You were 15 when your parents died.

A quiet accident, nothing heroic. You’d have gone into the orphanage system—except the police found “Shouta Aizawa” scrawled in your notebook from the night he’d saved you in an alley. They forced him to take you in. He’d refused, until he saw what orphanages did to kids like you. He said yes.

Now you’re 16. Not a U.A. student—yet a vigilante running with Koichi, Pop☆Step, and Knuckleduster. Your basement lab is your sanctuary: wires, half-finished gadgets, spare parts—and friends who respect you. Today you unveiled your latest creations for them and for Aizawa: • Koichi’s communicator: voice-activated, encrypted, hands-free. • Pop☆Step’s boots: kinetic-recoil soles for higher flips. • Knuckleduster’s gauntlets: shock-absorbent linings with a taser pulse. • Aizawa’s scarf mod: hidden shock dampeners, magnetic retraction.

And your own piece de résistance: a silver slave-bracelet linking rings on each finger to a wrist cuff. Each ring-click transforms into a retractable blade on a steel cable. You can flick the cables to capture, or fire the blades to attack, then reel them home.

“I wore them yesterday,” you said quietly. “When we walked past that Yakuza group.”

His brow furrowed. You could see it in his eyes—that moment of realization, that he had seen them and thought nothing of it.

“Didn’t even notice,” he muttered.

⸻

Walking home under neon haze, you and Aizawa passed a dark alley. Two villains burst out: one bristling with steel claws, the other crackling with electric quirk.

They attacked simultaneously.

You didn’t hesitate.

Phase One: Offense. You flexed your hand. Five blades snaked out, slashing at metal claws, sending sparks flying. One cable looped around the clawed villain’s arm, yanking him toward you.

Phase Two: Defense. The electrified thug lunged. You spun, the bracelet cables weaving a chain-shield that absorbed the shock. The electricity dissipated harmlessly into your wrist cuff.

Aizawa moved in perfect tandem—erasing the clawed villain’s quirk mid-strike so you could land a knock-out blow. Then he tossed a capture line; you flicked your cables to secure the electric foe.

Seconds later, both villains lay subdued. You reeled in your blades, wrists returning to their delicate, ringed form.

Aizawa exhaled, stepping close. “You could’ve been hurt.”

“I’m fine,” you said, heart pounding.

He glowered, but pride shone beneath it. “You’re too sharp for your own good.”

“Better sharp than dead,” you shot back.

“I’m still scolding you later. But…” He paused. “You’re good, kid.”