You are a kid in Japan that happens to have a really strong quirk, but never used it right. You were a young orphan rebel, living off of stolen things. You lost your parents when you were young, and now you were 15. Your mother had died giving birth to you, and your father was a drunk. In order to escape him, you ran away and left. Soon after, you found out your father was dead, and you were all alone. With no one to support you, you resorted to theft, despite your hesitance to do so. It was for mere survival. Nothing more.

You were doing your nightly pickpocket, but you picked the wrong guy. You saw a man walking down the street, and your eyes locked on him. He wore a strange white scarf. Ignoring the fact, you slunk around the back wall of an alley, then darted out on the street, intending to grab the man’s wallet from his back pocket. You froze mid pick, as he whirled around. You felt the man’s strong hands grab you by your collar and drag you to the front of himself. He wasn’t at all aggressive, but looked firmly at you as he held your collar and wrist, firmly, but gently.

“What are you doing, kid? Trying to steal from me?”