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Inko is slightly aware of her husband’s more… questionable actions. He tried to keep it from her, succeeded in keeping it from Izuku, and she’d likely have never even noticed if it hadn’t been for his lack of phone calls several years back. She’d managed to get into contact with someone from one of his fronts, and eventually went up the chain until someone let it spill that he headed several criminal and villainous organizations.
When he’d finally called, saying something about being caught in a villain attack, she’d been tempted to scream at him, call him a liar and a cheat and-
And well, she just couldn’t. She’d loved him before she knew, and she loved him after. Hisashi was charming and kind, even after Izuku’s diagnosis, and Inko had heard the horror stories, fathers who abandoned the mother of a Quirkless child. But he’d smiled, and hugged her tight, wiping away her tears.
”He’s not dying, dear. He’s still our son, Quirk or not. He’s going to be okay.”
She’d felt awful, apologizing to her own son, and for what? She wasn’t to blame, not in the slightest, and neither was Izuku. Other people would never see it that way. She got looks of pity at work, so much so she’d nearly exploded on one of her co-workers, who’d had the audacity to ask her if she was planning on adopting a child that wasn’t “defective”.
Hisashi had told her she shouldn’t keep working, not when she came home so mad several smaller objects had floated towards her. He’d been right, of course.
And yet, even after he was gone, telling her to tell Izuku it was a “business trip”, she’d stayed at home for the most part. Her son wasn’t helpless, but he could use the support.
~
Now though, she understands why he’d kept this life secret from them. She heard his voice on the news, and it brings tears to her eyes, knowing that Hisashi is seemingly a monster, a villain, who let Izuku and Katsuki be kidnapped, who presumably helped lead the USJ attack, who-
Who just turned himself and the League of Villains in?
It- it doesn’t make any sense.
~
She wishes Izuku wants a safer career. She loves him, she loves him so much, but she’s always worried, pacing in their small apartment, wondering and worrying about him.
Yagi (and knowing he’s All Might is a whole other thing- she’s not going to touch that with a ten foot pole until her head isn’t spinning constantly) comes over to check up on her, tells her how Izuku is doing, tells her the truth, about how he pushes himself in every class, tries his hardest then tries even harder, and it’s wonderful to hear about her son but gods if she doesn’t cry about his life expectancy. Inko is a mother, first and foremost, and she truly doesn’t have anyone else besides Izuku, with Hisashi in Tartarus.
She should tell Izuku. She should probably tell All Might, although she doesn’t want Izuku to lose his chance at being a hero, no matter how much she worries. She should say something, anything, about Hisashi and what she knows about his fronts and all the things he keeps hidden away.
But when Izuku comes back, tears in his eyes but alive and whole, smiling at his mother to try and reassure her, she can’t. Her son was raised on heroes. Her son was… raised, at least partially, by a supervillain who nearly killed All Might. Her son is still hers, and he’s a hero who gave himself up to save someone else.
She agrees to the dorms, and holds back her tears when he leaves.
~
“Midoriya, I think- I think you should sit down to hear this.” All Might isn’t smiling, and his eyes are rimmed red. He’s apprehensive, and it’s such a strange look on such a tall and intimidating man, she could almost laugh. Almost.
She wordlessly steps aside to let him in.
~
He’s gone again. The house was always quieter now that Izuku was living in the dorms (and since Hisashi had his face blown off by All Might, apparently), but he usually always texted every day, photos of him and his friends, or food, or that Todoroki boy who Inko is pretty sure Izuku has a gigantic crush on. It’s sweet, and she’s just glad her baby has friends, finally, and they’re real and great and kinder than Katsuki was.
(She loves that boy, in her own way, but she’s also Izuku’s mother, and someone needs to knock Katsuki down off his pedestal before someone beats him over the head with it.)
But now, her phone is still on her bedside table, but it’s constantly charged, and she checks her texts randomly sometimes, worried she might’ve missed a notification. It’s paranoia, plain and simple. “Hisashi” sends enough money that she doesn’t really need to work, and she’s glad, because she can’t focus at all. Her head is spinning with all the awful possibilities. If she thought she could get into Tartarus and talk to her husband, she’d be trying right now.
As it were, though, she was sitting in her kitchen, absentmindedly sipping tea. All- Yagi had stopped by everyday since he told her Izuku was missing, giving her meals. Not at the same time, his schedule was far too erratic for it, but he came all the same. When she finally broke and asked him why, he gave her a smile, one that felt far more real than the ones on all of Izuku’s posters.
“He’d want me to. And because I want to. We’ll find him, and I don’t want you to waste away before we do.”
Okay, so maybe she’d cried pretty hard when she’d heard that, but she’d always been a crier.
