Chapter Text
When Izuku was younger (young and naive and hopeful and happy), he'd wondered what sort of hero he would be. All Might, he'd beamed, I wanna be like All Might! His mother supported him. She bought all the onesies, all the hats and bags and key-chains and toys and figurines. She loved how it made her son vibrate, made him glow, smiles so wide his cheeks burned and so bright it left her squinting.
He meant everything to her and more.
And for a single mother, for all the struggles she'd come across: an unplanned pregnancy, an absent husband, a family that had disowned her when she'd decided to keep it even after her husband left her, she was happy. As long as Izuku was happy, then she could be, too. And she was.
Her son was so intelligent, so genuine and authentic. So kind.
He would make a great hero.
"How about... All Might Junior?" She says, tickling is round tummy, poking those cheeks until his smile is squished between the palms of her hands. He squeals in response, all piercing giggles and kicking legs. He'd lost some baby fat but his face, his precious, round, freckled face, she could pinch and squeeze those cheeks for the rest of her life! And she would, if she had any say in it.
"All Might Junior!" He shrieks and she pokes him again, just to watch how he squirms and tries to press his lips tight together, large, green eyes blinking up at her.
Such a bright child, both in his wide expressions, emotions worn on his sleeve, and his intelligence.
(She feels bad, knowing that he'd heard her crying at night one time too many. And he, so kind, so caring, would leave drawings scribbled on paper - or even napkins - for her to find in the morning, telling her 'you're my favorite hero, mommy!'
He's smart, like his father, but his kindness is all him. And her, she likes to think. He takes after her in a few too many ways but she's happy to wipe the tears.)
"I have to get working on dinner, now. Any suggestions?"
"Something spicy! For Kacchan!"
She smiles at that and, after pressing a firm kiss to his temple, picks him up off her lap and sets him on the couch, ruffling his curly hair one more time before heading to the kitchen.
The Bakugo's are planning on coming over. Katsuki had been wanting to every day, needing to see Izuku's quirk manifestation for himself, probably to affirm that his is stronger, but Inko knows her baby boy won't mind; it won't change a thing, not for them and not for their dreams. Izuku has been hoping for a mix between her's and his father's, a sort of telekinetic-fire-thing was, apparently, the best-case scenario (I wouldn't mind just yours, though, mommy, I really wouldn't!)
She'd told him that's what his father's quirk was, fire breathing. And that wasn't wrong; she'd certainly seen the man breathe fire, but sometimes, she... she wasn't so sure. It was a terrifying thought, but sometimes that man...
Not that it mattered, not a bit. Whatever quirk Izuku comes to have, she'll love him no matter what. And even if he was of the small population that didn't have a quirk, she wouldn't care.
As she pulls out spice after spice - most of which had been gifted to her by Mitsuki - she can't help but smile. She'd learned to deal with the more... intense things Mitsuki liked, but since Katsuki had gotten that trait from his mother, Izuku was trying to do the same. It was precious how he'd ask for the spicier things, wanting to get his palette used to the heat on his tongue, smiling even though his eyes would water and his nose would drip.
Katsuki would bite at that, all fiery words as he'd grab a glass of milk and practically drown Izuku with it, berating the younger for even trying the food.
Soon, Katsuki will learn to give up and, eventually, Izuku will be able to handle it.
(And yes, of course she makes sure that when she makes it, it's more of a mild thing, even less than that for little Izu. Baby steps; she doesn't want to hurt him, after all.)
"Mommy?" The voice makes her jump, a sharp intake of breath before turning around, already wiping her hands on her apron.
"Yes, sweetie?" He doesn't immediately respond and, as those bright eyes darken into a muggy green, she already knows the words about to come out of his mouth.
He inhales, lungs rattling in proper Midoriya fashion, before biting the inside of his lip.
When his lips wobble, he just bites harder.
"No, no baby. Gentle, gentle," she coos and drops down to his level, hands coming up to cup his cheeks, one thumb gently tugging his lip free. "Gentle, honey." And when he chokes off a sob, thick tears rolling from glistening eyes, she drags him into a hug, head pressed to her shoulder as she rocks him. "Baby, it's okay. It's okay." Her fingers start working out the tangles of his curly hair, the other hand rubbing circles on his back. And when he just sobs harder, arms not quite able to reach around her but hands desperately twisting into her shirt, she just presses more kisses into his hair. "You'll get a quirk."
"B-b-" a shaky inhale, muffled in her apron, "but what if I don't?"
Whispered, terrified, as if there were no worse fate. It just breaks her heart.
"Baby, even if you don't, I'll still love you."
I'll still love you.
He digs his head into her chest, shaking and crying and digging himself further into her. He's tingling, tears soaking her shirt, nerves buzzing and head growing light, distant.
He doesn't notice a difference.
And honestly, Inko hardly does either. She's ignoring everything. The stove, the food, the spices filling her nose, the pain in her sides. Crawling up her lungs, digging and digging.
She gasps, a sharp, strangled sound as a sharp pain lances through her side. A cramp, perhaps? She wasn't really taking care of herself, but-
A metallic tang hits her tongue and she chokes, tears pricking her eyes as the pain shoots again. It doesn't leave. It crawls until her sides are wet, something sharp digging between her ribs, into her lungs. "B-babe-" - her throat's tight.
Izuku shrieks and rips himself away. She watches, eyes wide, as red follows him. Sticky, red threads, and now she can hear it.
Heavy, bloated sounds, wet smacking against the wooden planks of the kitchen.
His eyes are wide, staring at his hands, blood so thick it's almost black, clumps slipping between his fingers. His breathing hitches, picking up rapidly until he's choking.
It flakes away, slowly, disappearing into nothing, but it stays staining his wrists, his sleeves. He looks up, their eyes meeting.
She's- the pain's unbearable, but it's also a distant buzz. So overwhelming, rushing in her ears and pulsing in her sides.
But she tries to smile. For him.
He screams, hands hovering over her but not touching, eyes wide and straining, pupils terrified dots that quiver as he looks her over.
Looks at her sides.
She doesn't hear it. Just smiles before getting the distinct feeling that she's disappearing.
It hurts and she doesn't want to leave him, but she...
She can't really...
She-
A gentle touch, a caress in her hair, and then-
nothing.
(izuku screams. and screams and screams and screams until his throat tears and salty tears drown out the sounds. until he's left gasping, begging, hands hovering as his mother collapses, sides running red like his hands, staining the wood flooring and pooling around her. he screams for her to move, to wake up, the world blurry with tears and red, so much red.
he wheezes and cries until he's pressed to the floor, breaths coming too fast, the world growing blurry by the second.
he doesn't notice how he touches the floor, how the blood flakes away, how the wood cracks and how the building shudders.
he screams.
he's begun to drown)