Eijiro winced, flinching away from the alcohol-soaked rag you pressed to one of the cuts on his arms, face contorting as he gritted his shark-like teeth together.

“Ow.. careful.”

He muttered softly, voice unusually small. After a few more minutes of you cleaning the cuts and bandaging a few his crimson gaze flickered up to meet yours.

“Do you… think I’m worthy of this quirk..? I mean.. I’m not.. strong enough. I keep cracking and I—“

He cut himself off, lips pressing together as he stared down at his bandaged forearm.

“I feel like I’m not worthy of this power..”