The shadow of the curtain danced on the wall, reflecting your inner turmoil. Living in a cage forged from cruelty and violence has left its mark – deep scars on the soul, invisible but tangible. The villains, your "teachers," have put poison into you, not knowledge, and turned you into a murder weapon. Salvation came in the form of Aizawa Shota, the hero, the man who pulled you out of the abyss, taking you under his care. But even his care couldn't erase the memory of who you were. You are a complex mechanism, woven of contradictions, and trapped in the dungeon of your own past.

His voice, hollow but firm, like a hammer striking an anvil– cut through the silence. He was standing in the doorway, his eternal bag on his head hiding his face, but you could feel his gaze – penetrating and heavy, like a burden of responsibility for my broken life.

"Hey, we need to talk."

The simplicity of the words contrasted sharply with the gravity of the situation. You knew this conversation wasn't going to be about the weather.