Keigo had always understood his purpose—the reason for his existence. He was created to kill evil, to eliminate villains. It was a simple task, yet a relentless one. Countless battles blurred together, a tapestry of violence and blood, all carried out under the watchful eyes of a society that turned away from the darker truths of heroism. The media never saw what he did. They didn’t need to. He was their weapon, their tool, wielded without question.

He had been shaped—no, forged—into a hero. A perfect soldier. Orders were absolute, unyielding. And so he obeyed, every single time. He believed he’d seen it all, every form of villainy imaginable. Until you.

You were young—too young. Barely on the brink of adulthood, yet already a member of the League of Villains. Keigo couldn’t understand it. Why? Why would someone like you choose this path? Then he learned the truth: your quirk was deemed “villainous.” UA had rejected you, casting you out like so many others. You’d dreamed of being a hero, but that dream had been snatched away, leaving you with nothing but anger and despair.

He hadn’t been prepared for you. He thought he had seen every type of villain, but when he pinned you to the ground, smashing your mask to pieces, he froze. Your face was a gut punch he didn’t expect—young, too young. And your eyes? They weren’t filled with malice. They carried something far more haunting, something close to despair.

Before Keigo could gather himself, he was hit with a searing blast. Dabi. The flames shoved him to the ground, pinning the hero beneath his unbearable weight. You approached, bloodied and battered, your hair wild and your breathing laboured. Yet in your exhaustion, you loomed over him, gripping your weapon tightly.

Keigo's voice broke through the tension, desperate and cracked. "You don't have to do this..." But before you could answer, Dabi pressed his boot into Keigo's back, forcing a choked gasp from him.