Disclaimer:

1. Powers Explained: In this one-shot, the reader (Y/n) possesses the ability to create force fields. These force fields are invisible, protective barriers that can be generated around herself or others. They can be used defensively to block physical attacks or offensively to push objects and people away with immense force. The strength, size, and duration of these force fields depend on Y/n's concentration and energy levels. However, overuse can lead to physical exhaustion and mental strain, limiting their effectiveness in prolonged battles.

2. Story Composition: This story is primarily an x-reader one-shot, meaning the narrative is written from a second-person perspective, allowing readers to immerse themselves in the role of Y/n. Additionally, the story includes interactions and plotlines involving other characters from *The Umbrella Academy* universe, blending personal moments with broader, ensemble-driven events.

—————༻☂︎︎༺—————

The training room was abuzz with energy as the Sparrows Academy assembled for a rigorous test of their abilities. The massive space was divided by a central mat, surrounded by the imposing figures of Sir Reginald Hargreeves and Pogo, who stood like sentinels, ready to oversee the training session.

Pogo's voice cut through the murmurs of anticipation, "Today, we'll be testing each other's powers in combat. Follow the rules closely and give it your all. Step onto the mat."

"Your choice, Sir Reginald," Pogo said, turning to the elder Hargreeves with a hint of formality.

Sir Reginald scanned the assembled Sparrows with a calculating gaze. After a moment's consideration, he declared, "Number Zero. Number One. Front and center."

I locked eyes with Marcus, who gave a curt nod. We both stepped onto the mat, the weight of the moment heavy on our shoulders. The mat was a large, cushioned rectangle designed to absorb impacts, but today, it was a battleground where our powers would be put to the ultimate test. The crowd of Sparrows watched intently from the sidelines, their faces a mix of curiosity and expectation.

Pogo gave us a nod, signaling us to begin. We assumed our stances, our bodies coiled like springs, ready for the confrontation.

"Fight!" Pogo's command rang out, sharp and commanding.

Marcus wasted no time. He surged forward with a flurry of punches, his movements a blur of practiced precision. I ducked and dodged, my reflexes honed from countless training sessions. Each of Marcus's blows came close but never quite landed as I twisted out of the way. I countered with a quick kick aimed at his side, but Marcus anticipated the move, deflecting it with a swift parry.

His aggression was relentless. He delivered a powerful right hook that I barely managed to block. Before I could react, his foot connected sharply with my stomach, sending me crashing to the ground. The impact was jarring, but I rolled with it, using the momentum to spring back to my feet in one fluid motion.

Marcus was already on the move, his eyes fixed on me with unwavering determination. I braced myself, focusing on my force field. The shimmering shield materialized around me just in time to absorb the impact of Marcus's next barrage. His punches hammered against the barrier, each strike causing a ripple in the force field but failing to penetrate.

With a growl of frustration, Marcus intensified his assault, his movements becoming a blur of speed and power. I focused on maintaining the integrity of my shield while searching for an opening. As Marcus drew back for a particularly powerful strike, I seized the moment to launch a counterattack.

I projected a powerful shockwave from my force field, the energy blast sending Marcus hurtling backward across the mat. He collided with the cushioned surface, rolling to a stop. The force of the impact left him momentarily stunned, giving me a brief respite.

The spectators—my fellow Sparrows—watched with rapt attention, their eyes following every movement. Sir Reginald and Pogo stood stoically, their expressions a mix of critical observation and restrained approval.

The force of my shield slammed into Marcus, sending him stumbling backward. He shook off the impact and quickly got to his feet, determination etched on his face. Seeing an opening, I dashed towards him, leaping into the air with a spinning kick. My leg connected with Marcus's face, sending him crashing to the ground.

As soon as I landed, I felt a jarring pain as Marcus's retaliatory strike hit my legs. I fell to the mat with a groan, the impact sending shockwaves of pain through my body. Marcus took advantage of my momentary vulnerability, rising swiftly and preparing for another punch. I scrambled to my feet, backing away as his fist slammed into the mat where I had been moments before.

I steadied myself, focusing on my force field once more. I unleashed a concentrated burst of energy, but Marcus dodged with agile movements, avoiding the blasts with a practiced ease. The room around us was filled with the sounds of our combat—the grunts of exertion, the thud of impact, and the occasional exclamation of surprise.

Marcus and I continued to exchange blows, neither of us willing to give an inch. My force field shielded me from his attacks, while I used every bit of my agility and strength to keep him at bay. I could see the fatigue setting in on Marcus's face, and I knew I had to press my advantage.