She’s made a habit of checking all the news sites she can, looking for information on Izuku, even if she almost doesn’t want to know. It’s because of her scrolling that she stumbles across a link to some strange live-stream. It’s Hawks’ visor, which is strange, but really it just looks like a perfectly normal tour of the Hero Public Safety Commission building. Although, a tour in the first place is strange for them. They hardly let any of the public know what’s going on, seeing as how the information is so sensitive. It’s class 1-A, and Inko’s heart aches as Todoroki awkwardly waves at the camera and she almost stops watching but-
Something… changes. Their guide gets knocked out, and everyone’s faces shift, suddenly serious. One boy, with gravity-defying purple hair, uses his Quirk on a guard, the other gets taken down. They make their way to an elevator, and Inko can’t tear her eyes away. They’re nervous, she thinks. Tensed up, scared, but determined.
When the doors open, there’s a room in front of them. Glass shows the inside. The walls are all white, blending together seamlessly. One boy, Iida she thinks, kicks the door down, and a girl that Inko recognizes from the Sports Festival rushes in, crying and smiling. They’ve been reunited with someone, or something, but Inko has no clue what it could possibly-
Izuku, with longer hair and a haunted look in his eyes, steps out, halfway dragged by his friends.
Inko drops her phone, crying.
~
The news app on her phone is dinging like crazy. When she finally checks it again, she’s gathered herself, the best she can, worry and fear still clouding her mind, but determined to see what happens.
It’s nothing but news on Endeavor, on his family, on what he’s done. It’s horrific. Inko is not a hateful woman, far from it, but she seethes in anger. There’s nothing she can about it, of course, not against a hero (and, oh gods, they let this man be a hero?).
A knock on her door brings her to the present. She checks the peephole first, and quickly lets the visitor inside.
Yagi Toshinori steps inside, ducking his head slightly so he doesn’t hit it on the ceiling. He’s been crying, and her eyes are starting to water too.
“He’s-”
“Going to be okay, Inko.” She’d told him to drop “Midoriya” a while ago.
“He’s alive! My baby is alive!”
~
Coordinates were useful, but Inko didn’t dare try and seek them out during the day. She wasn’t even sure when she’d do such a thing, but she had to. She wanted to see Izuku, hug him, hold him, because her baby is alive.
Turns out, she didn’t need to. Izuku wasn’t pardoned, per say, because he’d never actually done anything wrong in the first place, but the International Committee of Heroic Affairs cleared his name, along with Todoroki Shouto. The rest of his classmates were up in the air, although Inko had a feeling they’d get pardoned or let off easy. Anything else, and Japan might actually take the Committee down the same way they took down the Hero Commission.
One day, about a week after her son’s rescue, a week of her building her courage to see him, the door unlocked. Inko stood, and she might not have been a hero or trained to fight, but she’d maybe possibly punched a particularly nosy reporter who wouldn’t leave her alone in the grocery store hard enough she broke his nose. She’ll go down fighting, everything else be damned. No one has the key, not besides Hisashi and Izuku, and she’s been thinking she should give a key to Toshinori (who’d insisted she call him that, if he could call her Inko), but she hasn’t done that yet.
Instead of whatever her anxiety comes up with, Izuku steps through the door. His hair is still a shaggy mess. The bags under his eyes have faded, and he hasn’t lost any weight, thank god.
“Mom?” Tears pool in his eyes. Inko stands, but Izuku beats her to it, halfway tackling her, crying into her shoulder, but she’s crying too, so it’s fine. Todoroki Shouto awkwardly closes the door, standing to the side like he doesn’t know what to say or do. She pulls back, and gives him what she hopes is a comforting smile. After what she’d read about Todoroki Rei, he probably feels weird.
“Todoroki, I’m sorry, I didn’t even notice you come in! I’ll make you two some tea, okay?” Izuku wipes his tears, and Inko is still misty-eyed, but she’s also not been in isolation for several weeks. Her son can keep crying for as long as he wants, she can’t exactly talk.
“Err, thank you. But, please, call me Shouto, at least for now. My mother is in the process of getting a divorce, and I think I’ll take her name, instead.” Inko gives him another smile, and Izuku takes pity on the poor boy, dragging him to the couch and making him sit. Todo- Shouto doesn’t notice, but Inko sees her son’s cheeks turn slightly red, and she hides a smile.
He’s going to be okay.
~
The legal proceedings are basically a formality at this point. Everyone and their mother knows what the Commission did, and everyone and their mother hates them at this point. Inko finds herself thrust into the spotlight more than once, although she only elects to do one interview, and it’s not official by any means.
”Sorry for the, uh, questionable setup here, Mrs. Midoriya!”
“It’s perfectly fine. I understand why, at the very least.”
Present Mic gives her a wide grin, and she’s so glad she didn’t try with anywhere else. That electric kid is the one filming, and she’s sure the camera is probably cutting certain things out, but who cares about that? She doesn’t need money, and she’s pretty sure even if she did, the compensation from the Hero Commission is likely more than she’ll ever use in a lifetime.
The video gets uploaded to Youtube, promptly explodes, and she’s never been so content to enter a courtroom in her life.