into his glove. Behind him, the old woman was still talking about blankets. Deku didn't hear her. He was already moving toward the door. Somewhere out there, a man with a nickname and black-lightning hands was buying children from a cave boss who feared him. Now Deku had one word to follow. One word was more than he'd had an hour ago.