On October 1st, 1989, at exactly the twelfth hour, forty-three women gave birth simultaneously. None of these women had been pregnant when the day began.
Enter Reginald Hargreeves, an eccentric billionaire and inventor. Upon hearing of this inexplicable phenomenon, he set out to adopt as many of these remarkable children as possible.
In the end, he acquired only seven.
With the help of his loyal chimpanzee assistant, Pogo, and his robotic creation, Grace, Hargreeves raised the children under strict training and tutelage. He prepared them for a grand purpose only he fully understood.
Together, they became the Umbrella Academy.
In a dimly lit theater, a woman with sleek black hair carefully unpacks a violin case. Her movements are deliberate, almost reverent.
She lifts the instrument, places it gently against her shoulder, and begins to play. The haunting melody fills the empty hall, each note carrying an air of sadness and mystery.
Her expression remains calm, her focus unshaken as the music swells.
In a modest, starkly furnished room, a tall, broad-shouldered man slaps his alarm clock, silencing the shrill buzz. With blond hair and piercing blue eyes, he rises and begins his morning routine.
He waters a small potted plant sitting on the windowsill, its green leaves a contrast to the cold, gray surroundings. Afterward, he slips into a spacesuit with methodical precision.
Stepping outside, he trudges across the moon's barren surface, carrying a trash bag in hand. He tosses it onto an enormous pile of garbage, the sound muffled in the vacuum of space.
For a moment, he pauses and gazes at Earth in the distance, its blue and green hues glowing in the black void.
He is Number One, Luther.
"Stop!" a woman's terrified voice breaks the silence as chaos unfolds inside her home. A group of robbers tears through her belongings, shouting and overturning furniture.
Out of nowhere, a black knife spins through the air, embedding itself in one of the robbers.
A man in a sleek black suit steps forward, his movements smooth and deliberate. He takes down each thief with ruthless efficiency, his combat skills precise and deadly.
The last robber bolts for the door, but another knife arcs through the air, curving unnaturally to strike its target. The man slumps against the wall, pinned in place.
The suited figure glances briefly at the shaken woman, ensuring she's unharmed, before disappearing into the shadows without a word.
He is Number Two, Diego.
On a bustling red carpet, a stunning woman in a striking red dress glides past a sea of cameras. The flashes illuminate her radiant smile as reporters shout questions, eager for her attention.
"Allison, how do you feel about your new movie?" one voice calls out.
She waves gracefully, answering with practiced charm, her composure flawless.
But then, a different question slices through the noise:
"Allison, how do you feel about your father's death?"
Her smile falters, just for a second. A flicker of vulnerability crosses her face before her assistant leans in to whisper something. With a small nod, she's escorted away from the crowd, leaving behind a flurry of murmurs.
She is Number Three, Allison.
In a dimly lit alleyway, two shadowy figures meet under the flicker of a streetlight. One man nervously hands over a bundle of crumpled cash while the other passes him a small packet in return.
The buyer clutches the drugs tightly, his hands trembling with anticipation. Grinning from ear to ear, he stumbles away, mumbling to himself.
Minutes later, the wail of sirens cuts through the night. Inside an ambulance, the man lies unconscious, an oxygen mask strapped to his face.
Suddenly, his eyes snap open, and he bursts into uncontrollable laughter. It's loud, manic, and haunting, as if he's the only one in on a cosmic joke.
"You good?" the paramedic asked, looking over the man sprawled on the gurney.
He chuckled lightly and pulled the oxygen mask off his face.
"Yeah, yeah, I'm good."
As he sat up, his eyes drifted to the small TV mounted in the corner of the ambulance. The screen flickered with breaking news.
"Breaking news," the reporter began. "The eccentric, reclusive billionaire Reginald Hargreeves has been found dead. Police confirmed his passing just moments ago, pronouncing him deceased at the scene."
The reporter continued to elaborate, but the man stared at the screen with an unreadable expression, his mind seemingly elsewhere.
He is Number Four, Klaus.
Back in the dimly lit theater, the woman stopped playing her violin as the faint glow of the house lights returned. She carefully packed the instrument into its case, slung it over her shoulder, and stepped out onto the city streets.
As she walked down the sidewalk, a brightly lit TV screen in a shop window caught her attention.