With a decisive move, I closed the distance between us. I ducked under one of Marcus's wild punches, countering with a sweeping kick that knocked him off balance. I pressed my attack, finally managing to pin Marcus down with a well-placed strike that left him vulnerable. I straddled him, keeping him pinned to the mat.

"Enough!" Pogo's voice cut through the air, signaling the end of the match. Marcus lay still, his chest rising and falling with deep breaths. I was about to celebrate my victory when a sharp, searing pain erupted in my head.

My vision blurred, and a disorienting wave of nausea hit me. I staggered, holding my head as a voice echoed in my mind, "The world ends in eight days." The words reverberated, an ominous chant that seemed to resonate through my very being. The vision pulsed, darkening the edges of my sight until it cleared and I found myself stumbling back onto the mat.

The room was filled with confused murmurs from my siblings, their faces a mix of concern and curiosity. I glanced around, struggling to make sense of what had just happened. My heart raced, my head still pounding with the remnants of the eerie message.

"Point, Marcus," Pogo announced, his tone neutral as he glanced at Sir Reginald. My father nodded in acknowledgment, his gaze impassive.

Marcus approached, his expression a blend of worry and relief. He extended a hand to help me up. "You alright, Y/n?"

I took his hand, allowing him to pull me to my feet. "Yeah, I just felt a sharp pain in my head," I mumbled, the throbbing still persistent.

Fei stepped forward, concern etched on her face. "She should rest. Maybe the training was too much for her." She looked at Sir Reginald and the rest of the siblings.

Sir Reginald's gaze softened, just slightly. "Very well. Number Zero, take the day off. We will check on you once this session is over."

I nodded, still trying to shake off the lingering effects of the vision. I walked off the mat, the weight of the strange message pressing on my mind. As I exited the training room, I heard my father call out, "Jayme. Ben. Step onto the mat."

Once I reached my room, I closed the door behind me and leaned against my bed. The pounding in my head was relentless, and I could still hear the echo of that ominous voice in my mind. I lay down, staring at the ceiling, trying to make sense of what had just happened.

"What the hell just happened in there?" I wondered aloud, frustration mingling with confusion. I had been fighting just fine, on the verge of winning, until that strange message interrupted everything. I shook my head, trying to clear the ringing and focus on the here and now.

I closed my eyes, hoping that the pain would subside and that the bizarre vision was just a figment of my imagination. The room was silent except for the occasional murmur from the training room beyond my door. I lay there, waiting for the pounding in my head to fade, feeling unsettled by the cryptic warning and the disruption it had caused in my otherwise solid performance.

"I hear a rumor..." a voice whispered in my head, its soft, eerie tone cutting through the silence of my sleep. "We're Team Zero," another voice followed, firm and confident, as if it was trying to remind me of something I had forgotten. My body stirred restlessly in my bed, the sheets tangling around my legs.

"Where's Y/n?" a third voice asked, louder now, more urgent. I shifted again, my movements growing more agitated. I could feel the tension in my muscles, my body reacting to the disembodied voices in my head.

"Y/n!" someone shouted, and my eyes flew open. I bolted upright in bed, gasping for breath. My room was dark, the familiar shadows of night dancing across the walls. Sweat trickled down my forehead, and I wiped it away with a shaky hand.

I glanced around, my heart racing. No one was here. I looked out the window and saw the dim light of dawn beginning to creep over the horizon. It was the next day already. I sighed heavily, the weight of the strange dream pressing down on me.

What the hell just happened? Why is this happening to me? My thoughts were racing, jumbled with confusion and fear. I needed to tell someone about this, but who? Should I tell Father? No! Definitely not. He wouldn't understand. He'd just think I was losing focus. No, I needed to tell Jayme. She was the only one who might believe me about these voices.

I threw the blankets off and jumped out of bed, quickly making my way to Jayme's room. I knocked on her door, but there was no answer. I knocked again, a bit harder this time. "Jayme!" I called out. Still no response. I sighed in frustration and pushed the door open, stepping inside.

"Jayme—" I stopped short, my words catching in my throat. Two things hit me at once. One, Jayme wasn't here. Two, her room... her room was different. Completely different. The walls were dimly lit, posters I didn't recognize covered the walls, and the bed was a mess, far from her usual neatness. I walked closer, my mind racing with confusion. What the hell is going on?

I hurried out of her room and dashed across the hall to Sloane's room. I pushed the door open, only to find another unfamiliar space. The walls were adorned with posters of a girl with curly hair, photos of models scattered everywhere. Panic began to set in. Where the hell is everyone?

