Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Bakugou Mitsuki left the world suddenly, but her death was fitting to her life: deafening noises and overwhelmingly bright lights. The road was slippery, the windshield was blurred by the deluge, and the oil truck driver had been eager to finish his night shift. Small things added up. By the time the police pulled up to the scene, the parts of the road that had been burning were long since extinguished, leaving one croaked body lying motionless in the ravine, and another smaller but still breathing one pinned by the dented passenger door. Mitsuki was in the news the next day. 

Midoriya Inko hadn’t heard about her friend’s death until several days later, when Masarou’s name flashed on her caller ID as she folded laundry late at night. Izuku had gone to bed long ago. She frowned and answered. “Hello?” 

She heard a shaky sigh of relief on the other end of the call. “Inko. I’m… I’m so sorry to call you out of the blue like this. You know I would never under… well, normal circumstances.” 

Inko’s frown deepened as she turned her rom-com down on the TV. “Are you alright? What’s going on?” 

Inko had never heard Masarou sound like that before. “So—I… It’s Mitsuki. She was killed… in a car accident the other night and um... I, I know you and her were close.” 

The laundry basket perched on her knees slipped off as she stared blankly at nothing. The words sank into her stomach like an anchor. “Mitsuki…? I don’t… no, I was just talking with her the other day, we were going to get brunch on Thursday," Her voice cracked as her mind poured out muttering nonsense until a terrible thought came to her. “Oh my Lord, is Katsuki…?”   

“No, no. Katsuki’s ok. He… the airbag worked properly for him. He’s banged up for sure but the doctor said he’s going to be alright. I only found out about this all this morning. I wasn’t, ah, I wasn’t his emergency contact, obviously. But he’s at my house for now.” 

Inko sighed in relief. “Thank goodness. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Actually, there’s a hearing tomorrow for Mitsuki’s will. Her lawyer gave a list of everyone who should be present and… you’re one of them.” 

“Oh. I um… I’ll certainly be there.” The request caught her off guard, and she hurried to make a decent response. “Is—is there anything else I can do?” 

“No, no thank you, Inko. I’ll let you know the dates of the funeral as soon as I can. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She ended the call feeling strangely numb, but the feeling didn’t last long. Almost immediately, her eyes watered and she hastily grabbed her stash of tissues from her pink cardigan. She wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight, not that it would matter much. She would have to take at least the morning off from work at the hospital. 

She wondered when the funeral would be, if there would be an open casket, if she would get to say goodbye to her best friend. 

She got ready for bed tearfully, constantly swiping at her eyes as she brushed her teeth. Her face was uncomfortably hot and flushed, no matter how much water she splashed on it. Before she went to bed, she peeked in her son’s room. Izuku was tucked snugly into bed, sound asleep. He was in for a terrible shock when she told him what happened to Auntie Mitsuki the next day. She knew he would want to come with her to the hearing, but she couldn’t help but feel he might unintentionally make things worse, with Katsuki at least. Katsuki had had a bitter streak for her son for a painfully long time, though the reasons for this remained a mystery to her. Besides, it was a school day. 

It was the last thing she thought about at night, and it was the first thing she thought about in the morning. Just as she predicted, she felt terrible waking up, feeling heavy and drained like she had pulled a double shift at work. 

Slipping on her slippers, she shuffled into the kitchen and found Izuku up and getting ready for school, already dressed and shoving some things into his yellow backpack. He looked up from his things and smiled. “Morning, Mom. Sleep alright?” 

Instead of answering, she bit her lip and crossed over to her son. “Hey, baby, can I talk to you for a minute?” 

“Ummm, can it wait? I’m running a little late.” Izuku sat in the hallway, tugging his red shoes on his feet. 

“Honey, Uncle Masarou called last night.” That made the teen look up. 

“Huh?” 

“Baby, Auntie Mitsuki passed away.” She already had tissues ready. “There was a bad car accident and she didn’t make it.” 

Izuku’s eyes widened, and he stared at her for a long time. “What?” 

“I’m so sorry to tell you this right before you go to school, but I knew you would want to know.” 

He gave her a long look and ducked down. “Is Kachaan ok?” 

Inko bent down and gave him a hug, rubbing his back. “Yes, you probably won’t see him in class today, but I’m going to Mitsuki’s will hearing right now, and he will probably be there. I’ll let you know how everything goes when you get home. And before you argue with me—no, you have to go to school. I’ll tell Katsuki you sent your condolences.” 

Izuku huffed but wiped his eyes and nodded, giving her one last quick hug before rushing out the door. “I’ll try to get home on the early train. Love you!” 

“Love you,” she called after him, struggling to rise to her feet again. 

Inko cleared the cereal bowl drenched in artificial All Might colors from Izuku’s breakfast, fixing herself her own quick meal before she threw on some fresh clothes, made herself presentable, and filled up her to-go coffee mug. She had a feeling she would need it.  

After calling the hospital and explaining her situation, the nurse administrator very begrudgingly gave her the day off. The drive to the office was quiet, and not a short distance from her own apartment. She tried finding something to listen to on her old radio, but all the channels were either static or only played songs that were foreign to her, so she left it off. 

Once she found a parking spot in the busy city she took a long sip from her coffee and was able to sit in her own silence for a moment. The numbness from the night before was still there, but now it felt more like a heavy weight tied tightly around her heart, clogging her throat and making her shudder and rub her chest. It hurt. Her absence left a very large hole in her heart. 

The firm was larger than it looked, and Inko had to follow the secretary around for an eternity before she was shown into a meeting room with comfortable chairs set awkwardly around the room, like the interior decorator had no idea what she was doing but was trying her best. Several people in crisp suits and business dresses were scattered around the room with paper cups filled from the water station. 

But the two people she was concerned with were sitting in the far corner, conversing with some strangers.  

Inko met Masarou’s eyes and she hurried over, giving a large hug to—well, she couldn’t exactly call him a friend, but she couldn’t think of a better word at the moment. 

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” the classic phrase rolled off her tongue as she turned to Katsuki, and the rest of her rehearsed words died in her throat. 

Katsuki looked awful.

He had a cast on his right arm, and what looked to be reinforcement around a broken clavicle. There were deep bruises all over his face, and a bandage around his forehead. He looked like he was going to fall over at any moment, glaring mutely at nothing in particular. 

Inko gave him a gentle hug and a kiss on the cheek. ‘How are you doing, baby?” 

“Ok,’ he said quietly. It lacked its usual bite. It was hollow and empty, and it broke Inko’s heart. 

Before she had a chance to ask anything further the lawyer called everyone’s attention, and the hearing began.  

It was boring, truth be told. As a successful woman selling her own brand of perfume, Mitsuki had no small amount of money and benefits, and she had very specific instructions on who exactly got what. Inko shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She knew the Bakugous were very fortunate, but sitting there waiting to hear her name be called left a weird sensation in her gut. She found herself really not wanting anything that Mitsuki left her. 

And then the next line the lawyer read made her head snap up so fast she got whiplash. 

