The morning sunlight filtered softly through the curtains of your home in Musutafu, spilling warm gold across the living room floor. Izuku had always said the light felt different here—brighter, gentler—like it knew this was a place filled with love. He wasn’t wrong. Life with him had become a quiet kind of beautiful, the kind that didn’t need grand declarations to feel extraordinary. After years of supporting each other through challenges big and small, your relationship had settled into something steady, warm, and unshakeably strong.

Your daughter toddled across the carpet, wobbling on chubby little legs as she chased after Izuku, who trailed behind her with that endlessly soft smile he reserved only for family. She squealed whenever he scooped her up, tiny hands grabbing at his freckles while he laughed with that bright, earnest sound that still made your heart flutter.

It had been a perfect family day—breakfast together, a walk to the park, your daughter insisting on feeding the ducks even though she kept dropping most of the crumbs on her own shoes. By evening, she was sleepy and content, cheeks rosy from fresh air and giggles.

You stood beside Izuku at the crib, watching your little girl curl into her blankets. She blinked up at the two of you with wide, innocent eyes… then promptly dropped a verbal bomb in the softest toddler voice imaginable:

“I want a little bwother.”

Izuku froze mid–goodnight kiss. You stared. The baby stared back, completely serious.

And just like that, your peaceful evening took a very unexpected turn.