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...
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UPON THE STAGE OF every childhood dream, Ivette and Katsuki twirled around in their own illusion. Smiles as bright as the sun, laughter that swayed like dandelions in spring, what more could they want? They remained blind to the horrors of the world.
Oh, dear children.
How pitiful.
"Suki, Suki!" Ivette waved her hand, spinning around for her friend. "Come look what I made!" The sand grains were awash in a golden hue, shimmering with each angle of sunlight. Ivette stood upon the coarse sand, beaming at the castle she had just made.
Within the playground, the colours of one's childhood warmed all's hearts.
Strands of a fragile, developing bond slowly began to intertwine in a graceful dance.
Katsuki made his way to his friend, bowing down to peer at her sandcastle. He grinned, lips spreading to show his toothy grin. "Looks great, Princess!" He never mentioned his sandcastle, even though he thought it was better than hers. How could he dare bring himself to wash away that bright expression on Ivette's face? It looked so pure— beautiful. Katsuki never wanted to stop seeing it.
And yet, when he left to grab more buckets for them to use, it faded away.
Standing a few steps away were a group of jealous, disgusted children. They crossed their arms, glares searing into Ivette. How dare some quirkless- quirkless freak interact with the coolest in their class? She didn't deserve to be an inch within his presence.
"She'll spread her disease," spat one of the girls, crumpling her skirt in clenched fists.
The other girl, with her hair tied up into messy pigtails, pushed the tallest kid in their immature group. "Go put her in her spot."
A large commotion arose from what was once a scenery of childhood innocence.
Izuku furrowed his brows, glancing over. His blue-coloured shovel fell from his hands.
Why was his sister on the ground? Why was she crying? Who dared to do such a thing?
That day, that moment, as Izuku ran up to defend his sister, he and Ivette learnt that not all men and women were created equal. That not all children were fair. And neither were the adults that dictated their world.
That day, that moment, Katsuki learnt that quirkless people were frowned upon.
His oblivious, seven-year-old mind never realised how people viewed Ivette. Weak. Fragile. A disgrace to society. A waste. Why? Why could they not see her how he did? She was so innocent, so enchantingly demure.