“‘If I die while my child, Bakugou Katsuki, is under the age of eighteen, I nominate the following person to serve as guardian:”

The lawyer gave a small pause, almost theatrical.

“Midoriya Inko.”

“Excuse me?” She couldn’t help but blurt, unintentionally syncing with Masarou. Katsuki’s father rose out of his chair in shock, glancing from Inko to the lawyer incredulously. His tepid demeanor wavered as he truly processed what the lawyer just said. The other residents of the room glanced at each other with uncertainty. 

“This is ludicrous! I’m Katsuki’s next of kin. I should be his primary guardian until he turns eighteen.” 

The lawyer held up a hand placatingly. “I’m sorry, Mr. Bakugou, but because of the details of your wife’s divorce and the explicit requests made in her will, the court will most likely respect Mitsuki’s wishes. I’m afraid there’s not much you can do.” 

Katsuki was quiet throughout the whole ordeal, but people could see the heckles on the back of his neck bristle, his glare growing darker and darker as Inko hesitantly took a pen from the desk and began signing papers the lawyer handed her. She didn’t even have time to think about disputing this. Everything was happening way too fast. Becoming Katsuki’s legal guardian? She could barely support herself and Izuku. She shared a look with Masarou that she hoped would convey that they would be having a long discussion later. But for now, of course she would make sure Katsuki was looked after. It would just be a temporary little fluke. Nothing more.

Everyone was staring at the plain, portly woman signing over a boy’s life. And then the office door slammed shut, and Katsuki was no longer in the room. 

“I’ll find him,” Masarou ground out, grabbing his jacket. 

“Please, let me help,” Inko responded, rising from her seat. It couldn’t be easy to watch his son being practically removed from his life. Again. She knew Masarou loved Katsuki, despite everything. 

Masarou just nodded tiredly and showed the way out the door. 

Apparently despite Katsuki’s injuries, he could move around just fine. The two parents scoured the entire firm and found no sign of the teenager. Eventually the two adults agreed to take their cars and scour the block for Katsuki, one in each direction. He couldn’t have gone that far.  

Inko groaned as motherly worry took over as she turned the car onto the next street, looking for a blond head of hair. She had circled the entire block and found nothing, and with no text from Masarou, she started to slowly comb through neighboring alleys and into neighborhoods. It had started to rain again. “Little scoundrel… please be alright.” 

She almost missed the puff of ash blond hair as she passed by one of the parks she remembered taking Izuku to as a child. Hastily pulling into a parking spot, she got out of the car and scurried over to him. “Katsuki! Katsuki, are you alright? Baby, please talk to me.” 

Katsuki was sitting on one of the old swing sets long stripped of its paint, staring off at nothing. Once she got closer she noticed some dried blood on the bandage around his head. When he looked up at her she wanted to cry at the bloodshot eyes deeply set in dark circles. They looked high on adrenaline. 

“Auntie Inko?” 

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry—” She threw her arms around him like he was her own little boy, only to be met with a solid push in response. 

“Don’t touch me.” 

Inko, thrown off by the way her doting habits were obviously unwanted, settled instead for kneeling in front of the teen in the rotting mulch. “Are you alright?” 

Katsuki wouldn’t look at her eyes, turning away and pushing his swing further away from her with his feet. “Old hag’s dead. I want to stay with my dad, and I’m going to. You can’t stop me.” 

“Katsuki, your home is eight miles away and I certainly am not leaving you alone until… well, I don’t know what’s going to happen now, but I know I’m not leaving you here.” 

Bakugou glared daggers at her and sneered. “No way I’m sharing space with stupid Deku . I’d rather off myself.”  

“Don’t say that! Don’t you ever say that, Bakugou Katsuki.” She used her thumb to coax Katsuki’s chin back up to her level. “I want to work with you. Maybe your dad and I can work something out. I do want to make sure you’re happy where you are. I really do. But I’m not going to leave you alone until you agree to come with me. Sweetie, you’re shaking.” Indeed, Inko felt a tremor running through the boy’s body. He must’ve been cold. 

Red eyes darkened, and he yanked away from her touch, storming off towards her car, hands shoved deep in his pockets. 

Inko sighed in relief, despite the concern about her nephew’s behavior. Was this how a child reacted to his mother’s death? Bakugou was always angry, and she knew their mother-son relationship was a little rocky at times, but she just could never relate to that kind of behavior, no matter how empathetic she tried to be. It was concerning to say the least. 

She sent a quick text to Masarou that she’d found the kid.  

Katsuki was already in the back of the car by the time she made it over to the parking lot. She silently started the engine and pulled out towards her apartment. She kept stealing worried glances in the rearview mirror. Katsuki kept his skittish glare out the window, still refusing to make eye contact. The drive was silent and awkward, and it left an uncomfortable weight in her stomach. 

When she unlocked her apartment door and let the teen inside, she gestured for Katsuki to sit down on the couch. He refused. “I don’t need you babying me. I still don’t see why I have to stay here.” 

“Please dear, you look just about ready to topple over. Just hang tight for the afternoon. We’ll figure it out when you feel a little better. I promise, but not until then.” 

He groaned and plopped on the couch with a huff, but Inko didn’t miss the wince when he jostled his arm. 

She put a kettle on the stove and started rummaging through her medicine cabinet for some light pain meds to take the edge off the boy’s injuries. She came out of the bathroom with the medication and placed it on the counter while she poured a cup of tea and brought it and the pills out to the living room. When she handed them to Katsuki looked confused. “The hell is this for?” 

“Something to help with the pain and warm you up. You’re soaked through. When you finish your tea you can use the shower. I’ll find some clean clothes for you.” 

“I’m not wearing Deku’s nerd merch, Auntie.” Even as he snarled, he was still shivering. The meds remained untouched on the coffee table. He looked so tightly coiled it looked like he would snap out at her at any second. 

“Well, would you prefer to wear one of my cardigans?” Inko half-joked. She felt bad for poking at him, but he really just looked pathetic sitting there rigidly like that. It seemed to take him off guard enough for her to place the tea cup in his hand and make her way to the unfinished laundry pile, fishing out an old but clean t-shirt and gym shorts. The pain meds remained untouched on the table, but she heard the shower turn on a minute later and sighed. 

She started making up the couch with a clean sheet and the extra blanket stored in the linen closet. When Katsuki came out of the shower a few moments later he was wearing the clothes, though he didn’t look happy about it. The casts on bandages were speckled with water droplets, but it was dry enough. He’d have to be a little more careful. Inko just pointed to the couch and started preparing a small lunch. She wasn’t sure when the last time he ate was. When she emerged from the kitchen though she found him passed out, slumped against the armrest and drooling a little. Inko sighed again and threw the blanket over him. 

There wasn’t much to do around the apartment. The rug could use a vacuum, but she didn’t want to wake Katsuki. Instead she sat in the special recliner she could never get out of when she was pregnant and pulled out some knitting she’d abandoned a month ago. She turned on her rom-com show on low volume and took some time to relax and think through what she needed to do. 