"Ben! Marcus! Anyone? Dad!" I shouted, my voice echoing down the empty hallways. A loud noise from outside caught my attention, and I quickly ran to Ben's room, hoping to find some sense of normalcy. I glanced out the window and saw a swirling blue cloud in the sky, the wind whipping around violently. I shielded my eyes against the gusts. What the hell is even happening?

Through the chaos outside, I saw a group of people in the courtyard. They didn't look like anyone I knew. Heart pounding, I sprinted downstairs, pushing through the doors to the outside. I skidded to a stop, taking in the sight of them. They all turned to face me, shock written across their faces.

I was confused, trying to piece together who they were and why they were here. A large man stepped forward, his expression filled with disbelief. "Y/n?" he asked, his voice tinged with something like... hope?

"Who are you guys? How the hell did you even get in?" I demanded, my voice firm despite the fear creeping up my spine.

A small woman with a cautious smile spoke next, her eyes wide. "You're here... and alive?" she said, almost in disbelief.

"What?" I was lost, my mind spinning with questions. What did she mean by that?

"You need to leave, before I kill you," I warned, readying my powers, my hands tingling with the familiar energy of my force field.

The boy in the ill-fitting suit stepped forward, his eyes fixed on me with an intensity that made my breath hitch. "You need to wake up, Y/n..."

His words hit me like a tidal wave. My eyes widened in shock, but before I could react, a sudden, sharp pain pierced my mind. I clutched my head, covering my ears, trying to block out the voices that were suddenly screaming in my mind. I saw flashes of images, visions of the very people standing before me, like pieces of a puzzle I couldn't quite grasp.

And then, just as quickly as it started, it stopped. I shot up in bed, gasping for air, my heart hammering in my chest. I looked around, disoriented. It was my room again. I was back in bed.

No, this wasn't just a dream. No, that wasn't just a dream. It was too real, too vivid. I could still feel the echoes of their voices in my head, and my skin still tingled with the residual energy of my powers.

What the hell is happening to me?

I stared blankly ahead, my mind still reeling from the strange, vivid dream—or whatever it was. I jumped in bed when the door to my room flew open, and Jayme burst in, her face twisted in confusion.

"What's going on?" she demanded, her eyes scanning my face for any sign of what was wrong. I opened my mouth to speak, but no words came out. I was still too shaken to form a coherent sentence.

"I heard something from downstairs. What's going on?" Jayme asked again, this time sitting down on the edge of my bed, her tone softer, more concerned. I still couldn't find the words to explain.

"Y/n, you've been acting weird since yesterday at training. Tell me. What the hell is the matter with you?" she insisted, her voice rising slightly in frustration.

"I don't know..." I whispered, my voice barely audible.

She raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying my answer. "You don't know? Y/n, seriously—"

"No, no, no, I'm serious about it. I don't know," I cut her off quickly, my words tumbling out in a rush.

Jayme sighed, trying to remain patient. "Well, what exactly do you know?" she pressed.

I hesitated, but then the words started pouring out. "I'm hearing things...people, exactly. I don't know why, but it's always the same voices. And they know my name and—" I paused, struggling to find the right words, "—and I don't know why or how, but it won't go away. And then I just had this vision or dream, and I saw them. Their voices matched what I've been hearing."

Jayme's expression softened as she grabbed my hands, trying to calm me down. "Y/n, Y/n. Calm down," she said gently. "I think you just have a lot of pressure on you."

I shook my head quickly. "No, no. This is something different, Jayme. It's like... they know me," I insisted, my voice trembling with fear and frustration.

"Y/n, this sounds crazy," Jayme said, her eyes filled with concern.

"That's because it is," a voice said from the doorway, and both Jayme and I whipped around to see Reginald standing there, his expression as stern as ever.

"These visions are taking over your mind, Number Zero," he said, his tone cold and detached. "They will affect your mind and body."

I stared at him, bewildered. How did he know? There was something in his tone, something in the way he looked at me that told me he knew more than he was letting on. He always did. "The silly fantasies of yours must end, and they will, right now," he continued, his gaze flicking between me and Jayme before he turned and walked away, leaving us in stunned silence.

Jayme turned back to me, her eyes wide. "Look, Fei and I are going out right now. Come with us. You need to get out of here," she urged, her voice filled with worry.

I shook my head, still trying to process everything. "I'm fine, Jayme. I'm just going to get some rest. You know... to clear my head," I said, forcing a small smile.

Jayme gave me a long, hard look, then finally nodded. "Okay," she said with a reluctant smile before getting up and walking out of my room.

Resting my ass. I didn't want to leave with Jayme. Her offer was sweet, sure, but I had bigger problems than fresh air. My father's tone—when he spoke about my "visions"—it was off, like he knows something, something I haven't figured out yet. I'm not crazy. And they aren't fantasies.

