Chapter Text
Izuku drops his bag a total of four times on the way home from school. Or, more accurately, the bag slips from his hand four times. And after each time it becomes harder to pick it up again.
He thought that interacting with physical objects would work the other way around - getting easier the more he practiced, but it appears he was wrong with that assumption. However, it could also be related to his rising stress levels - his concentration keeps slipping in the face of his fears about the consequences of his current actions.
By the time Izuku reaches the apartment building, he’s an emotional mess of anxiety and stress, and can barely make it up the stairs while still holding his bag. The strap slips through his fingers one final time when he stops before the front door, bag landing on the floor with a thump .
There are steps from the inside of the apartment. Before Izuku can even start to think what to do now, the door swings open, revealing his mom. She’s in her cooking apron, a confused frown on her face as she looks straight at him without seeing. Her gaze drops to the floor where his bag lays, and she gasps.
“Izuku?”
He crumbles at the sound of his name in her worry filled voice, knees buckling as he falls to the ground, finally solid again.
“Izuku!” His mom exclaims, her tone alarmed. “What happened, baby?”
He tries to open his mouth, but his voice doesn’t obey him and instead of words, tears start pouring from his eyes.
“Oh, sweetie…” His mom whispers, kneeling beside him. Her arms are already wrapping him in a warm, comforting hug. “I don’t know what happened, but everything will be alright. Whatever it is, we will figure it out.”
He nods against her shoulder, relieved beyond words and desperate to believe her.
They stay like that for a short eternity, hugging at the doorstep of their home, before mom breaks the silence.
“Do you think we can go inside, honey? We don’t have to talk immediately if you’re not up to it.”
Heat rises in his face as he quickly nods. He didn’t even make it inside! He broke down when everyone passing could just see .
Mom pulls away and gets up. Izuku follows her lead and stands on shaky legs, taking careful steps until he reaches the couch and lets himself collapse on it. Mom, amazing as she is, brings his bag inside for him, closing the door after her.
“Baby?” She calls, and he turns his head towards her to show he’s listening. “I’ll be in the kitchen. You can join me if you want, or just rest. When you’ll feel like talking, I’ll be here to listen. Okay?”
Izuku nods, still silent. She turns away, giving him space without making him feel lonely.
He sits on the couch. He breathes. In, out. His chest rises and falls as he inhales and exhales.
Slowly, Izuku settles back in his physical, present , body. As he does, he starts to register more of his surroundings. The soft hum of the radio mom put on in the background, the gentle light of the setting sun filling the room in warm colors. The familiar, delicious and comforting smell coming from the kitchen.
He surrenders to the pull of the aroma, standing from the couch and following it to the kitchen. His mom is standing beside the stove, all around her the ingredients for katsudon in various states of preparation. Her head snaps around when she hears him approach and she greets him with a relieved smile.
“Hey honey,” she says, gentle. “Do you feel better? Is talking now okay?”
Izuku swallows. His skin is crawling with nerves, but he knows that his anxiety will only grow the longer he delays this conversation. He tries to speak, no sound coming from his dry throat, and mom has a glass of water in front of him in an instant. He takes it gratefully.
“You don’t need to push yourself,” she says with eyes filled with sadness. “We can cook together and talk later. It’s okay, baby.”
“No, it’s fine.” He says, voice soft but there. His mom's smile brightens at the sound, and she waits in silence as he tries to find the right words to explain the day events. He takes a deep breath, thankful that he can, and opens his mouth.
“I think it’s my quirk, mom.” Izuku says, voice wavering. “I think it finally came.”
Those are words he wanted to say for years. He dreamed about a situation like this, imagined so many different scenarios for it he lost count. Reality is bitter. Standing like this in the kitchen with mom, broken from the inside, is so wrong . This was supposed to be the happiest moment of his life, not a hollow proclamation.
His biggest wish came true. Izuku should be ecstatic. Instead, he feels like there’s a black hole inside ribs where his heart and lungs are supposed to be.
He has a quirk because he jumped . He wanted to end his horrible life, was ready to leave his wonderful mom behind. And now she’s standing in front of him after he told her a thing that should have been the magic words for a better life, and he can’t meet her eyes.
