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Chapter Text

the first inkling she had that something had to change was when her little girl came home, at the tender age of four, scraped and hurt and weeping, only a few days after her quirkless diagnosis (and inko wishes that her daughter didn't have to suffer through the world like she does, and she wishes it could've all been different: teaching her baby how to make things float or pull, calling hisashi and having him explain how to breathe flames into pretty shapes. she wishes mikage could've lived a better life than the one she's going to have). 

mikage cries about katsuki, the bakugous' little boy (mitsuki and inko were friends at some point, but mitsuki isn’t a particularly nice woman (inko’s coworkers were always so much friendlier). they’re distant, now. she doesn’t really feel bad about it). she cries about how she was only trying to help, and as the child in her arms weeps, she knows that something bad is going to happen (but she is a coward. she buries the feeling: she uncurls her daughter's hands and cleans up her scrapes. she does not dwell on it, and the worry ebbs away, swallowed up by her usual anxiety). 

- - -

mikage is obsessed with heroes, and all might is by far her favourite. she spends most of her computer time watching the same few videos over and over again, but she always carves out time to watch a couple short videos of heroes she's heard out on the playground, like ingenium and sir nighteye. she saves up the little pocket money she gets for hero merch, and they both cry the first time she gets her hands on some by herself (it's an all might notebook, not limited edition but mikage is so happy . it warms inko's heart and she listens to her every infodump about all the things she's learned. mikage scribbles drawings of every hero she knows (they're mostly pictures of all might) despite the limited time she has on the computer to study them in the first place, and inko smiles as mikage describes every scribble to her.)

(late at night, inko cries about how hard it is for them. her tears pour down her cheeks as she mourns for the dreams her daughter can never achieve, and she prays that her little girl finds another dream, something else that'll keep her safe and where her quirklessness won't be a barrier. inko knows it's a barrier everywhere, for everything. there isn't anywhere that's completely safe. inko doesn't let her mourning seep into the day. mikage already struggles enough with her interest in heroes. the world is not kind to her baby, and inko can't do anything about it.)

- - -

inko doesn't use her quirk at home, not any more. she doesn't want her baby to look at her and think she's mocking her or upset she is upset , but it's not mikage's fault or showing off. she doesn't pull the drawers open, she doesn't pull pens towards her hands, and she doesn't pull her baby's hero figures off the floor to put away. 

it's an adjustment, and inko feels a wave of guilt whenever she forgets and uses her quirk in front of mikage, because she doesn't want to make her feel bad for not having a quirk. inko feels awful enough for the both of them. 

- - -

inko's coworkers at her desk job (a statistician, working for the government. it pays quite well for her family of two) unsurprisingly, find out about her daughter's quirklessness. 

(they're all so sorry for her, some are disgusted and inko feels someway soothed by it. it's going to be deeply, deeply difficult for the both of them and they need all the sympathy people are willing to give.)

inko, while mikage is four, never stops to wonder if their apologies are given from anything but a place of care and concern. 

- - -

mikage sits on her chair, swaying side to side as inko fries an egg to make tamagoyaki for lunch. inko was the same, when she was younger; she was always moving. it drove her parents up the wall at the best of times. inko thinks it's harmless, and she doesn't reprimand her daughter. (she knows how painful it can be when told to stop, how her nerves fried under her skin and left her tearful and curled up, unable to speak. she asked her parents about it once, and they'd told her it was just something her dad grew out of. 

she's still the same, decades later.)

- - -

mikage cries again after coming home, hands and knees scraped up, and inko tries to pry out an answer because she can't help if she doesn't know what's going on -

mikage tries to push her away, and when inko still tries to ask, she screams and claws at her, wailing with her head in her knees. 

inko steps away, her heart thudding in her chest, and mikage runs into her room. 

(this happens too many times before inko finally realises that prying an answer out of mikage isn't ever going to help: mikage has to take her time, slow and steady, only talking whenever she's ready. 

inko learns to offer comfort and a listening ear, and to not expect an answer straight away, or at all. it's a difficult adjustment to make, especially for someone who's so open with her emotions. inko tries her hardest, and it’s rarely enough.)

- - -

inko visits mitsuki for the first time in a while, when both their children are at school. inko remembers why she doesn't come over often, when mitsuki's words are harsh and abrasive, but inko smiles and sips from her tea anyway.

(as she gets ready to leave, a little speck of herself breathes out katsuki lives with this? and inko blinks.) inko clenches her jaw before suggesting, "katsuki can come over, if he likes."

"the brat's causing trouble with your girl, but i'll see if i can drag him over," mitsuki laughs, and inko frowns. 

"what kind of trouble?" 

"typical boy shit. i'm watching him though."

inko walks home, cursing herself for being too afraid to dig any more, and worries what's under the surface of this situation. she hopes it’s better than she thinks it is (but she doesn’t put too much faith into that thought. she just feeds a little hope into it, and prays that some day she’ll understand what’s going on here).

- - -

after mikage hits five, inko's coworkers slowly start to warm back up to her again. she tries ignoring the whispered quirkless kids are so rare these days, the quiet i feel so sorry for them and the mumbled hope none of my kids end up like that and drinks green tea at break and chats with her kinder peers. 

(inko feels weak. she feels ashamed that she can't stand up for her daughter, for things so small as i know quirkless kids are uncommon, but 20% of the planet is quirkless or please don't feel sorry for us or i hope my child doesn't end up as rude as you are . 

she says none of these things. she stays away from the disgusted looks and sticks with those whose eyes aren't filled with shame or pity or grief. she makes friends with those that seem indifferent and slowly finds herself with a little cluster of people she has a good amount of trust in.) 

- - -

mikage comes home bruised and scraped, over and over, and she says even less about the injuries every time (and inko doesn't want to push her baby into a meltdown, dissolving under the pressure, so she never pushes as hard as she thinks she should). mikage still says they're just from playing, but inko knows they aren't, and every time she mentions it to the teachers they say she just needs to toughen up a little or they're kids, they can't control their quirks well yet or she needs to learn what the real world's gonna be like . 

it infuriates her beyond belief, but despite the roiling under her skin she can barely bring herself to argue much with them. (and she knows her daughter won't have an easy life, she knows that it'll be difficult and she wishes that it was different and mikage is going to have to fight for everything- but why can't it be easier now, when she's still a child, still inko's little girl, still her baby?) 

- - -

mikage gets frustrated with little things all the time, and inko thanks her past experiences for helping her understand what mikage wants from her. she hates the claustrophobic (inko doesn't really understand, but she trusts that it means more than it seems like on the surface) feeling of 100% polyester t-shirts, so she buys polycotton blends. 

inko cuts labels out of clothes, ignores her daughter plodding around barefoot instead of in slippers (except for the bathroom. inko is not letting her daughter use the bathroom barefoot.) and buys loose fitting clothing. these are just things they have to get used to, things that'll become routine as time wears on. inko’s made many adjustments for her own sensitivities over the course of her life, and it’s easy to forget how difficult all the initial changes were.

they work it out.

- - -

at six, not too long after joining elementary school, mikage comes back from school with a letter, grumbling about the hiragana and katakana worksheets she's meant to hand in next week. (the letter talks about the teacher's concerns, how mikage may have ASD or ADHD, and asking if they have permission to do an evaluation. inko signs it, wondering.)

a couple weeks later the school brushes off the concerns about both, without any elaboration beyond 'mikage doesn't meet the diagnostic criteria'. after doing some research, late at night, inko wonders what criteria they're looking at, because they must be some kind of oblivious to miss all the similarities between the list and her daughter. 

after several tense phone calls, the school never mentions the matter again (and some part of inko burns with fury at how they ignore it, but she's not quite courageous enough to try forcing the school do an assessment despite their misguided ideas and she doesn't quite have enough money or time to seek out anyone else to look (and if she sees some of the symptoms in herself and her own father, that isn't mentioned either)).

- - -

mikage writes notebook after notebook on quirks and heroes, learning how to write faster than nearly all the other kids at school. (inko has to sit her down at one point and carefully (but forcefully) explain privacy after flipping through a notebook that had an unexplained amount of detail on her classmates, and tells her that not everyone wants their quirks to be analysed or written about, and gets mikage to agree to only write down analysis of quirks heroes have, or quirks people agree mikage can analyse. she's confused, but shrugs and agrees anyway. it doesn't escape her notice that the next notebooks have nothing about her classmates at all in them. the pages on heroes end up more detailed as time goes on, though, and inko wonders if her little girl knows how much more she sees than other kids.)

it's much more than a hobby for her. she spends hours and hours pouring over every scrap of information she can get on, and even though she tries to save some pocket money every week (she only gets around 700 yen a week) but most of it ends up being spent on her steadily growing colourful collection of hero merch. 

inko wonders, one night, whether it's healthy for mikage to idolise heroes so much. her job as a statistician has taught her many things, after all: the amount of property damage each of the top fifty cause on average, the damage done to those caught in the crossfire of battles, the gap of rehabilitation services for villains, the backgrounds villains typically come from… 

inko knows a lot about what's under the surface of the shiny, marketable heroes and the society they support. she sees the effects every hour in the office, sees them every minute in the city around her and sees them every second she spends with her daughter.

Chapter Text

when her little girl is seven, inko hears the door open and someone take out the key, hears someone shuffle in and take off their shoes. mikage doesn't call out that she's back home, and inko knew something was wrong before she realised the state her daughter was in. 

when she sees that she's bruised and blistered, so much worse than the little scuffs and bruises that she normally has, she chokes. 

"mikage! what happened, are you okay?" 

mikage hiccups, and tears stream from her eyes. 

"the- there was a ch- kid that- that ka- other k-kids were teas-teasing and i tried- i had to make them s-stop it!" 

inko tears up as her daughter cries in her arms. 

when mikage stops shaking with sobs she says, "sweetheart, that was very brave. i'm so, so proud of you, but you should've gotten a teacher. you could've gotten in trouble for that." 

she crumples in her arms and cries again, keening over, her hands fluttering, "th-they d-di-didn't c-care."

something, deep inside of inko sneers, hissing and clawing at her chest. you knew something was coming and you didn't care to listen, it mocks, you knew something was wrong and you did nothing-

inko looks her child firmly in the eyes, setting her hands on her shoulders, and when mikage looks away she doesn't mention it. she knows the feeling well, and looks down at the floor instead, when her own eyes begin to burn with the effort. (making eye contact is a little weird generally in japan; hisashi always used the western customs he adopted during his student exchange program and it made her feel deeply awkward back when they lived together.)

"if i call the school again, will that help?" she asks with a steely tone, because she knows how these types of schools work, and her earlier actions have never made anything easier for her baby. the fact that they didn't care even now is a searing red flag, and she worries that if she says something now, it might get ten times worse (she knows it from experience, knows much harder they pushed her over. if it gets too bad, they might need to move schools, but inko hopes they won't need to. neither of them would handle the move well, and inko's brief searches into different schools doesn't spell anything good for how anywhere local would treat her little girl.)

mikage stiffens a little, thinking. she shrugs, "i d-don't- maybe it m-might."

"okay," she sighs, "but i don't know if it'll make it better. I'll try my hardest, okay?" 

in the evening, mikage breaks routine and slinks out of her room, sitting beside inko on the sofa.

"would you like a hug?" 

her daughter nods, and sighs as inko's arms encircle her like a fence, a wall, an army. 

"i still wanna be a hero."

inko blinks, tilts her head even though mikage can't see the action, "a quirkless hero?" 

"yeah."

inko strokes her hair, thinking. 

"you're going to need to work really hard, sweetheart."

"i know."

"and i don't want you to get hurt."

mikage shakes her head, clenches her fists for a moment before bursting into flutters. 

"i- i don't want other people to get hurt, though. i don't want people to think that all quirkless people are- are weak or useless or- and i wanna tell them all that they're wrong and we can do anything, and maybe there's gonna be a kid who sees me and sees that they can try, too."

inko wipes tears from her daughter's eyes even as her own start to prickle, holds her close and smiles, "i think you can do it."

mikage sits up quickly, almost smacking her head against inko's chin, rocking, "really?"

"of course!" inko kisses her forehead, and a memory bursts to the surface; her fingers tighten, guilt seeping through her veins, "i'm sorry that i told you i wished it was different."

"oh," mikage says, her face dark, "i thought you forgot about that."

inko tears up and whispers, "i think i did forget for a while, sweetheart. i just didn't want it all to be so difficult for you."

mikage nods, her eyes watering. she wipes inko's tears away and beams at her brightly, "it's okay, now."

