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Midoriya loved his mother, he really did.
After all, she had been the only one to not hurt him for a good ten years - a whole decade - of his life.
She always knew what to say, she always knew how he felt. The two of them would sit across from each other at the dinner table, a comfortable silence lingering in the air, with occasional glances at each other. The boy’s of pure admiration and respect, yet the woman’s unidentifiable; the former had always just assumed it was love with a hint of worry, but he could never be too sure. Years had passed since they last shared a moment like that, the memories being from when he was younger and more naive, likely having warped his interpretation of the situation.
He recalled the hours spent in the kitchen, his mother guiding him through all the utensils, methods and recipes before leaving him to attempt at making a meal by himself. She always supervised, rushing to his aid when even the smallest of injuries was presented upon his body. Later, after taking care of his injury, she wouldn’t allow him back near the cutlery for the rest of the day. Escorting him through the steps, she would look at him with what seemed to be a kind smile on her face. This was all a while ago, so he didn’t know if his representation of her was accurate or not.
Sometimes, the duo leaned into each other, simply inhaling each other’s warmth, as some old cartoon played on their television. For him, it was just background music, taking the time to appreciate his mother’s attendance in his life. For her, he hoped it was a similar reason. Whenever he wasn’t looking at her, he would feel the short, light glances against his skin. It left an invisible burn on, lingering for longer than it should. Not like he knew though, the feeling of gentle burns was becoming more familiar to him with each passing day.
As he grew older, his relationship with his mother didn’t change much. The hang out sessions were becoming shorter and less frequent, sure, but that wasn’t her fault! His peers’ words were getting to him - it was his problem though. His mother never shared her problems with him, so he never thought as to why he should share his with her. They were individual people and had their own responsibilities, after all.
It wasn’t uncommon for him to arrive back from school with bruises and an untidy uniform. On the lucky days, there were only a couple of cuts and red splodges on his skin that were slowly turning blue and purple. His uniform would be messed up in some way on those days, but no permanent damage. On the days where he was not-so-lucky, there would be rips and burns on his clothing, along with burn marks directly on his skin. He always figured that his mother knew - she would throw worried glances at him and the first aid kit was always full. If she wasn’t doing anything about it, then the treatment he was getting should be normal, right?
He had memories of his mother always telling him that he could tell her anything and that she was the one he could trust. See, she cared! She never spoke of trusting others, giving him more evidence of her knowledge of his treatment. They didn’t speak of Bakugou often, and she stopped inviting the Bakugou’s over to dinner. He was thankful but wondered why: the way Bakugou treated him was normal, so why didn’t he come over anymore?
Time passed and everything grew worse, his mental health especially. Growing up on the internet, he knew that what he was feeling shouldn’t be normal. Not once did his mother offer to talk about his feelings, nor did she offer any kind of therapy, even if she knew of the bullying. His mother had always been the one to take care of him, so he thought the people online were exaggerating and he was fine. Of course, he told the woman everything she didn’t know. He focused on the good things, sometimes mentioning a time he tripped over his own feet and scraped his knee. She would always freak out, telling him to show her what was wrong, then proceed to tell him that she should always be the person who should know of his problems first. He lived with that - his mother would always be the first to know (she had been the first to know about his school treatment, so there wasn’t a reason not to).
The boy would remember his mother’s crying face, apologising to him over and over again after asking if he could be a hero. She didn’t encourage him and tell him he could do it, no, not until after he got a quirk. Before the quirk, she discouraged the idea of attending hero fights, like he was going to get hurt. He never did, and she should know he wouldn’t, there was always a crowd there and people didn’t get hurt.
Before his quirkless diagnosis, his mother didn’t cry often. She allowed him to do a lot and laughed with him when he tripped. It was only after that doctor’s appointment in which she began crying more, mostly at the mention of him being a hero and his quirklessness. At those moments, she would also tell him to trust her, and he did. She began gaining weight too (although he couldn’t figure out whether it was natural ageing or from stress-eating).
When he entered UA, he would always update his mother on how things were going. Injuries, quirks, teaching, everything. She texted him a lot throughout the day, constantly asking about him. He would always reply truthfully - he was a bad liar, and she had made it clear that she was the person he could trust the most. At every negative thing, even the time he told his mother about almost falling before the entrance exam, she would ask if this was what he really wanted, how it was too dangerous to him because he was too special to her to get hurt. With how often he heard those words, he couldn’t help but feel guilty for going into such a serious job, despite it being his dream. Commonly, she would beg for him to come home so she could check on her baby. He couldn’t stress his mother out more, so he told her every detail of his day until she was content.
His mother was always his first and last thought of the day.
Gaining friends and accepting their respect was a hard thing for him to do. For ten years everybody left him out, and his oh-so-wonderful mother did nothing about it, the boy deeming the treatment normal. Due to this, he was forever grateful for his friends: they were amazing. Unlike the people in his old school and his mother, their relationships didn’t revolve around his quirk (or lack of, in the past). This alone made him feel like he was being treated like a god! What did he do to get such incredible friends? When he told his mother, she had been wary of them, telling him to make sure that they didn’t hurt him, that they might try to take advantage of his powerful quirk. He believed her and told them little of his quirk, history, feelings and past. They didn’t need to know. His mother and he had a great relationship without discussing these topics, so he would be fine without them!
Convincing his mother to let him stay in UA was tough, she hadn’t hesitated to tell him that she will take him out of there without telling him if stuff got out of hand. She said she couldn’t stand her son being hurt like this. He didn’t understand; when he was quirkless, he was getting the same, if not worse, treatment, that she was aware of, and didn’t do anything about it. Now that he had a quirk, stuff like that was unacceptable.
It took a lot for him to realise that his mother had been part of quirkless discrimination (in her own, different way). It took a lot for him to realise that the look in her eye wasn’t worry but pity. It took a lot for him to realise that his mother was not the only person he could trust. It didn’t make sense at first - she had always been there, she always made him tell her everything, always made him rely on her for things. That was the problem: he shouldn’t be so reliant on his mother. He deserved his own freedom and independence, and his mother was being overprotective. She treated his quirklessness like it was a deadly disease, that he would get hurt by every little thing, and his sudden quirk just made her afraid of losing her small, weak, quirkless son that only belonged to her. A mother afraid of her creation leaving her, so made him believe that she was the only good, good person in his life. He clung to her like a lifeline, so now he did so with any person that showed him any sort of affection. It was a problem, a hard one to solve, as he trusted her so much.
Midoriya loved his mother, he really did.
He just wished that she had been a better one.