Warm arms wrap him in a strong embrace for the second time today, and Izuku starts to cry again. He can’t help it. Getting a quirk should have solved all his problems, they all started in the first place because he was quirkless. But he went to school and everything was both the same and worse . It’s all still wrong and he feels helpless in the same way he felt standing on the roof of this very building when everything should have changed .
He cries until the tears stop coming. It doesn’t help him feel better as it usually does.
“It must have been really stressful, I’m so proud of you, honey.” Mom whispers into his hair. Izuku nods against her chest. “Do you want to tell me what your quirk does?”
Those are the real magic words. Because even when everything is awful and wrong , he still loves quirks. And now he has his own quirk he can talk about. He can’t tell all the truth, but he can still gush about his new cool powers like he always wanted to do.
“It transforms me so that no one can see or hear me,” he says with the little bit of excitement that came back to him. The next part is harder to say, because he hates lying, especially to his mom, but he has to. “Kind of like I’m temporarily made of gas? I think maybe it only came now because I needed to be mature enough to figure out how to transform back or I would have been stuck without anyone knowing what happened to me.”
Mom’s hands tighten around him until the hug is almost uncomfortable.
“I’m okay,” Izuku assures her, the lie burning his tongue, phantom taste of ash filling his mouth. “I’m here, I’m fine.”
“Thank goodness you’re so smart,” mom says, talking into his hair again. Her arms are still holding him very tightly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if I lost you.”
Guilt sits like acid in his stomach. The sensation of falling echoes through his mind, and he feels like vomiting.
Mom keeps talking, either not noticing his distress or assuming it’s there from the wrong reasons. Izuku tries to latch onto her words to avoid drowning in the storm that rages inside him.
“So that’s what happened today at school? Your quirk activated for the first time and you were there but nobody knew you were?”
“Yes,” he replays, hollow. The after-lunch incident was awful and he’ll give everything for it’s memory to be erased from his mind.
“And then you came straight home?”
Izuku hums his affirmation.
“Okay.” Mom says with the finality of a problem solved. “We’ll go tomorrow to register your new quirk and then we’ll tell the school what happened to clear things up. If they’ll have trouble with it, we can always have you enrolled in online school for the rest of the year until high school.”
The meaning of her words registers slowly in his mind. As soon as he fully understands, Izuku turns to face his mom, eyes wide. “I can do online school?”
He never even thought of it as an option, but it will be perfect. He could study peacefully and he won’t have to deal with Kacchan. He really doesn’t want to face Kacchan again after the past two days' events.
Mom blinks at him. “Do you want to switch to online school?”
Izuku nods, not trusting his voice not to reveal more than he wants to.
“Well, if you’re sure you won’t miss Katsuki, there is no reason we can’t do it. I can understand how returning to school after today could be uncomfortable, and I want you to be in a safe space.”
The urge to cry builds up in his chest again, but he has no tears left. It doesn’t prevent his voice from having a wet quality to it when he responds. “I’d like that a lot.”
His mom smiles at him, looking a bit puzzled. “Are you sure you won’t miss Katsuki or any other friends?”
Izuku's throat turns dry. What friends? He almost wants to ask. Part of him knows that it’s good that mom is pressing him more for confirmation because it means he successfully upholded his illusion of happiness and normalcy. The other part of him wants to laugh bitterly because how did his life turn into such a big lie? He hates lying, so how did he end up like this?
“I’ll be fine,” he assures his mom. “Kacchan and I… We haven’t been so close lately, with his training to be a hero and all.”
Take a swan dive off the roof, echoes his childhood friend’s voice in the back of his mind. Izuku tries his best to ignore it.
Thankfully, mom stops pressing him. He’s not sure what exactly she understood from him, but there is sadness in her eyes again. He hates seeing her with sad eyes, it breaks his heart. So, voice as cheerful as he can make it sound in the moment, he suggests, “Katsudon?”
Mom’s smile is like spring and new beginnings. Seeing it makes Izuku calm instantly. Everything is a mess, but it can get better.