Chapter Text
The school-year is basically over, and Inko doesn’t think she’s a good mother anymore.
She was in the dining room, humming over a cup of tea, letting the gloomy weather drown out her own sorrow. The clouds outside are dark, the winds harsh and cold– typhoon season is next month. Oddly enough, there's no thunder, so maybe it’ll be a quiet rainfall. And Inko is stuck inside her apartment; most of the parents and the civilian populous were heavily encouraged to stay inside for the time being.
Seriously, what kind of parent just stays inside while their kid is in the hospital? One that can’t protect themselves.
Sighing, Inko looks back at the frame sitting on the table. It’s old, taken so many years ago. Izuku was still just a babe; he’s sitting on the couch, propped up by the pillows, happily smiling as he squeezes an All Might plush doll. Smiling, Inko wonders where the time went.
When exactly did her little baby grow up so much? She hadn’t noticed at first, but when she did, it was hard to stop noticing. Her small, skinny boy changed into a broad shouldered, strong, fearless teenager. He grew out of his clothes, and Inko felt as though she never stopped buying new clothes in bigger sizes.
When was Izuku able to carry such heavy items so easily, and by himself? She never noticed until it felt too late.
Her phone ringing brought her out of her thoughts. Looking at the caller ID, Inko mentally prepares herself for more heartbreak.
(Trying to harden her heart, she answers.)
With the threat of war starting, tensions are understandably high, and it seems as though her sweet, innocent, stubborn son left his hospital bed. Letters written with care– clearly, he was planning on telling everyone his secret from the start – were left behind for his classmates, homeroom teacher, principal, and herself.
She looks down at her phone– Masaru’s frantic messages dinging, popping up and sliding into her notification bar– where she left the chat-log open, with Katsuki’s message marked as ‘read’. Inko can’t think nor act, but she must. If not for herself, then for the teenager on the other line– the one who’s just as anxious as she is, if not more.
Katsuki : We can’t leave the school right now, auntie. But I’ll keep your letter in my drawer, the nerd put ours together.
Me : Thank you, Katsuki. You kids stay safe alright? Leave it to the pro’s.
She typed her reply, reminding the child to (hopefully) stay down, remembering that class’ stunt at the summer camp. Sweet in nature, but heart-wrenching nonetheless. Waiting for a few minutes, she sees the two check marks appear, and all hope immediately gets thrown out the window.
These kids are definitely going after Izuku. . Why is this year's class of first years so stubborn?! In her mind, while reckless; Inko understands that they could be more helpful than the actual, already licensed heroes. She doesn’t need to like it to understand that fact.
“Oh, Izuku, where on earth did you go?” Inko sighs, abandoning her cold cup of tea, she paces into Izuku' s room. Whenever the dorms had just finished being built, and the students needed to pack up to start their new lives on school grounds, Izuku took most of his posters.
A few older All Might– “They’re collectables, mom!” – posters still hanging on his wall, some figurines he couldn’t fit in all his boxes are scattered. Every now and then, Inko sees figures, stickers, and other hero merchandise, but All Might dominates the room.
She contemplates trying to call Hisashi, ideally, she should call her husband, his home country suddenly announcing war, and his son suddenly going missing sounds like a pretty big, albeit weird, milestone… What would she tell him? She doesn’t know much herself, and clearly, she won’t know until much, much later.
She’ll just call him whenever she has more information.
(Figuring out where Izuku went would be a great start.)
The war had been going on for a few weeks now– closer to a month. She, the other parents, and civilians had been moved to U.A.’s spare dorm buildings for the time being. The school's security had been strengthened for this moment, as its high brick walls had been lined over with metal. There are few pro-heroes here, most of them had been dispatched all over Japan.
By this point, it’s safe to say that the entirety of Japan knows about One For All. All For One– the villain behind all this essentially, came forward through video feed and explained about the quirks… About Izuku, the ninth holder.
All For One smiled, and with a gentle voice, he asked “Please think about the greater good of Japan. Your families.” After that, the line disconnected itself, and then the whispers started.
Inko, feeling herself to be at the center of the stares, just feels numb . Bits and pieces that were said slightly louder than the rest, she managed to piece everything together.
“..Maybe if–”
“Well, he does have multiple quirks.”
“Is that his mom? Sh–”
“She must be a freak too if she birthed such a boy,” One person said with confidence, not bothering to hide their disdain. As if Inko’s family, her son, is the reason for the war.
It’s almost laughable, really. The only thing Inko wanted; was for her child to be safe, that was it. She never asked to be dragged into this centuries old feud. Chances are that the same goes for Izuku. He probably didn’t know until it was too late.
All Might– Toshinori Yagi-san, most definitely never told him until it was far too late. And now, because of the decision the now retired pro didn’t make, her Izuku needs to face the backlash…
With Mitsuki and Masaru beside her, giving the others around them dirty looks, everyone delegates to talking . Under the delusion that if they talk loud enough, putting societal pressure under her, Inko would eventually agree to hand over her young son to the villains.
The villains; the ones putting Japan, and all of Eastern Asia at risk, are somehow able to negotiate. Inko fails to understand many things, and this is not something she’ll understand, ever. For now, at this moment, all she can do is gape at the audacity these people have.
“For the sake of Japan,” Someone close enough to them murmurs, the rest nod in agreement, an unspoken sentence no one dares to finish. Hand him over.
Mitski, having held on long enough, laughs. It’s not a big boisterous laugh like whenever something amusing happens, nor is it a small giggle. It’s harsh, mocking– it’s almost like a scoff. “For the sake of Japan, my ass!” She shouts, openly turning to glare at everyone she’s able to see, “You wanna hand over a teenager to some damn villains!”