(in the night inko thinks about mikage's impassioned we, her tearful we can do anything, and realises that her baby really is different from her in a way that she won't be able to understand. she hopes, prays that mikage won't see her, heroes, eighty percent of the whole world as the enemy. 

she'll just have to let mikage know she's on her side.)

on the morning after, mikage jumps up and down, asking about sport clubs. 

mikage ends up (it takes weeks, meeting up with instructor after instructor, going to gym after gym and getting turned away so many times, but inko's too furious at every failure to stop trying: she tamps down the urge to pull and instead tries to convince them with polite words. so many underestimate her daughter, but after well over a month and a half she finally has good options) going to a cricket club, two different martial arts classes (judo and taekwondo) and climbing place every week, putting the energy most kids have for school clubs into things outside of school (inko doesn't ask why. she knows enough). it's busy (and doesn't help their slightly tight budget, but inko knows that if she prods hisashi it'll be less of a problem), but mikage seems to enjoy every minute of it. her little girl gets strong and fast and seems to be a little more okay when she gets home from school. 

- - -

inko calls the school, and nothing comes of it. some fiercely motherly part of inko boils over and wishes that she could pull them into understanding: people are made of many parts, and her quirk, often called weak, can do a lot more than many assume. it frustrates her to no end: she presses her hands hard against her eyes and clenches her teeth hard after hanging up. 

she doesn't know why she bothers. (she knows, she knows, she knows all too well why: she has a little girl who needs her more than anything else in the world, who she's finally started to believe in. she needs to show her how much she cares for mikage, how much she wants her daughter to have a chance.)

she grits her teeth, makes a discordant sound, and waits for the next battle. 

- - -

one friday evening, mikage complains that she's really rung out by her climbing club, and heads to bed earlier than usual. inko notes it down mentally as something to watch out for. 

she gets her answer of what's wrong the next morning: mikage's eyes are bloodshot and her hands shake and when inko asks if she's slept, she curls up into a ball, shaking. 

it takes over an hour for inko to calm her down (she silently thanks the gods that she didn't cover for her coworker's shift) and they watch the same saturday morning cartoons that they always have. 

(mikage never mentions why she's stayed up so late or why she completely shut down that morning. inko holds her close and hopes that she'll tell her, some day soon.)

- - -

mikage cries to inko, late in the evening; her homework is a comprehension task on an extract of a book, and the words won't go into her head, and she doesn't understand what they want from her-

(not for the first time, inko curses those that said a diagnosis was pointless, quietly pushes a cup of tea into her daughter's hands, and holds her tight. 

mikage tries extremely hard to make herself understood by others, and no one else ever affords her the same. she really tries with homework, but several times she's completely missed what they're asking of her. it's a difficult process.)

inko reads out the extract to her twice, rewords the question a few different ways and asks mikage to flail around a little (sometimes movement gets inko's brain working again, when it gets trapped in between trains of thought) before she gasps, picks up a pencil and starts scribbling her answer. the scene feels familiar, and inko wonders how many times her father did this with her before she learned this process like the back of her hand. 

- - -

on a weekend when mikage is eight, while inko types on her work laptop, mikage scribbles on something that definitely isn't homework, judging by the lack of general distress, with the television off. usually, she has it turned on no matter what she's doing. (she says that she likes the background noise: inko prefers silence.) she's still muttering, though, and inko wonders what she's focusing on.

inko becomes infinitely more curious when mikage grumbles, mouthing words under her breath and takes two notebooks and some sheets of paper with her to the table at lunch. 

"mikage?" 

her daughter stops mumbling for a moment and hums noncommittally, scribbling. 

"what have you been working on?" 

inko doesn't get an answer to her question. she decides to leave a bowl and chopsticks next to mikage, and leaves her to her own devices. when she gets like this it's best not to interrupt. (at dinner she eats twice as much as usual before slinking off again.)

inko gets an answer the next day, early in the morning when she hears a chair fall over as she messages a coworker on her phone (he's in the process of adopting a lovely little girl, half a year old, and she's stayed with him over the weekend). she sits up, puts her phone on her side table and knocks on mikage's door. 

"um, you can come in!" 

she walks into a bit of a disaster: paper and notebooks are all over the desk. it's clear that mikage hasn't slept, by the way her hands shake and her eyes are bloodshot (she's seen it several more times, unfortunately. mikage seems to be buzzing with energy though, so she knows her daughter hasn't been staying up because of something upsetting). 

"mikage? what have you been doing?" 

her daughter stares at her a moment, wringing her hands.

"kuri, my girlfriend in the climbing class,” and inko blinks because that’s a development, and she swears that mikage was talking about some girl called nori in her judo class earlier, but mikage speaks too quickly for her to think about it too hard, ”said how having a bunch of heroes- a lot of information on heroes in one place was a bad idea, but I didn't want to stop having notebooks, so we thought that making up a code would be a good idea but now i have to put them in code and i had to make up difficult cyphers as well and i'm still not sure what to do about the kanji because i don't know much but it's important and i still have the original notebooks and-"

inko takes her hands, "breathe, mikage. if you're really worried about them then we could burn them or something, but you need to sleep. nothing's going to make sense if you don't take a break, because it's gonna be all muddled."

mikage sighs and nods slowly. 

"can i have a hug?" 

"of course!" 

inko sits on mikage's bed (it's a western style bed. they didn't have enough space to store a proper futon) and her arms hold the whole world. 

"i'm really proud of you, sweetheart. i just wish you remembered to take care of yourself properly more. even all might can't save everyone on his own."

in the evening, after a long nap, mikage rambles about how using a normal pen to draw support items would defeat the purpose of the code, and talks animatedly about wanting to use a glow in the dark pen to draw on top of the text instead, and inko has to gently remind mikage to actually eat her dinner, laughing despite herself. 

(and when mikage happily shows off all her work, inko quietly notes to herself that each of mikage's notebooks looks very, very different. she seems to have decided to make up a different code for each notebook. (it looks messy, and inko wonders if she could decode them even with the keys.))

- - -

“what was that whole thing about your girlfriend?” inko asks mikage, a couple days later after dinner.

mikage flushes and flails her hands, “i wasn’t meant to tell!”

“why not?”

mikage kicks a cupboard closed after putting a plate in it, “ ‘cause they said other people might think it’s weird.”

inko blinks, and then hums, “you aren’t going to get into any trouble, mikage. just because some people say it’s weird doesn’t mean it’s wrong.”

mikage makes a noise that vaguely resembles a bird screech before mumbling, "so i like girls and that's okay, isn't it?" 

inko nods, "of course it is, mikage."

mikage smiles at her, and then flails her hands with a bit of a blank expression, "but i like two girls, and then it was all who do i ask out, but then i realised i could ask both of them out! and when i went to the park with some friends a while ago i asked them both out, and then we argued a little bit, and i got flipped into the wood chips a bit, but so did everyone else so it's all fine, but it's spikier than you might think, and-"

mikage stomps on the floor before getting back on track, "so i asked them both out, and after sparring a bit, sparring's a cool word, huh? and then after that, we went well we don't need to tell anyone, and we all went okay and then we held hands!" mikage finished, grinning. 

inko wonders briefly what her daughter has gotten herself into. 

"it's good you all agreed, but it's still not the best idea to fight each other."

"we all know judo, so we can defend ourselves and attack! even kuri, because she just goes to a different place to me and nori! but yeah, talking is probably better. anyways, i have two girlfriends, you aren't meant to know and we're all having fun!" 

inko shrugs, because there's not much she can really say to that.

- - - 

inko hears on the local news about the murder of a quirkless woman (they don't say her name, they don't say her name-), and she changes the channel before mikage comes in for breakfast, because her daughter is quirkless and she doesn't need to hear that there's so many out there that would be happy to just kill her-

her daughter comes home from taekwondo, trembling, and inko's heart dissolves.

"mum," she cries into her arms, and inko whispers sweet nothings into her hair, because her baby knows that there's people who'd happily murder her just because she doesn't have a fucking quirk. 

"mum," mikage chokes out hours later, "she was called tanabe eriko. we can't forget her."

both of their eyes are bloodshot from crying, and inko promises that she won't forget tanabe. 

(inko cries more at night, and beats down the part of her that begs herself to hide mikage away, because her baby will never be safe, and hiding her away from the world, in their house, won't do her or any child any good: inko cannot make mikage change for the world. it just isn't fair: it'd be cruel and damaging and abusive. inko cannot allow herself to become another enemy in mikage's way. she cannot join eighty percent of the world, even if it might be easier (and the gods know that would it be easier, but it'd hurt so much more).

all of her after-school clubs have finally given mikage friends, something to work towards, let her realise her dream, and inko cannot take that all away from her.)

- - - 

a week later, inko has a book filled with names of quirkless people who died far too early, during mikage's life. there are hundreds if not thousands of names. 

"we won't forget them," inko says tiredly, her fingers brushing over a book that holds thousands of names of people she'll never get to meet, her brain scrambled with echoes of countless characters (murder and suicide and medical neglect mean nothing to her: she's read them too many times, and they don't feel like real words). 

"we won't," mikage says, with a broken voice, "we can't." 

- - - 

inko holds her daughter through the suicides that happen in the months afterwards (there's so many of them, and from inko's research she knows that after a murder, many more quirkless people can't keep fighting anymore. 

inko doesn't know how mikage isn't exhausted by it all; all the expectations, the fear, the violence. it could happen to any of them.) and tells her that no matter what, she'll always love her. 

"even if-" mikage begins to ask for the dozenth time, and inko interrupts by holding her and ruffling her hair. 

"anything, mikage. no matter what, i'll still love you more than anything else in the world."

"okay," mikage says shakily, and her little hands hold inko very tightly, "i love you too, mum."

they both hum with each other, still them against the world, closer than ever before, and inko knows more than anything that they'll make it through. 

Chapter Text

when she's nine, mikage asks inko about her quirk as they prepare dinner together, and while inko shouldn't be all that surprised, it's still unexpected. 

"how small can the things you pull be? because theoretically you could move air molecules, and make someone not be able to breathe anymore."

inko blinks, the knife in her hand losing its rhythm, "that's… a little morbid, sweetheart," she says, as if she hasn't thought over and over about pulling at-

"i'm just saying," she says flustered, waving her arms around, "i'm not telling you to try it, i'm just asking."

"i've never thought about it, honestly. i could try it after dinner?" 

mikage grins at her, and inko wonders if not using her quirk around mikage was a mistake. (and rationally she knows mikage adores quirks, but inko has never wanted her to feel bad for not having one. inko wonders how long she's worried about the wrong thing.) 

during dinner, inko concentrates so hard she starts clicking her teeth together and twists the steam coming off the miso soup into curls. mikage flutters with joy, and inko can't help but join in. later that evening, inko can't help but wonder if this is what a world of quirks has made her daughter into: someone who doesn't ask for the biggest and flashiest thing that inko can do, but the smallest, and thinks of what she can do with that.

- - -

inko goes into the bathroom, and is surprised to see mikage standing on a stool with smudged lipstick and eyeshadow painted onto her face. 

"i don't think i like it," she declares like she hasn't just dug deep into the drawers and used inko's makeup without permission. 

"you don't need to wear makeup, if you don't want to. you shouldn't use people's things without asking though."

mikage blinks, and then panics a little. 

"sorry! i forgot to ask, i just got really curious and wanted to know what it'd be like-" 

"it's okay, sweetheart. just remember to ask," inko says. somehow, inko forgot about this part of childhood that she had when she was young: clueing into what was expected of women and realising that she didn't quite fit in (some part, worn away with time, rises up like a river of ash and erupts into a roiling ocean: fraud, fake, liar, it hisses, and inko violently chokes it into submission until it implodes, and the ash pools into a silent lake). her nails dig so deep into her palms that they draw blood, and she takes a deep breath before unearthing some make up wipes and on second thought, the first aid kit. 

she wipes away the makeup, and mikage still looks far too pleased. inko shrugs it off and guesses that figuring out some part of herself has probably made her quite pleased despite the fact she's in a bit of hot water. 

mikage runs off to play heroes, and when inko opens the first aid kit to quietly take care of her hands, she wonders how long ago she bought some saline solution, as she cracks open one of the little tubes. (she doesn't want to think about what kind of bacteria she has under her nails.) the realisation falls with a dull thud that she just bought some more last month- someone has been using it. quite a lot of it, and the only person that it could be is mikage. 

she puts a plaster over her palm, her mind buzzing because the only thing mikage could've been using it for is cleaning wounds, and she was doing it by herself. someone has been hurting her baby and nobody has told her.

her first thought is to demand an answer from mikage, but that would not go well at all, and it's not her fault. she's only nine and doesn't understand that telling someone is the responsible thing to do (but you called the school and nobody did anything, a part of her mumbles, and maybe it got worse. maybe she's learned that telling people does nothing good. and that part has a point, and inko grits her teeth because the thought makes her want to commit arson or walk in for a polite meeting, let her grin go sharp before she pulls-) and she's hurt. mikage has been hurt by so many people, so many things, and it's no wonder she struggles to trust inko with school, especially with how inko tried to pry answers out of her in preschool. 

