Ivette Midoriya absolutely hated heroes. The whole concept baffled her; how could those who declare themselves to be symbols of justice be so corrupted? How could society judge people based on their quirks and appearances? Fuck that. Ivette swore to...
she's only a child. how can the world be so cruel?
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DAWN BROKE THROUGH the horizon; a symphony of pale red, orange and yellow. A young child laid in her bed, cuddled under sheets of printed figures. Her twin brother laid beside her, lips parted, snores slipping past. Ivette and Izuku. The Midoriya twins.
At the pure age of seven, they had yet to know of the corrupted world they lived in.
A childish bliss.
How naive.
"Izuku, Ivette!" called their mother with a blithe tone. She poked her head through the door, smiling softly at her sleeping children.
Inko stepped inside, strolling over to the curtains and spreading them open. Sunlight seeped into the room, washing it in a golden glow. Ivette shifted, curling into her twin's side. A groan rumbled out of her throat. She blinked feverishly, attempting to rid herself of sleep's lingering presence. Emerald eyes blessed the world, a harmony of greens.
"Hi, mama," she greeted, squinting at Inko.
Inko visibly softened.
"Hi, baby."
Izuku rose from his slumber, rubbing his eyes with tiny fists. "What time is it?"
"Almost seven o'clock," Inko answered. She reached over the twin-sized bed, ruffling both of their heads. She didn't question why Ivette refused to sleep by herself. Not when she had a vague understanding of how bad her daughter's nightmares could be. "Breakfast is ready, so wash up and come to the kitchen."
"Hai," they mumbled in sync.
Inko left the room, and Izuku hopped out of bed. He extended a hand for his sister, helping her out. "Thank you," she replied.