Masarou was coming over later to drop off some of Katsuki’s things. Just his homework and some clothes, including his school uniform. His father said that there was no way Katsuki would stay away from school for another day, and the funeral was on Saturday.

Masarou knocked on her door about two hours later with the supplies. He seemed to have calmed down slightly, but it was pretty clear he was holding himself together with very thin sutures. 

His lips pressed in a thin line as he stood in the doorway, keeping his voice low as he glanced at Katsuki over Inko’s shoulder. “You know it’s nothing personal, Inko. It’s just… I just got to see Katsuki for the first time in a couple of months, and then somehow someone else gets to decide what to do with him? I know things are a little tight for you right now—not that you’re doing anything wrong at all!” He scrambled to make a placating gesture when he realized how that came out. “I just hope you can see my side of it. It’s also not fair to you to suddenly be in charge of a whole nother teenager.” 

Inko leaned on the door, deep in thought. “Yes… You’re right. But everything is happening too quickly. We can schedule a meeting with the lawyers after the funeral on Saturday, maybe the following Monday. And until then I’ll take Katsuki to your house to visit. I know he also wants to be with you, and I prefer not to get between that.” 

Masarou visibly brightened with hope at those words, hope kindling in his eyes. “Really? Oh, thank you, Inko. I can’t tell you how much that means to me. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. I’ll keep in touch, ok?” 

“Ok, goodnight, Masarou.” 

“Goodnight.” 

Inko shut the door gingerly, putting Katsuki’s things on the coffee table, and stopped when she saw red eyes staring at her. “Goodness, Katsuki! How long have you been awake?” 

“When can I visit my dad?” Katsuki sat up, now very much awake and apparently very aware of the conversation she just had with his father. He was very pale.  

Inko sighed and thought for a moment. “I suppose after you get all your homework done on Saturday…if you want to go before the funeral. You can also go Sunday if you like. Until we get this all sorted out on Monday that’s the best I can do I’m afraid.” 

Katsuki narrowed his eyes but nodded slowly, looking down at the floor, seemingly lost in thought. 

At that moment, Izuku arrived home, kicking his shoes off with a tired yawn and throwing a “I’m home” in her general direction. Once he gathered his homework out of his bag, he hugged her and made his way to his bedroom, the standard schedule the two shared. Only now it was a little more complicated. 

The green-haired boy froze in his tracks when he saw the back of Katsuki’s head on the sofa. 

“O—oh! Hi Kachaan. What uh, what are you doing here?” Katsuki hadn’t been to their apartment in over a year. And even then…

Katsuki himself looked like he would rather be anywhere but here, scalding eyes darting from the carpet to Izuku to Inko and back all over again. “Stuck here with you, Deku. But ONLY for a couple of days. No way would I stay here.” He kept stumbling over his words like he was about to say something—probably some kind of expletive—and kept changing his mind. 

“What?” Izuku squeaked, looking to his mom for confirmation. Inko stepped between the two and held up her hands as Katsuki got to his feet. 

“Yes, Katsuki will be staying here temporarily. And I expect you two to get along. Please?” She tagged on after the fact, looked pleadingly at her son, hoping to get across that they should be good hosts to their guest, though she knew her son wasn’t the one she needed to worry about. Izuku chewed the inside of his cheek and looked at Katsuki once more, seeing the bandages and suddenly sagging, looking very sad for some reason. 

“Of course,” he relented, quickly escaping to his room to get his homework done. Inko sighed in relief and turned to Katsuki, promising to have a longer conversation with her son later. 

“Would you like your lunch now? It’s just in the fridge, I can warm it up.” 

“No thanks,” the teen mumbled, suddenly looking very uncomfortable. 

“Honey, you really should eat. You still look sick and you’re gonna—” Inko yelped as Bakugou’s knees chose that moment to promptly buckle and he collapsed, thankfully back onto the sofa. Out of instinct she reached out to grab him, but she couldn’t do much to stop his fall. She did however feel just how hot his skin was, much too hot to be healthy. 

She recoiled and immediately pressed the back of her hand against his forehead. He was definitely burning up. 

“Izuku, can you grab my bag for me?” She called, her voice laced with urgency. Bakugou was getting lethargic, eyebrows pinched and his breathing slightly erratic. She started taking his pulse on his wrist and frowned at the rapid fluttering beneath her thumb. 

Izuku poked his head outside his room, and his eyes widened before he ran to the front door and snatched her bag. “I was gone for like, three seconds. What happened?” 

“I’m checking right now, sweetie.” She reached in her bag and grabbed her stethoscope, checking his heartbeat and respiration. She then wrapped the velcro strap around his bicep to take his blood pressure, starting to pump up the air inside when Katsuki stiffened and started to get up . Very abruptly. 

“Katsuki, stay still! You’re in worse shape than I thought.”

“Fuggin get away from me, hag!” Katsuki started clawing the strap, his words jumbled together. Inko was used to patients insulting her, but ‘hag’ was a new one. Katsuki didn’t seem to have a very broad vocabulary of insults. 

But mostly she was mad at Masarou for not realizing how hurt Katsuki was. She couldn’t be sure how detailed the doctor was at explaining his diagnosis, and she also knew Katsuki had a history of minimizing damage (she distinctly recalled a time where the eight-year-old tried to hide a broken leg . He said he was playing in the woods and fell into a ravine). But from the start Inko could see the bone-deep exhaustion making the kid’s eyebrows pinch in discomfort, making him sway haphazardly on his feet, his arms still shaky. To say nothing about the torn stitches bleeding through his bandage. He just looked… small, and very much in need of her care. 

“Izuku, I’m sorry, but could you please help me? His blood pressure is way too high.” 

The curly-haired boy was already holding out his hands to steady the blond, looking worried but not panicked at all. “His quirk always makes his blood pressure high. He just needs to relax a little, then I think you can take care of his stitches. Hey, Kachaan!” Izuku directed at the other teen. “Do you want a hug?” 

Inko changed her mind. Katsuki had a very broad vocabulary. It just mainly consisted of very creative expletives that made her ears turn pink. 

“Bakugou Katsuki! I will wash your mouth out with soap if you don’t sit down this instant!” 

Immediately Katsuki stiffened and glanced at her with a hint of clarity in his eyes as he dropped once again down on the couch and this time stayed down, looking away as she finished taking his blood pressure, but visibly relaxed when she took it off. 

“Izuku is right, you need to rest and eat. As your nurse, I’m ordering you not to move from this spot until you feel your heart settle a little.”

Katsuki refused to look at her, and when Inko brought him the soup she’d made earlier, he ate it slowly and wordlessly. She prepared a damp cloth for his overheated face and he just took it and hastily wiped his face with it. With nothing else left to do, Inko sank back down into her seat and resumed her knitting project, keeping a close eye on the teen’s fresh bandage. 

Katsuki never moved from his spot; he didn’t even shift into a more comfortable position. He just sat there stiffly like he was about to meet royalty, or maybe an executioner. At least he didn't look quite so pale anymore.