(the rest of the day goes like a haze, and inko finds herself at the end of it in bed, hands pressed hard against her eyes and her jaw aching. she wonders how many things she's messed up, and has no ideas for how to make this any better. inko makes the agonising choice to help the moment mikage asks, and keep the first aid kit decently stocked in the mean time.

inko feels sick, but she knows that she can't help her daughter if she doesn't want to be helped.)

- - -

"mum, at work you look at the numbers and stuff about society, right?" 

inko glances up from the sink, where she's washing a bowl. 

"yes... i also write papers on the effects and consequences and causes."

she rinses it and passes it to her daughter who dries it before putting it in the cupboard. 

mikage has a difficult look on her face. (a lot of mikage's facial expressions are difficult. looking at her hands has always made more sense to inko.)

"so you'd know about the bad stuff too."

"i look at that as well, yeah."

mikage hums, "so i've been thinking a bunch about it and um. could you tell me about it? obviously if you don't want to you don't have to-" a knife almost flies out of her hands with how fast she waves her hands, and inko frowns, ready to pull it towards herself if needs be, just enough so that it doesn't land on mikage's foot. 

"it's alright, mikage. i've… i wanted to talk to you about it anyway. i know you love heroes and want to become one, but i can't help but worry about you, and there's definitely some things about the hero industry that are… in all honesty, quite harmful."

she's almost relieved mikage brought it up. she doesn't want her little girl to become another piece in someone's pocket.

mikage wrings her hands after she pushes the cutlery drawer closed. 

"what kind of things?" 

"well, a big thing that we're looking at right now is the amount of property damage heroes cause, especially top heroes. there's been a worrying trend over the past decade where the costs have been rising- mikage, i know about inflation. the costs have been rising significantly more than inflation and…"

they spend a couple hours chatting about it (inko gets to show off the nice scatter diagram and line graph she spent half an hour bullying excel into making look nice), and mikage has never been so interested in inko's work before. she's glad that she's able to show her little girl the stuff that isn't so good long before she starts her proper schooling to be a hero. this way, she'll have been familiar with the downfalls for years, and it won't blindsight her. it's comforting to know that she's able to do at least this for her daughter: open her eyes to problems she's never faced. 

(inko knows about the statistics for quirkless people: she'd be a fool and frankly ignorant if she didn't, especially with her career. she knows that her daughter faces things she'll never understand on a daily basis. as horrifying as it is to imagine, inko had admitted to herself that her baby has probably already been told to take her own life, in one way or another (she's seen it before, a study done into quirkless people aged eighteen to twenty five from several years ago. fifty-three percent by age six had already been told to, either completely bluntly or in some way more sinister like you'll all die out someday, it's just evolution, to die. (and it is, it is evolution but that doesn't mean the quirkless don't deserve a life like quirked do. they aren't useless in any way: they're people). it only got more grim the older they'd been. the multi-level pie charts were some of, if not the worst she'd ever seen. 

it was beyond difficult to read even when mikage was just a baby, and now it's so much harder to even think about). it's awful, and inko wishes it was easier for mikage, but inko can't change who she is. it's something they both have to navigate. she stopped grieving for her lost potential years ago (she shouldn't have grieved at all, in retrospect. she can't change that now though. all inko can be is better). they'll get through the hardships together.)

- - -

"how are your girlfriends doing?" inko asks idly, clicking away on her work laptop, and mikage shrugs, looking a little put out. 

"we decided to be friends instead, because we're all pretty busy and nori doesn't think she likes girls."

inko nods, "it's nice you're still friends, though. breakups don't always need to go badly," speaking with the wisdom of someone who’s done the same thing.

"yeah. it sucks a bit, but we're still cool so it's not that bad."

inko hums, mikage picks up her pencil again and inko starts another paragraph of her paper for work. it’s peaceful, and as the rain patters against the windows, inko wonders how much more the two of them will have to face on mikage’s journey to heroism.

- - -

one morning, mikage falls apart in a way that inko has never seen before. (it's terrifying: she isn't scared of her daughter, but what's happening to her.)

she screams like she's being murdered, clawing at her eyes and arms. the night before at dinner she was too still (inko asked her if she wanted to talk about it, and she just shook her head, and pushing has only ever caused mikage to get more upset, so inko nodded and they ate quietly with the television on in the background. inko saw her flip through the notebook with thousands of names, and inko worried because usually neither of them look in it on normal days), but this is infinitely worse, because her little girl is hurting, she’s hurting herself and she can't get out of it. inko holds her tight, rubbing her back and brushing her hands through her hair, mikage wailing in her ears. 

she finally calms down hours later, empty and hollowed out in inko's encircling arms, army walls high around her sweetheart, she wonders what the hell caused this. 

(she never finds out, and inko's suffused with a thick, deep guilt. she doesn't know how to help her daughter, because she never says why she gets upset like this so often. (and it's so often, more than any other kid her age does, more than inko ever did, even with how sensitive she was to everything. the worry sits on the surface of her like a layer of thick oil over a lake, and the anxiety that's essentially a part of her roils under the surface of the stream.) inko wishes more than anything she'll figure out a way to help that doesn't upset mikage.) 

- - - 

mikage falls in love with the u.a sports festival. (inko has never been very fond of it: watching children tear each other and themselves apart leaves a bad taste in her mouth. she hopes her little girl never has to do what they do, and she worries whether mikage has ever learned that there is a limit. there is a point where you've gone beyond needing to stop, a point where you are obligated to, and inko prays that mikage and all these hero hopefuls she sees on tv will learn that the easy way.)

mikage asks if she can analyse their quirks, and inko only agrees because of the cyphers mikage has developed (she spent an afternoon trying to crack the newest one, which mikage spent days working on: inko has always had a knack for taking layers apart and discovering what puts something together. she struggled and ended up spending hours just to end up with several false starts and lots of wasted paper. mikage beamed when she read over her attempts, and inko couldn't bring herself to regret it.) and because mikage is very responsible with what she knows. mikage sees her hesitance and takes the permission with gratitude. 

it becomes a little terrifying, when mikage's first attempts are fairly good, and then a couple weeks (and lots of reruns of old sports festivals and a couple notebooks) later it's beyond what a nine year old should be able to achieve. she holds a pencil tight between her teeth sometimes so that she doesn't mumble, because it'd be bad for people to be able to just hear what i'm saying, because then they wouldn't need to decode it. inko wonders if it's really a worry for the average person, because when mikage rambles about quirks she mumbles in short hand and with awfully complex terminology that she’s picked up from articles online. it's only with practice that inko can pick apart the meaning and interject and add in her own analyses, little pieces that mikage thinks too deep into or sidelines for something more interesting. she sometimes forgets about how things mix together more under the surface, something being a statistician has taught inko. 

inko only properly realises just how skilled her daughter is when she reads out her conclusions on the second year's sports festival from five years ago. 

it's not professional level, she's only nine, but it's up there. (inko is both amazed and terrified at the way mikage easily reads from her notes, as if they weren't written in a cypher inko couldn't decode.) if inko didn't know she was quirkless, see the years of practice and know how many weeks she spent honing her skills (lots of tears were shed: she half destroyed her homework schedule on her quest), she would've assumed it was a quirk. it feels cheap to think of her work in that way, so inko gives her praise and reminds herself of how hard mikage worked to get this far. 

- - -

one weekend, mikage lays out a few sheets of paper of ways inko could use her quirk around the house. there's some really interesting ideas (mikage asked where her pull came from, and after a few experiments the found out she could use her core and her palms to pull objects), like putting a screw into the doors so that she could pull them open (but they do a couple more tests: screwing a screw into the door makes her quirk act like it's half part of the door, and it puts her at the very edge of her limits. tying a string to the doorknob with a little block of plastic on it provides a more useful hold for her quirk, and the door opens with little effort. it also makes the landlord less likely to get irritated at them). 

mikage has some amazing ideas, and even if they don't all play out they're still brilliant. inko thinks that if she didn't set her heart on becoming a hero, she would've become an amazing analyst. inko smiles as mikage rambles, and she tells her all the ways analysis would help her be a hero. even when smiling like she’s heard it all before, mikage grins at inko’s words. 

some part of inko hopes her little girl will stay like this: loud about what she loves, observant and happy. (inko hopes that it's realistic, at the very least.)

Chapter Text

inko doesn't quite understand, when mik- her child tearfully tells her, at the tender age of ten, "i’ve been thinking for a while and i don't think i’m a girl". 

inko is a little confused, but she hugs her child nonetheless, tells her- them that it's all okay. (her brain will take some time to get it all in order.)

"what are you, then?" she asks quietly, a couple minutes later after the tears dry up, her hands on their shoulders. 

"i'd have to be a boy?" 

"well, there's um," she mumbles hurriedly to herself, trying to jog the memory (one of her old coworkers taught her a lot, but that was years ago), "nonbinary people aren't boys or girls."

"oh," her child says, and scrunches up their face, thinking. they start tearing up again and say plaintively, "i don't know."

"think about it, okay sweetheart?" she squeezes them a little and brushes their hair with her hands. they nod and they give her a wobbly smile before running off.

(inko doesn't say anything, but she spends the evening reading things written by trans people (she reads stuff by trans women too, even if that's not quite useful for the situation she's in) about how to be helpful, how to be supportive, how to tell others, how to put her child on the path to being themself. it's very enlightening, and inko is beyond thankful that the laws have changed from years past.)

"i'm pretty sure i'm a boy," her child says, a few days later. 

her- their- his hands fumble, nervous. 

inko smiles and kisses his cheek. 

"that's good to know. i'm really proud of you, it must've been scary to say," and her eyes tear up. 

he nods, despite himself.

"i don't know what name I want to have, though."

"that's okay. you can try lots of different names, if you want."

her child nods, and then stills. she tilts her head at them. 

"what would you have called me, if i was a boy? well i'm not saying i'm not a- you know." 

inko nods a little absently as she rifles through old memories, and pulls out the old thought with a happy hum. 

"mikumo and izuku were the names we were thinking of, if i remember rightly.”

her child ponders on that, for a little bit. 

"i'll try mikumo, then. it's not too far away from mikage."

- - -

when inko cuts mikumo's hair short, both of them cry. (mikumo cries out of joy when they- he sees his hair in the mirror, and inko sympathy cries. they're both a little overwhelmed by the change for a couple days, but inko knows it's well worth it for the joy on mikumo's face everytime he looks in the mirror.)

inko ruffles mikumo's hair more often, and every time she does he grins at her. it warms her heart, and they both march forward into the unknown. 

- - -

inko spends time with her nicer coworkers on some friday evenings, and even though explaining mikumo and hisashi was a little complicated in the beginning, they're mostly used to the eccentricities of the midoriyas (hisashi took inko's maiden name: unusual in japan, but they were happy with it) and they ramble and chat and vent about their lives to each other (two of them have mutation quirks, one with a child of the same quirk, and one has a 'villainous' quirk. they often end up unwittingly falling into 'quirkism ramble hour', as the others call it. it's never unpleasant, though, even if at first they didn't quite know how to respond to inko's thoughts).

inko's perfectly happy with her little friend group, and coming home with take out or leftovers from a restaurant is always a nice treat before the weekend. 

her coworkers are nicer than her high school friends ever were, and inko cherishes them. 

- - -

"i don't think mikumo fits me.." her son says a month after inko had called all his afterschool clubs and told his teachers about the change (she came into school, steely and daring them to challenge her. they sighed and said that mikumo would be allowed to change in the disabled toilets if he wanted, because he wouldn't be allowed to change in the boy's changing room until he'd been a he for at least a couple years. inko knew that was the best she could do.), dully pushing around his noodles with his chopsticks. 

"are you trying izuku then?" 

"yeah. i hope it works out. i can't think of any other names."

inko nods. 

mi- izuku groans, "everybody's gonna need to get used to another name, again. my cricket club just got used to me using mikumo too."

"at least they'll be used to using he, now. that'll make it a little easier," she checks the clock, "come on, finish your lunch. you have an appointment in an hour and a half, and it takes an hour to drive to the gender clinic."

izuku rolls his eyes, but he still eats his soba without fussing too much. 

- - -

inko reads over spreadsheets on her work laptop, and hears izuku sit on the sofa beside her. he flops against her side, and she can tell that it's serious now that he's tapping his fingers against his legs. she puts the laptop onto the coffee table and brushes her fingers through izuku's hair. 

"i think…" he trails off, staring at the television that's turned off (they lightly bicker about it sometimes; inko's always found it easier to focus in quiet, but her boy still loves having things on in the background to switch his focus to. it's strange, how different the little things between them can be). 

