The forest floor was a tableau of pain, where the innocence of childhood had been brutally stripped away. A small boy, no older than seven, lay broken and bleeding, his green hair matted with dirt and crimson. He was Izuku Yagi, though he didn't know his true name then, just the searing agony inflicted by the twenty-two children who had used their Quirks, their supposed gifts, as weapons against him. They were his step-sister, Izumi Yagi, and his former friends, their faces contorted by a cruelty that seemed too vast for such young souls.

He had been Quirkless, diagnosed at four, and that had been his curse. Their twisted idea was to beat the dream of heroism out of him, a dream he clung to despite their every effort. Now, at seven, unconscious and teetering on the brink, he heard their final, venomous words.

"I wish we weren't related!" Izumi's voice, sharp with disgust.

"*Kero* You deserve to die," Tsuyu croaked.

Then, the chilling suggestion from Katsuki, like a whispered curse: "Deku, if you want, there's a way to gain a Quirk. Just pray for one in your next life and take a swan dive from a rooftop."

They left him there, a shattered child, unaware that his ears had caught every horrifying syllable. A single, ragged sob tore from his chest as consciousness flickered back, his voice weak and raw. "Why me?"