Chapter Text
Katsuki sat awkwardly in the living room, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt and glancing up every few seconds to look at Inko. His mum had left ten minutes ago to get groceries, and now he was left here alone with a grieving mother. Mitsuki had demanded that Inko stay at their house for a while, until she got back on her feet.
“When...when Izuku was four, we found out that he was quirkless.” Inko spoke quietly, cradling her cup of tea and staring deeply into its milky depths.
“I told him-” Inko sighs, shaking her head. “I told him that I was sorry . He-he needed me to be strong, to tell him that he could still be a hero if he worked hard and tried his best but the only thing I could come up with was sorry .”
Inko gripped he mug tighter, her expression shifting from sad to frustrated. “I told him to give up on his dream , what kind of goddamn mother am I-”
She let out a muffled sob, hands shaking and jaw clenched.
Katsuki bit his lip nervously. “I gave him the idea.” He blurted out, squeezing his eyes shut and gulping loudly.
“W-what?”
“I...that day. He-” Katsuki took a deep breath and looked at Inko, trying to ignore how shaky his voice was. “I was mad. For-for no reason , I was just so angry. And Deku was there, with his stupid grin on his stupid face and it was all ‘Kacchan’ this and ‘Kacchan’ that. And then he started to go on about UA and being a hero and I-”
“He’s pathetic.”
A charred notebook goes flying out the window.
Stop it .
“Don’t bother applying to UA, nerd.”
His hand grips Deku’s shoulder tightly, and he can feel the boy flinch from the heat.
It’s not funny, you need to stop.
“If you wanna be a hero that badly, there’s a quick way to do it.”
No, no, no, nononono you have to stop, please.
“Go take a swan dive off the roof and hope you get a quirk in the next life!”
Please, god, no Deku I didn’t mean it, it was a joke, it was stupid, I’m sor-
He can still hear Izuku’s loud, choking sobs sometimes, when his mind gets dark and silent and so, so alone .
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“Do you hate me?” he asks one day as they wash dishes in the kitchen.
“What?” Inko turns to him with a puzzled look on her face.
“I said...I said do you hate me?” Katsuki repeats, biting his lip nervously. “For what I’ve done to Izuku.”
Inko pauses, places the dishcloth bach in the sink and looks down at her hands.
“Sometimes,” she admits. “But not quite as much as I hate myself for letting it happen.”
____________________
It was the morning of the funeral. Inko hadn’t slept a wink last night, she’d just spent about an hour screaming and crying at Mitsuki for no reason, and now her hands were shaking so much she could barely use the coffee machine.
She was well and truly on the verge of a mental breakdown, and Bakugou Katsuki shuffling through the kitchen door with a yawn was definitely not helping.
He blinked a few times once he realised he wasn’t alone in the kitchen and then rubbed his shoulder awkwardly. “I, uh, I’m sorry,” he muttered quietly- more quiet than Inko had even seen him. “About Dek-Izuku. About Izuku.”
Inko clenched her teeth and turned back to the coffee maker, stabbing her finger at the buttons aimlessly.
“Uh, here, it should work if you…” Katsuki moved closer and gently pressed a combination of buttons, and they both watched as the machine whizzed to life and a dark stream of coffee rushed into the awaiting mug. Inko nodded her head in thanks and took the cup, stumbling out of the kitchen silently.
She turned back just before she left, and watched Katsuki lean against the counter. His hair was a mess, his eyes red and puffy and he looked like he hadn’t eaten or slept in days. Inko doubted she looked any better.
“Katsuki.”
He glanced up, startled.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
He gave her a tired smile, eyes looking suspiciously wet. “I don’t think either of us really believes that.”
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“I could’ve stopped him, you know.”
Inko looks over at where Katsuki sits, but doesn’t speak. They’re way past empty condolences at this stage.
“I...I didn’t know it at the time but I can use my quirk to propel myself forward.” He clenches his fists and tries to blink away the tears in his eyes. “I could’ve saved him- if I’d been smarter, if I trained harder, if I hadn’t been so weak , so-”
He stops, breath hitching and tears running freely down his cheeks. When he speaks again, his voice is hoarse.
“So useless.”