"do you want me to turn it on?" 

he hums lowly, "no, i don't think. i need to focus on this."

he bites his lip, and starts wringing his hands. her eyes water a little, because she doesn't quite understand but she can feel just how important this is to him. 

"i've stopped trying to be friends with katsuki," he says quietly. 

inko mouths a relatively unsurprised 'oh' because she knew this was coming, one way or another. 

"it just- it's not worth it, with what he's like, and he's always angry and mean whenever i try to talk with him, but i have proper friends at my martial arts classes and the cricket club and climbing group and it's just not worth the effort anymore," he rambles, his hands waving through the air and almost hitting himself in the head. it's like an outburst, a waterfall (they've both started to cry. it's to be expected: they're both so emotional), an avalanche aching to be released. inko has been all too aware that izuku and katsuki wouldn't be able to stay friends, not after the multitude of disasters in elementary. (she's still quietly suspicious of mitsuki, too. inko never thought she was that bad, but she's been quietly aware of her vicious outbursts and slicing words since high school, silently noting how they changed, over the few times they’ve talked since the distance between them increased, and inko stopped calling mitsuki a friend. 

izuku got his analytic ways from someone, and that person was not his father.)

"are you mad at me?" izuku whispers. 

"of course not, izuku! it takes- it takes a lot, for midoriyas to know when to let go. we're not very good at that, even when it hurts us. i'm proud of you for knowing that your relationship with him wasn't very good. it can be difficult to know that and do something about it." (hisashi was not a bad man, but the relationship between them ended up so strained. he couldn't understand how inko's brain worked, how it took her a long time to think and process thoughts. he didn't get her emotions or her ideas. she couldn't understand his constant need for stimulation, his loudness, his random running off. it wasn't anybody's fault: they just couldn't understand each other enough to live with each other. they still talk sometimes, but they're somewhat distant friends. they understand each other too well to feel a need to be close again.)

they watch tv side by side for a while, before izuku prods her side and asks, "can you tell me about dad?" 

inko blinks, because it's a little out of left field. she sighs and messes with izuku's hair. 

"it might take a while, sweetheart."

izuku hesitates, rubbing his jumper between his fingers "... was he bad?" 

inko laughs despite herself. 

"oh, definitely not! it's just that… i guess it's a bit like you and katsuki. we couldn't understand each other. we thought it was best to be separate, in the end. it wouldn't be nice for you to live in a house with two unhappy parents," she sighs, and casts her gaze into somewhere far away, "the plan was to have him visit sometimes, but then he got a job offer in america, so he ended up living over there."

"oh."

she looks at izuku and he looks lost. he shrinks into himself, making a tiny high pitched noise. 

"do you need some time?" 

he nods feverishly, clenching his jaw and frowning and flailing his hands. 

inko realises that she should've talked about this long before now, but at least she told him when he asked. it's a step in the right direction. (she's made a lot of missteps. parenting feels a lot like learning: she has to sort things out as they come, and learn new methods of solving things for harder problems.)

- - -

"inko? what are you doing here?! we haven't talked in so long!" mitsuki's face darkens, "did my brat do something to mi- izuku?" 

"oh, izuku's alright, don't worry about that. it's just that izuku's out with some friends, and i thought it'd be nice to come over. i texted, but…" 

"oh hell, you should fuckin know that i never check the damn thing!" 

inko chuckles and nods, because right now, she is watching. it's not something that she's done for a while, and she hopes she hasn't lost the knack. 

she leaves the bakugou's feeling vaguely ill, one chilling meal later.

(inko cannot forgive katsuki for what he’s done, she cannot excuse his behaviour, she cannot justify it. but she understands it a little better, after seeing mitsuki, one of her old friends, hit him over the head with masaru watching. there is no doubt in her mind that the pair love their son, but there is no excuse for smacking a child for backtalk.

when she leaves, she tells them to call them if they want to have a meal again, and stares katsuki in the eyes despite how her own burn as she adds or if you need anything. katsuki responses with a ‘tch’, but he looks at her with something in his eyes that tells her something terrible.

as she opens the door to her own apartment and steps in, shaking a little, she worries why katsuki wants her help, but can’t accept it.)

- - -

izuku comes home from judo, and he almost flattens the door instead of opening it, and then inko realises that he's crying and his hands are fluttering loudly. 

"izuku?! what's wrong?" 

"m-mum, holy shit?! " 

"iz-" 

"i'm fucking cr-crying, i can't believe it?!" 

inko senses that there's something she's missed out on. something very big. izuku doesn't swear often, and he swears even less while talking to her.

"what is it?" 

he sobs, and shoves his phone screen in her face, open on a news article. it says u.a. removes rules against quirkless applicants for all courses . 

"izuku! " inko yells, wrapping her arms around him. 

"i-i kn-kn-know!" he wails, and inko starts crying. they hug each other tighter and rock side to side, and izuku keeps sobbing, and inko cries into his hair because her son has a chance, he has a chance , and nobody can take that away from him-

"i have a chance mum, i have a chance! " echoes in her head for days afterwards, and they cry at each other several times, and they cry at the notebook together, and inko feels like izuku's finally won against something bigger than himself, if indirectly. 

neither of them can stop thinking about it, and inko and izuku give each other a delighted hum whenever they notice the other flapping their hands or wiggling or even just looking particularly pleased. this is something that's been a long time coming, something inko's been waiting for, and it's the sign izuku needs to encourage himself to work harder and harder (but not too hard, inko tries to tell him, because then you'll just hurt yourself, and won't be able to help anyone else. 

after a week of constantly sore muscles he reluctantly agrees, and he gives himself the weekend off jogging after heroes, or whatever he does when he's out with friends from his various afterschool clubs (all those people that he's proven wrong time and time again, the people who know that he's capable, that he can follow his dream).)

inko loves him more than words can say, and she's more than ready to tear apart those that are in the way of her boy's dream.

- - - 

"can i.. talk t-to dad?" 

inko blinks, and looks up from her cutting board. izuku's gaze is firmly locked onto the leek in front of him. 

"if you'd like to, you can. there's a big timezone difference though, and i'm not too sure how aware he is of you-" she cuts herself off, trying to phrase it. 

"me being trans," izuku mumbles, going at the leek with a vengeance. 

"be careful not to cut it too small, izuku," she reminds him absentmindedly before continuing, "i'm not too sure how much he's aware of you being trans, so i'll need to make sure he's available and make sure he understands."

"i mean, it's not too hard to understand. i think being a boy is easier to get than whatever quirk he has- breathing fire, right?" 

"yes, that's what it is," inko's thread of thought catches and switches, and she frowns, "is everything alright? you sound frustrated about something transgender related."

izuku nods, lips pressed together. he grates a carrot, deep in thought. 

"i know it's dumb, but…"

"but?"

"i just hate how nobody around here really seems to understand. " izuku blinks, and startles, "not that you're being rude or anything! it's just.."

"i know what you mean, sweetheart. someone living through it and knowing about it are different things."

inko dices an onion, eyes only watering a little. 

"there's places online that would be helpful, i think."

"i know. talking to someone in real life feels a lot different though, and for most online spaces you need to be thirteen, at least, especially the ones where you talk with people," he sighs. 

inko hums before smiling, "maybe, when you're a hero, kids like you will know they can be what they want no matter what people say."

"mum!" 

she chuckles, and izuku smiles despite his embarrassment. it feels warm. 

Chapter Text

when at eleven, for the third morning in a row, izuku's eyes look vaguely bloodshot and his hands tremble as he eats breakfast, inko sets her cutlery down, looks at him and asks, "are you alright, sweetheart?" 

izuku startles, almost dropping his spoon. 

"um, yeah. everything's fine over here."

and inko really does love her son very much, and believes he can do almost anything he sets his mind to, but he has never been able to lie well to yes or no questions. 

"izuku…"

"sorry," he mumbles into his bowl, "it's just that, well."

he tugs at his sleeves and inko worries that something has gone wrong all over again (she hopes, prays that this isn't what part of her thinks it might be). she tamps the panic down and patiently waits for izuku to speak, even as her breath catches in her throat by a thread. 

he curls into himself, muttering, "i didn't wanna bother you with it but i'm struggling with homework and it feels like i can't do anything without it going wrong or missing the point and-," he cuts himself off, messily wiping at the corners of his eyes. 

inko stands (this she knows how to cope with, this isn't so gut wrenchingly awful, even with how painful it is for izuku) , makes her way to the other side of the table and quickly wraps her arms around izuku as he shakes. 

"izuku, you can always ask me for help with this kind of stuff, or anything."

he makes a keening noise, his fingers knotted tightly together. 

"i know it's hard, but i'm your mum. i'm here to help you whenever you need it, and if i don't get it you can ask your dad. the gods know he's up at all hours, never on a schedule."

he nods, deflating as the tension leaves him. he checks the clock on the wall and stiffens again and stands up, almost knocking inko out as he rushes to the door. 

"hell, school starts in thirty minutes! bye, mum!" 

"bye!" she says, vaguely overwhelmed when the door slams shut.

she shakes her head fondly (she doesn't know why izuku always insists on getting to school on foot, but it saves them the train fare), and starts getting ready for her walk to the office. 

- - -

when inko gets home after work, on saturday evening (she only rarely works on the weekend, but she's been working on a specific paper with her colleagues that her boss wants finished for tuesday morning. she's happy to come in: the coworkers she talks to are mostly pleasant, and the money is more than worth it.), izuku is already finishing his maths homework, with the television on and his phone beside him (it must be early in america right now, surely). 

"welcome home!" 

inko hums happily as she starts putting away her stuff, and izuku flutters. 

"what have you been doing?" inko asks, as usual, and unlike usual izuku responds with a loud, 

"can we go to the musutafu pride parade!?" 

inko blinks, surprised, and thinks it over. 

"if you want to, i don't see why not. when is it?" 

izuku rambles about it happening in a few weeks, and he flutters louder than inko has seen in a while as he goes off on a tangent about the history of pride parades.

when they actually go, a few weeks later, inko wears a white shirt she scribbled 'i am proud of my trans son!' onto and izuku grins and flicks his hands, surrounded by flags and people just like him.

later, when inko's cooking while izuku chats with hisashi, she hears that the man somehow has ended up with four partners? her brain has to reboot at the thought, but that man is a whirlwind (she swears he has a different job every time she has a conversation with him), only multiple people would ever be able to handle him, and it explains where izuku got it from, all those years ago where he had two girlfriends at once. she ends up chatting with hisashi about his partners, and he laughs and says that it's a little confusing, especially since he realised that he doesn't actually experience romantic or sexual attraction, but he's pan and polyamorous. inko notes that down for the research this soon or your brain will implode a little from how contradictory that sounds list. she shrugs and says that as long as they're all happy, it's fine with her. (she researches later that night, and it's both more and less confusing than she thought. she wonders how much more they know about queer identities than her, and how much more izuku knows about her ex-husband than she does. at this point, it's probably more than she ever thought he'd know. 

she makes her peace with it: her time with hisashi has been long since done, and she's happy with that.)

- - -

at dinner, after school, izuku ends up eating more than usual: inko shrugs it off, because izuku's a growing boy (well, blockers make it a little more complicated than that, but he's still soon a teenager nonetheless) and she chats with him about the paper she's just finished writing about the average statistics of underground vs overground heroes (the sub-classifications add a few more layers of depth to it, but that's the gist of it) and leaves it as a quiet note in her head to think more on later. 

the real worries begin when she notices that izuku starts eating a little less at dinner, and then eats less at lunch on the weekends, too. she makes a small comment of it, and izuku doesn't react suspiciously beyond twitching when she asks about it (but izuku's good at lying in some ways and bad at lying in others: he can't get his way around a question with a yes or no answer, but he's more than okay at redirecting comments to something else, and that's exactly what he does, which only worries her more).

and when izuku can barely eat lunch on the weekends anymore without taking well over an hour, inko realises that as much as izuku will probably react badly, saying nothing will not help in any way. she'll effectively be just enabling his worrying eating habits (and sometimes it goes okay, when she asks about izuku's worrying habits. she hopes this is one of those times, especially since this hasn't been going on for too long. prying about relatively long term issues only ever makes izuku lash out).

"izuku, i've always said you can come to me about anything that's worrying you."

izuku looks up from the essay he's putting into his school bag (inko didn't want to start the conversation during dinner, because izuku would just shake his head and refuse to say anything, and she didn't want to interrupt his essay writing because it'd only result in unneeded distress. he struggles a lot with starting and stopping tasks).

"uh, yeah?" 

inko looks at him. the strangest thing is, that if she didn't know about this beforehand, she might not have noticed at all. he doesn't look skinnier or malnourished in really any way, just a little shakier and an iota paler than usual. 