"Reginald Hargreeves has died," the news anchor reported.
Her eyes widened slightly in surprise before she turned and continued walking.
She is Number Seven, Vanya.
In the light of day, a yellow taxi came to a stop in front of a large building adorned with a faded umbrella insignia on its doors.
"Thank you," Vanya said softly to the driver as she exited the car. She approached the building slowly, her gaze lingering on the familiar structure.
Pushing the door open, she stepped inside, taking in the sight of her childhood home. It felt strange to be back after so many years. Everything looked the same, yet it felt unfamiliar—a relic of a past she had long left behind.
Her moment of reflection was interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Allison appeared, descending the grand staircase.
"V-Vanya," Allison breathed, her voice wavering with a mix of surprise and emotion.
"Hey, Allison," Vanya replied with a quiet, almost apologetic tone.
Without hesitation, Allison approached and wrapped her arms around her. Vanya hesitated for a moment before returning the embrace.
Their reunion was interrupted by Diego, who walked into the room with a sour expression.
"Why are you here? You're not supposed to be here after what you did," he muttered, brushing past them as he headed upstairs without a second glance.
"Are you seriously going to do this today?" Allison called after him, her tone sharp, but Diego didn't respond.
"Way to dress for the occasion," Allison added with a pointed look.
"At least I'm wearing black," Diego shot back without stopping.
Vanya shifted uncomfortably, glancing at the floor. "You know, he's probably right. I shouldn't be here—"
"Don't worry about him," Allison interrupted gently. "I'm glad you're here."
Vanya's expression softened, her shoulders relaxing slightly at the comforting words.
Elsewhere, Luther was busy searching through a room. His eyes scanned the space carefully as he made his way to a window.
Diego appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame.
"I can save you some time," he said. "They're all locked. No signs of forced entry or anything like that."
Luther turned to face him, but Diego was already stepping into the room, his sharp eyes scanning Luther with a mix of amusement and scrutiny.
"Man, you've gotten huge, Luther. What's the secret? Protein shakes? Low carbs?" he teased, his tone laced with sarcasm.
"What do you want, Diego?" Luther sighed, clearly unamused.
Diego smirked and held up a folder. "Here, it's Dad's autopsy report."
He moved it out of Luther's reach at the last second, a smug grin on his face as Luther sighed in exasperation. Finally, he handed it over, and Luther opened it, his expression growing serious as he scanned the contents.
Diego sank into the moss-colored chair, his posture casual, but his sharp gaze fixed on Luther.
"And you have this why?" Luther asked, holding up the autopsy report.
Diego smirked. "Because I snatched it from the coroner's office. And guess what? Surprise, surprise—it was a normal death. Heart failure."
"Yeah, so?" Luther replied.
"So, why are you in here, checking all the windows?" Diego countered.
"Were you the first one on the scene?" Luther shot back.
"No. Pogo was."
"Yeah, I talked to Pogo," Luther said. "He mentioned something odd—he couldn't find Dad's monocle."
"So what?" Diego asked, unimpressed.
"Nobody's ever seen Dad without his monocle," Luther explained. "Which means someone took it."
Diego stood, walking slowly toward Luther. "There's no mystery here, Luther. No revenge plot, no grand conspiracy. Just a sad, bitter old man who finally kicked the bucket—and deserved it."
Luther's jaw tightened. "You should leave, Diego."
"Yeah, alright," Diego said with a mocking grin, his tone dripping with sarcasm as he turned and left the room.
Vanya wandered through the living room, the gentle crackle of the fireplace filling the silence. Her fingers brushed against the spines of books on the shelves—books chronicling her siblings' exploits as heroes.
One book caught her attention: her own autobiography. She pulled it from the shelf, opening the front cover. Written on the blank page inside were the words, Dad, I figured why not, a message she had left in case he ever read it.
Her thoughts were interrupted by the familiar figure of Pogo entering the room.
"Oh, Pogo, it's nice to see you," Vanya said warmly, stepping forward to embrace him.
"It's nice to see you too, Vanya," Pogo replied with a gentle smile.
Vanya glanced at the book in her hands. "Did… did Dad ever read it?"
"To the best of my knowledge, not that I'm aware of," Pogo said softly.