“...Is there anything else I can get you, dear?” Inko tried to extend an olive branch, feeling bad that she had scolded earlier. She hadn’t done it in a long time and was rusty. Katsuki rapidly shook his head, seemingly snapped out of his thoughts, and then listed over until he was lying down again, the blanket hiding most of his face. But she could see after a while his eyes slipped shut, and he appeared to be sleeping again.  

She continued knitting until she grew bored and started on dinner. Once Izuku was done with his homework, he emerged from his bedroom to help her out, and the two ate together, occasionally glancing at the sleeping teen between conversations, but he remained motionless. 

They were both exhausted, so after cleaning the dishes, they both mutually agreed to go to bed early. Inko decided to sleep in the chair in the living room to be close in case Katsuki needed anything, or if his condition changed. She didn’t want to wake him up just to tell him he can’t go to school tomorrow, but if he woke up at any time, she would let him know. 

The chair was surprisingly comfortable to sleep in, and she was quick to doze off. This time, she slept soundly. A little too well apparently, because though she considered herself one of the lightest sleepers in Japan—probably stemming from one frightening night where Izuku stopped breathing as a baby, and she subsequently woke to every sound (or lack thereof) since— but when she woke up the next morning she found the couch empty and Katsuki and Izuku nowhere in the apartment. 

Chapter Text

Bakugou had managed to kick a rock almost a mile on his way to school, and he had every intention of kicking it all the way to the front gates of UA. It was the only way to keep his sanity, knowing that Deku was walking just a couple of paces behind him. 

He just couldn’t stay in that apartment another moment. He didn’t sleep at all. Apprehension kept jolting him awake like termites crawling under his skin from having another person in such close proximity to him. It didn’t matter that it was Auntie Inko. How could anyone sleep in that kind of environment? He didn’t even know why she slept on the chair. She had a bed . She was like a guard dog making sure he actually stayed in his place all night, making sure he didn’t sneak out. 

Ha, joke’s on her. He could be extremely quiet when he wanted to be. 

He was exceedingly proud of himself for getting dressed in his uniform without stirring so much as the dust mites on the carpet. The pain meds on the table remained untouched and would remain untouched as far as he was concerned. He wouldn’t need them once he got to school. 

He had no intention of letting his stupid arm keep him from training later, though. He had his pride, but he wasn’t stupid. 

And then Deku came out of his room also fully dressed and backpack shouldered, and Bakugou accepted the fact that he just wasn’t meant to be happy in this life. 

At least the nerd had half a brain cell to wait until they were outside before he started assaulting him with questions. 

“Kachaan, what are you doing? You kind of scared my mom and me last night. Are you sure you’re feeling well enough to go to school so soon? I mean, I don’t want you to get even more hurt, so I just don’t know if you’ve thought through—”

“If you don’t fucking shut up right now, I will incinerate you right here and now. I don’t care if we’re in front of a retirement home.” Bakugou ground out, whipping around and jamming his finger accusingly into Deku’s chest. His headache started throbbing again, digging into the base of his skull like a jackhammer. “I’m going to Recovery Girl, dumbass. I’m not going to pass up the chance to deck you during fifth period.” 

Bakugou turned around and continued walking as Deku squawked indignantly behind him. He heard more quiet muttering, but it was far enough back that he could block it out, continuing to kick the rock until the high school was in sight. 

Deku followed him all the way up to Recovery Girl’s office. Because of course he had to. He let himself into the nurse’s office and looked around for the healer, realizing that she hadn’t clocked in yet, so he sank down into one of the waiting chairs. Deku swiftly sat down next to him, his skin a little pale between his freckles. They sat in awkward silence for either ten minutes or an hour, Bakugou’s headache growing progressively worse by the second. He rubbed his temple with his good arm, also effectively blocking Deku from his line of sight. Yeah, that was better. 

Finally Chiyo waddled into the office, hot pink lunch bag in hand. When she noticed the two boys waiting for her, she simply set her lunch bag down and crossed her arms. “Is it just the explosion boy, or do you also need medical attention, Midoriya?” 

Deku rubbed the back of his neck and laughed nervously. “No, it’s just Kachaan today, ma’am.”

“Don’t speak for me, nerd!” Bakugou snapped, stomping over to the examination table and jumping on. “Patient confidentiality. Your ass is out of here.” He jerked his thumb towards the door. Chiyo sent Midoriya a meaningful look, which compelled him to reluctantly wait outside. 

The minute he left, Bakugou instantly felt easier. He exhaled rapidly in a huff as he lowered his head so Recovery Girl could kiss it and get everything over with. When he didn’t feel anything, he looked at her expectantly, and Chiyo narrowed her eyes at him. She then turned around and unlocked her ancient-looking computer, pulling up his file. 

“You know the drill, Bakugou. How did you receive these injuries?” 

“What does it matter?” Bakugou crossed his own arms. He didn’t care that this was a regular routine for them. He’d dig his heels in every time. She was treating him like a child, and he hated it. What happened to him outside of school hours was none of her business. Apparently, the school hadn’t notified her of his life update. Just as well.  

Recovery Girl sighed and took off her glasses, pinching the bridge of her nose. “If you’re going to be this stubborn so early in the morning, you can just go back to class and have Aizawa deal with you.” 

Bakugou stiffened at that. He needed to get healed. He wanted this over with . Seeing that he really didn’t have an out this time, he started bouncing his knee and looked at the ground. “S’not that big of a deal. Just got in a little car accident. The car is in worse shape than I am.” He subconsciously shivered as several memories of that night bubbled up. He forced himself to stay still. He wasn’t cold. 

“Were you driving?” 

“Of course not, I don’t have my license.”

“What injuries do you have that you know of?” 

Bakugou pinched the fabric on his pant legs. “Just a broken arm and clavicle. The doctor said I have a concussion, but that’s about it.”

Chiyo grumbled and flashed a light in his eyes, making him hiss. “Are you sure?” 

“ Yes ,” he ground out. Shit, this whole day needed to be over already. 

Finally she reached up and kissed his temple, and immediately he slumped with both relief and exhaustion, so much so that he almost pitched forward. Chiyo lightly pushed him backward so he was lying down, and he couldn’t find it in himself to resist. His bones clicked back together in his arm and the absolute shattered mess that was his clavicle shifted in his body like a dozen puzzle pieces. His headache vanished, the pain replaced by a loopy amount of sleep deprivation. He really should have tried harder to sleep last night. 

The only thought that floated lazily around his head was that it’s over. It’s done. It’s like it never happened. I’m ok now.  

He had half an hour before school started, so he turned back to Chiyo. “Wake me before homeroom starts, kay?” 

“No,” she responded, calmly typing away at her keyboard. A noise came out of Bakugou’s throat in protest. “Your body will wake up when it’s ready and not a minute until then. I’ll keep an eye on your quirk to make sure your heart rate doesn’t drop too low. You need to rest.” 

