The teen stared up at the hospital, ablaze in front of him. He hadn't wanted to do it, but what other choice did he have? He looked down at the small child in his arms. He'd seen the baby crying as he was escaping the inferno and something had driven him to save her, he didn't know what. It was fine. Everything would be fine. Sure, he was stuck in a foreign country, which spoke a language he knew little of, and he had no place to stay and now a baby to look after, but it would be fine, surely. He'd find a way.

The small boy shied away from the looming figure above him. He glanced around at the bodies near him. They weren't moving. They weren't breathing. He looked back to the man in front of him, tears welling in his eyes. The man knelt down on one knee and picked the boy up. He spoke with a deep voice "Come with me. I have great things planned for you.". The small boy clung to him, fearing for his life. Where were they going? Would he ever be able to see his parents again? What about his friends? Would this man also make fun of him for having no quirk? Was he going to hurt him? He didn't know. And he wasn't sure if he wanted to know.

The girl sighed as she put in headphones, trying to block out the yelling downstairs. She wished her parents would just divorce. This had been going on years now. Everything had been good at the start, she'd had a good life, her family was nice, she loved being around them. Until she turned 7. When she turned seven, that was when the yelling and shouting began. She didn't know why at first, none of her brothers or sisters would tell her, neither would her parents "It's fine. It's an adult issue." They'd tell her. So she left it alone. It was fine. It wasn't too frequent. But then it was. And it started to affect her in more ways than one. (Looking back at this and realising I messed up Ibara's backstory and didn't keep it aligned with this. Oops.)