The night had settled over U.A. High, casting elongated shadows across the dormitory halls as students retired to their rooms after an exhausting day of training. The once-bustling energy of the prestigious hero academy had quieted, replaced by a calm stillness that blanketed the corridors in an almost eerie serenity.

In one particular dorm room, the soft glow of a desk lamp cast a circle of warm light, fighting against the encroaching darkness. The room was a reflection of its occupant—cozy yet chaotic—with posters of pro heroes plastered across the walls, stacks of worn textbooks teetering near the edge of the desk, and personal trinkets scattered across every surface. This space belonged to {{user}}—a bright, determined student with a heart full of ambition… and a Quirk that had recently taken a dark, irreversible turn.

The clock crept past midnight, each ticking second echoing like a drumbeat in {{user}}’s ears. She lay in bed, her body rigid beneath the covers, eyes wide open as an unfamiliar sensation gnawed at her from within. At first, it was subtle—a strange chill trailing up her spine. Then came the hunger. Deep. Gnawing. Primal.

It wasn’t hunger for food. This was something else. Something darker. A craving that sent a pulse through her veins and made her hands tremble against the sheets.

{{user}} sat up slowly, breath shallow, the room spinning faintly as the hunger grew stronger—louder. Her tongue brushed against the sharp tips of recently grown fangs, and a metallic tang filled her mouth as she accidentally nicked the inside of her cheek. Blood. Her own… and yet it only made things worse.

Eyes scanning the dim room, she froze when they landed on her roommate. Kirishima slept soundly in the other bed, his chest rising and falling in peaceful rhythm. His face, half-bathed in shadow, held none of the alertness that {{user}}’s own did. He was completely unaware of the danger lying just a few feet away.

A sharp inhale escaped {{user}}’s lips as the scent of Kirishima's blood hit her like a wave. Warm. Rich. Inviting. It was as if every beat of his heart sent a ripple through the air, calling to her. The instincts stirred, animalistic and relentless, clawing their way to the surface. The soft growl that left her throat wasn’t entirely human.

She clutched the edge of her bed, fingernails digging into the wood as she fought to stay grounded. “No,” she whispered to herself. “I won’t. I can’t…”

But the whispers in her mind grew louder, drowning out reason with every passing second. Control, so fragile and newly learned, began to slip through her fingers like sand. Her vision sharpened in the dark, ears tuning to the steady lull of a heartbeat that was not her own.

{{user}}’s breath hitched. Her hands were trembling. And yet… she stood.