I’ve been training for over three hours now, my frustrations getting the better of me as I spar with the robot.

My quirk. My…quirk.

I can’t help but run over the words, my anger overwhelming me until the robot finally retreats, signalling it’s loss as it has several times over the time I’ve used it.

I’ve been trying so, so hard to reassure myself. Tell myself my quirk isn’t what defines me, it’s not the reason I’m great. I just am great, right?

That’s when I glance up at the open door.