From the moment you were born, you had a mark on your hip.

More precisely, words that had been etched into the innermost layer of your skin and stood in stark contrast to its regular hue. They weren't messily scrawled across, either—rather, it seemed as though the blackened imprint had been made with the uttermost care; an ornate intricacy that connected with each and every one of the nerves and sinews in your body.

Simply put, it was a blessing. Or at least, that's what everyone always told you.

"Wow, [Name]-chan, you're so lucky to have that kind of mark!" people would always comment.

"This way you'll know exactly when you meet your soulmate!"

"I wish I had some way of knowing who mine was."

Those were most of the remarks that you received, ever since you'd first revealed the tattoo-like engraving on your skin. Granted, you understood peoples' fascination—having a soulmate was something that many could only dream of, and without a clear marking or sign, they had no way of knowing how or when they would encounter their significant other. Some people went their entire lives without ever meeting the right person, you heard.

Which is why you knew that you should have considered yourself lucky. These days, there were all sorts of manifestations that would help you find your soulmate. Some had a timer that would stop once they met one another; others had a timer that would only start upon a first meeting; and others still were only able to see the world through a lens the color of their soulmate's eyes—up until they met and they were able to see the world the way it was.

You wanted to feel lucky. You really, truly wanted to. But the reality was that you couldn't. Because ever since you'd first learned to read, all you felt was fear.

"Get in my way, and I'll fucking kill you."

Those were the words imprinted on your skin—the very first words that your soulmate would ever speak to you. When your parents had first read the marking, they'd merely laughed it off and always told you that it would probably end up being some kind of joke, but you didn't share in their sentiments. It might've been unfair to make rash judgments, but there was some sick, twisted feeling you got every time you looked down at the mark on your hip.

Because you truly feared that your soulmate would not be a good person.

—

"Aren't you excited, [Name]-chan? Our very first day at U.A!"

Your long-time best friend, Uraraka, was bubbling excitedly as the two of you were attempting to navigate the large, daunting corridors inside campus. During the entrance exam, you'd seen a lot of people who had very strong Quirks; primarily physical. Yours didn't have the most offensive power, but it was certainly quite versatile and could be used in many different ways.

By a universal standard, most people might've considered it to be strong, but they probably hadn't met you.

It's not as if you thought of yourself as weak, per se, but you were the type of person who would never use violence as a means to get what you wanted. The whole reason you'd become a hero was to save others—the component of fighting villains wasn't exactly what had drawn you in. Your Quirk also possessed slight healing properties, so if nothing else, you would've liked to act more as Recovery Girl than the standard, battle-type hero.

Bottom line, you didn't like hurting people, and your chest would ache whenever you would see someone who did.

I'm lucky the entrance exam was just robots, and not actual people...

You hadn't given much thought as to how you would fare when you did need to battle against others, but you tried to keep your eye on the prize. If you could use your powers to rescue others, you were more than willing to do whatever it took.

"Oh, looks like this is us!" Uraraka grinned, stopping before a large door that read 1-A, and was soon to become your homeroom class. You stiffened up almost immediately, feeling a swell of nerves in your chest.

"I guess...we're actually here," you mumbled out, sparing a smile towards your best friend. "To be perfectly honest, I wasn't entirely sure that I'd even be able to pass that entrance exam, so everything feels a bit surreal right now."

She beamed back at you through rosy cheeks. "Well, we definitely made it! Come on, let's try to keep our spirits up!"

"You're right. This is...an amazing opportunity, and I'm grateful to be here."

With a quick inhale, you gripped the edge of the door and carefully slid it open, eyes widened as they peered over towards the other side.

The first thing you saw—or rather, heard, was two male classmates that appeared to have already gotten off off on the wrong foot. Literally.

"Don't just put your feet on the table!" the bespectacled one cried out. He was of a tall, robust build and had perfectly coiffed black hair. He also looked less than pleased. "Don't you think such behavior is disrespectful towards your classmates?!"

The reply came from a deep, raspy voice that unnecessarily loud.

"No, as a matter of fact, I don't!" he sneered. "Which damn school are you from anyways, you two-bit extra?!"

You traced back the source of the voice to find yourself staring at an ash blonde male who had propped his legs up on the desk and was using it as a footrest. His hair tousled and spiky; almost impossibly so. He also had deep, crimson eyes that were narrowed into slits as he viciously glared down the student that was reprimanding him.

Normally, you didn't like to make rash judgments, but you decided from the sadistic smirk on his lips that you didn't care for him one bit.

"Ahem. I suppose I should introduce myself after all," the male with glasses spoke. "I'm from Soumei Junior High School—the name's Iida Tenya."

"SOUMEI?!!" The blonde let out a derisive snort before gritting his teeth. "Well, aren't you an elite. Seems like I've got a reason to fucking end you, after all!"

"Wha—?! End me?!" Iida spluttered. "What nerve! Someone like you wants to be a hero...??"

Uraraka chuckled awkwardly from beside you, and all you could do was let out a deep sigh. There were certainly some interesting characters present, for lack of a better word.

You'd been about to mumble something out, but the brunette let out a cry of surprise as she spied someone a little distance away.

"Ah—it's you!" she enthused. "Curly-haired kid!"

She began bubbling excitedly as she rushed over to chat up a freckled boy who all but flushed the shade of a tomato. Come to think of it, she had mentioned being saved by some guy in her lot of the exam, not that you were there to witness it. She'd been worried he might not have gotten in since he hadn't actually destroyed any robots, but it seemed like things had worked out.

You smiled.

I'm glad. I can already tell that they'll get along great.

Although you were admiring them with a silent smile, your [e/c] orbs had shifted off to the side—just in time to see the ash blonde glaring daggers in your direction. You felt yourself stiffen, immediately wondering just what the hell you could've possibly done to piss him off, but then you realized that he wasn't actually staring at you; it was the curly-haired boy just beside.

You felt a bit relieved that you weren't the new victim of his frustration, but seeing the harsh, ruthless way he was glowering in the boy's direction made a chill pass down your spine. The hatred he wore was as visible as day, and completely unlike anything you'd ever seen before. You didn't want to meddle, and you definitely didn't want to get involved. You had a feeling that if you did, you would surely come to regret it.

Every fiber in your being was telling you that this guy was bad news; that you should distance yourself as much as possible, and avoid him altogether. But it was strange. Because in spite of the way your stomached lurched, there was a wave of heat spreading through your heart.

And you didn't like it one bit.