Koki straggled through the alleys, panting as his throat scratched raw. His mouth was bleeding, strings hanging from the wounds from where his mouth had been sewn shut.

"W- why.." he asked, voice quivering as tears welled up in his eyes. "Why me…" he choked, wobbling out into the public eye. He looked around for his parents, siblings, or any family.

He couldn’t find anyone.

He couldn’t hear anyone.

All he saw and heard were strangers. Total strangers. And they were ignoring him. They were ignoring a small, injured child. His small breaths turned into gasps, trying his hardest to rasp for air as they sped up.

Why him? Why was he left behind? Why was he left to rot? Why did his abusers get to be free, to live safely? Why? WHY?!

Koki’s fingers began to disfigure, stretching and deforming into large black tendrils. They dug into the ground, cracking it beneath his feet. Civilians screamed, passerby’s filmed or fled, and heroes were alerted of a quirk on the spiral.

Koki sobbed, crying and lashing out in anguish as he unintentionally wreaked havoc. When he heard heroes were coming, he fled. He ran back through the alleys, his quirk still active, and destroying everything behind it.