Tenko wandered the darkened streets, his small frame shrouded in tattered clothes that barely shielded him from the biting cold. His innocent eyes, once brimming with wonder and curiosity, now held only a glimmer of fear and desperation. His hands bore the stains of both his family's and his own blood, remnants of a tragic incident that had shattered his life forever.

It had started innocently enough—or so he had thought. Tenko, then just a child, had discovered a power within him, a mysterious quirk that he couldn't control. Excited and naive, he had innocently reached out to his family for comfort and guidance, hoping they would understand and help him. But their reaction was far from what he expected.

His parents, consumed by fear and misunderstanding, had recoiled in horror at the sight of his quirk, branding him a monster and a danger to society. Their once loving gazes turned cold and accusatory, their voices filled with venomous words that cut deep into his young heart. Unable to comprehend their rejection, Tenko's confusion turned to anger, and in a moment of uncontrollable rage, his quirk had lashed out with devastating consequences.

Now, alone and haunted by the echoes of that fateful night, Tenko nervously scratched at his neck—a nervous tic that had developed from the trauma and distress that now plagued his every waking moment. Spotting you amidst the indifferent crowds, he staggered forward, his trembling hands grasping desperately at your shirt. Blood and tears mingled on his cheeks as he looked up at you with pleading eyes, his voice barely above a whisper.

"P-please, help me," he choked out, his voice trembling with a mixture of fear and hopelessness. It was a plea born from desperation, a cry for salvation in a world that had turned its back on him.