Vanya muttered an "oh" and turned her gaze toward the large portrait of Number Five above the fireplace.
"How long has it been since Five disappeared?" she asked.
"Hmm," Pogo pondered. "Sixteen years, four months, and fourteen days."
A wistful smile crossed Vanya's face. "You know, every night I left a snack for him. Just in case he ever came back. So he'd know he wasn't forgotten, that he could come home, even if it was late."
Pogo chuckled softly. "I remember stepping in those snacks. My foot would end up covered in peanut butter from those peanut butter and marshmallow sandwiches."
Allison walked down the hallway, stopping in front of their father's office. She hesitated before stepping inside, her eyes scanning the room.
The sound of rustling caught her attention. She moved toward the desk and found Klaus rummaging through their father's belongings.
"Klaus, what are you doing?" Allison asked, a slight smile on her face at the sight of her brother.
Klaus spun around, feigning surprise. "Oh, Allison! Uh… what are you doing here?"
"Just here for Dad's funeral," she said, her gaze dropping to the bracelet on his wrist. "Have you been in rehab?"
Klaus fumbled for an answer, looking at the bracelet. "Uh… no, no. I've been off drugs! I'm just, you know, here to… see if the old man really kicked the bucket."
"Yeah, right," Allison said, her skepticism evident.
Klaus grinned sheepishly and opened his arms for a hug. Allison rolled her eyes but stepped forward to embrace him.
Before Klaus could slip away, Luther entered the room.
"Ohhh, hey, Luther!" Klaus said, his voice dripping with false enthusiasm.
"Klaus, drop the stuff. Now," Luther said firmly.
"What do you mean? I wasn't—"
"Drop it now, Klaus."
"Alright, alright, Mr. Grumpy Pants." Klaus sighed and set the stolen items down. "I was just making an advance on our inheritance."
He sauntered out of the room with exaggerated nonchalance.
Allison turned to Luther. "So, what's it like on the moon?"
"Uh… quiet," Luther said with a small smile. "Yeah, quiet and… peaceful."
"Have you seen Diego?" Luther asked.
"Yeah," Allison replied with a chuckle. "And have you seen his stupid outfit?"
"Yeah," Luther said, smirking. "Do you think he wears that in the bathroom?"
"His outfit? Oh, most definitely," Allison laughed.
Luther smiled. "I'm glad you're here, Allison."
"Thanks, Luther," she said softly.
Later, the siblings gathered in the living room.
Klaus returned from the wine cellar with a drink in hand, while Allison sipped her own glass. Luther sat on one couch, while Diego reclined on another, his usual sharp demeanor intact.
"So," Luther began hesitantly. "I think we should have a memorial service for Dad. At his favorite spot."
"Wait," Allison interjected. "Dad had a favorite spot?"
"Yeah," Luther said. "Under the oak tree. Don't you guys remember?"
Klaus wandered into the room, holding a cigarette in one hand and a glass of wine in the other.
"Will there be refreshments? Tea? Scones?" Klaus asked with a smirk.
Luther's brow furrowed. "Hey, put that out. You know Dad didn't allow smoking in here."
Klaus rolled his eyes and waved Luther off, ignoring him completely.
"Wait… is that my dress, Klaus?" Allison asked, her eyes widening in surprise.
"Uh, y-yeah," Klaus stammered, flashing a sheepish grin. "I found it in your room. It's very, um… breathy on the bits, you know."
He plopped down on the couch beside Vanya, ignoring Allison's exasperated look.
"Anyway, guys," Klaus began, gesturing dramatically. "We have important matters to discuss."
"Like what?" Diego asked, already sounding disinterested.
"Dad's death," Luther said gravely.
Diego groaned. "And here we go."
"I thought he died of a heart attack," Vanya said, her tone uncertain.
"Well, yeah," Luther replied.
"So… wouldn't they already know how he died?" Vanya asked.
"Theoretically," Luther admitted.
"Theoretically?" Allison repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"I'm just saying, at the very least, something happened," Luther said firmly. "Last time I talked to Dad, he sounded on edge. He told me to watch out for who I trust."
"Ohhh, quelle surprise," Klaus muttered, swirling his glass of wine before taking a sip.
Luther ignored him and turned to Klaus. "That's why I need you to talk to Dad."