Bakugou clenched his fists as tightly as he could. A string of expletives slurred out of his mouth as he now actively fought to stay awake. This wasn’t fair! He was being a responsible student. He needed to go to class. There was no way Deku was going to have a more perfect attendance record than him. 

Out of sheer channeled willpower, he hoisted himself back up and planted his feet on the ground. Screw Recovery Girl. She’s healed him plenty of times, but that didn’t mean she had any say over what he chose to do. He ignored her demand for him to sit back down and stumbled out the door. He could apologize later.  

This felt good. This was his choice. He was choosing to do what he knew was right. No one could dictate his life in this building, not without his say. 

Once he reached his homeroom, he took his seat on the far left next to Jirou, feeling Aizawa’s eyes on him the entire time while he went over the opening announcements. Apparently he was notified of Bakugou’s situation. He kept his gaze on his notebook and focused on writing down meticulously neat notes to keep himself awake. It wasn’t working. He could feel his heart rate dropping into REM-sleep level status as he truly struggled to control his motor functions. He dragged his nails along the inside of his arms to wake him up since little explosions would draw attention. He felt Deku drilling holes in his back with his eyes. Kirishima also kept glancing in his direction in innocent concern, and for some reason, that didn’t piss him off as much.  

Once assignments had been given and the class rose to change into their gym uniforms, Bakugou got up with them and packed up his bag. 

He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder. 

Oh fuck —oh, it’s just Aizawa. 

“I wasn’t expecting you back in class for another few days. You obviously need it,” his teacher’s low rumble vibrated through his bones, eyes tired and unamused. 

Bakugou shrugged off the hand and waved the question off. “Chiyo was being a pain in the ass—” 

“Language.” 

“But I’m better now, so I can get back to work.” 

“I’m writing a note to Masarou to send you home.” 

Bakugou felt sparks go off in his hands despite himself. Aizawa’s eyes flicked down to them, and Bakugou crossed his arms to keep his quirk under control. Because now he was pissed . That was good; he felt his heart rate bounce back up to normal. “He’ll just take me back, because unlike some students here, I actually give two shits about being a hero. Don’t you think I would tell you if I were compromised? That was all the pop quiz last week was about.” 

Aizawa-sensei narrowed his eyes at him from behind his capture weapon and waved a hand, an unreadable expression on his face. “Fine, let’s see just how capable you are after being in the hospital for two days. But I’m only agreeing if you visit Hound Dog’s office hours after class.” 

Though he heard the words, the implications in his teacher’s undertone were abundantly clear that this was a challenge, and Aizawa was just waiting for him to slip up and send him home. He didn’t even know about Auntie Inko. 

“Fine.” There was no way he was wasting time with Hound Dog. He was seeing his dad later tonight. Aizawa didn’t need to know that, though. 

“Then I suppose I should trust my students, seeing as they’re mature enough to be Japan’s next generation of heroes.” Aizawa finally released him, and he hurried to the locker room to change. 

The day can only get better from here.

And it did . The workouts and training Aziawa put them through were brutal, but to Bakugou, he was in a state of euphoria at proving his teacher wrong. His heart was thrumming at the perfect speed to accommodate the stress on his body, allowing him to have perfect control. At least some control over something. He hadn’t been able to control any part of his life for the past few days, and he had a lot of making up to do, damnit. 

What’s even better, he and Deku were paired together towards the end of class, and Bakugou, true to his word, showed no mercy. He was tantalizingly close to winning the match when the idiot’s new—extremely convenient, he might add—quirk flared, and Midoriya was subsequently lying on the floor with not one but two broken arms. Bakugou was pretty sure he saw a piece of bone poking out of the skin, but he could’ve been wrong. He made a face and turned away as Aizawa rushed over to the incapacitated teenager. 

“Son of a— Midoriya ! Are you kidding me ? This is the third time this month—you know what? You’re going to Recovery Girl and going home. Go. Now. I don’t want to hear one more word about it.”

Deku looked like he was about to protest, but stifled all his arguments, huffed in frustration, and—probably purposefully—banged his arm on the door frame on the way out. Even Bakugou had to admit that his pain tolerance was through the fucking roof. Class was done anyway, so everyone made their way back to the locker. By the time Bakugou changed, Midoriya came back fully healed with a brand new set of scars littering his knuckles. 

“You’re mom’s gonna to be pissed,” Bakugou muttered, mostly to himself. Deku heard anyway. 

“Oh, I’m not telling her about this. She’s on edge as it is. It’s just until I get my quirk under control.” Midoriya started to change, and Bakugou could see the scars already on his arms. When did the nerd even get those?

“Doesn’t the school notify our guardians whenever there’s an incident?”

Deku has an unreadable expression as he pulls a slip of paper out of his bag and holds it up. “Maybe, but she doesn’t have to know… Unless you tell her. Please don’t.” 

A sick feeling suddenly implanted in his stomach. He didn’t take Inko to be that sort of person but apparently he was wrong. Big surprise. “Why shouldn’t I? If you were stupid enough to get hurt you should deal with the consequences.”

Midoriya stuffed the piece of paper back in his outside pocket, where several other suspiciously similar papers stuck out. “It’s not that—look, I have… something after this. You can go home and sleep if you want. The apartment will be empty, Mom will be home later to take you to Uncle’s house. I promise I’ll leave you alone.”

Bakugou shoved him into the lockers as he passed him. “Don’t you dare try to bribe me. I ain’t a snitch.” He flipped him off and walked down the hallway, stewing. Of course he had to deal with this new information. Where was Deku even going after school? You know what? It didn’t matter. He didn’t care. If there was no one at the apartment, he could just sleep. He knew he needed it. Fine. But he was determined to be awake when Inko got home. 

… 

Inko’s muscles strained as she carried two full bags of groceries up the stairs to her apartment. She wanted a good meal tonight, and that required a hefty amount of spices and sauces she’d been running low on. Not to mention restocking the non-perishables she kept for emergencies. 

She fumbled with the keys and turned the doorknob, expecting to come home to the same mess she left that morning. She wouldn’t consider herself messy by any means, but if there was an occasional spill or dirty dish made late at night, it could wait until the next morning. 

Her apartment was completely spotless, so much so that she felt self-conscious thinking about the state it was in this morning. The counters were polished, the carpet had vacuum tracks, and the air smelled like cleaning supplies.  

Katsuki was sitting ram-rod straight on the couch as if he knew she was coming. He looked like a cat that was pretending not to have a mouse in its mouth. 

“Oh, hello, Katuski.” She grunted as she set down her groceries. “How was school?” 

“Fine,” Katsuki’s eyes stayed glued on her. It was a little disconcerting. She started washing her hands. 

“You look much better. I’m sorry I didn’t get to wish you good morning. You must’ve been pretty quiet,” She added mostly to herself. 

“Yeah, well.” Katsuki rubbed the back of his neck behind her. “I finished my homework. How ‘bout me getting out of your hair and letting me go to my old man’s house?” 

Inko stopped and wiped her hands on her apron. “Are you sure you don’t want to eat dinner first?” 

