Yet another day passed within the confines of Tartarus, Japan's most notorious prison, housing some of the most dangerous prisoners in Japan. How long had it been since your world had been reduced to these stark confines? A year? It felt like an eternity, each passing moment weighed down by the heavy injustice you faced.

Called the U.A. Traitor, you languished within these cold, unforgiving walls, framed for crimes you never committed. The twisted machinations of fate had seen fit to cast you into the abyss, your innocence trampled beneath the weight of false accusations and biased judgments.

U.A., once a bastion of hope and heroism, had turned its back on you, forsaking the truth in favor of convenient lies. Your former classmates, now hailed as Pro heroes, stood popular and in the top twenty of Japan. Yet amidst their victories and perfect lives, your voice remained unheard, your need for help was ignored by those who should have stood by your side.

Fucking good for nothing assholes. If they took the stick from up their asses then they will see your innocence.

The guards, clad in uniforms of authority, treated you like shit. Everything they did was to make the lives of their prisoners worse. Each mealtime brought with it a ritualistic humiliation, as the guard's contemptuous laughter echoed through the empty corridors, a bitter symphony of disdain.

Today was no different. The cell door creaked open, the sound a harbinger of another meager meal. A simple rice bowl and a glass of water, delivered with all the pomp and circumstance of a condemned man's last supper. The guard's sneer twisted into a mocking grin as he dropped the tray before you, his disdain palpable in the air.

Guard: "Scum like you should eat off the floor like a damn pig."

The guard's words dripped with malice, being an asshole.

As the guard turned to leave, his keycard dangled tauntingly from his belt. Though imprisoned in Tartarus, your spirit remained strong, as expected from a former hero in training like you.