"i've noticed that you've been eating a little.. weirdly at meal times-" here izuku locks up, his eyes staring hard into the floor, "and i won't force you to talk about it, but if you need any help you can always talk to me, and-" 

"i've been trying not to," izuku whispers. 

inko tilts her head, but izuku isn't looking at her, so she asks quietly, "not to…?" 

his hands tremble and he squeezes his eyes shut and he shakes his head, but he takes a deep breath. 

"some- some kids started to… to mess with me at lunch. so i barely had any time to prop- actually eat lunch, because i couldn't eat it anywhere, not even the classrooms, and i asked about it but they still said no, and then."

inko clenches her jaw, because she can tell where this is going. (not for the first time and not for the last, she wants to tear aldera elementary to the ground, and burn down all the schools around that are even worse, discrimination-wise.)

"so i barely ever ate lunch. and then when i got home i was hungry, obviously. so then i'd eat more for dinner. and i.. i thought you noticed it, but you didn't say anything so it was okay. and then. and then i felt less hungry at lunch, even though the kids s-stopped bothering me, and then less hungry at dinner, and some part of me just," he shakes his head, and inko's heart bleeds all the more. 

he whispers, his voice cracking and his eyes watering, "some part of me liked the control of that," and he bites his lip hard, pressing his hands over his eyes, takes a deep breath and wheezes into them, shuddering. 

"oh, izuku, " she whispers, standing up off of the sofa and wrapping her arms around her little boy. 

"and i knew- i knew that it wasn't ri-right, and it wasn't gr-good so i started trying really hard to eat properly, but now i just c-can't and it j-just take me s-so fucking long to eat and- and i hoped you wou-wouldn't n-notice but a-also that you di-did because i think i need h-help mum, it's not that b-bad but i th-think that i r-really really n-need s-so-some h-help here-" he cries more and more as he speaks, shaking more and more violently, and she cuts him off before he starts to repeat the same thing over and over and spiral. 

"sweetheart, it's okay. i'm so glad you told me, because i can- i can try to help you here, even if it's really hard, and if you want to i can have you see someone to try and help, be-because even if it's not too bad now, these- this food thing, i don't want it to go bad. i'm so, so glad you told me when i asked."

izuku shakes in her arms, and they sit on the sofa with the television re-running some old documentary, and inko thanks the gods that she said something now, before it spiralled too far.

the day after, izuku silently gives her a bullet pointed list of potential solutions, or just general ways to help his eating issues at breakfast. he gives her a shaky smile and awkward hum before he leaves for school. (it's not a very long list, but it has things like having longer meal times and eating smaller meals more often and drinking things with more nutritional value. all in all, some good starting points. 

it takes a couple months, but izuku ends up being mostly back to normal (he slips up every so often, and they learn to cope with that too). inko notices that izuku ends up quietly talking with hisashi about it on calls, and inko faintly recalls him mentioning that he recovered from an eating disorder at some point. after he talks about it a couple more times with him, it seems to get easier for izuku to talk about and deal with. (hisashi talks to inko too, worriedly, and she assures him that she's trying to help as best she can. he gives her some extra advice, and it's more than useful.)

inko is very, very relieved that she took the time to speak with izuku about it (because if a month and a half got him into the mess he already was tangled up in, what would another two months have done to izuku's eating habits? would he have fallen hard into an eating disorder? she tries not to think about it too hard about it.), and is thankful for all the courage her son helped her to gain. 

- - -

for the first time in years, inko finds herself walking to izuku's school for a parent teacher meeting. it's happening to the whole school year and not just izuku, thankfully. 

when inko walks to the school gate, she finds izuku there, very tense.

"everything okay?" 

"yeah. just a little nervous," he says, but this isn't nervous. his hands are still at his sides, and he shrinks into himself like he's going to get hurt. (inko briefly considers marching off and finding another school for izuku to go to, but she knows there are no good options. there's no place for quirkless people, beyond the odd online message board or server (there's the occasional real life convention, but they go sideways all too often, and they're ages away by train), and izuku isn't even old enough to use those yet. he exists on his own, on an island, unable to connect with those like him.)

when inko sits down, she makes a brief comment about both of them being nervous, because izuku's even more tense now, and-

"nervous? well, midoriya-kun seems alright at least."

inko fills to the brim with something that threatens to tear her to shreds, because that's a lot of red flags right there and ripping out a teacher's eyeballs is not something that she should be considering as a genuine option. (what has this school done, why is her son like this and why is the damage creeping into her home?) 

she gives him a mild smile in response, and nods when he talks about how izuku is doing academically, but then-

"i understand that with midoriya's… condition this may be difficult, but he really could try to fit in more with his peers. he's not very well behaved in class."

inko takes in a deep breath, and concentrates on not stepping on the field of landmines in front of her, and most of all not exploding herself, because she feels like she's about to go off at any moment. 

"condition?" she asks, her eyebrows furrowed, "he doesn't have any medical issues, unless something's been withheld from me."

the teacher in front of her delicately panics, and it's more than a little soothing. 

"oh, it's nothing like that," he laughs awkwardly, "just, you know. how he's quirkless," he says the last part quietly, like it's something to be ashamed of. inko has never wanted to commit murder as much as she does right now. 

inko hums like she isn't considering removing some teeth, "being quirkless doesn’t mean he’s disabled though. it'd be a little hard for him to fit in if all of his classmates thought it was, though, and didn't understand what being disabled actually is."

when inko leaves the room, she grits her teeth so hard they screech, and izuku looks both amazed and ashamed at how his mother talked to his teacher. 

"i don't think i can explain to you how much i want to take you out of this school right now," inko says, with a voice that's completely calm. 

"but then i'd be new and quirkless," izuku mumbles, "so it wouldn't help."

"it wouldn't," inko says with certainty, because the sky is blue, grass is green, and japan is very quirkist, "but i want you to know that the moment you say the word, you're out of here. okay?" 

"okay."

(that night, she spends hours researching articles and writing names into their notebook. (she notices lists of names and causes of death and dates in someone else's handwriting, and she wishes that izuku didn't have to carry all these burdens with him: he's still her little boy.) she feels ill, that this is best she can do. she feels too numb and empty to cry when she stops, long past midnight, putting her head in her hands. she wonders how much more difficult her son's life has to get before he begins to realise his dream.)

- - -

some days, inko looks around izuku and feels nothing but a deep seated ache, heavy in her heart. 

nobody has ever, truly wanted her son, except for her. (it hurts to think about it, and maybe hisashi is an exception to that, but he lives in america and is only part of their lives through technology. that's not to say it doesn't count , because it does , but he's still very very distant from her and izuku, and it only makes the pain poke deeper.) 

izuku's friends, while existent, aren't too much more than friendly acquaintances, his teachers and classmates don't care for him at all, and his father is very far away. 

inko is the only one beside her son, able to hold his hands, ruffle his hair and kiss his cheeks and say that she loves him no matter what. 

(and it's so painful to even attempt to think on, but she knows that despite the basically vertical hill her baby has to traverse to become a pro hero, other career options aren't easier at all. an analyst, a police officer, an accountant, a manager, a teacher-

inko has looked at so many things, and they all have so many issues in the background. there's a reason izuku doesn't have many options in life. that 'reason' make inko want to grit her teeth and snap and pull - it is beyond unfair, all the things her little boy has to face. ) 

they live with it, as they always do. it's the only thing that they can do. 

- - -

inko listens on the phone sympathetically when mitsuki complains about katsuki's hearing getting bad, and she listens to her complain over and over and over (inko doesn't say much about herself at all: she just lets mitsuki rant and rave in her direction, and inko gets what she wants.)

mitsuki sometimes calls inko a friend, and inko smiles when she does. it's a lie, carefully constructed by mitsuki herself. it's all so one sided, but she barely seems to notice.

that's alright with inko, for what she's trying to accomplish. (and if inko starts to teach herself bits of jsl, that's nobody's business but hers.)

- - -

at twelve, she overhears hisashi and izuku speaking to each other (well, it's not so much overhearing as her son forgetting that she's in the sitting room and wandering in with his phone on speaker mode. izuku is very forgetful sometimes). 

"i don't think i can be unapologetically queer though, i mean.. i'm straight, and i'm not like you, and this is japan , and- and there's everything at school-" 

"who cares!? who cares what you are, it doesn't matter what anyone thinks but you." 

"... i understand why you and mum didn't work out more every time i speak to you."

inko flushes and hisses an ashamed " izuku, " on the sofa, her phone dropping out of her hands and into her lap. he turns to her like he didn't notice she was there, mortified. 

"mum i am so sorry-" 

hisashi laughs unabashedly and inko puts her head in her hands. 

"he is right though, inko!" hisashi says, apparently clued into the fact that inko is in the same room. he's not usually this observant. 

"i shouldn't have- oh no. "

inko says, stilted, "it-it's fine, really izuku. you aren't… wrong, when you say that."

he nods, his face flushed and his lips pressed together tightly. he looks like he wants to melt into a puddle. inko decides to change the topic. 

"how are your- your partners doing anyway, hisashi?" 

"oh, we're all doing good! i haven't been able to see them for a while because of work, so it's been really nice to be with them all again."

inko idly wonders what the hell his job is this time, and decides it's probably better not to ask. 

"that’s good... i'll leave you two to talk about your lgbt related things. i need to make lunch."

izuku walks down the hallway and into his room, quietly chatting on the phone. inko sometimes absently misses hisashi, but it's times like this, when they talk to each other, that inko realises just how different they are. inko is happy living in her quiet home with her son, and hisashi's happy doing whatever the hell he's doing in america, with his eclectic family. it’s the best option for the both of them.

- - -

sometimes inko looks at izuku and wonders whether her boy is more like her or his father. he's analytical and emotional and full of movement, but he's impulsive and bottles things up and has a mind like a web. 

she chats with him about inconsequential things like work and heroes and decides that it doesn't really matter in the end. she still loves izuku (despite all the things everyone around her says are too difficult to deal with: quirkless, autistic (or adhd. she still regrets not fighting the school on that more), trans. none of it is too difficult to handle: she loves her son so much, despite everything everyone seems to try to tell her.

(and he struggles to trust her, and he has issues with food, and he struggles with his limits, but none of those things make him hard to love. it just makes their daily lives a little tricker. they figure it out despite that). 

- - -

"i know this might sound weird to ask."

inko looks up from her work laptop, and izuku absently zips up his backpack that he's just put homework into. 

"what is it?" 

"i'm kind of interested in getting into more feminine fashion? and i know that's weird because i'm a trans guy and everything, but-" 

inko nods, "that's fine, izuku. just because you want to wear pink or a skirt or dress doesn't make you a girl. it just means you have a more interesting taste in clothes than most men." 

"dad did say that most men aren't fashionable," izuku mumbles, almost self consciously. 

"is this the unapologetically queer thing?" 

"... kind of? i've sort of realised that i don't really want to hide that i'm trans. i know most of us like to go stealth but… if i'm so different anyway, i don't know how much it matters. especially since when i'm older i'd wanna do stuff about being lgbtq and a hero, and since i'm straight i can't exactly just say it's my sexuality that's not 'normal'."

inko nods, thinking. 

"i'm not really sure, honestly. maybe you could talk about what different gender stereotypes were like? you have a fair amount of experience being both a boy and a girl… oh! the different expectations people have and everything. it would actually be a good thing to research misogyny in the hero industry, that's a subject not many men like to talk about."

izuku nods very seriously, and inko notices how much he's grown up. they've been talking about deep rooted issues in the hero industry for years, but now they've hit something somewhat personal to her. 

"have you done stuff about what it's like to be a hero and a woman? you'd also know a lot more about misogyny in general, because you're an adult and everything."

inko nods, her fingers feeling stiff. it's hard to think about too deeply, because some part of her remembers all the lessons she learnt as a young woman. 

"you.. don't need to talk about it if you don't want to," izuku says nervously, and inko sighs, a little relieved. 

she fidgets with her hands, and decides to quietly admit something to her son that she's struggled to properly accept for years. 

"well… it's a little complicated, but do you remember how when you were younger the school was interested in testing you for adhd and asd?" 

"i remember it like… vaguely."

inko nods, her hands holding her elbows, "it was years ago, so it's not surprising. i noticed at the time that some autistic symptoms lined up with myself and growing i struggled a lot with trying to balance them and the typical expectations of women, and… it didn't go all that well in the long run."

izuku is contemplative and very quiet, and inko peels her fingertips off of her forearms. 

"it sounds like it sucked."

"it definitely wasn't fun."

the next morning, izuku bitterly rants about the inherent sexism of the 'sexiest hero' awards (he's twelve, but inko trusts that he's not looked up anything unsavoury, especially with how intense his anger is), and inko feels like she's been seen. she hopes he can see how grateful she is, in her smile. 