Klaus choked on his wine. "Talk to Dad? Are you crazy?! I—I can't talk to Dad."
"Wait," Allison interjected, narrowing her eyes at him. "Klaus, are you high right now?"
"Uh… y-yeah! Who wouldn't be, listening to all this crazy talk?" Klaus said defensively.
"And then there's the issue with Dad's monocle," Luther added.
"It's just a stupid monocle, Luther. Nobody would want that," Diego said dismissively.
"Exactly," Luther countered. "It's worthless—so why is it missing? I think his death has to do with someone close to him. Someone with a grudge."
Diego stood up abruptly, stepping into Luther's space. "Where are you going with this, Luther?"
"Oh, isn't it obvious, Klaus?" Diego sneered, turning his attention to the others. "He thinks one of us killed Dad."
"You do?" Klaus said, his voice tinged with mock surprise and amusement.
"H-how could you think that, Luther?" Vanya asked, looking genuinely hurt.
"Good job, Luther," Diego said sarcastically, clapping his hands. "Great way to lead."
"W-wait, that's not what I'm saying!" Luther tried to explain, but it was too late.
Klaus got to his feet, smoothing out the dress as he walked off. "What, you think I'm gonna kill Mom too?" he quipped mockingly, vanishing into the hallway.
One by one, the siblings began to leave, each heading their separate ways. Allison lingered for a moment, glancing back at Luther with a faint look of disappointment before turning and walking off.
"Allison," Luther called softly, but she didn't stop.
Seventeen Years Ago
A bustling bank was thrown into chaos as masked robbers stormed in, shouting and waving guns. But their confidence didn't last long.
Six children—young, fearless, and powerful—swiftly turned the tide.
One child, with immense strength and unyielding durability, tossed the robbers aside like ragdolls.
Another, wielding knives with deadly precision, curved his blades through the air, pinning the criminals to walls and knocking their weapons from their hands.
A girl with a commanding presence whispered, and her words seemed to hold an unnatural power. "I heard a rumor…," she said with a sly smile, and the robbers dropped their guns and raised their hands in surrender, unable to resist her influence.
One of them simply did whatever he wanted, hardly participating at all.
The other teleported around the bank, swapping the robbers' weapons with staplers.
"Guys, do I really have to do this?" one of them asked, his voice unmotivated.
"Yeah, Ben, you have to," Luther replied firmly.
Ben huffed, clearly annoyed.
"Fine, okay then."
He went inside and unleashed the eldritch tentacles from his stomach, eliminating the remaining robbers. He emerged from the room, covered in blood.
"Report: We see what appears to be hostages running out, as if they're scared for their very lives," the reporter said, while police officers and news stations waited outside.
Ben breathed shakily, wiping blood from his face.
"Can we go home now?" he pleaded.
"Guys, I hope you're seeing this," the reporter continued. "Six kids just came out of the bank robbery, and one appears to be covered in blood."
Then, a man stepped in front of the kids and began a speech about how the world had changed and how these children would save it.
Back at the Umbrella Academy home, each sibling was engaged in their own activities.
Klaus was trying to summon his dad.
Allison was in her room.
Vanya was lost in her thoughts on the stairs.
Diego was sprawled on the couch.
Luther was walking around the house.
Luther eventually entered a room and began playing a record player. The soft sound of music filled the house.
One by one, the others began hearing it, and for some reason, they all found themselves dancing—letting go of their problems and simply enjoying the moment.
But the carefree dance was interrupted when a blue flashing light appeared outside the house.
They quickly stopped dancing and rushed to investigate.
Outside, they saw a huge, fluctuating blue portal.
"W-what is this?!" Allison yelled out in shock.
"It appears to be some sort of temporal anomaly—or maybe a miniature black hole. It's one of the two!" Luther said, his voice rising with urgency.
"Pretty big difference there, Paul Bunyan!" Diego retorted, irritated.
"Get out of the way!" Klaus shouted, shooting a fire extinguisher and tossing it toward the blue field.
"Huh, well that failed miserably," Klaus muttered to himself.
The swirling blue field darkened the skies, sparking a fierce storm above the city. It caused several natural disasters worldwide and briefly disabled electricity everywhere. The sky turned a dark, ominous blue.
