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inko wanted nothing but the best for izuku. her dear, darling boy. her only son. her companion, her little ball of sunshine. the light of her life.
she remembers buying him his first all might plush. then it was posters, then the t-shirts. he even got a onesie for christmas one year. she remembers encouraging this interest, loving the sparkle little izuku got in his eyes as he watched his hero pull people from the wreckage of disaster. izuku would babble about it for hours, and she would listen dutifully. she could listen to izuku forever, and he could talk for quite a while. truly a little ball of energy.
it hurt her so bad when they told her izuku was quirkless. no light in his eyes, completely empty as he was told the future he had dreamed about his entire little life was fickle and practically impossible. she felt bad now for the way she reacted, apologizing as if to say “i’m sorry you’ll never be what you want to be,”
she should have known that izuku wouldn’t back down from even the biggest challenge. he was going to apply to UA. without a quirk. she would never speak bad on her son’s name, but she thought it was insane. she would be proved so wrong. and that was the last time she would hesitate in her faith in izuku. when he got accepted, it was one of the happiest days of their lives. she couldn’t be prouder. her son was a medical mystery, a miracle child. his quirk manifested years late, and he practically stumbled his way into UA. with so little time to prepare, where as these other children has spent so long with their quirks, he excelled. she was ecstatic that izuku was coming home with that shine in his eyes again.
what she didn’t like, however, was the injuries. constant injuries. she watched as izuku put himself through constant pain to train for the entrance exam. he lived his life in a constantly sore and strained state. inko did her best to help any way she could, and she really didn’t like that he was pushing himself too far like this. but she would trust her boy. she would.
watching him walk away from her that first day, on his way to his first day of hero school (her boy was going to be a hero), her heart practically fell out and rolled on the floor. it was like a string from her to him being pulled, and being cut. it was one of the most painful things she’d ever experienced, right along with the day the doctor told them izuku was quirkless.
and each time his life was put in danger at that damned school, inko nearly ripped her hair out. it was awful, her heart couldn’t take it. she grew to resent all might.
her house was so quiet when izuku moved into the dorms. no more casual footsteps, no more click-clack on the keyboard as izuku wrote something on all might’s message boards. no sound of the shower running, of the door opening and closing, of izuku’s cheerful voice. the melancholy would drive her mad. she started to get out of the house more, lest she miss him even more.
she could barely bare it.