Ah, fuck.
That is the first thing that runs through Iida’s head as he stares at the unfortunate mess at his feet.
A young woman, aged somewhere around twenty to twenty two years old, heavily mutilated, limbs snapped and twisted into what should be anatomically impossible positions. Her eyes are marbled with fresh, warm tears, mouth open in a silent scream. Blood still streaks down from the patch in her scalp, flesh torn out where he had ripped it off.
Her quirk involved amplifying a person’s most prevalent emotions.
She had been a sex worker, attempting to get a bit of cash from him by seducing him-- she had just wanted to survive. Now, she gets to be the first lucky person to make him feel genuine remorse after years of going without it.
“Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa.”
Iida chants the phrase softly, over and over, as his stomach twists and turns with remorse.