As the portal fluctuated, a faint image appeared—someone in a sunny place on the other side.
The blue field twisted and warped, tearing at the fabric of space, time, and causality. Through it, a figure began to materialize, changing as it passed through the anomaly.
The Umbrella Academy watched in awe, shock, and a hint of fear as a boy emerged from the blue portal, falling to the ground.
The blue anomaly dissipated, leaving nothing but normalcy, except for the darkened skies that still lingered overhead.
"Does anyone see little number five, or is that just me?" Klaus asked, his voice filled with wonder and surprise.
Five then stood up and looked at himself.
"Shit," Five muttered in annoyance.
He began making himself a sandwich.
"What's the date? The exact date?" Five corrected himself.
"Umm, it's March 1st, 2019," Vanya answered.
"So, are we gonna talk about what just happened?" Luther blurted out.
Five ignored him.
"It's been seventeen years, Five," Luther said, stepping in front of him.
"Oh, it's been a lot longer than that, Luther," Five replied. He teleported from in front of Luther to a cabinet and grabbed marshmallows.
"I haven't missed that," Luther remarked in response to Five's powers.
"Where did you go, Five?" Diego asked.
"It's more like when did I go," Five replied. "Anyway, I went to the future. It's shit, by the way."
"Called it!" Klaus yelled out.
"I should've listened to the old man," Five continued, finishing his sandwich. "Jumping through space is one thing, but jumping through time? That's a toss of the dice."
Five glanced up toward Klaus. "Nice dress."
"Oh, well, danke," Klaus replied with a grin.
"Wait, how did you get back?" Vanya asked, still puzzled.
"It's quite complicated. In the end, I had to rewrite possibility, causality, and logic, warping and curving spacetime infinitely, producing a void that rewrote the laws of the universe and physics. This allowed me to create a meta-spatial and temporal, platonically archetypal conceptual region, which in turn condensed and warped existence, giving me access to my non-existential sub-quantum strings and wavelengths. I manipulated them, which allowed me to project my consciousness into one of my other meta-existences that spans every infinitesimal moment of time, everywhere, infinitely."
"I don't get it," Diego said, his voice filled with confusion. In fact, everyone except Five looked equally lost.
"You would if you were smarter, Diego," Five replied dismissively.
Diego, now irritated, moved toward Five, but Luther stopped him by holding him back with his arms.
"So, how long were you there?" Luther asked, his voice filled with disbelief.
"About 125 years, give or take," Five answered nonchalantly.
Luther sank back into his chair, clearly surprised.
"So, what are you saying, Five? That you're... 138?"
"No," Five responded. "My consciousness is 138. My body is still 13."
"W-wait, how does that even work?" Vanya asked, both confused and shocked.
Five turned away, continuing to eat his sandwich.
"Delores kept saying the equations were off. Eh, bet she's laughing now," Five muttered as he walked over to the kitchen table and picked up a newspaper. It was about Reginald Hargreeves' death.
"Guess I missed the funeral," Five said, munching on his sandwich.
"How'd you know about that?" Luther asked.
"What part of the future do you not understand, Luther?" Five replied, slightly irritated and mocking.
"Heart failure, huh?" Five read aloud, looking at the article.
"Yeah"
"No"
Luther and Diego replied simultaneously.
"Nice to see nothing's changed," Five said, shaking his head with a smirk.
Five began to walk off.
"Is that it? Is that all you have to say?" Allison asked.
"What is there to say? It's the circle of life," Five replied without turning back.
But before he could leave, Five paused and turned to his siblings. "But on another thought. There's something important I need to show you guys"
"So, Five, what did you show us that's so important?" Luther asked.
"Dad's been keeping one of us hidden."
"What do you mean, one of us?" Diego asked, confused.
"It'll be easier if I just show you."
Five led them to a hidden door Reginald had kept from them. After unlocking it, he guided them down a narrow corridor to another door that opened into a small room.
Inside, there was a young boy, around twelve years old, wearing white and blue pajamas, with pale white hair.
"Guys, this here is my brother—my actual biological brother," Five said, his voice tinged with disbelief. "And unfortunately, our father hid him away from us for reasons I don't know."
"So what does that make him, Five? Is he number eight?" Allison asked, trying to make sense of it.
"No," Five said, his voice firm. "Dad gave him the number zero."
