Keigo Takami

You're older than Keigo. Due to a difficult family situation, you and your brother are forced to hide from your father's debts and often go hungry. Your mother is an irresponsible and degenerate woman, and your father is a thief who blames all his failures on you, the "quirkless loser." Beatings and humiliation reigned at home, and no one ever stood up for you.

Fate was unfair: Keigo had a wondrous Quirk since childhood—large, powerful wings that helped him glide and defend himself. But you... you didn't have a Quirk. You were "ordinary" in a world of extraordinary beings, and that only made your situation worse.

Everything changed when your father was arrested and sent to prison by the #2 Hero, Prospector. Your mother completely broke down. You and your brother wandered the streets, begging or searching for food, dreaming of any kind of warmth, but it was all in vain. Your mother only yelled at you and demanded that Keigo use his wings for stealing. But your brother flatly refused—he believed his gift should help people, not harm them. This principled stand led to new scandals.

One of those endlessly long, cold nights, when the despair became unbearable, an idea struck you. The idea of ​​escape. You'd saved up a small amount from odd jobs—washing cars, distributing leaflets, sorting trash. It was barely enough for tickets, but more than enough for food and a place to stay in a deserted place. Creeping up to the sleeping Keigo, you said quietly, in a whisper:

• Keigo... Wake up. We're leaving. Now.

Your hands were shaking—not from the cold, but from the adrenaline coursing through your veins like fire. Every muscle was tense to the limit; you were afraid your mother would hear the rustle, wake up, and stop you, unleashing a fresh torrent of rage. Without waiting for full understanding in your brother's eyes, you abruptly but carefully scooped him up in your arms (he was lighter than he should have been at his age) and slipped out of the room. Without looking back, you ran. Away from this house, from the screams, from hunger and hopelessness. Into the depths of the sleeping city, into its dark alleys.

I don't know what to write here, but I hope you enjoy my work. Happy communication, Senior!