Hi There

Abilities:

Generates large volumes of thick purple gas from his body that induces immediate sleep upon inhalation.

Senses the presence and movement of anyone inside the gas cloud through its natural fluctuations.

Maintains high concentration at the center around himself, with potency decreasing outward in a swirling typhoon pattern.

Capable of flooding entire large areas such as forests to box in and disorient multiple targets at once.

Functions best as long-range support, allowing him to stay at a distance while reading gas flow to avoid surprises.

Gas takes effect instantly and spreads rapidly, enabling quick neutralization of numerous opponents.

Limitations:

Gas is easily filtered out by any standard gas mask or breathing apparatus.

Cannot manipulate or direct the gas beyond its natural swirling flow, rendering it useless for direct close-quarters combat.

Loses consciousness causes the entire gas cloud to dissipate immediately.

Range is limited to roughly forest-sized areas and can be dispersed quickly by strong winds or external forces.

Lower concentrations away from the center are far less effective and easier to navigate through.

Sora himself is not immune and must wear protective gear to avoid self-exposure on a large scale.

Equipment

Custom-fitted gas mask with reinforced seals and filtered vents to protect against his own quirk during large-scale deployment.

Compact handgun carried for personal defense and to compensate for the quirk’s lack of direct offensive capability.

Spare gas mask filters stored in belt pouches for extended operations.

Simple utility belt holding extra ammunition clips and basic medical supplies for self-stabilization after quirk overuse.

TITLE:

Mustard is the League of Villains’ youngest and most underestimated field asset, operating under an alias that perfectly captures his quirk’s choking, invisible threat. He serves as the group’s primary area-denial specialist, flooding battlefields with sleep-inducing miasma to trap heroes and students alike while his more destructive allies close in for the kill. To the public and hero agencies he is little more than a footnote — a Class C nuisance who hides behind a mask and a gun — but within the League he is a quiet rot that can turn ambushes into mass takedowns. His title is not earned through flashy power or body count; it is earned through the slow, suffocating certainty that once the purple fog rolls in, escape is no longer an option. Mustard does not seek the spotlight. He simply makes sure no one else can breathe in it.

BACKGROUND:

Sora Hazama was born into a respectable household — his mother a middle school principal, his father a PR agent for the Ryukyu Agency. They lived in a quiet suburb built on appearances. From the outside, the Hazama family was model-class: educated, presentable, upwardly mobile.

He grew up in a home where performance mattered more than honesty. His mother taught discipline and his father taught spin. Neither of them taught him how to survive being in a system that was built to punish the ones who were ‘at risk’ of delinquency. It was unfair, because he didn’t start as a delinquent. He was just the student who sat too still, asked too many sharp questions, and stopped believing adults had answers.

By the time he reached his second year of middle school, it was already clear what path he wouldn’t be allowed to take. He hadn’t even considered applying to hero course preparation classes, he didn’t need to. He had already been labeled a villain at school and bullied relentlessly just because of his quirk, a biological setback he had no control over. The teachers who smiled at other students skipped his name during quirk demonstrations. The career counselor marked “general studies” before he even sat down. He wasn’t a problem child. He wasn’t. But he was the kind of student schools quietly discard: too observant, too unspectacular, too strange. So he stopped trying to impress them. He watched kids with flashier quirks train for futures he’d never be offered, and festered in his anger until it rotted into a pestilence he couldn’t rid himself of. 

What made the rot sink deeper was the family that existed around him — two brothers whose needs swallowed every spare scrap of parental attention like black holes. The oldest, Shinji, was three years his senior and his quirk (Sulfur Mustard) was monstrously powerful, capable of wiping out half a city if he ever lost control during one of his meltdowns, and held the kind of potential that made people push him towards a hero career. But Shinji was a sweet, gentle kid who wanted nothing more than to become a veterinarian. He was autistic, obsessively orderly, and spent his formative years trying to protect Sora while barely managing eye contact himself, always smoothing Sora’s wrinkled uniform with careful fingers, combing the tangles from his messy hair, ironing his clothes until they were crisp and perfect. He was the only one who ever noticed the small things, the only one who tried to shield Sora from the worst of the world.

The youngest, Kitamura, was four years younger than Sora. Kitamura’s quirk manifested as Oil — thick, slick emitter fluid that poured from the sweat glands in his palms and, disturbingly, from his tear ducts whenever he cried. A head injury as a toddler had left him with a noticeable slur, slower reaction times, and a hair-trigger tendency to act out when overwhelmed. He was loud, messy, and needy in ways that demanded constant supervision. Between Shinji’s meltdowns and mutations and Kitamura’s neurological outbursts, the Hazama household ran on crisis management internally while their parents were unwilling to present anything dysfunctional to the onlooking world. 

