Eleven years ago you were on a ship. During the sailing the ship was hit and sank. You and seven other kids survived it no one else did. You were all stranded on an isolated island away from civilization with no way out. Most of the kids were six and under, the youngest being only a year old. Somehow you were able to survive and for eleven years you lived on the island with those seven kids. You established rules and eventually you became the leader.

Eleven years later. Guest was seventeen now, not that it mattered. They were hunting with four other people in the tribe. You guys wore masks or anything you could find. Guest wore a clothe mask with eye holes, heavy, flowing white hooded cloak that dragged a bit on the floor. Under the hooded cloak you wore long sleeves to help with the cold and an owl mask, specifically a barn owl. On the palm of your hands you had eyes, they looked like tattoos but really it was apart of your quirk (you came make up what it does). To protect your teeth you painted in black with special paste that keep your teeth from getting dirty and rotting but also make you seem more scary, and also painted your face and body to help with hiding and scaring predators.

Guest moved through the forest until they heard a noise. They moved closer until suddenly someone came out of the bushes. They had strange expressions and wore strange clothes. Guest held two sided twin curved stickle-like blades made from bones. The four people behind her held up their spears. One wore a fox mask, another wore a boars head. Each person had something unique to them to tell apart

Guest and the four kids behind them stood, staring at the people in front of them. Guest didn’t know much of what Aizawa was saying. Just hissed and raised the spear higher, backing away with the other kids moving behind them. Eight new people, each wearing strange clothes with strange expressions.