Every man is not born equal.
In a world where superpowers—Quirks—are the norm, those born without them are treated as defects. Outcasts. Mistakes.
They are called Quirkless.
To be quirkless is to be ridiculed. To be bullied. To be told—every day—that your life has less value.
Most cases of suicide in Japan come from the quirkless population.
Nobody cared.
After all… what good is a quirkless person?
They had no idea.
Sam Suzuki walked home from another shift at the construction site, boots scraping against cracked pavement as the sun dipped low over Musutafu. His shoulders ached. His hands were raw.
Most notably, his eyes were dull.
People avoided him. Not only because he walks around like a zombie, but because he has an ominous scar that goes down his face. It would make anyone do a double-take.
They crossed the street. Turned their heads. Pulled their children closer.
They always assume that he is a villain. They try to not associate with him in any way.
'Again.'
He thought bitterly.
'They all run away… just because of a scar.'
Sam had a handsome face—sharp jaw, strong nose—but it was ruined by the brutal mark. Four straight claw-like lines dragged from his forehead down to his jaw.
"Bastards," he muttered.
He just ignored them, not willing to give them another moment of his attention. He was coming up on his home. A little apartment.
The apartment he lived in was cheap, cramped, and barely standing. A place no one wanted—perfect for someone like him. It had only been a few weeks since he'd returned to Japan.
What was once a dream had become nothing but disappointment.
People whispered. Assumed he was a delinquent.
He ignored them.
'I can't stand how relaxed everyone is, Sam thought. If they saw what I saw—'
He shook his head sharply.
'No. Stop.'
The past was the past. Sam had a harsh one, but he refused to let it define him. At least, he is trying not to.
'I need to move on.'
But for just a moment—a woman appeared in his mind.
Blurry. Gone.
"Tch."
'I need to go home.'
Then—
"Get off of me!!"
A scream. It was coming from an alleyway.
People glanced over. Then, they looked away.
"A hero'll handle it."
That was a common consensus among the passerby's.
Sam froze the moment he heard that.
Snow. Gunfire. Villagers falling.
Sam was back to his past. Instead of thinking about it, he was living it. He could smell the iron of the blood and he could hear the screams of the women and the evil laughs of the monsters who caused all that pain.
"Help!!"
Once again, that cry for help began to overlap with a memory. Sam, looked down the alley way and decided that since the idiots are too reliant on hero's, they are going to stand by and do nothing. This was something that greatly peeved Sam. After seeing so many horrific scenes in his days as a mercenary, he would always take a call for help as serious as possible. Because he knew what happens when cries for help are ignored by the masses.
Sam dropped everything.
'Never again.'
He sprinted.
A man was harassing a woman deep in the alley.
The moment Sam witnessed that, his thoughts cleared.
Sam lunged.
He took out his army knife that he keeps on his person for his own peace of mind and continues his charge.
The knife flashed.
"Huh?"
Before the man could even process anything, two fingers fell.
The man screamed.
Sam slammed his face down and raised the blade.
Once again, the scene kept switching from an alleyway to a grizzly African village that was razed by warmongers. And the man he had pinned down, was switching between the thug he slammed, and an African soldier who committed a war crime.
'End it.'
He thought, resolved to remove that stain from the earth.
Then a voice entered his mind.
'*You have a second chance.*'
Sam stopped.
He looked at the woman who was being attacked and widened his eyes.
The woman stared at him—terrified.
"I'm trying…"
He said to himself, remembering the words of his friend who gave him this second chance.
Then—
Sam's instincts kicked in. He dodged as something tried to catch him. A scarf.
"Kid, you're under arrest."
A man jumped down from
The rooftop and showed himself. A middle aged man with an unkempt appearance, who had a scarf and goggles.
Eraserhead.
"Go away. I just saw the girl being attacked. Take this maggot and go."
Eraserhead narrowed his eyes.
"I wasn't asking you. You just committed an act of vigilantism. You may have tried to save her, but you put her and yourself in danger. We can't have that. Come quietly."
Sam gritted his teeth. He hates this guy just from meeting him for the first time.
"So this is the thanks I get for being a assissting civilian, huh?"
"Yes. This is what you get for committing vigilantism."
"God. I hate you. I hope one day you get your eyes gouged out."
Eraserhead went to apprehend him.
He sent his scarf, intending to wrap him up, but Sam dodged.
Eraserhead sighed.
"So you won't come peacefully."
"Fuck you… fuck your pathetic government and your pathetic hero society and get fucked. I've had enough of you fuckers."
Eraserhead launches his scarf again. This time Sam grabs it in a flash, surprising Eraserhead.
'I didn't see it…'
He thought, remembering the speed Sam showed him.
Sam yanked the scarf and Eraserhead stumbled forward. Sam kneed him right in the gut.
"Ugh!"
He fell to a knee and held his gut.
Eraserhead looked up at the kid and saw the ruthless and cold eyes of a killer.
He decided to act with the utmost caution.
'This isn't an ordinary kid.'
Sam vanished.
Eraserhead was shocked but he reacted quickly as he guessed Sam would back attack him. He had his scarf take the cut, but luckily his scarf was strong.
They clashed.
Sam wasn't impressed.
"You're combat style is fine for a pansy little hero like yourself. Nothing lethal. All non-lethal. That's why you lose today."
Aizawa narrowed his eyes, still keeping them open to keep his quirk activated.
"What are you talking about?"
Sam didn't tell, he showed.
He quickly shot at Eraserhead and speared him to the ground.
Sam mounted him.
Then he transitioned to a choke hold. Not just any choke hold, but a lethal one.
Sam had him locked. He couldn't get out.
Arm around his throat.
Eraserhead was panicking. He could tell the kid wasn't going to let him go.
'So this is how it ends.'
Before Eraserhead could lament his fate, Sam let go.
Eraserhead greedily gasped for air.
Sam backed away from the downed Eraserhead. He looked at his hands in fear. He was horribly shaking. He nearly killed someone. He nearly took a life again.
"I—shit!"
He fled.
He couldn't. He didn't want to hurt anyone anymore. He needed to get out of here. He needed to be free. He remembered a forest. Not too far from his current location. If it's there, maybe he won't have to worry about hurting anyone.
He hurried off, leaving Aizawa behind who was getting his bearings straight.
Aizawa coughed and raised his phone.
"Dangerous and unstable suspect. Threat level: extreme."
(Here's a picture of Sam, complements Chat GPT)