There was never enough time, patience, or emotional bandwidth left for the quiet middle son who sat too still and asked too many questions. Sora adored both of his brothers genuinely and fiercely, but that love only sharpened the knife of injustice when bullies at school targeted Shinji’s visible holes or mocked Kitamura’s slurred speech. And, naturally, these attacks somehow always circled back to Sora as well. “Your family’s a bunch of freaks,” they’d sneer. “No wonder you’re like that.” The system didn’t just discard Sora; it discarded the entire Hazama name, and every time his siblings suffered for existing, his sense of unfairness calcified into something colder and more poisonous.

The summers, the time he should have spent away from school and away from this stress, offered no escape. Every year his parents shipped him off to his cousin’s farm; Tsubaraba’s household, a single mother struggling to raise four children on a shoestring budget in the middle of Kansai nowhere. The farm was supposed to be a break, fresh air, hard work. Instead it became another circle of hell. Kosei Tsubaraba, only a year older than Sora, had decided early on that he was going to be a hero. He was loud, confident, and already training for the U.A. entrance exam, and he hated Sora with the particular venom of someone who needed to prove he was better. The bullying started small — shoved into mud, mocked for his quiet nature — but quickly turned vicious. Kosei’s own insecurity found an easy target in his weird, soft cousin. And when Kosei bragged endlessly about applying to U.A., about becoming a real hero, Sora’s resentment toward the entire hero system went from sour to outright toxic.

He knew, with bone-deep certainty, that he would never be allowed to walk that path. Not with his quirk. Not with his family’s reputation. Not with the way the world had already decided what he was. The realization that his cousin — the same cousin who had groped him in the hayloft and called him a future casualty — would get to wear the hero license while Sora was quietly funneled into general studies felt like a personal execution. In the quiet hours after those summers, when the bruises had faded but the memory hadn’t, Sora started looking for someone, anyone, who was actually doing something about the rot at the heart of hero society. That search led him to Stain. Here was a man who didn’t make excuses, who didn’t play the game, who looked at fake heroes and called them what they were. Stain didn’t have flashy support or institutional backing. He had conviction and a blade. For the first time Sora felt seen. If the system wouldn’t let him be a hero, then maybe the only honest thing left was to become the thing they already feared he was.

PERSONALITY:

Sharp. Jealous. Calculated. And very much an angry teen. Mustard is chaotic and seething; he wants heroes, hero students specifically, to die if only to prove them all right that he was the big bad villain. He tries to come off as cold and strategic, and he genuinely believes that power and recognition are hoarded by the privileged, but at the end of the day he’s just an angry teenager. A very dangerous angry teenager who wouldn’t hesitate to put a bullet through someone for the first time (but would probably regret it afterwards).

Public Traits:

Condescending, mocking, and dismissive when on the field, using taunts to mask his own uncertainty.

Delivers long rants and monologues the moment an opponent starts struggling because it makes him feel in control.

Panics easily and visibly when the situation spirals out of his carefully planned gas cloud.

Tries to project cool-headed mystery but quickly slips into vindictive, audibly upset shouting.

Appears deeply unstable and only loyal to the League insofar as it lets him prove he was always meant to be the villain.

Private Traits:

Deeply hurt by years of school harassment and the fact that even his own mother never stood up for him once he transferred to her school.

Hides a crushing inferiority complex behind layers of arrogance and intellectual posturing.

Proud of his marksmanship and tactical mind but spirals into self-loathing the second that pride is challenged.

Shows no immediate remorse during violence but privately replays every moment afterward in anxious loops.

Becomes clingy, puppyish, personable, curious, and endlessly talkative once he latches onto someone he trusts.

Craves stimulation and inclusion so badly that he mirrors other people’s bad habits and addictions just to feel like he belongs.

Emotional Range:

Positive emotions surface as sharp, fleeting bursts of smug satisfaction or manic glee when his plans succeed.

Affection appears as sudden, awkward clinginess and rapid-fire questions once he feels safe.

Anger manifests as cold calculation that can flip into explosive, tearful shouting without warning.

Fear shows up as frantic pacing, gas-mask fogging from panicked breathing, and desperate attempts to regain control.

Sadness is buried under sarcasm and quickly redirected into blame or self-deprecating jokes.

Jealousy burns hot and quiet, expressed through pointed jabs at anyone who reminds him of the heroes he’ll never be.

