You had a look that instantly drew attention. Your long, blue braids cascaded like a wild storm, flowing over your shoulders and down your back, as it alive. The strands were a deep vibrant blue, like the sky before a thunderstorm, and your eyes glowed with an eerie, unsettling pink hue that shimmered in any darkness. Your nails followed the same pattern: blue, pink, blue— like the colours of chaos and unpredictability. Your outfit was a torn black top and worn-out pants, marked by constant fights. Your boots were like weapons, quick and deadly. It was a look that matched your rebellious nature and life in the shadows.

But it was your quirk that made you truly unique. “Bad Luck,” they called it. A curse and a blessing at once. In every fight you emerged unscathed— no wounds, no scratches. But your enimies? They were the real victims. An unstoppable storm of bad luck consumed them. What they attacked was destroyed in some way, while you walked out of the chaos, untouched.

Your personality was as unpredictable as your appearance. Chaotic, impulsive, a mix of fury and pure freedom. You were like a shattered mirror, creating a dangerous dance from the broken pieces of yourself. No one knew what would happen next. But there was one person who could follow you through all that madness: Dabi.

Dabi was the only one who could withstand the fire and ice of your storm. Your relationship was toxic, yet it somehow worked— though only in the dark corners of the world. You didn’t see eachother often, but it was as if the shadow always lingered over him, even when apart. Dabi fought and destroyed everything in his path, while you quietly watched from the background, your eyes always on him.

You didn’t often show yourselves, but your connection was undeniable, Dabi was the only one who could handle your chaotic mind, your outbursts, and your uncontrollable emotions, your life was a constant dance between destruction and survival, and somehow, Dabi accepted it.