(and one friday evening they paint each other's nails, and even with how messy it is, inko smiles at her white fingernails (she hasn't had painted nails in so long: the struggle of fighting between what she is and what others wanted her to be sometimes makes indulging in things like this feel fake and fraudulent. she doesn't feel that right now, thankfully) and izuku grins at his blue, pink and white ones, and they both flutter at each other, even though they wrinkle their noses at the stench of nail polish and it takes ages to air out. 

inko thinks it's worth it, for the happiness they discover, reach, unearth in the process.)

Chapter Text

at thirteen, izuku comes home, slams his door shut, and inko hears a muffled scream from his room a few moments later. inko blinks, saves her word document and goes to his room to investigate. 

she knocks on the door, under the nameplate (it's themed after the wild pussycats, if she remembers rightly (tiger, the man in the group, is trans. it's probably a big one reason why he got it, but inko knows that they're also a pretty good rescue group). he likes to switch it around pretty often). 

inko hears a muffled "youcamcomim," and she comes in, frowning. his walls are lined with colourful posters, a multitude of heroes and colour schemes (he has a couple ones of hero statistics, hand made. (there's some in code. inko always wonders what they say when she comes in.) inko's glad that her criticisms of heroes have rubbed off on izuku, even if it's just a little. it's good for him to be aware of the problems of this society's obsession with heroes, even with how much he loves them). it's taken years to build up his collection. 

"izuku?" 

"mmmmmm.

"is there something wrong? you don't… usually do this sort of thing."

izuku rolls over and mumbles, "junior high is difficult and people know things about me and it's awkward."

"things?"

izuku nods and sits up, "yeah. like how i'm trans and quirkless and now everything is… quite a bit weirder."

some part of inko wavers, because she doesn't know what weirder means, and she wonders if school has gotten worse, again. 

"are people hurting you, izuku?" she asks bluntly, because the last few times she's asked questions it went well. in hindsight, inko should've known better at this point.

"no," he says, stiff and turning his head away from her. 

"izuku, you can tell me-" 

he clenches his fists, swings his legs off his bed and stomps up to her.

"stop it."

"... izuku. "

"stop it!" he stares down hard at the floor, shaking, "i asked you to stop, so just-" 

inko clenches her teeth, and grits out a begrudging, "okay. okay, i'll stop, because you asked me to." she takes a deep breath and says a little more sincerely, "sorry i tried to push. i should've stopped the first time."

the tension melts from izuku's form, and he just looks tired. 

"... sorry i'm so difficult."

"hug?" 

izuku nods, his hands fluttering at his sides. inko pulls him close and talks, pulling the words out from somewhere deep inside of her, "you aren't difficult, izuku. that's just what growing up is like, sometimes. sometimes you feel like you're being difficult on purpose, and it feels like people don't get that you just can't. kids at school sometimes… they sometimes aren't very nice at all," inko almost chokes on the words, because she remembers it all too well: isolated and laughed at and pushed down the stairs- she recalls the parent teacher meeting, and decides to mention that part of it too. 

"and it's not just them, it can be the teachers too, sometimes it all feels very impossible to fix, and some things just aren't an option and… i've always wanted life to be easier for you, even though i know it doesn't work like that," inko whispers.

izuku responds with a wobbly, discordant hum, and inko knows he's about to cry. his hands are shaky when he finally hugs her back, and he buries his head in her shoulder. he weeps so quietly that if inko couldn't feel him shaking, his breath hitching and his tears soaking through her sleeve, she wouldn't have known he was crying at all. the quietness of it unsettles inko on a very, very deep level of her soul, because she remembers how izuku used to sob so loudly when he was little and she wonders how and why he ever learned to cry like this. she recalls nights, almost a decade ago, where she mourned quietly in her room and worries about what the inside of izuku's head looks like now.

(and even though asking izuku about it didn't go well at all, some part of inko can't bring herself to regret it, because she knows that her son would've ended up crying alone instead. 

still, the two of them don't mention the topic afterwards.)

- - -

izuku rambles to her about being able to finally use online blogs, and when inko gently reminds him to be careful of what he puts on there, he replies that he isn't stupid and learned when he was eight not to leave information of hero's weaknesses around where villains could find it. 

(inko was talking about basic internet safety, not avoiding giving criminals intel, but she's glad he's aware of that anyway. it's not something inko really thought about before, and she feels a little foolish for not realising that hero-related analysis forums would be a really good place for villains to find information from unsuspecting hobbyists).

she nods anyway. 

- - -

izuku's come home late a couple times, and inko doesn't know why. (she's concerned, of course.)

he'll look blank and empty or like he's about to shatter, and inko puts on the same set of documentaries that she always does, tucks her boy beside her and watches the familiar scenes and dialogue, stroking his hair. 

the first time he muttered, from somewhere far away (but there's still a part of him that was tethered to her despite how distant he was, and she's thankful for it) that he was too old for this routine, and inko shook her head and told him that he'll never be too old for comfort. 

okay , he'd said, sounding choked, and at dinner his eyes had a sheen over them, and he rocked himself a little. 

today he looks very fragile, and inko feels like if she speaks he'll crumble. she whispers to him and hums, and he only hums back a couple times, but his fluttering and the weight of him on her side showed her how much he appreciated it. 

(inko has hoped before, many many times for answers. she knows that there's practically no chance, especially not when this has been going on for so many years, but an almost insignificant part of herself still holds out.) 

they rock side to side, and izuku looks so grateful, and so very exhausted and brittle. it hurts to see, but inko still gives him a smile, and he still hums back. 

- - -

izuku’s rambles become a little less frequent, and when inko makes a careful comment of it (whatever aldera is doing is awful, and it shouldn't keep catching her off guard every time its effects reach her home, but still almost always does), izuku almost chokes on his soba, and stumbles over his words when he says that he felt like it was just annoying to listen to.

inko frowns, because she likes listening to his infodumps and always has. they’re wonderfully detailed and he's told her how helpful it is for him to hear her mention the things he’s overlooked or overthought.

she tells him as such, and he flushes before clearing his throat and somewhat stiffly starts talking about the hero thirteen.

by the end of dinner, he’s happily waving his hands around and talking about all the details of their quirk. (inko very, very quietly worries in the night about how much more aldera junior high is going to do to her boy, how much more it’ll hurt him. she cries for the first time in a while for her son: not for his quirklessness, but because of what others force him to become because of it. she steels herself and promises to her family that she'll do whatever it takes to make sure that izuku comes out of the other side on top, or at the very least whole.)

- - -

izuku comes home, slamming the door shut after him, and inko looks up from her laptop and watches him stomp into his room.

“i don’t wanna talk about it!” she hears him yell, and that answers that. inko grits her teeth and presses her palms against her eyes for a moment before forcing herself to continue typing. pushing it won’t get either of them anywhere pleasant.

at dinner (inko just reheats some leftover soup) the silence between them sits heavy, and clouds the taste of the food. she adds some more salt to her soup, and waits for her son to speak. (he doesn’t always speak, and those days, especially those where he's very still, leave inko wide awake at night, worrying.)

“i wanna go to u.a.”

inko nods, because the tension in her son’s voice tells her this goes far further than reaching for what seems impossible on the surface.

“and the guidance counsellor keeps trying to convince me not to, even though i’m one of the top students in p.e, and i’ve been going to four different after school clubs that all give me useful skills for hero work since i was seven , she just-” he puts his head in his hands, his voice very very cold, “she just refuses to listen to me.”

“...because you’re quirkless,” she fills in, very very quietly.

“exactly. and i understand why she doesn’t believe in me, but i’m applying for general education as well as the hero course, and i don’t understand why i’m not allowed to even try, when all the other kids who have done absolutely no training with their quirks or even basic athletic abilities are! like, sorry sakurai, but you literally have no combat training and can’t run for three minutes without getting winded but because you can make water from thin air you’re apparently allowed to apply for shiketsu’s hero course? excuse me but what the hell! that’s beyond unfair, and i just have to sit here and deal with it and i am absolutely sick of it!!” izuku is a hair away from yelling, the coldness of his anger melting away, and inko hopes the neighbours don’t say anything.

“to be brutally honest, i want to fist fight this guidance counsellor, but i don’t think that would do you any favours,” inko blurts out, and izuku is so startled that he starts to laugh. inko flushes when her brain processes the words.

“mum!”

“sorry izuku- i didn’t mean to say that, but this really is beyond ridiculous. they should at least let you try ."

izuku nods, wiping frustrated tears from the corners of his eyes. 

"... can you call the school if i ask you to? don't do it yet, but if that's the only way that she'll let me then…"

inko nods with a smile that she can feel is slightly askew. 

"of course, izuku. all you have to do is ask."

izuku's mouth opens as if he's about to say something, but then he just shakes his head and smiles at her. it doesn't quite fit properly on his face.  

"i know, mum. you don't need to remind me."

inko hums in response, not admitting that she is very, very worried about what izuku isn't telling her. 

- - -

izuku asks inko one weekend if she wants to look at his analysis blog, and inko knows an olive branch when she sees it. (she doesn't want to know how much more her little boy would withdraw into himself if she said no.)

it's beyond impressive, and she admits that she'd never even began to see this deep into the hero fights she sees on television. izuku awkwardly mentions how he doesn't analyse heroes directly or mention their weaknesses, just to be safe. inko nods, because that's very responsible of him. 

then, izuku seems to float off a little while describing his thought process into a particular piece of work, getting quieter and more mumbley and making additions under his breath before slamming his hands against the desk and asking inko if she wants to see the spreadsheet. inko can hear the gap where the ™ should be. 

the spreadsheet of doom™, as its full title should be, is a horrible amalgamation of excel formulas and data izuku shouldn't have access to. it has a stupid amount of numbers, and holds an insane amount of stats for hundreds, if not thousands of heroes. it's amazing. inko has never felt so proud. izuku has a word document of sources for the damn thing, proving that the sketchy looking data is somehow legitimate , and inko feels the statistician in her cackle. it's an incredibly high standard piece of work for a thirteen year old. inko can't wait to see what he does with it in the future. 

- - -

"can you call the careers counsellor," is all that izuku says when coming home from judo one evening, tense and very tired. he looks like he's on the verge of falling apart.

he picks at his meal (he hasn't done this in a very long time, and some part of inko drains. this is much worse than she thought.) and barely speaks. usually he'd be chatting about what he did in judo or what he learned in school or what he read about some hero. 

inko calls the school the next morning, and has a very tense conversation with the guidance counsellor. she placates her by promising her that izuku will be trying out for general education as well as the hero course (and there hasn't been a requirement to have a quirk for several years now, so she can't use that as an excuse), and he has the physical skills and the grades he needs for both. she suggests a couple of other hero schools that she's heard izuku talk about before as well, just to be safe. if none of those work out, she says while she grits her teeth, then izuku can go to aldera high. 

the guidance counsellor seems satisfied, and that's that. 

izuku comes home from climbing the same day looking beyond grateful. he hugs her, and they sit on the sofa for a full five minutes with the television murmuring quietly. 

" 'm sorry i had to make you call her."

"izuku, it's okay. i knew that you becoming a hero wouldn't be easy, but i'm happy to help you where i can. the least i can do is help you fight adults you can't do anything about by yourself."

he nods into her shoulder, and they spend the next hour watching a hero documentary, side by side. 

"thank you," he whispers at dinner (her son asked for help, and she always promised herself she'd help the moment he did. it's one more way to show izuku how much she listens to, cares for, loves him. 

for that moment, all the struggles they've fought through have been worth it, just for this little piece of trust), and inko can't help but smile a little when she nods. 

"it was no problem," she says, and means it with every atom. 

Chapter Text

inko and izuku end up playing monopoly one afternoon (the city is on lockdown because some villains with especially unpleasant mental quirks are insistent on running around and causing trouble. it's not the first time it's happened, and inko had to physically block the door to stop izuku from going out and trying to get a glimpse of their quirks in action. she is not letting her thirteen year old run around a city on lockdown just because he has some skills useful for heroism. he's still a child. ) and izuku is sulking as he throws the dice. 

"i could-" 

"izuku."

"i'm just saying that i am very good at analysis and could probably help figure out a counter measure against their quirks!" 

"and i am saying that you are an untrained thirteen year old who has no way of contacting people with said analysis. pick up your chance card."

izuku rolls his eyes, "i'm not untrained, i've been doing judo and taekwondo for six years," he looks at the card, "you win second place in a beauty contest. collect ten monopolies."

"you know what i meant. and the currency is not monopolies. "

"it totally is."

"izuku, the symbol is on the card."

he shakes his head, "that's just a conspiracy theory made up by the warner bros-" 

"here's your ten of some unknown currency."

izuku sighs and puts it into his unorganised pile of money. 

"... it's nice playing games like this, even if i could be doing something cooler right now."

