His eyes, she thought, were an unforgiving shade of red.
Alive with a sharpness that cut through pretenses. Unraveling danger like threads from a worn rope.
A red that burned with purpose. Steady. Relentless.
Daring the world to falter under its gaz...
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Character inspiration Morgianaas Niwa
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Sixteen years before the story
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The black blanket of the night wrapped around the small city. Soft yellow lights flickered from homes, guiding late-night wanderers through the dark alleys. Few dared to wander the streets late at night in this dangerous part of town. Law and safety meant nothing, not when this city was ruled solely by the strong.
This superhuman society perpetuated evil throughout the world and his home was no different. It had caused more problems than Masud would ever imagine and at the root of all this evil was his father. A man so twisted and obsessed with wealth that he sold off his own children and drove his wife to her coffin.
To that man, everything was merely a tool for profit. The only things that were ever worthy of his time and money were the strong.
Masud was one of the lucky ones. Born with his father's mutant quirk, Masud was left watching his younger siblings be stolen from their mother one by one. If the child didn't have his father's Quirk, then that child was judged as weak. Unwanted. Useless.
Masud ducked down an alley, a bag hung from one shoulder and grazed his thigh with each step into the darkness. His arms wrapped protectively around the bundle against his chest.
He slipped around a corner, meeting the end of his luck.
"Brother?" Masud flinched, eyes darting around the area instinctively.
"Muaath?" Their magenta eyes met in a clash of confusion and wariness. Muaath's eyes dropped to the covered cloth in the younger brother's arms, then further to the bag hung at his waist.
Masud watched the lines connect behind his elder brother's eyes.
"And where is my big baby brother going so late in the night?" Muaath eyed the bundle of cloth in his arms, "with such precious cargo, too."
Both men looked to the right, like beasts of prey, their senses on high alert. All conversation paused as a stranger staggered by the alley without a glance in their direction. Masud turned back to his brother; he had no excuses for his actions, only reasons.
"Mother is dead." Masud's deep voice rumbled quietly. "Father is cruel and this entire country is falling to pieces with few trying to keep it together."
"What are you not saying?" Muaath asked, his bright eyes narrowing.
"There is nothing for us here—neither for you, nor for me, nor for our sister." Masud's grip tightened a minimal amount. Not enough to harm his tiny sister bundled in his arms, but just enough to keep the baby girl secure in case their eldest sibling disagreed.