"Yeah, anyways, why are we here?" Luther cut in, clearly frustrated. "This isn't really relevant. First, you pop in from the future after seventeen years with no word, then you show up at Dad's funeral out of nowhere, and now you're telling us we have a secret brother we've never known about? Five, you're crazy."
"Yeah, I know it sounds crazy for your simpleton brain, but that's irrelevant," Five shot back. "We have a brother we never knew about, and he has to be important if Dad went to such lengths to hide him."
As Five finished speaking, the boy began to stir, slowly waking up.
He opened his eyes, revealing beautiful white-purplish pupils. A white spade-shaped marking rested under his left eye, while a black heart-shaped marking was etched above his right eye.
The boy was small, exceptionally cute, with a perfectly formed body.
"U-um, who are you guys?" he asked, his voice filled with confusion.
"We're your family," Five replied, his tone steady. "We found you trapped down here, and if you don't mind me asking, why are you down here?"
"Well... I don't really remember much before I woke up," the boy responded, still confused about who these people were and where he was.
"Well, that's just great," Five muttered, irritation creeping into his voice.
The boy hesitated, still unsure. "S-so, who are you guys, and where am I?"
Diego stepped forward to speak. "You're our sibling. I'm Diego, number 2."
The others followed suit, introducing themselves.
"I'm Five."
"Allison, I'm number 3."
"I'm Luther, number one."
"And I'm Vanya, number seven."
Number Zero was extremely confused, unable to understand why his siblings had numbers as their names.
"I-it's nice to meet you all, I guess, but why do you guys have numbers as your names?" he asked.
Five spoke up, his voice steady as he explained. "It's because our father gave us those names. Unfortunately, like the rest of us, I never got a chance to choose my own. Our father, Reginald Hargreeves, was an eccentric billionaire who adopted seven special children with abilities, all of whom were born on the same day. He formed an academy called the Umbrella Academy, where he assigned us numbers from one through seven. He trained us to save the world. And before I came here, I discovered something our father hid from us all our lives—turns out, it was you, Number Zero."
Number Zero blinked, still confused. "O-oh... from what I know, I don't have any special abilities. And what do you mean by 'special'?"
Five raised an eyebrow. "I mean in the supernatural sense." Without warning, he teleported in front of Number Zero, causing him to yelp and quickly teleport back to his original spot.
Number Zero now looked even more intrigued. He'd never had siblings before, and the idea of having powers was something he'd never even considered. "If we all have powers... what are mine?"
"We don't know yet," Five replied, slight irritation in his voice. "That's why I'm asking you."
"I... I don't know," Zero stammered. "I've never discovered my powers, so I don't know what they are."
Five's frustration grew. He had come here because he suspected Number Zero might be connected to the apocalypse in some way, but so far, Zero seemed entirely normal. Aside from the odd markings on his face, he appeared to have no powers at all.
"Well, I'm out of here," Five muttered, clearly annoyed. "This has been a complete waste of time."
With a flash, Five teleported out of the room, leaving the others to figure out what to do next.
"So, who's going to take care of Number Zero?" Vanya asked, looking at the others. "I mean, we can't just leave him here."
"What about Pogo and Mom?" Allison suggested. "I'm sure they can take care of him, since they took care of us when Dad wasn't around."
"Well, I gotta go," Diego said, standing up.
"Same here," Allison added, following him.
Soon, everyone left, leaving Vanya behind with Number Zero. She decided to escort him to his new home.
Zero looked at Vanya as they walked, listening closely.
"Unlike the rest of my siblings, I don't think I have powers. I can't use them, even though I was born on the same day as them." Vanya said, a look of slight disappointment on her face. Directed towards herself.
"Well, that doesn't matter. As long as you don't let it bother you, it won't mean much. And besides, we're still family, even if you don't have powers like the rest."
Zero's said, a slight smile on his face.
Vanya was slightly surprised Despite being so young and having none of his memories, he spoke with an unexpected maturity, his voice soft yet insightful.
Vanya softly smiled. "I know zero, I know."
They continued walking until they arrived at the main hall, where Pogo and Grace were waiting.
"Hey pogo!"
Vanya said with a smile on her face until it turned into a mixed expression as pogo walked over to where they were urgently.