“No!” Someone chimes in, weaving through the crowd effortlessly. He’s young, maybe early twenties or so; Inko recognizes his voice as one of the louder whispers.
“Ah, right right,” Mitski nods in faux sympathy, eyes showing her anger, “You want to kill the boy, by handing him over to the villains.” She says, putting an emphasis.
Inko almost doubles over, if Masaru wasn’t there to stabilize her footing, she would have fallen onto the pavement. Kill? Oh, who’s going to do that to her baby? None of this feels real, why is this even happening? Inko feels as though she’s just passing by, this is someone else’s life she's watching. It’s not hers, it can’t possibly be her reality.
The conversation grew more heated as more people joined in, talking against Mitski– her friend, who’s defending her son with all she has, and Inko doesn’t know what everyone’s saying, no matter how hard she tries to concentrate, she can’t hear anything leaving their mouths. Instead, she catches a whisper that pierces through her heart.
“...Monster.”
It isn’t until two or so days go by until Inko is able to see Izuku again. It appears that Izuku, carrying the heavy burden of his quirk decided to make everyone else's lives easier, and ran away. After leaving the letters for his classmates, Class 1-A decided to go after him.
(It warms her heart knowing that Izuku has found himself great friends.)
His suit is dirty, and ripped in places that shouldn’t be, his arm sleeves are ripped at the elbow. It’s practically falling apart. His mask looks rough. The normally smooth gas mask is jagged, the yellow cape on his shoulders– where did that come from? – appears to be the only thing holding the suit together.
He’s slumped over, needing to be held up. At his left, Katsuki is holding him up, holding him to make sure Izuku doesn’t fall. At his right is Iida Tenya, mirroring Katsuki’s hold, both boys are keeping their eyes on Izuku, occasionally looking straight ahead. Around them, the rest of the students keep the crowd away, brows furrowed, they keep him safe.
In the middle, to Inko’s far right, are two children, a boy and a girl. They look visibly relieved to see Izuku, tears gathering in their eyes and falling. They waste no time in running over, launching themselves at Izuku’s legs. They bawl, tiny arms clinging onto whatever piece of fabric they reach.
Inko herself is relieved. Right as she begins to take a step forward, Masaru’s hand on her shoulder starting to slip, the former whispers turn into shouts.
“It’s him! It’s him!”
“The monster!”
“Quickly, hand him over!”
“Hand him over!”
“Hand him over!” Anger and disdain fill their voices. The younger ones shout and make their way towards the class while the older ones move away with their children, scared. It’s hectic.
Class 1-A wasted no time in lightly using their quirks in an attempt to drive away the roaring crowd. Shocked by the sudden hostility, a few of the students were trying to appease them with words, using what they learned in their public relations class.
With faltering steps, Inko could only watch in mute horror as she saw the sea of passerby’s look at Izuku– Why does he look so small right now? – voices filled with vitriol. The wall of people between them is so big; how could she possibly reach her son now?
In all honesty, it’s a little sardonic. In his childhood and early teen years, Izuku had been relentlessly bullied for not having a quirk, for being the outlier, a freak. Vividly, Inko remembers all the stains on his clothes– silently thanking the heavens that his middle school uniform is black – how often she had to sew the minor parts of his backpack together. She remembers how often Izuku would come back, clothes once again messy from the others– a sad, dejected look on his face.
Once Izuku had gotten his quirk, Inko was glad, a bright smile on her lips, heart full of love. Finally , Izuku’d be able to live a normal life, no longer held back. No longer would he be labelled a freak for lacking something so fundamental to one’s own livelihood nowadays.
That was probably too much hopeful thinking for them, for her. Now, in Izuku’s teenage years; something that was supposed to be a highlight before he becomes an adult, is once again, subjected to cruelty from others. He is scorned for having more than one quirk. For having multiple, instead of “ quirkless freak”, they– strangers who are more than ready to toss him aside– call him a monster.
They put him on the same level as All For One, the man the heroes– her son, his friends– are fighting against. How can they look at him and think : “ He is just like All For One,” She doesn’t understand. Inko doesn’t think about anything, she can’t anymore, if she does, her heart will break until there is nothing left of her.
Throughout Izuku’s life, Inko only had one question : Why is it her son? The child she raised with love– she would give her life for him if needed– was dealt a bad hand and Inko has so many questions, but only that one remains the most important. He isn’t a bad person, he’s a good; slightly weird child.
It’s not as if she’s completely naïve; having lived for four decades, Inko knows not everyone is able to be empathetic or sympathetic. The frustration is still there, though.
The sorrow held in her heart turned into anger, and doubt. She questions why everyone is so hell-bent on labelling her child– her heart, as some abhorrent creature. To them, he is such a vile, unworthy monster never deserving of anything good.
Inko is once again– and has always been– a spectator in her son's misery. She can only watch through the gaps as a yellow cape crumples to the ground, tired and unable to move by himself any longer. Inko is a passerby as one of Izuku’s classmates– Uraraka Ochako , she thinks– floats herself upwards, megaphone in hand, shouting at the crowd to get ahold of themselves.
After the young hero finishes her speech, no one says anything, the only audible thing aside from the occasional raindroplet falling on all their faces is Izuku’s cries– silent as he tries, Inko knows her baby was never one to quietly cry much.
Inko watches as his classmates gently pick him back up, and lead him into the Heights Alliance dorm. There are many things she wants to say to her son, on the tip of her tongue is an apology.
Oh Izuku, mom is so sorry.