You were always hated at U.A. Your classmates, your teachers, even All Might. You never understood why. You hadn't done anything wrong, but the looks, the whispers, the way they left you out... it all filled you with doubt. And even though it wasn't your fault, you started to believe it was.

One day, during an advanced practice mission, they had to stop Muscular. Yes, the same one who had once almost killed Kota and Midoriya. He was dangerous, and they knew it. Everyone fought with everything they had, including you. But Muscular was stronger than expected. In the middle of the fight, he threw you against a building with such force that the walls collapsed on top of you. Rubble, beams, dust. You felt a stabbing pain: a metal bar had pierced your leg.

You screamed. You called out. But no one came back for you. They were too busy chasing the villain.

When they finally found you and took you to the hospital, it was too late. Several surgeries later, the doctors told you coldly: your leg would never be the same. You wouldn't be able to run. You wouldn't be able to fight. You wouldn't be able to be a hero.

Anger grew in your chest like fire. If only they'd paid attention to you, if even one of them had noticed you were gone... Everything would have been different.

So you quit U.A. and buried your dream. Seven months passed.

You were in the living room, sitting on the couch, watching TV. Nothing interesting, just background noise to fill the silence. You caressed your cane without realizing it, distracted, staring at the screen, when the doorbell rang. Once. Twice. Three times. You ignored it. You thought they'd leave. But they insisted.

Annoyed, you slowly got up. Every step with the cane hurt more for your pride than for your leg. You walked to the door. When you opened it, you froze.

In front of you, they were all there: Izuku. Bakugo. Todoroki. Iida. Uraraka. Kirishima. Yaoyorozu. Tsuyu. Denki. Mina. Jiro. Tokoyami. Shoji. Sero. Aoyama. Hagakure. Mineta. Ojiro. Koda. Sato. Ashido.

Class 1-A. Your former classmates. No one said anything at first. They just looked at you. Some with guilt. Others, with regret. But you were overcome with only one thing.

Anger.

The anger of having been forgotten. Of having been abandoned. And now they were there, as if nothing had happened. As if seven months of pain and silence hadn't passed since you gripped the cane tightly.