“I’ll eat there,” He replied quickly. Inko pondered. 

“I did promise, didn’t I?” She relented. She would’ve loved to have a proper dinner with her nephew and son to ease some of the tension. Well, if he didn’t want to, she wouldn’t push too hard. Not yet at least. Katsuki’s eyes were narrowed into slits as if he were farsighted and trying to read a Russian novel. “Alright, I’ll drop you off right now if you like.” She didn’t miss the way he perked up like a rabbit in tall grass. 

“Ok,” he said it like a challenge, like she would change her mind. 

The car ride wasn’t long, but as soon as she pulled into the driveway of Masarou’s “new” home—He moved to a home she’d never visited since the divorce—Katsuki jumped out of the van before she put the gear into park and slammed the door behind him. 

“Thanks,” he mumbled through the open window as he was already walking up to the front door, hands in his pockets.

“Katsuki!” Inko called out after him. The teen froze and turned back to her. “Just be ready to go by ten, ok? It’s still a school night.” 

Katuski nodded and almost scurried to the front door and knocked. “Hey, pops! Lemme in!”

Inko made sure he got inside safely and pulled away. She was planning on going in with the teen to say hello to Masarou, but it was pretty obvious Katsuki wasn’t too thrilled with that idea.  

Well, at least she would have a peaceful dinner with just her and Izuku. She wanted to make sure her own child knew that he was still her first priority, and this would be a good way to relax and end the day before she picked Katsuki up.  

One day at a time. Things were holding together pretty well so far. 

Chapter Text

Inko had a problem. 

Well, maybe not a problem, per se. Nothing was necessarily wrong. If anything, Friday came and went more smoothly than she could have imagined. 

But that was just it. The day went too well, too quietly considering the circumstances. Inko woke up once again to an empty apartment, went to work, came back home to find Izuku out with his “special mentor training,” and Katsuki… She just didn’t know, and that was the problem.     

She had been mentally planning—bracing—for whenever Katsuki needed her, for anything, really. She didn’t know exactly what she was expecting. Maybe she would overhear him crying in the bathroom, and she would wait patiently till he was ready to talk about his grief. Maybe they would need a lot of tissues. Or maybe they would share fond memories of Mitsuki, especially memories of when he was a little boy, when he wouldn’t have remembered much. She had plenty of those ready in her scrapbook-like memory. Something. 

But for the past two days, anyone who walked into her apartment would never know she even had a houseguest. Her home was always clean now, the kind of clean that she didn’t like. Sterile, like someone was trying to hide the fact that he took up space. It was truly as if Bakugou didn’t exist, and that needed to change. That couldn’t be healthy.  

But it was more than that. Inko knew everyone processed grief differently; she’d seen more than enough grieving family and friends at their loved ones’ bedsides. However, the way Bakugou behaved could only be described as odd. He didn’t act like he exactly hated Inko—beneath the strange behavior was a hint of that child-like fondness from years ago—but there was visible, if understandable, resentment for being forced to stay here. It made her sad to see him unhappy, and she couldn’t even comfort him the way she was used to doing. He was so averse to touch seemingly all of a sudden. She remembered such a snuggly child all those years ago, falling asleep in her arms whenever he had a long day of playing and both his parents were busy. He loved giving hugs, maybe not like Izuku, but he had a ritual of slamming into her calf with both arms before yanking Izuku along to play heroes. He was affectionate in his own little way, and Inko just shook her head fondly and accepted it.  

She guessed that was just what happened sometimes when kids grow up. 

But when Inko came home once again to her home looking immaculate, this time Katsuki’s blond hair could be seen over the small island, scrubbing the floor, and she knew she should say something. She wanted to clear up a few things. At the sound of her keys landing in the junk bowl (was said junk now alphabetized and color-coded?), Katsuki’s head snapped up and he quickly stood up, tossing the scrub brush away. “You’re home early.” 

“Not really, I just managed to miss rush hour. Sweetheart, can I talk to you about something?” 

Katsuki visibly bristled, arching his eyebrow. Inko put on a kettle and gestured for him to sit at the corner dining room/kitchen table. He sat stiffly, like he had swallowed a measuring stick. 

“You’ve obviously been under a lot of stress this past week. Is cleaning a way you like to cope?” 

Bakugou blinked at her like she had just asked if he liked toothpaste and pickles as a snack. “I—uh. Not really?” 

“Oh, then why have you been turning my house into an operating room?” She smiled, meaning for it to be a joke, but Katuski just stiffened even further like he’d been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. 

“You want your place looking like a craphole?” he asked incredulously. 

“Well, no. Of course I appreciate your help. But… There comes a point where I’m just a little worried. If you think you’re a burden, please don’t. You’re always welcome here, even if you do want to live with your dad. You don’t have to earn your keep. You’re still grieving, so unless there’s some catastrophic earthquake that leaves my home in shambles, you don’t have to do all the cleaning. I’ll ask if I need help with something for now.”

“...Ok…,” Katsuki glanced around the room. “Can you, uh, tell me what you do want?”

“What do you mean?” 

“I just…” the teen gesticulated in frustration. “I hate just sitting here doing nothing. What do you want me to do?”

“Oh,” Was it really that simple? She wished she had known sooner what he wanted. “Well, if you’re already done with homework, you could watch some TV, read a book, maybe if you’re up for it you could go for a walk around the neighborhood, or you could help me make dinner. It’s really up to you. You know that my home is your home.” 

Without a word, Katsuki started rifling through the drawers and pulled out a knife, beginning to mince the clean vegetables on the counter. His eyes were laser-focused on his new task. 

“I guess we have our verdict,” Inko hummed with a chuckle, pulling on her stained apron. “Would you like to play some music?” 

Bakugou looked at her funny mid-slice. “I don’t think you would like the kind of music I listen to.” He said slowly. 

“Oh come now, how bad can it be?” 

A mischievous smile flickered on his mouth as he grabbed his—very cracked—phone and pulled up what must have been one of his playlists. 

And oh. 

Oh dear. 

That was terrible.

It was as if the devil made a baby with synthetic music. She was pretty sure she was using those terms correctly. 

 “I said music, not angry men screaming at me over drum solos,” Inko protested, covering her ears at the volume. Did it have to be this loud?

Katsuki immediately turned the volume down and turned his back to her, continuing to chop. “You just don’t understand visionaries,” he mumbled under his breath. 

“How high did they have to be to have those visions?” That earned a surprised snort from the teen. “Can you play some classical? It always relaxes me.” 

Katsuki groaned, slid the perfectly-chopped vegetables into the waiting pan, and flopped onto the table top, scrolling on his phone. “But that’s so boringgggg.” 

Inko snorted at the childishness and coughed into her fist to hide it, earning yet another weird look from Katsuki. Regardless of his opinions, some classical music played on the speaker, and the two continued to cook in silence. It was nice. And Katsuki really did a good job. She could’ve sworn she caught him throwing in a few more spices into the mix, but she didn’t comment. 

