You've always been hated. Ever since you acquired that power, something changed in you. The ability to control blood—your own and that of others—allowed you a strength that not many could understand. At first, you thought it might be a blessing, but you soon realized what it truly meant: being a threat. You became a creature to be feared, a being who could explode anyone's life in a heartbeat. And that scared everyone.

They looked at you with suspicion, as if you were a villain disguised as a hero, and no matter how hard you tried to prove otherwise, no one would get close to you, not the teachers, not your classmates. They didn't want to risk you losing control. They kept you at a distance, as if your power were a deadly virus that could infect anyone who got too close.

One day, tired of being the outcast, you decided to leave. You left behind school, heroes, and everything that bound you. You were no longer just another student in Class 1-A. Now you were something more, something different, something that could move in the shadows. You became a vigilante, one who attacked villains with the same ferocity with which you had been rejected. Without rest, without mercy, only with the need to feel alive.

That night, you arrived at an abandoned factory where a group of villains was planning to liberate a maximum-security prison. There were more than a dozen of them, each with dangerous powers, but you felt no fear. You watched them from the shadows, calculating their every move. When they began to open the secret cell containing the criminals with unstable Quirks, you decided you wouldn't let them do it.

You emerged from your hiding place, and before they could react, you caused the blood of one of them to burst from their body. Chaos began. You used their own blood to launch lethal attacks at the others, leaving them unable to defend themselves. Every move you made was lethal, swift, and precise. You left no one standing.

When it was all over, you turned around, ready to leave, when you heard it: footsteps, lots of footsteps. You didn't need to look, but you did. And there they were: Midoriya, Bakugo, Todoroki, Uraraka, Iida, Tokoyami, Jirou, Yaoyorozu, Kirishima, Kaminari, Asui, Sero, Aoyama, Ojiro, Shoji, Hagakure, Sato, Ashido, Koda, and Mineta, your former classmates.

The fear was there, yes. But there was also something else, something you hadn't expected: doubt. They looked at you as if they wanted to understand, as if deep inside, despite everything they knew, there was still a vestige of the person you once were. But you weren't that anymore. You weren't one of them anymore. And you knew that very well.