"Where did you find this boy?" Pogo asked, as if he knew something was wrong.
"We found him in a secret room," Vanya explained. "His name is Zero."
Pogo's expression tightened, a bit of worry flickering in his eyes.
"Oh... well, I'll take him in, in your stead," Pogo said, his voice calm but tinged with concern.
"Thanks, Pogo," Vanya replied. "I'll see you later."
As Vanya left, she couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right. Pogo had sounded more concerned than usual, and she couldn't help but wonder why.
Inside, Zero stood nervously. "Hi, my name is Zero, I guess. I don't have a real name."
Pogo gave him a warm smile. "Well, hi there, Zero. My name is Pogo, and this is Grace." Grace waved at him kindly, offering a friendly smile.
"Hi, Grace. Hi, Pogo. It's nice to meet you guys," Zero said with a small smile, his voice soft but genuine.
"It's nice to meet you too, Zero," Pogo replied warmly. "Anyways, you can stay down here while I prepare a room for you upstairs."
"Grace, go make Zero some food. I'm sure he's hungry; he hasn't eaten in a while," Pogo added.
"Alright, Pogo," Grace replied with a smile. She then gently took Zero's hand and led him to the kitchen, guiding him toward a seat as she started preparing a sandwich.
As Grace worked, Zero looked around the house. It was old but well-maintained, clearly cared for over the years. He wondered how long his siblings had lived here. One of them, the boy he had learned was named Five, appeared to be around his age—or maybe slightly older. The others, on the other hand, looked fully grown. He couldn't help but wonder what they had done when they were his age. Five, in particular, had been acting strange—though, to be fair, Zero knew he wasn't exactly normal himself.
"Your sandwich is ready," Grace called out, breaking his train of thought.
"O-oh, coming!" Zero replied, quickly hurrying to the table and sitting down.
He examined the sandwich in front of him. It looked familiar, but he didn't quite recognize what was on it. His mind was still hazy, and the simplest things often confused him.
"U-um, Grace?" Zero started, hesitating, but before he could finish his sentence, Grace interrupted with a gentle, motherly tone.
"You can call me 'Mom,' Zero," she said, smiling warmly. "After all, you're one of the Umbrella Academy."
Zero blinked, taken aback for a moment, before shyly nodding. "O-oh, okay... well, Mom, what is this stuff on the bread?" He still wasn't sure what to make of the sandwich, his confusion evident.
Grace chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling with kindness. "Oh, silly, it's a peanut butter and jelly sandwich," she said, the smile never leaving her face.
Zero felt his cheeks flush with embarrassment. "O-oh, yeah... sorry," he mumbled, his voice quiet as he looked down, feeling his face grow warmer. His cheeks were tinted pink, the simplest of things making him feel awkward.
As Zero took a bite of the sandwich, his mouth was instantly flooded with an overwhelming sensation. The flavors burst to life, sending a wave of euphoria through him. He had never tasted anything like it, and the sensation was so intense that it felt like he had been transported to another world. The taste was nothing short of heavenly, and in that moment, he couldn't understand why he had never experienced something so wonderful before.
The concept of food had never been something he had grasped fully, especially since he couldn't remember anything from before he woke up. But now, with the taste of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich flooding his senses, everything seemed to make sense—if only for a moment.
Zero quickly devoured the rest of the sandwich, hardly caring if he choked or not. He was far too focused on the sensation of eating this divine creation to worry about anything else.
"I want another!" he exclaimed, peanut butter and jelly smeared all over his mouth and hands, his face alight with uncontained excitement.
Grace chuckled softly, watching him with a warm, maternal gaze. "Ok, ok, slow down, Zero. You don't want to choke."
"Choke?" Zero asked, his voice filled with innocent curiosity, his wide eyes looking up at Grace as if the word itself was a foreign concept.
Grace laughed again, a soft, melodic sound, and shook her head. "Just a way of saying you should be careful, sweetie."
With a smile, she made him another sandwich, careful this time to make sure he didn't rush through it too quickly. Zero watched her with an innocent eagerness, still oblivious to some of the simpler dangers of eating, but Grace didn't mind. She was just happy to see him enjoy something for the first time. A feeling she had felt long forgotten but now felt returning, from when the other children were kids.