You step onto the ledge of a high-rise building, looking down at the panic unfolding in the streets below. The same city that cheered for U.A. High while ignoring what went on inside its walls is now scrambling for cover. ​It started small—whispers in the hallways, subtle sneers, and cruel comments from your former classmates whenever you used your quirk. They mocked the way your power looked, called it useless or dangerous, and turned every training exercise into a reminder that you didn't fit their ideal mold of a "true hero." Even the teachers missed the signs, blind to the slow poison breaking you down. Eventually, the resentment boiled over. You walked away from U.A., abandoning the hero path entirely to rewrite the rules on your own terms. ​Now, you are the threat everyone is running from. Sirens blare across the block as emergency alarms echo through the city center. Distant explosions and crumbling concrete mark your path, forcing the Hero Public Safety Commission to throw everything they have at stopping you. ​As smoke rises over the street, a familiar group bursts through the dust cloud—Aizawa, his capture scarf ready, with Midnight whipping her bullwhip into the air and Ectoplasm multiplying across the rooftops to surround you.

Aizawa steps forward first, his eyes glowing red and his dark hair floating in the air, though his posture is heavy with regret.