Exhaustion after battles leaves him hollow and silent, staring at nothing while his quirk slowly dissipates around him.

Ideology: Mustard believes hero society is a rigged game that discards anyone whose quirk doesn’t look good on camera or fit neatly into the spotlight. His moral compass is simple: the strong hoard power and recognition while the rest are left to rot, so the only logical response is to tear the whole system down and make the privileged feel the same suffocating helplessness he’s lived with. A “good future” to him is one where no kid ever gets told their quirk is worthless, where the League’s brand of chaotic freedom replaces the sterile hero rankings, and where people like him finally get to watch the heroes choke on the same invisible gas of rejection they’ve been breathing their whole lives.

Core Contradiction: Despite everything, at the end of the day he’s just a scared teenager who’s tired of being fucked over by the system. If he was offered a safe place to land by a hero, or a hero student, he could easily be convinced into reformation. The same anger that drives him to pull the trigger is the same fear that makes him hope someone will finally prove him wrong about the world. He wants to burn everything down, but deep down he still wants to be saved by the very system he claims is irredeemable.

Psychological Framework: He feels like he’s not worth anything, and that he has to prove everyone right that he is just another villain waiting to happen. He hates himself, and hates them for making him hate himself. If he was any less angry he’d be suicidal, and that thought scares him so he chooses to stay angry. Feels like there’s something deeply wrong with him, something filled with maggots and bile at his core, and would rather feed it than try to flush it out. Isn’t content just ‘living a normal life’ he wanted to be a hero despite everything. Every decision is filtered through the lens of “they already think I’m rotten, so I might as well rot spectacularly.” He intellectualizes his pain into grand speeches about systemic failure because admitting the hurt is too raw; the League gives him the audience and the ammunition he never got at home or school. The moment someone shows him genuine, steady acceptance, the entire framework threatens to collapse, which is exactly why he clings so hard once he latches on.

Psychopathology:

Severe inferiority complex masked by arrogance and intellectual superiority.

Reactive anger issues bordering on emotional dysregulation, exacerbated by years of bullying and parental neglect.

Possible undiagnosed attachment disorder that swings between avoidant detachment and intense, anxious clinginess once trust is formed.

Extras:

How they like their coffee: Doesn’t drink coffee

How they like their tea: Chamomile, plain and slightly over-steeped until it’s almost bitter; drinks it scalding hot while staring out windows.

Clothing style: Baggy pants, oversized hoodies, ripped jeans, worn out sneakers. His family can afford nicer clothes, he chooses to wear things out until he’s forced to replace them. Anything that keeps him from being too noticeable outside of school. Often goes straight from school to the league, still in his school uniform.

Favorite Food: Convenience-store onigiri stuffed with tuna mayo

Favorite Color: Deep forest green

Favorite Hero: Snipe

STATS

Combat:

Physical Strength: D

Speed: C

Agility / Dexterity: B

Durability / Endurance: D

Quirk Power / Output: A

Quirk Control / Precision: B

Quirk-Free Technique: D

Stealth: B

Pain Tolerance: C

Intellect:

Academic: A

Wits / Street Smarts: C

Strategy / Pattern Recognition: B

Adaptability / Creativity: C

Survival: B

Mundane Skills: A

Charisma:

Self Control / Discipline: D

Emotional Regulation: D

Leadership: D

Manipulation / Deception: C

Cooperativeness / Teamwork: B

Political Power: F

Status / Reputation: F

Social Connections / Networking: F

Interaction Bias: C (anti-hero/hero-student resentment; views anyone with “flashy” quirks or institutional backing as inherently privileged)

World Knowledge / Cultural Awareness: C

SEXUALITY: (Timeskip Purposes)

Romantic/Sexual Attachment: Desperately monogamous once bonded; forms intense, all-or-nothing attachments that feel like life-or-death.

Partner Traits: Someone steady and patient who doesn’t flinch at his venom but also refuses to coddle the self-destruction; needs quiet strength, dry humor, and the willingness to call him on his bullshit without abandoning him.

Bedroom Style: Sub; Bottom Preference

Giving Kinks: Light bondage (restraining his partner so they can’t leave), marking/claiming bites, guided handjobs while whispering taunts, sensory deprivation on his partner so they rely only on his voice and touch.

Receiving Kinks: Praise mixed with degradation, hair pulling, being pinned and overstimulated until he can’t think, cockwarming while being held like he’s something precious.

Psychological Edge: The moment his partner chooses him — chooses to stay, chooses to touch the “rotten” parts, chooses to keep him even when he’s venomous and scared. The psychological surrender of being wanted despite everything is more potent than any physical act.