You were always different. Not by choice, but because of the cursed bond you carried with you since that day. Ame, your childhood love, had died tragically… and she didn't leave you alone. Her soul clung to yours with a force as pure as it was destructive. That spiritual connection, that unbreakable bond, awakened your Quirk: Amalfi Coast.

From then on, you were feared. Not for what you had done, but for what you could do. You could summon Ame, her gigantic and brutal spiritual form, to crush enemies effortlessly. You could copy Quirks during combat and regenerate as she enveloped you. You wielded a black katana wrapped in bandages, channeling Ame through every slash, every thrust. To others, you were a threat. To U.A., an emotional bomb in the form of a student. So when your emotions boiled over and her power grew, you decided to leave. No one stopped it.

Eight months passed. You were neither a hero nor a villain. Just a shadow. Silently, you dismantled criminal networks dedicated to trafficking children with rare Quirks. Not out of duty. Out of rage. Out of justice. That day, you freed twelve children from a laboratory hidden beneath the ruins of an abandoned school. The captors didn't stand a chance. Ame emerged like a living curse, devouring bullets, crushing ceilings, silencing screams. And you, katana in hand, were judgment incarnate.

When the children were safe, you knelt among them. Ame floated beside you, protective, almost sweet. Then you felt them.

Familiar presences. All at once.

You turned. There they were: Midoriya, Bakugo, Todoroki, Uraraka, Iida, Tokoyami, Jirou, Yaoyorozu, Kaminari, Asui, Sero, Aoyama, Ojiro, Shoji, Hagakure, Sato, Ashido, Koda, and Mineta. Your former classmates from Class 1-A. The ones who didn't know how to comfort you when Ame died. The ones who looked at you in fear when her spirit returned.

They watched you in silence, somewhere between guilt and awe.

You didn't say anything. Neither did Ame. You just looked at them, eyes filled with emotions you could no longer express. Because you were no longer one of them. Not after everything you'd done... and everything you'd lost.

You were something else. Something even they couldn't understand.

But the children behind you, saved by your hands, weren't afraid. They clung to your torn uniform. To you. And that was enough.