Screw that. He knows something, and I'm not leaving until I find out what it is.

I got up from my bed, my heart still pounding, my head still buzzing with the remnants of those voices. They were so clear, so real. "Y/n," they'd said, like they knew me, like they'd been searching for me. And Reginald...he just dismissed it, like he always does when something doesn't fit into his perfect little world.

But this time, I wasn't going to let it go. I wasn't a kid anymore, blindly following orders and keeping my head down. I was Number Zero, and I deserved some damn answers.

I moved quietly to my door, opening it just a crack to peek out. The hallway was empty, and I could hear the faint sound of voices coming from downstairs—the rest of the family still training, no doubt. Good. I'd have some time to look around.

I slipped out of my room, moving silently down the hall. I knew where I needed to go. The one place where Reginald always kept his secrets.

His office.

My father's office was at the end of the hallway, the door always locked, always guarded by some unseen force that made it feel like stepping into a lion's den. But I didn't care. I needed to know what was happening to me. I needed to know why I was hearing these voices, why I was seeing these visions. And I had a feeling that whatever Reginald was hiding, it was locked away in that room.

I reached the door and tried the handle, expecting it to be locked as usual. But to my surprise, it turned easily in my hand. I paused, a chill running down my spine. It was almost like he wanted me to go in. Like he was expecting me.

I pushed the door open and slipped inside, closing it quietly behind me. The room was dark, the heavy curtains drawn shut, casting long shadows across the floor. I moved cautiously, my eyes scanning the shelves, the desk, the files neatly stacked in their places. I didn't know exactly what I was looking for, but I'd know it when I saw it.

There was a small filing cabinet tucked away in the corner, one that I'd seen Reginald pull documents from more than once. I crossed the room quickly, crouching down to try the drawers. The first one was filled with old reports and files—nothing out of the ordinary. The second was more of the same. But the third drawer...

I hesitated for a moment, then pulled it open. Inside was a single file, marked with a number I recognized all too well. **Zero**.

My heart skipped a beat as I pulled it out, flipping it open with trembling hands. Inside were pages upon pages of notes, observations, charts...all about me. My training, my abilities, my progress. But as I flipped further, the notes became darker, more cryptic.

"Subject exhibiting signs of temporal distortion..."

"Voices detected...possible alternate timeline interference..."

"Further observation required..."

I made a face, a mix of confusion and frustration. He knew I had that vision. He must have. I turned back to the file, flipping through the papers quickly. But as I opened it, I found nothing but useless pages filled with reports about my siblings. None of it made sense—why was this even here?

I sighed, feeling a wave of anger and desperation rise up inside me. I tossed the whole stack of papers across the room, watching them scatter and flutter to the floor like fallen leaves. I wanted to give up. Maybe I was going crazy. Maybe Jayme was right, and this was all just in my head.

But then, something caught my eye—a few photographs that had been tucked between the papers. They had fallen out with the rest of the mess, and I bent down, picking one up with trembling hands. I froze, my heart nearly stopping in my chest.

It was a photo of a family. Not just any family—the same family I'd seen in that vision last night. And I was there, standing with them, dressed in a suit just like ours but with a different symbol on it. An umbrella.

I swallowed hard, my mind racing as I picked up another photo. It was more of the same—me with those people, looking like I belonged with them. Smiling, laughing. Happy. I felt a chill run down my spine, my pulse quickening.

What the hell is going on?

I reached for the last photo, my hands shaking. It was of me, again, only younger—much younger, maybe around ten or eleven. And there they were, too. But this time, we were all kids, standing in front of some grand building with a sign that read, The Umbrella Academy.

My breath hitched in my throat as I spotted another piece of paper underneath the photos. A newspaper. I picked it up, my eyes wide with shock as I read the headline:

"The Umbrella Academy Family Saves the World Again—Heroic Rescue at Chest Bank."

I blinked, staring at the picture beneath the headline. It was me—an even younger version of me, smiling alongside those kids, the ones from my vision. The same ones I'd seen outside, in the backyard.

My heart pounded in my chest, a sickening realization creeping over me. This wasn't just some random vision. These weren't just some voices in my head. They were real. I was somehow connected to them, to this...Umbrella Academy. But how? And why?

I was freaking out. My hands shook as I dropped the newspaper to the floor, stumbling back against the desk. What the hell is happening? Why are there photos of me with a different family? Why did I see them in my vision?

A sharp pain shot through my head, and I dropped the newspaper, clutching my temples as I let out a moan. The voices were back, louder this time, echoing in my mind like a haunting chorus. I stumbled backward, hitting the wall hard as the visions overwhelmed me again.

