After a world-wide pandemic, the world slowly began to collapse. It started with the loss of quirks, pro-hero's and villains alike losing their special abilities. Then an influx of petty crime, then the disease itself. It spread quickly, taking out over half the population in only a few weeks.

It didn't take long for the world to become a barren wasteland. Some of the remaining survivors built groups, others travelled on their own.

Shouta was one of the ones that preferred to travel by himself. People only slowed him down and added more stress to his plate.

The worn out man tiredly trudged down the abandoned highway, alert to all the sounds around him. He was exhausted and injured, having sprained his ankle a few days ago. It was still in the process of healing and hurt like hell, so he needed to find a place he could rest for the night.

Eventually, Shouta came across an old town. It was run down, all of the houses practically unlivable with mold and holes. However, there seemed to be one building in better condition than the rest. A small store. It had been raided by the looks of it, but that didn't matter to Shouta at the moment. He just wanted a place to rest his head.

He found a spot in the back of the store, putting down his supplies and laying down. Though, the peaceful feeling didn't last long before he heard a crunch sound, followed by footsteps.

"Who's there?!" Shouta shouted, not really thinking about how the loud noise could attract unwanted attention. He quickly stood up, reaching for his pistol, just in case.