When it came time to eat though, Katsuki made it as if he were leaving to go on a walk when Izuku came stumbling through the doorway in a hot, sweaty mess. “Hi, mom, I’m home!” He kicked his red shoes off and placed them neatly in their designated place on the mat.  

“Where on earth have you been? We almost started without you,” Inko huffed, setting the table. Izuku gave her a sheepish grin and squeezed past Katsuki, whose eyes had narrowed to near slits as he hurried to put his backpack in his bedroom. Inko took her opportunity to steer Katsuki back towards the table. He hadn’t eaten a meal with them in two days as far as she knew, and that was changing tonight. 

She could feel Katsuki freeze under her touch and quickly retracted her hand. “I’m sorry, dear, I forgot.” Katsuki just quickly took a seat and stayed motionless, the relaxed atmosphere from before evaporating until Izuku reemerged and took his own seat beside Inko. 

Dinner had the normal amount of conversation between mother and son, but it felt stiff. Izuku, bless him, carried most of the small talk, somehow making everyone feel included without it seeming strained. Katsuki stayed mostly quiet, eating slowly and stealing glances at Inko. After enough time though, he seemed to relax again and stood up to clean the dishes. 

“Don’t worry, Kachaan! I have dish duty tonight.” Izuku chirped, finishing up his own plate and trotting to the kitchen. 

“I’ll do my own dish, Deku,” Katsuki mumbled, taking a dish rag to dry the dish and putting it away. “I’m going to the roof for a minute. I’ll be back.” 

“Be careful up there.” Inko called out worriedly after him. The roof was small, aside from a sad garden she’d been nurturing up there with the landlord’s permission. There wasn’t much to do up there. She wasn’t sure whether or not Katsuki heard her as he closed the apartment door loudly. 

She saw Izuku visibly sag just slightly with a little sigh. 

“Are you ok, sweetheart?” 

Izuku continued to wash the dishes in silence as he contemplated the question. “It’s hard getting it right with Kachaan. I just want to help, and I also know the best way to do that is to leave him alone, at least for now. It just goes against everything I believe in. What kind of hero am I going to be if I can’t even help my friend I’ve known my whole life?”

Inko smiled and gave him a tight hug, ignoring the bit of wetness she got on her scrubs. “You’re going to be a splendid hero,” she started, making Izuku duck his head and blush. “But even the best hero can’t save everyone. And they shouldn’t. Katsuki isn’t some victim who needs saving from a burning building; he’s a young man who’s grieving. His heart will be heavy, but it’s not your job to hold it for him. My job is to look after him until Monday, and after that…well. We can only be there ready for him when he’s ready. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself.”

Izuku kept his gaze on the floor, knowing this wasn’t the answer he wanted to his question. He absolutely wanted to save everyone. And that wouldn’t change. Inko pushed his still dirty hair out of his eyes. “Promise you’ll let Katsuki come to you?”   

“Yeahhhh, I’ll try.” Izuku cracked a smile, hugging her back. 

“Good. Now take a shower. You smell terrible.” 

“Love you.” 

“I love you too.”

… 

Inko stayed up long after Izuku went to bed until she heard the front door open and a body collapse onto the made couch with a heavy sigh. There was no sign of sniffling or emotional distress. Just deep snores in the next room. Only then did she close her eyes and drift off to sleep. 

…

Bakugou slept strangely well that night, but that just made the reality check when he woke up again that much more irritating. 

Today was Mitsuki’s funeral. 

He stared up at the living room ceiling, barely blinking. He didn’t know what he was feeling. He didn’t even know if he was feeling anything at this point. Maybe that was how emotions worked; maybe if you feel two polar opposite emotions, they just cancel each other out. 

He never had any trouble getting out of bed every morning. Sleep was just something he begrudgingly consented to until he had enough energy to do what he actually wanted to do. But this morning, he just wanted to pull the covers over his head and stay there. Inko slept in her room last night, and he had the place to himself. It was really quiet. That was why he loved mornings. They were the only times his house was ever really quiet. 

He pinched the soft blanket between his fingers, thinking. Maybe just a few more minutes…

What was he, a baby? Stop acting like a pussy and get up. What would All Might say if he saw you lying here? 

Immediately he threw off his covers and started changing into the clothes his dad had dropped off for him. They were clean, unwrinkled, and they fit him nicely. When he glanced in the TV’s blank reflection, he quickly undid his tie and let it hang loosely around his neck. It was too tight.

Once again he felt the itch to move. It wasn’t as bad as before, but being inside the apartment for this long started to make his palms sweat, and he quickly rubbed them on his pant leg. The roof wasn’t enough, the same view in all directions. Just a quick walk. Some time to truly be all by himself and breathe. 

Don’t antagonize Inko. She decides whether or not you see your old man, his brain supplied him. He grabbed a piece of scrap paper and jotted down a note saying where he was going and when he would be back by. He knew the area well and was extremely precise with his time management. Sticking the paper in a visible place, he slipped out the door. 

Alone. Finally. 

He dug his now clammy hands in his pockets to warm them up against the morning chill and strolled with a gait much more carefree than one would think a person would be on the day of a funeral. 

… 

Inko sighed as she read the note on the fridge. 

Morning. Went for a walk around the drug store. Be back in 23 minutes.

Progress was progress, she supposed. At least he wasn’t actively running away. She appreciated the communication and decided to let him have some peace. 

She gave Izuku a morning kiss on the temple as he came out of his room, rubbing one eye and setting about her normal routine. They would drive to the wake around noon, giving them plenty of time. 

Plugging the toaster into the outlet under the cabinets sent a spark shooting out of the socket, making her jump back in surprise. “Not again!” She groaned in frustration. The cheap wires in the walls never ceased to give her grey hair. 

“Blown outlet again?” Izuku asked through a yawn, without hesitation getting up to fetch the toolbox they kept stashed in one of the desk drawers. He set it on the counter, then went to cut the power, hunched over and fiddling with the cover and screws until he got them both off. 

“Thank you, sweetheart.” Inko sighed, settling for room-temperature water before going about her own chores. While she worked, she couldn’t help but glance at her son fiddling with the wires and tools. She tried not to let it bother her. She was glad he knew how to fix so many things. They both had no choice but to learn through trial and error the last eight or so years. With his staggering analysis skills, he was able to figure out how to fix anything from a light switch to a washing machine to an Ikea bookshelf. They were definitely valuable skills, but she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of sadness that he had to learn them alone and out of necessity. 

She really didn’t know why a part of her always held out hope that one day his father might change his mind and want them both back. Maybe… 

She shook herself out of those thoughts. She’d moved on from that part of her life a long time ago. She had Izuku, they had each other, and that was all she needed. Her life was full. She was content with the cards she’d been dealt. 

At that moment, the front door unlocked, and Katsuki stepped inside, cheeks slightly ruddy from the walk in the chill. He frowned at Izuku, who was still working away in the kitchen. “What happened?” 

“Fuse blew again,” Izuku responded, eyes nearly crossed in concentration. 