"we could schedule it every so often," inko suggests, "maybe you could even invite a friend or two from one of your clubs."

inko doesn't miss how izuku's hands twitch at the suggestion of inviting friends, and how they relax slightly when she doesn't ask for friends from school, even as his face stays perfectly contemplative. inko knows it's much easier to lie with your face when most facial expressions don't come to you normally (inko's had a lot of practice, after all). 

"i dunno, most of them are pretty casual friends. i don't know if the vibe with them would be different without the rest of the group." 

inko nods, "it's up to you. there's plenty of two player games that don't last as long as monopoly does."

it takes hours for their game to finish, and by the end izuku is scraping by as he lands on inko's three house trafalgar square, but then inko lands on one of izuku's greens, and they keep trading blows even though they put more focus on watching the hero documentary izuku put on the tv. 

it's fun, and when they finally finish (inko loses to izuku's hoteled angel of islington, which is kind of shameful), izuku grins and says that his strategy always works. 

"what's your strategy?" 

"distraction!" 

"how do you know it works? we don't play monopoly that often." 

"... it usually does. and you don't use a strategy for just one thing! and i have more than one strat!" 

"what's the other one?" inko asks, deciding to ignore izuku's comment and quietly puts it in the mildly worrying and probably leads to nothing good list. 

"luck."

"good to know that your strategy is very complex and thought out."

"that's mean," izuku playfully huffs before sitting up, excited, "anyways, i forgot to tell you but i've added some new stuff to the spreadsheet™ and i think you'll find it interesting!" 

izuku is right. his passion project is becoming something that could probably significantly shuffle hero ranks, and inko warns him to be careful with it, even with how proud she is of it. he nods very seriously. 

it's a good day, all in all, and izuku seems a lot happier at the end of it. he's a little louder about his hero analysis, and it's a welcome change. 

- - -

inko hears a knock at the door at 10pm behind the patter of pouring rain, and her and izuku look at each other, concerned. she saves her spreadsheet on her work laptop as he silently pulls his phone out, in case the police need to be called, only to quietly say, “oh,” when he turns the screen on.

he shows it to her, and there’s messages from katsuki. multiple messages.

inko walks to the door, looks through the peephole, and is completely unsurprised to see katsuki standing there in the hallway, arms wrapped around himself.

she opens the door and asks, “katsuki? what are you doing here?” as she pulls him (with her hands, not her quirk) in. he’s so cold, and that makes her mind shriek with warning bells, because katsuki hates being cold, and rightfully so with a quirk like his. 

"you said to call if i needed anything. you didn't fucking pick up," he says, teeth chattering, and underneath the anger she hears betrayal . she doesn’t know what he’s talking about for a second, before she remembers.

"katsuki, i- that was years ago-… i'm so sorry, i didn't know you tried to call, i should've been there for you. even if it was a long time ago, i should've picked up," she says (making sure to enunciate clearly and not speak too quietly, because inko hasn't heard anything about katsuki getting hearing aids, and he's drenched anyway), holding his hands, pressing her thumbs into the backs of his palms. 

he sags, defeated. 

"what the hell ," she hears behind her, and turns to see izuku trembling, "you- you shouldn't be here. i-" 

"i can explain in a bit, izuku. katsuki, you need to shower or else you're going to get ill," and she turns to go grab some old, spare clothes. 

"i don't fucking get ill," she hears, and shakes her head. the problem that was there before, what she saw in katsuki and his parents years ago, it's a lot worse now than she thought it was, through phone calls and the occasional meal. (and inko feels hatred flash through her like a fire lighting up gasoline, because she's done this so many times, she's offered help and she should've made them take it, should've done more than let them brush it off- but you can't help people if they don't want to be helped , a part of her soothes, and she loosens her grip on the old oversized t-shirt she's holding.)

inko hands him a set of clothes, and pushes him to the bathroom. 

"mum ," izuku hisses, in a way she hasn't heard before, and she sighs, grinding her teeth because this is going to be a serious test on his already fragile sense of trust. she hears the shower turn on. 

"izuku, sit down."

they both sit on the sofa, and she slowly breathes out.

"katsuki's parents aren't… the best," she starts tentatively, and her son doesn't look surprised in the slightest.

"a few years ago, i ended up visiting, and how they acted made me realise that they weren't treating katsuki well at all, and i… i offered help to him subtly, if he needed it. i never thought he'd take the offer, in all honesty. and i know that the two of you have fallen out, and this will be difficult, but i need to figure out what's going on, and you need to try to not start fighting."

she takes his hands, and he's shaking, his jaw trembling. 

"this is going to be difficult for both of you, and i know that this is a big violation of your trust. i've hurt both of you here, and it's okay if you find it difficult, but we'll all make it through."

"... hug?" izuku asks very, very quietly. 

inko takes her shaking son in her arms, and breathes out slowly. this is going to be difficult. 

inko looks at her phone, at the texts she's been sent, and her eyes fill with tears.

you said i could call

missed call

missed call

i fucking hate calling and youre just not picking up what the fuck

my arents and i had a massive argument and you said i could call fuck

missed call

if you dont pick up right now i am walkinh to your goddamn house

missed call

fuckin izuku iddnt picking up either fuck

missed call

missed call

missed call

missed call

if i catch hypothermia itd your fuckinf fault

she hears the shower turn off, and she grits her teeth and wipes away her tears. it is not her turn to be upset: she has two angry and hurt children in her house that are probably preparing to fight each other as she stands there thinking. 

it is not her turn, yet. 

inko has to mediate for the two children after she discussed with katsuki the best course of action for him. (inko, and a little begrudging but also some amount relieved katsuki decided to just have him sleep over for a couple days, to give him and his mother (his dad's practically just an enabler, sat in the background, and it makes inko beyond furious) time to cool off. inko would rather have him stay with her properly, in all honesty, but there are reasons why she’d never reported what she saw years ago (most wouldn’t even see what she saw as abusive, they might use katsuki’s.. issues as an excuse for his parents’ behaviour, and if this backfires on him he’ll be thrown out of the frying pan and into the fryer, because that’s just how mitsuki would respond to it)). all inko can really offer is a quiet space for him.

izuku forces out how katsuki wasn’t nice to him when they were younger (and it lacks so much detail that it only makes inko more suspicious), and katsuki reluctantly (that’s a little generous: it looks like he's peeling the words out of himself) agrees that it was pretty bad, but he doesn’t know what to do about it now.

“maybe don’t invade my home and keep me up till eleven thirty,” izuku mutters, and katsuki snaps back that “i fought with the old hag and the doormat, did you want me to fucking freeze out there?”, and he hisses, “maybe i did, you-”

the conversation is hell, the three of them raking each other over hot coals in a facsimile of healthy communication, and by the time izuku is settled in his room and the bedding on the completely unused pull out part of the sofa is sorted for katsuki and inko gets into bed herself, it’s past midnight.

she stares at the ceiling and cries half out of exhaustion, half out of worry for katsuki, and another half for izuku. this is not going to be easy by any measure. 

the morning is painfully quiet, and inko pulls monopoly out, hoping that this time will be more interesting than her game with izuku from several weeks ago.

“maybe this time the game won’t last for three hours,” she says lightly, and katsuki looks a little more alive.

“it fuckin won’t. i'll be wiping the floor with the both of ya!”

“you’re just saying that to get us riled up,” izuku says, much kinder than yesterday, “and monopoly’s just a lot of luck.”

“monopoly is a strategy game, izuku.”

“how in the hell is monopoly just- i’m gonna destroy your dumbass!”

and he does pretty well, getting izuku out of the game half an hour in, and he stubbornly continues until inko’s pinks defeat him. he curses and stomps off, his palms cracking with sparks (inko watches izuku, and his hands don’t do more than twitch), but he looks less empty, and izuku doesn’t look so bitter.

inko knows that this moment won’t last, but she hopes that some day the two of them will come to an understanding, at the very least.

- - -

one weekend, inko wakes up to an incredibly dysfunctional sounding conversation. 

"it's not my fucking fault i'm quirkless!" 

"you could've fought back! you didn't need- why did you just take it!? " 

inko blearily stares at the ceiling, trying to figure out what she's listening to.

"i was just a little kid! i- i was terrified out of my mind, and you're acting like that's my fault!" 

inko sits up a little unsteadily, because she doesn't know what the hell they'll do to each other, but it won't be good. 

"you didn't need to be a bitch about-" 

there's a heavy thud against the floor and a shriek of fury from izuku, and inko hisses and quickly makes her way out of her room. 

the two boys are fighting on the floor, bruises already forming on each other. 

"you two." inko's voice cracks and is full of sleep, but she says it loudly. 

they take a moment to still, and then they both become more tense (izuku looks like he's about to run, and katsuki looks like he's about to fight inko instead. it's not terribly surprising). 

"sit down, both of you."

they sit down, shaking and trembling. 

"are either of you injured?" 

they shake their heads, even though they've each got the tell tale redness of bruises that haven't yet bloomed, but thankfully there's no burns or bleeding. 

inko hums, disappointed (and she signs something that looks like the word disappointed for good measure) before she grabs some ice packs from the freezer and wraps them in tea towels. she gives one to each of them, and they start to ice their bruises. 

"i shouldn't've come over," katsuki says without preamble. 

"nope," izuku mutters, his arms tight around his torso, his entire body small with his ice pack resting on his thigh. it hurts inko to see him that way.

katsuki is looking hard at his legs as he grits out, "i fuckin started it. was pissed because of my parents. and i kept saying shit."

inko takes a deep breath out and says, mostly calmly, "thank you for telling me. is there a reason why neither of you tried to diffuse the argument?"

izuku looks ashamed, but katsuki just looks confused. 

"just wanted to fight." "hah? you can actually fuckin do that?"

"what," izuku asks, turning to katsuki, "the hell?" 

inko is inclined to agree. 

"i thought that was just like. movie shit!" he says loudly, embarassed. 

"it's also a thing people actually do."

"then why the fuck-" katsuki mumbles, before shaking his head. inko knows not to push. 

"diffusing an argument, or a situation in general, can be a bit tricky," inko starts off. 

"both sides need to know and respect that leaving is a viable option," katsuki swears to himself under his breath, "and that it doesn't mean the other side has won. it's just taking a break, or leaving it for a different time. you just need to say 'i need a break' or something like that. you can also leave a conversation if you don't think you can keep it a healthy conversation."

"what's a healthy conversation?" 

"in this context it's talking without underlying negative emotions twisting how you see the conversation, that kind of thing."

inko sips from her glass of water, and both of the boys look contemplative. 

"i don't-" katsuki starts, and then he growls and clenches his fists, "i can't fucking say it though."

"you could sign, or hum instead."

"i know a little bit of sign," izuku says, signing i and a bit and sign. 

katsuki grunts, and looks as if he's shutting down a little; his eyes are starting to cloud over, his knuckles white and he stares hard at his lap. inko decides to leave the rest of the conversation for another time. 

"thanks" katsuki says quietly in the evening, and inko hums, before remembering herself and signing you're welcome. 

"you- you don't have to pull out all the goddamn stops for my shitty ass," he says, hands popping quietly and his jaw tense. 

"but i want to. i want you to understand what i mean, and i don't want you to be left out in my household just because you're hearing impaired."

katsuki grits his teeth, shaking, and signs a very jerky i need space. inko stands up, because she knows that not giving him space now will seriously undermine the conversation they had earlier. 

inko stands in the kitchen, with her phone out but barely looking at it as he wheezes into the back of his left hand. she desperately wants to go over and help calm him down, but she worries he'll only get more upset (she knows that katsuki thinks he doesn't deserve kindness or care, and it hurts to think about). 

five minutes later, when she feels ill watching him have a panic attack into his hands, she puts a glass of water on the table in front of him. he jerks as if he's about to smack it off the table before settling back and taking a deep breath. 

"sorry," he says hoarsely, picking up the cool glass. inko shakes her head, but katsuki doesn't let her interrupt. 

"you shouldn't be putting in so much effort for me."

he sounds exhausted, and inko's heart aches. 

"doing bad things doesn't make you a bad person," inko says empathetically, "and you're still a child."

katsuki snorts like she's said a funny joke, and inko hopes that some day, he'll learn he isn't doomed to be awful. 

- - - 

"why did you want to fight with katsuki?" 

"oh… like a week ago?" izuku asks, and inko can tell he's stalling. she nods. 

"well… i was just angry at him, y'know? he hurt me for years but in the end it doesn't even seem like it matters anymore, and we've been kinda avoiding each other for ages but just. you letting him stay here- this sounds so selfish," izuku mutters into his hands, and inko takes a sip of her green tea. 

"it just kinda felt like he was getting away with everything? he didn't have to make up for his actions and he's the reason why kids started being really mean to me in the first place, and it's not like that any more, but sometimes it still feels like it and just… it's really selfish."

