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Inko Midoriya grasped the edge of the couch her nails digging into the purple fabric in desperation. Her hands trembling almost uncontrollably.Spoons, forks and izuku’s almost uncountable collection of figurines flung themselves around- like miniature planets being flung out of the sun’s orbit.Sweat gathered in her palms, she had tried earlier to call mitsuki but she couldn’t look away for even a second.Katsuki had pushed her son out of the way, he had sacrificed himself for Izuku.For her baby...All of a sudden, the pounding in her head intensified- she had always been aware of the unhealthy attachment the two boys shared.In fact, everyone who met the two boys knew that they practically acted as magnets: constantly repelling and attracting each other- inseparable or impossible to force together; getting everyone stuck in their respective electric fields.However, she had never anticipated that anything could make izuku look this vicious.Even through the thick TV screen she could feel waves of pure fury drift into her very being sending shivers down her spine.She knew then,without a doubt that izuku would kill this man.She focused on Izuku as he flung himself at the white haired man.Wiping her sweaty palms on her dress and then clasping them together so tight that her knuckles turned white.This was the man who had..... hurt katsuki (he couldn’t have died-not that easily.)How could she sit still knowing that the same thing could happen to her baby.In another world,Inko would stay on the couch unable to move.Frozen in place from terror.Her apartment would be left in shambles from her very own quirk and so she would busy herself with cleaning.In this world she took a card out of Izukus book, she couldn't do much but she could do Something.Anything.Even if it was just handing out bottles of water and food.It wasn't safe but at her very core helping other people was always the priority.Inko packed her first aid kit,an abundance of canned goods and the credit card Hisahi had given her before he left.The one without a limit. In one world Inko would be remembered as the number one hero's mother,in this world she was hailed as one.
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The streets were dark, pieces of dust floating in the air unequivocably the remains of some other person destroyed in the fight of ideals.Inko grasped her scarf tighter clutching at it like a lifeline. Reminding herself that there once were no heroes and still mankind had survived.She tentatively made her way through the dark streets the grey stormy sky encapsulating the hopelessness the country emmenated. A collective cry of help for those who had been accustomed to peace who had been tricked into complacency told to sit down and trust those with power.Yet still life moved on and the world continued to spin so she stumbled through the streets remains. Slabs of concrete jutting out the paved roads they had disrupted not unlike minature meteorites.A shrill cry pierced through her thoughts, deafening in the eerie silence the graveyard of mustafu granted its occupants.Inko felt her heart stop, felt the rush of adrenaline the chill in her very bones. She turned rapidly following the cries blindly stopping to listen before running once more. Past uprooted lamp posts, dark red stains and abandonned shoes soaked in blood.Desperate for another person. For she had lost herself in the graveyard and for a moment been consumed by utter despair. Despite a feeling of disbelief, a blinding hope began to fill her chest. For life was evident throught the intermittent cries.The voice was raspy as if the screams had echoed for hours unheard. Yet she would come.She made her way to a small wreck greeted with a gruesome sight. A small girl flattened by rubble a pink ribbon -hers- soaked in blood. Inko felt her heart stop her eyes sting she felt tears blur her vision taking her sight away momentarilly. Was she too late.Yet she heard the cry once more and saw a girl smaller no older than 5 beside the girls body watching the blood dry. Pure terror filled her chest and yet she felt the emotion retreat into the cave like structure the picture had carved into her heart waiting to be revisitedAnd then she beganShe reached her hand out. out streching it feeling the familiar strain of her quirk as she lifted the rock and the....the remains of the child.
Immediately she lifted the little girl out from under the carcass. The girl looked at her with pure hope. Previous despair flung to the wind like her matching ribbon. As if she assumed inko could fix everything. In the pure black pupils the girl boasted inko could detect desperation. A hungry feeling, craving normality,"Are you a hero?"And she couldnt answer for between advertisements hospital visits and missing children. She had lost sight of what a hero truly was."No i just want to help." She said her voice quiet as she cradled the child in her hands. Holding her close to her chest.People would say this is where it began when the word hero became dull, rang empty, required clarfication. That inko midoriya the first to avoid the term symbolised, a change.A belief that blossomed one that said every human had the responsiblity to help. In a twisted way shigaraki had brought about what he intended had awakened a long dormant instinct for after centuries people became true heroes once more.