“I didn’t do it,” Katsuki muttered, crossing his arms to warm himself up. “Since when do you know how to fix that?” 

“S’not rocket science,” Izuku shrugged, holding a screwdriver between his teeth. “And I never said you broke it.” 

“Whatever.” 

Well, Katsuki definitely isn’t a morning person if that’s how he behaves. 

Inko wordlessly handed him a hot mug of coffee from her favorite pink ‘Giving blood is a draining experience’ mug with a sleepy little heart on the front. Bakugou looked startled at the gesture but sipped from it regardless. 

The entire morning felt off for everyone. Inko knew they were all supposed to be solemn, and any attempt she made at levity fell flat. She supposed that was just how things were before burying a loved one.  

For her, it felt like she was anxiously waiting to see a long-lost friend after years of being long-distance, anxiously glancing at the clock while trying to keep still and busy at the same time. Izuku, once he finished his repairs, kept sliding into muttering fits, before startling out of himself by glancing at Katsuki and promptly quieting before the cycle repeated itself. 

And Katsuki…

Katsuki seemed to be getting more and more anxious as time went on. It wasn’t like Izuku’s anxious muttering and perpetually bouncing knee. It was like a rubber band being twisted tighter and tighter until one wrong move would make it snap. He just stood there looking out the window, surrounded by an invisible force field of danger, Do not enter. 

When Izuku locked the bathroom door to shower, Inko deliberately put down her mug near Katsuki so as not to startle him and placed a careful hand on his shoulder, noting once again his overreaction. 

“Is there anything I can do to help, honey?” She didn’t expect any kind of helpful answer; she even half-expected him to just brush her off. 

Instead, he stared at her for a long moment. “I don’t want to go.” He said finally. 

She smiled sadly in understanding. “I know. I wish you didn’t have to go through this at such a young age. I’ll be right there behind you the entire time. If it becomes too much at any time, just squeeze my hand and I’ll know.” It was an old phrase she used on Izuku when he was little, but it slipped out of her mouth before she could stop it. Immediately she covered up her fumble of words with a quick “Of course—I mean—you certainly don’t have to—” He was already looking at her strangely. Then he just looked away and kept staring out the window.

Inko mentally smacked herself for her stupidity and left him to himself while she got ready for the service. 

… 

If Inko thought the will hearing was awkward, she really didn’t have things in perspective. 

There were so many people, and this was just the viewing. These were people the Bakugous knew who gave up their precious time to a grieving family. An undulating sea of people in black who came at all sides onto Katsuki and Masarou to give their condolences, and Katsuki— 

—was doing well. Aside from his undone tie, he was the image of politeness to everyone who shook his hand, or even gave him an unwelcome hug. Inko saw the flicker on his face every time someone pulled him in, but it neutralized just as quickly every time. He was the definition of a boy raised with good class and manners. 

The wake was held in a funeral home with wine-red carpet and patterned royal curtains. Visitors continued mingling amongst each other, solemn as if preparing for an interview. Mitsuki’s coffin was securely closed, hiding any unsightly scarring the morticians couldn’t fix. It removed some of the closure, but part of Inko wanted to preserve the image she had of her friend. 

The last time the two had seen each other was on a coffee date three weeks ago. Mitsuki had been excited to tell her about all the latest gossip at her job. The affairs, the betrayals, the lawsuits, the crises. Mitsuki had no shortage of drama up her sleeve, and Inko was content to listen and sip her coffee. That was usually how it worked. Mitsuki loved the spotlight, always animated and speaking at a rapid-fire pace like she was spitting bullets. 

Sometimes the topic turned to their children, and Inko would happily prattle on about Izuku’s progress at school and how well he was doing. Mitsuki would beam and dote like an aunt and go on about how long it’s been since she’s seen him, how tall he must be getting, etc.  

Mitsuki, on the other hand, ran over an exhaustive list of the woes of parenthood to a teenage boy. There seemed to be no end to what Katsuki put her through. She wasn’t sure if it was just normal teenage rebellion or if there was something truly troubling about that boy. She claimed to have tried everything. Every parenting book she could get her hands on, group therapy, individual therapy, everything. Nothing seemed to work. 

“He doesn’t respect me at all, Inko. I just don’t know what to do with him. It’s like he tries to push my buttons. I don’t need that with all that’s going on at work, especially not with Masarou. You would not believe how often the brat asks about his good-for-nothing father. He’s much better off without him anyway.” 

Inko had accepted long ago the quasi-pet name Mitsuki kept for her son. She always assured her that it was all in motherly affection. It was not something Inko would personally use, but she supposed all families were comfortable with different things. After all, Bakugou remained at the top of his class and seemed to be thriving with a handful of friends. And besides, Mitsuki was known to be hyperbolic. 

Inko felt awkward standing in the big room. She didn’t really know anyone, and it was a challenge to join a circle of minglers without feeling that pull of social anxiety she still felt from time to time. But everyone was welcoming enough, even if it was certainly out of pity for the occasion. 

Little by little, the gathering dissipated, grabbing lunch and refreshments before the burial until it was just the Bakugous and Midoriyas. Masarou offered to pull the car to the front and drive them there, and Izuku went with him, eager to talk with his honorary uncle after not seeing him for so long. 

Inko went to use the restroom, and when she came back out again looking for Katsuki, she found him alone in the corner with the coffin. The lid was open, and he was peering inside. His good posture had disappeared, and he suddenly looked much smaller and more tired than he’d looked all day. She couldn’t see his face, but she heard the uneven breathing kept carefully steady despite his best efforts. 

She hastily turned towards the exit to give some privacy and to wait in the car with Masarou and Izuku, when Katsuki suddenly broke the silence.   

“I hate you,” Katsuki sniffed, rubbing his eyes furiously with his free hand. “I hope you’re in hell right now. It’d be what you deserve.” Even from a distance, she could see the white-knuckle grip he kept on the wood. He leaned heavily over the coffin, limbs shaking a little. Inko was worried he was going to collapse. He then leaned over so far that he was resting his head on Mitsuki’s chest, taking a shaky breath. 

“You can’t hurt me anymore.” He whispered so quietly that Inko could barely hear him. 

She shouldn’t be listening to this. This wasn’t for her ears. 

She silently slipped away as quickly as possible, her head spinning a little. 

He hoped she was in hell? 

What kind of horrible son would say those words? Mitsuki should be resting in peace right now, not having her spirit disturbed by such hateful words. 

You can’t hurt me anymore… 

She hated that. She hated the shred of doubt it placed in her heart, burrowing in like a parasite. What was the context for those words?

She’d have to ask Masarou.

She couldn’t look at either of them during the drive to the plot of land where Mitsuki was being buried. Katsuki stood between her and Masarou in the trimmed grass, looking into the deep hole of earth that seemed to swallow up the coffin as it was lowered in. 

She felt a hand slip into hers and felt a quick squeeze before it was suddenly yanked back out as if in deep regret, and she didn’t know what to feel.