"even if you think it's selfish, that doesn't mean what he did in the past doesn't matter," inko says calmly, "you don't have to forgive him for what he did just because he needs a place to stay, even though that place happens to be here. you don't need to be friends with katsuki, all i ask is for you to tolerate each other."

"sometimes that feels like it's too much," izuku mutters bitterly. 

"what do you mean?" 

"he starts arguments all the time! he says rude stuff and then acts like it's your fault when you argue back, and sometimes he's just so furious for no reason, and he's- oh ."

inko hums and tilts her head, but izuku shakes his head. 

"i didn't- i've been seeing how he acts the wrong way. what he did to me in the past was bad and totally his fault, but the way he's acting- i can't believe i didn't realise."

"realise what?" 

"katsuki's like me," izuku says, then flushes, "n-not like me in personality, but his experiences and everything! he's just reacting in a different way, which is why i didn't realise and-" 

izuku cuts himself off and walks off, unconsciously rambling again before he's even into his room. inko finishes her cup of tea (something in her is thick with dread, because how badly have both of them been treated?) and hopes that izuku's realisation won't go anywhere bad. 

- - -

inko comes home late (she took some overtime: extra cash is never a bad thing for a single mother to have, even if hisashi still helps her out) and unlocks the door, only to find izuku flitting about the kitchen. 

"welcome home, mum!" 

"i- izuku, what is all of this?" 

"dinner! i knew you were coming home late, and you've been stressed out with the whole katsuki situation," inko winces, but she isn't surprised izuku caught onto that, "so katsuki sent me a recipe for katsudon and then i made it!" 

inko smiles, even as her eyes start to water (gods, her son is so precious, she can't believe that he convinced katsuki to help him out). 

when he self consciously asks how it is, even if it's a little too salty, inko isn't lying when she says, "one of the best things i've ever had," because this is something that she'll hold in her heart for as long as she can. 

izuku's warbling in response, paired with fluttering fingers, only makes it taste better. 

- - -

“i keep fuckin barging into your house,” katsuki grumbles, bitterly spooning yogurt with cut up banana into his mouth as izuku tiredly crunches toast. (it’s not a tired that comes from lack of sleep: he’s tired of this situation.)

inko shakes her head in the kitchen, ready to refuse, but izuku says, "i know you don't really have a choice."

inko feels a haze of relief settle over her, because at least they're learning to cope with each other's presences.

"still, i don't want to fuck up your mum's friendship with mine, and i don't wanna make you feel shitty," he grumbles. 

"katsuki."

"what?!" he bursts, his knuckles white around his spoon. 

"mum hasn't been friends with mitsuki for ages. i’m pretty sure she only talks to her so that you can come over."

she's honestly surprised that izuku caught onto that, but she guesses that it's not too hard when you compare her interactions with coworkers to those with mitsuki and masaru. 

she hears a sharp inhale, " what. "

"yeah, she's-" 

inko steps towards katsuki, still out of his line of sight, as his hands start to pop, "if you say worried about me, 'm gonna put a hole in your goddamn shirt. i- i don't need her to be fucking worried, 'm not weak, i'm not, i can fucking handle it, i'm not a little kid! i'm not-" 

"katsuki," inko sighs, "i know you can handle yourself. it's that you shouldn't need to."

the tension seems to rush out of him, and his hands spark. 

"and i promise i'm not being patronising when i say that you're a child, and shouldn't have to fight something bigger than yourself. that's a job for the adults, and your parents shouldn't be arguing with you this much or this badly in the first place."

his face darkens and he hunches over, "but i'm not a good kid. i'm still too angry and loud and i'm a fucking bully and i'm hard to love because i just won't shut up-" 

inko takes his hands and his teeth click when he shuts his jaw. he's trembling. 

"breathe, katsuki. you're not perfect, but you're still a kid. just because you've done bad things doesn't mean you're a bad person, and if need help you can always go to me, or i can help set you up with a therapist."

he swears under his breath very quietly. 

"since you can probably actually trust adults therapy could be cool," izuku pipes up, unrepentant. 

" izuku. "

"it's not a lie!" 

"it doesn't mean you have to be rude."

"who's gonna stop me?" 

"i should," inko sighs, because she's not doing a very good job of that. 

katsuki shakes a little more violently and then he snorts, "has anyone told you that you sound like a shitty sitcom?" 

"i don't think that's a compliment."

"izuku, i know that much."

katsuki laughs and shakes his head at them. 

(and she doesn't say it, but some part of inko thinks that somehow, this will all turn out okay.)

- - -

sometimes, usually when katsuki comes over on the evenings, he walks very quietly. he's barely breathing, and watching him walk like that is vaguely terrifying, tiniest of crackles coming from his palms, because there aren't many reasons he could've learned that, and none are good, especially with how noisy and (quite literally) explosive he usually is. 

how unsettling it is is compounded many, many times by how katsuki is hard of hearing. his hearing isn't too bad (it's in between mild and moderate hearing loss, closer to mild, if inko remembers rightly); his quirk gives him more resistant ears naturally, but his struggles are a little noticeable in conversations that aren't well lit and one on one. he can't really hear when inko tries to hum at him, and the television is always some amount loud when he messes with it, and background noise (such as the television) tends to make katsuki more easily frustrated and upset. 

izuku hates having to make more compromises, but that's just how they all have to live. it won't be easy. 

still, the quiet walking gives her more concerns about the bakugous, and inko is thankful her past self offered some help, because who knows where katsuki would be now otherwise? 

- - -

inko's surprised when, for the first time in years, izuku comes home fluttering for no big reason at all. they eat dinner, and when izuku makes a little comment about katsuki being nice to him, inko's both surprised and pleased. 

she didn't realise that her influence helped katsuki grow so much, but she's glad that the two boys have moved solidly out of the ignore each other no matter what part of their relationship. it gives her hope, and izuku seems to take it as a step towards absolution for katsuki (she doesn't know if he'll ever truly, completely forgive him, but it's not her place to interfere, there. izuku knows himself well enough to know what's enough for him.)

- - -

mitsuki calls inko, while katsuki is over, and she takes a deep breath before she answers in the kitchen. 

"hey, mitsuki."

she hears izuku and katsuki go quiet in the sitting room, pausing their loud debate about the objectively best hero. 

"i- shit inko, is the brat with you? he's fuckin ran off again, and i don't know what the hell i fuckin did this time, but- is he alright?" 

"he's over here, he's alright. i don't know why he does it," inko lies, with her eyes closed, focusing very hard on her tone of voice, "but he's safe, don't worry about katsuki."

"you're a fuckin angel inko, dealing with him so much. i don't know how the hell you do it."

inko laughs lightly, like she's said a good joke. 

"thank fuck, that's sorted now. right, sorry to bother you inko, but i just worry sometimes, and-" 

"i know what you mean, i'd be the same if it was izuku running off. i need to finish making dinner though, so…"

"right, right," mitsuki laughs, relieved, "yeah, you do that. see you later!" 

"bye!" 

inko hears the dial tone, takes in a slow breath in and out, before opening her eyes and looking at the two boys that are in the doorway of the kitchen. 

"eavesdropping again?" 

izuku laughs nervously, but katsuki just looks tense.

"it's fine, don't worry about it katsuki. i've sorted it."

he sags with relief, but still looks on edge slightly. inko doesn't blame him. 

izuku hums at katsuki (he signs something, but it doesn't come out very clear: something about finishing maybe?) and elbows him. he doesn't even rise to it, just looking tired, and inko's heart aches. 

"c'mon, let's go watch that new documentary on best jeanist," izuku says, dragging katsuki along, and if it wasn't for how carefully he pulled him, inko wouldn't have thought izuku had any sympathy for him. 

inko decides to sit with them on the sofa, beside katsuki, and as the title screen plays he signs thank you. 

inko hums, signing no problem, izuku does the same, and all three of them watch the documentary, making small comments about inaccuracies (izuku), strategy (katsuki, when he's a little closer to himself again) and statistics (inko). it's an okay evening, despite everything. 

- - -

"am i a bad kid?" katsuki asks after another argument with izuku (admittedly it didn't last long: they both left for some space, but they still said some cruel things about each other). 

"you've done bad things," inko admits, "but that doesn't make you a bad person. you're trying to be better, too."

"fuckin feels like a waste of time sometimes. i keep fucking up no matter how hard i try."

inko takes his hands, and his bitterness softens a little as his eyes move to her lips to lipread. 

"i know you can do better, and you've been so much better since you first started coming here. you and izuku can talk to each other, and you know how and when to leave a conversation when you need to, and you don't lash out as often, and izuku's a little better when he comes back from school- you try so hard , katsuki. you try really hard, and i wish you could see it the way i do."

katsuki starts shaking, and when his eyes drop to his knees inko speaks a little louder, and then his eyes start tearing up. he rips his hands from her grip and bitterly wipes away at his tears, and then he starts laughing. 

"i never thought- i never thought anyone would say that shit to me. ever," he admits hoarsely, "home still fuckin sucks but…" 

he signs thank you to her, one, two, three times, crying a little with a pale smile on his face. 

"you're trying, katsuki. i just want you to remember that."

he nods hesitantly, "i- i think i can do that."

"thank you," inko says, and they hum at each other for a moment before smiling. 

katsuki's getting better, little by little. it's more than enough for her (and she can't say whether it is or will ever be enough for izuku, but it's definitely something). 

- - -

inko chats to hisashi one on one for once, and when she mentions the situation she's got going on he laughs so hard that inko wonders whether he's going to hack up a lung. 

"this is how it begins, inko!" 

"how what begins?" 

"soon you're gonna find yourself part time taking care of four kids-" 

"you're doing what now?!" 

"and you'll have three partners-" 

"when did you break up with one of them?" 

"and you'll be going from house to house, and you won't be able to explain your family to anyone. this is how it starts." he sounds like he's grinning. 

"... i doubt that, hisashi, but i'll keep it in mind."

"remember my warning in four year's time! you'll be thankful for it!" 

"i'm sure i will be," she says, very unconvinced. 

hisashi just laughs before moving on with some helpful advice for managing life and how to help with mental health issues (inko wonders if his eclectic family have helped him be more open with himself, because despite being married for a couple years she hasn't really heard any of this. she's glad that they've done something for him that she couldn't) and chatting about his day to day happenings. it's chaotic, as hisashi usually is, but it's familiar in a distant sort of way that inko never really finds herself missing. 

when he hangs up, inko hums to herself as she quietly moves back to work. 

- - -

"you sign really weird," katsuki says out of the blue one day, after inko signed more than usual in a conversation (about heroes, as usual, but katsuki's somehow both more cynical and less critical of them than izuku), trying to practice and help katsuki understand herself more. 

"it's not surprising," inko admits, "i'm self taught, and signing in the proper word order is difficult to do when talking at the same time."

katsuki nods and, somewhat stiltedly, hums understandingly at her in response. inko smiles a little too much. 

"you don't have to hum at me, i know it doesn't come naturally to you."

katsuki flushes and tenses, but doesn't lash out immediately. 

"just thought… you're learnin jsl, so i might as well communicate in a way that makes sense to you. don't fuckin make a massive deal of it or anything-" 

"i won't," inko says, but she still smiles and he still huffs to himself, lighter than usual. 

"fuckin weirdos, both of you," katsuki mutters fondly, and inko laughs. 

he's still the same person: snarky and rude and angry, but he's not so bitter or cruel or furious. inko's very proud of what he's managed to do without therapy, but inko knows he'll get knocked down and backslide all over again with the next fight, or several weeks spent just at home. 

she'll help him redo this progress over and over again if it means katsuki can improve despite all the steps forward he's not allowed to take. 

- - -

when izuku comes home at fourteen, weeping, soaked through with some kind of sludge and smelling like echoes of ash, far too long after school ends, inko fears the worst. (she texted and he didn't reply to anything she said: all he said was that he'd be late. she couldn't focus on her laptop at all, and anything she tried to type for her paper came out scrambled. she made herself some tea and tried her hardest to calm the trembling of her fingers.)

when he cries to her about a power he refused, tears well up in her eyes; her son is so much stronger than she'd ever known. he believed in himself all too much for anyone to understand all those years ago, and even a decade later inko can barely comprehend the depths of his determination. they cry in each other's arms (for the first time in a long while, inko hears her son’s troubles and understands some part of something outside of her, and her heart bleeds for him). 

that evening the katsudon goes very appreciated (izuku tells her that he'd pulled katsuki out of some slime villain: katsuki just went home after being checked over, and inko won't be surprised if he comes over later), izuku cries in her arms a few more times and she sympathy cries a couple times. 

izuku has worked so unbelievably hard to get where he is now. she sees it everyday, in his every page written and every step taken, and inko can't wait to see what kind of hero he's going to be.