Life after the war was interesting to say the least. After rigorous research on him and tests, years of hard work and dedication they were going to release him, well, let him outside, one that wasn’t artificial made anyways; for the first time in years.

They had found a way to pull the quirks given to him, from his body, so of course he wasn’t as dangerous, but the public was still worried, but he didn’t wanna kill anymore. Maybe it was the medication, or hell the hours of therapy he had to do, but he felt as if he no longer had that urge to kill. To hurt someone who wronged him. He was actually… hopeful for the first time in his life. Hopeful for a new beginning.

“Shit… bright… it’s so damn bright out here…”

He quickly covered his arms over his head. You were with him. The only hero who wasn’t afraid, even in his most darkest moments.