[attr="class","header2"]APPEARANCE

[attr="class","body"]
PAlejandro Raul Morales, known to himself as Pilgrim, was born in Ponce, Puerto Rico, where life was both a struggle and a source of fleeting happiness. Raised solely by his mother, who worked tirelessly as an accountant, they lived in an environment where love had to make up for what was missing. Even with the constant stress of bills, there were simple moments of joy—cooking meals together, walking by the coast, laughing over their struggles. His mother was his whole world; she was the one person whose gaze made him feel real and present.

Alejandro’s quirk, Nobody, manifested around his seventh birthday, though neither he nor his mother realized it at first. It began innocently—Alejandro would be standing by his mother’s side, and in the next moment, she would look around as if she had forgotten something, her eyes sweeping over him like he was never there. He would call out to her, and she would startle, staring at him like she was seeing a ghost. The worst part was that every time this happened, she had no recollection of having lost him. He had to constantly remind her, as if fighting an uphill battle against the erosion of his own existence.

As time passed, Alejandro learned the terrifying truth about Nobody. It wasn't just that people lost sight of him—it was that he ceased to exist in their minds entirely. The moment someone looked away, the memory of him disappeared like smoke on the wind. No matter how deeply someone cared for him, no matter how long they had known him, Nobody erased it all in an instant if their attention drifted. His teachers forgot he was in class, his classmates left him behind on the playground, and even his mother sometimes looked at him like a stranger. It was as if he was fighting to exist in a world that refused to acknowledge he was even there.

At school, Alejandro learned to become aggressive just to exist, waving his arms or shouting to draw the attention of his teachers or classmates. If he didn't, he was left out of everything, and any friendships he tried to form were fleeting at best. Even when someone did manage to pay attention to him, the connection felt fragile—like the slightest distraction would make them forget everything they shared. His quirk made forming bonds not just difficult but heartbreaking, as every shared smile, every comforting word, every important memory was erased with a mere turn of the head.

At home, it was worse. His mother, who loved him dearly, could lose him in the middle of a sentence. There were times when Alejandro would be talking to her, only for her eyes to wander, and in that instant, he was gone—erased from her mind. It was cruel and confusing, especially for his mother, who could feel that something was wrong but could never pinpoint what. Alejandro often saw her weeping quietly, clutching a framed picture of them together, unable to understand why her own memories felt like they were slipping away. He hated seeing her like that, so helpless and hurt. It led him to withdraw, to spend less time around her, even though it tore him apart. He felt like a burden—a shadow in her life, constantly slipping through her fingers.

When Alejandro was seventeen, his mother passed away suddenly, her heart giving out one quiet afternoon while Alejandro was out wandering the city. He returned to find her gone, and no one had even thought to find him. To everyone else, Alejandro might as well have never existed, and the funeral was a painful reminder of just how far his quirk pushed him out of people’s lives. He stood in the back, watching as strangers mourned his mother, none of them even aware that she had left behind a son. After her death, he felt completely untethered. There was nothing left for him in Ponce—no friends, no family, not even a memory of who he used to be.

With no ties to his past, Alejandro left Puerto Rico, taking what little he had and setting off on a journey that felt more like an escape. He traveled across Central America, through Mexico, and eventually into the United States, living off odd jobs that people forgot they had hired him for. His quirk allowed him to move freely, slipping through borders, entering places others couldn’t. He lived a transient life, always on the fringes, unable to make connections, unable to be remembered. His existence became that of a ghost—a solitary pilgrim wandering without direction.

He took on the name Pilgrim because it felt fitting. He was on a journey, but it wasn't about finding a destination. It was about the journey itself, the constant search for a place where he might feel real, where he might be seen. Over the years, Alejandro saw the dark side of the hero society that so many admired. He watched heroes ignore those in need, focusing on flashy rescues and fame. He saw corruption in the government, abuse by those in power, and people who were forgotten simply because they weren’t “important” enough to be seen.

The hero system, with its focus on popularity and power, disgusted him. Alejandro realized that, like him, there were countless people who slipped through the cracks, unnoticed and uncared for. He decided that if the heroes wouldn’t fight for those people, he would. He began taking action, targeting corrupt officials, exposing the truth behind greedy corporations, and helping those who had been ignored. He stole from the rich to provide for the homeless, sabotaged systems that oppressed the weak, and did whatever he could to fight back against the injustice he saw.

These actions, of course, labeled him a villain. The authorities wanted him caught, but Nobody made that impossible. Surveillance cameras would lose track of him, guards would forget they had seen him, and even those who fought against him couldn’t remember his face the moment they looked away. It was as if he didn’t exist at all—a phantom haunting a society that refused to acknowledge its own flaws.

Despite his growing disdain for the system, Pilgrim held onto the values his mother had taught him. He abhorred lies, hypocrisy, and cruelty, and he refused to be like those he fought against. He would not manipulate others for personal gain, and he did not take pleasure in violence. He used harsh measures only when he felt it was necessary, and even then, he ensured that his actions were fair. He did not seek fame, nor did he want followers. In fact, he couldn’t have them, even if he tried. No one could remember him, and no cause could be built around a man who vanished from memory the moment attention was lost.

Now, at 34, Pilgrim roams the streets of Tokyo, his journey continuing without an end in sight. He lives among the homeless, those who are already forgotten by society, and finds solace in the few small victories he can achieve. He knows that he will never change the world—his quirk makes that impossible. He can’t lead a revolution, he can’t inspire others, and he will never be a symbol of hope. But that doesn’t matter to him. For Pilgrim, it’s not about being remembered. It’s about doing what he knows is right, even if no one else ever knows he did it. It’s about the journey, the fight against injustice, and the simple act of standing up for those who cannot stand up for themselves.

In a world that refuses to see him, Alejandro has come to accept that he may always be Nobody. But he is Pilgrim, and he will continue his journey, step by step, even if no one else ever knows his name.