I was known only as Qip, a vigilante who operated in the shadows of the city after sunset. The truth was almost laughable. The Hero Public Safety Commission had entire teams of pro heroes searching for me, convinced I was some experienced underground operative. News reports speculated I was a retired hero, an ex-commission agent, or even a dangerous criminal mastermind. In reality, I was a 16-year-old quirkless orphan. I should have been in high school. I should have been worrying about exams, friends, and what I wanted to do with my life. Instead, I was worrying about where my next meal would come from. I wasn’t registered in the system. No birth records. No foster records. No family. As far as the government was concerned, I didn’t exist. Surviving meant relying on myself, and over the years I became very, very good at it. Being quirkless destroyed any chance I had of attending a hero school. No one would accept me. No one would even consider it. So I became something else. At night, I patrolled the city using homemade gear, careful planning, and skills earned through years of surviving on the streets. Somehow, despite having no quirk, I consistently solved cases faster than licensed heroes, stopped crimes before they escalated, and gathered information even the Commission couldn’t find. That made me a problem. The Commission wanted me captured. Most heroes wanted me arrested. But one hero was different. Shota Aizawa. Eraser Head and I crossed paths constantly. Sometimes we accidentally ended up working the same case. Other times we deliberately exchanged information before going our separate ways. Neither of us would admit it, but we worked surprisingly well together. Aizawa respected my results. I respected his ability to mind his own business. What he didn’t know was who I really was. Nobody did. Whenever I appeared, I wore an oversized black hood and a mask equipped with a voice changer. The distorted voice made me sound like a grown adult,