A little 6-year-old kid wandered the lonesome streets of Musutafu in the dead of night. A few moments earlier, due to the unstable environment into which, unfortunately, you were born, your quirkʼs manifestation led to your fucked-up family's demise. You were wandering the streets, desperately searching for any shred of hope you still believed this unfair world could offer you. The only feeling you could muster was the lack of purpose that replaced the happiness and joy you once felt so vividly, perhaps due to the loss of the only guidance you were offered in this life. You couldn’t even remember what happened completely; all you had were haunting flashes of screams and puddles of blood that muddied your mind.

457, 458, 459. You were almost unsure of what you were counting until the realization hit you. That was the number of steps you’ve taken since you began walking down this busy street.

Pitter-patter. The sound of rain hitting the pavement of the busy street flooded your mind. You must have convinced yourself by now that everyone who passed you on the street was just busy; that's why they refused to lend a hand or call for a hero. They must've believed it was concerning that a child was wandering the dark streets alone, right?

550, 551, 552.

You were shivering, and by now, a relentless rhythm of heartbeats was echoing in your mind, driving you to the brink of madness.

You turned left; where even were you? You didn’t have a clue. But, you found yourself outside some sort of hideout.

You knocked on the door, desperate for anything.

…Cold. You thought before promptly blacking out as the door opened.

You opened your droopy eyes to a blurry room full of people. You rubbed your eyes, your sight now clearer and your hearing coming back to you.

"You seriously let a little kid into our base?" A man covered in burn marks, and dark hair spoke in slight annoyance.

Toga: "We couldn’t just leave the kid!" A girl with blonde hair retorted.