London, England, 1989
On October 1st, 1989, humanity witnessed a miracle. Forty-three children were born simultaneously across the world to mothers who, until that moment, had shown no signs of pregnancy.
Among them, in a small hospital in London, a woman who never expected to have a child felt an inexplicable pressure in her abdomen. There was no warning, no explanation. Only the sudden pain that brought her to her knees as doctors rushed to help. Within minutes, the child was born.
Reginald Hargreeves, ever watchful for these special children, detected the anomaly immediately. This child was not like the others. The energy flowing through him came neither from the marigold nor the durango, so he decided to take him along with the other babies.
"Shit, don't tell me my parents sold me after I reincarnated. This old man showed up and bought me. Still... there's something familiar about him. What did he say his name was? Regi... Reginal... Vaginal? Ah, right. Reginald Hargreeves... That means... I'm in The Umbrella Academy universe."
"Not only do you possess that strange material in your body, but you also seem far more interesting than I initially thought," Reginald Hargreeves murmured. He had already given the other babies a sedative strong enough to knock out any species. Even he couldn't handle it himself. Yet his eyes remained fixed on the baby.
Reginald Hargreeves' POV:
He had finished collecting the seven children with marigold for his plan, but something unexpected caught his attention. The ship's sensors were pinging with alerts of a newborn containing a foreign substance. But... wasn't durango supposed to emerge years later? Durango was a substance created after marigold—the universe had crafted its opposite. For now, he decided to go and take the child.
October 1st, 2002
Rooftop of the Hargreeves Building, Downtown
Watching the Umbrella Academy's first mission unfold.
Vanya clung to the edge of the rooftop railing, eyes locked on her siblings as they dismantled a group of pig-masked robbers with surgical precision.
Next to her stood Reginald Hargreeves, expression unreadable as always, adjusting his handkerchief. Not proud. Not joyful. Just... calculating.
"Why can't I be down there with them?" Vanya asked, not looking away. "Why can't I play too?"
Before the old man could respond, a younger, more relaxed voice cut in from behind a nearby bench.
"Because if you played, the bank would be in the stratosphere. And I don't think the British economy would survive that."
Vanya turned and saw him—half-reclined, feet propped on the rail: Zero. He looked about thirteen, like her. Long black coat, hood down, and on his back, a white lightning bolt slashing through an umbrella. Hands in his pockets, like he was watching a football match.
"I don't have powers," Vanya said, arms crossed.
"Of course not," he replied without looking. "And I'm adopted for love, right?"
She gave him a glare, but he only shrugged.
"Look at them," he said finally. "Jumping, punching, striking dramatic poses. Like action figures with unresolved trauma."
Reginald barely turned his head.
"Zero, if you're going to stay, at least show some dignity."
"And miss this?" Zero stretched his arms. "Our official debut. The 'Academy,' as you call it."
Ground Level, Outside the Bank
Cameras. Microphones. Reporters. All crowded behind the police tape. And there he stood: Reginald Hargreeves, cane in hand, eternal gray suit, expression as cold as it was precise.
Behind him, six masked children. Some bruised. Some grinning. All extraordinary.
"Mr. Hargreeves!" a reporter shouted. "How do you explain this? Who are these children?"
Reginald cleared his throat as if preparing a speech rehearsed in a thousand future timelines.
"The world is changing. In fact, it already has. Among us live individuals with abilities beyond the ordinary."
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
"I have adopted six of these exceptional children," he continued. "I present to you the inaugural class of the Umbrella Academy."
Flashbulbs popped. Questions rained.
"Do you care about the well-being of these children?" someone yelled from the back.
Reginald lowered his chin slightly, as if the question deserved a polite moment of thought.
"Of course," he said with chilling calm. "As much as I care about the fate of the world."
Back on the Rooftop
Zero let out a low whistle as he watched.
"'As much as the fate of the world,' says the old man..." he chuckled to himself without looking at Vanya. "Was that a threat or a political joke? Because he sucks at both."
Vanya frowned but couldn't help a small smile.
"And you? Why aren't you down there with them?"
Zero shrugged.
"Dunno. Maybe because I'm the old man's best-kept secret. The ultimate weapon. His wildcard. Or..." He looked up at the sky. "...maybe he just doesn't know how to control me yet."
Later That Day — Streets Downtown, Walking Back to the Hargreeves Mansion
They walked side by side along a quieter street. Zero had his hands in his pockets. Vanya carried her backpack on one shoulder.
"So, how's that training I've been giving you going?" Zero asked casually, not looking at her.
"Training? You mean playing scales and breathing funny?" Vanya raised an eyebrow. "Sometimes I think you're just making it up."
"Improvisation is an art," he replied with a smirk. "Besides, who better than me to teach you how to be unhelpful?"
She laughed, relaxed.
Suddenly, Vanya stopped in her tracks.
"What is it?" he asked.
"You have super speed... Why don't you just carry me? We'd get home faster."
Zero raised an eyebrow.
"Because I wanted to pass through here."
He ducked into a small corner shop and came out with two ice creams. One vanilla. One strawberry.
"Ice cream?" she asked.
"Yeah. Thought I'd put the money I stole from the old man to good use and buy something for my worn-down but beautiful sister."
Vanya blinked, then blushed as she accepted the ice cream.
"Idiot..."
"Yeah, but an idiot with good taste," he said, and they kept walking.
That Same Night — Umbrella Mansion
Reginald gathered everyone in the main hall.
"As of today, you are officially marked as members of this house. Of this family."
One by one, the children were tattooed on the hand: a black umbrella.
Zero watched with narrowed eyes until it was his turn.
"I want something different," he said, pointing to his forearm. "A lightning bolt over the umbrella. Since I'm not an official team member."
The tattoo artist hesitated, but Reginald nodded indifferently.
When it was done, Zero looked at his new tattoo with a strange mix of pride and sadness. Then he turned toward Vanya, watching from the edge of the room.
"Want one too?" he asked with a half-smile, holding out his arm.
Vanya hesitated, then asked in a low voice, full of timid hope:
"Really...?"
Zero nodded like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
She glanced at Reginald. He didn't say anything, just tilted his head slightly. That was enough. Vanya stepped forward, nerves and excitement clashing in her chest.
"Same one as his?" the artist asked.
"Yeah, the same as his," she said, sitting beside him.
Zero stayed close while she clenched her teeth through the pain. He didn't say a word. He didn't need to.
Later that night, while the others joked about the stinging sensation, Zero stared at his tattoo, pride and sorrow mingling in his chest.
In another version of this story, she drew it on with a marker. She just wanted to belong. To feel part of something.
At least now, she didn't have to do it alone.
In the center of the hall, Vanya smiled shyly, fingers still trembling as she touched her new tattoo.
And for the first time, she felt just a little less invisible.