This time, the images were clearer, more vivid. I saw myself with that family again—the Umbrella Academy. We were all together, laughing and smiling like we were...happy. Another vision flashed before me: all of us on a mission, fighting together, moving as a team. And then, another image—I was in a van with a boy, the one with the suit that was too big for him. We were talking, maybe even arguing, but there was a familiarity there, a bond I couldn't deny.

The pain intensified, a numbing ache that made me feel like my skull was splitting in two. I tried to push it away, tried to fight it, but the visions kept coming, one after another, more relentless than before.

Then, my eyes flew open, and I was somewhere else entirely. I saw myself being kidnapped, thrown into a dark, cold room. I was tied to a chair, a wire strapped across my mouth to silence me. I could feel the panic, the fear coursing through me as I struggled against the restraints. My eyes widened in horror as I saw him—Reginald. My father. He was standing there, cold and calculated, moving toward me with a metal device in his hand.

He placed it on my head, his expression devoid of any emotion. "It's time to make history again," he said, his voice as cold as ice. Then, he pressed a button, and I felt a searing pain course through my body. Electricity jolted through me, making every nerve in my body scream in agony. I jerked violently against the chair, my vision blurring as the pain became unbearable.

The visions continued to assault me, each one more disorienting than the last. I saw flashes of memories that didn't make sense—faces, places, moments that felt both foreign and familiar. They flooded my mind, a relentless storm of images that made my head spin.

Finally, the pain began to subside, and the visions started to fade. I collapsed to the ground, gasping for air, tears streaming down my face. I looked around, disoriented and terrified, as the realization hit me like a punch to the gut.

It all came flooding back now—the memories, the truth. I wasn't a Sparrow. I was never a Sparrow. I was an Umbrella. Those people from my visions—the ones I'd seen in those photographs—they were my real family. Reginald...he took me from them. He stole me away, erased my memories, and reshaped my mind to make me believe I was someone else, something else.

I let out a shaky breath, wiping the tears from my cheeks with a trembling hand. The weight of the truth settled on my shoulders, heavy and suffocating. He lied to me. He lied to all of us. And I'd believed him. I'd followed him, trusted him, never once questioning the life he'd created for me.

The alarm blared through the entire house, its shrill sound echoing off the walls, and I was snapped out of my thoughts. It was the emergency signal—something was happening. I barely had time to process the flood of memories, the truth I had just uncovered about my real family, before I was forced to deal with whatever crisis had triggered the alarm.

I scrambled to my feet, my head spinning as I tried to shake off the lingering effects of the visions. I wanted to find Reginald, to confront him, to make him pay for what he had done to me, but the urgency of the situation demanded my attention. I ran out of his office and down the hall, heading for the grand staircase where I could see my supposed "family," the Sparrows, gathering.

As I reached the top of the stairs, I saw them—the group of strangers from my visions. They were standing there, facing Reginald, who was speaking to them in his usual cold, detached tone. "This isn't your home," he said to them, his voice firm and unyielding.

I glanced over at Sloane, who was standing next to me, her face a mask of confusion. She looked just as lost as I felt. "What are you talking about? This is the Umbrella Academy," a woman's voice said from below, her words sharp and defiant.

Umbrella Academy. The words hit me like a slap to the face, and I froze. My heart pounded in my chest as I processed what she had said. She was talking about the Umbrella Academy, the place I had seen in my visions. The place I was supposed to belong.

"Wrong again. This is the Sparrow Academy," Reginald replied, his tone dripping with contempt. His words seemed to hang in the air, thick and heavy, and the people below us all turned their eyes up toward us.

And there they were. The people from my visions. The voices that had been echoing in my head for hours. My real family, standing there right in front of me. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move. My mind was reeling as I tried to make sense of everything.

"Y/n?" a man with long hair said, his voice laced with shock and disbelief. They were all looking at me now, their faces a mix of astonishment and recognition. Some of them gasped, and I could feel the eyes of the Sparrows on me as well, their expressions filled with confusion and concern.

I couldn't tear my gaze away from the people below. I could see it in their eyes—they knew me. They were my real family. And here they were, standing right in front of me, looking at me like they'd seen a ghost.

"Shit," all of them muttered, his eyes shifting from me to Ben.

Ben. I saw him standing next to me, his expression hard and unreadable, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes, something that made my stomach twist.

Everything was happening so fast. The truth was out now—these people were my real family. Not the Sparrows. Not Reginald. I had been living a lie, and now that lie was unraveling right before my eyes.

I felt a surge of anger, of betrayal, but also a strange sense of relief. I wasn't crazy. I wasn't imagining things. They were real. My family was real.