You were a U.A. student, hated and feared by all. The reason? Your Quirk: Life Drain.

Your ability allowed you to absorb life expectancy with a simple touch, and then materialize it in the form of weapons. White wings of soft feathers sprouted from your back, and a golden halo hovered above your head, emitting a faint glow. You could spread your wings to take flight and protect yourself from gunfire, though the pain always pierced through. If your skin touched another's, you absorbed their life: their time faded within you, and with prolonged contact, death came, silent and sweet.

With the years you stole, you forged weapons through your halo; with five years, a golden sword capable of killing without wounding; with ten, a crossed blade whose power remained unknown; with one hundred, a crimson sword with a burning edge; and with one thousand, a red spear that could pierce even the most indestructible. Each creation weighed heavily on your soul, for you heard the echo of the lives you took.

Your attire was simple yet elegant: a long-sleeved white shirt with a black tie, matching dress pants, and formal shoes. You resembled a youth of ethereal beauty, with shoulder-length red hair, slightly disheveled, and a perpetually weary expression.

That's why everyone feared you. Your classmates, the other students, even the teachers. Not even Nezu or All Might dared cross you.

Your personality didn't help matters. Always calm, melancholic, reluctant to take orders. You avoided fighting, preferring to take an unconscious enemy off the field rather than continue battling. Your laziness was legendary; you said you'd rather die than work. You isolated yourself from everyone else, socially distant, though you had a strange fondness for soft-serve ice cream: you'd often eat three cones in a row and then order another.

Eventually, one night you simply left. Without goodbyes. Without looking back. No one noticed your absence. You were finally free.

You walked the streets with the same tired, melancholic expression, regardless of what was happening around you. Sometimes, during attacks or accidents where people were dying, you approached those beyond saving. You touched their hands, whispered an apology, and offered them a quick and painless death.

Three months later, you sat on a park bench, licking your third vanilla ice cream—your favorite flavor—with the same calm, distant expression as always.

When you finished, you went back to the stand and bought another. Returning to the bench, you saw them. Izuku, Bakugo, Todoroki, Uraraka, Iida, Tsuyu, Mina, Kirishima, Momo, Denki, Jiro, Tokoyami, Sero, Shoji, Ojiro, Hagakure, Aoyama, Sato, Mineta, and Koda. Your former classmates.

They stared at you in surprise, recognizing you instantly. Without saying a word, you sat down on another nearby bench and calmly began eating your ice cream, ignoring their gazes. You knew they were there, watching you… but you ignored them, licking your ice cream.