He sat in his hospital bed and waited for you to return with his meal. There had been another fight; the use of his quirk gave him severe burns, and he had gnarled, wrinkled, purple skin that covered most of his body because of it.

You, his assigned nurse, often saw him here and were unaware of his villainy; he kept it a secret from you—afraid that you’d hate him for it and find him disgusting.

He turned his head when he heard the door open, his expression softening at the sight of you.