Archive of Our Own

Izuku stood before her, Hero costume on and a bright smile taking permanent residence on his face.

As Nemuri watched her son laugh and talk with his friends, no longer teenagers but fully grown adults ready to take on the world, she wondered how Izuku had grown up so quickly. How the time had flown by and somehow escaped her notice.

The rational side of her brain was quick to remind her, however, that she hadn't missed a thing. She had been with him since day one, there through the ups and downs and the… unexpected surprises that began it all

And with that, came a flood of memories, both good and bad, depicting Izuku's life as she watched him grow up.

The pregnancy was… surprising, to say the least.

She and Oboro had been so careful, and it'd only been once but… apparently once was enough.

If the wailing baby in her arms was any indication, once was more than enough.

She curled her hand round her child's head, stroking the small little hairs on his scalp and delighting in the way his wails calmed into small chuffs of contentment.

"God he's so ugly."

Nemuri gaped at her boyfriend, his humorous tone instantly dropping, replaced with a concoction of spluttering as he tried to salvage the comment.

"In– in a good way! He's so ugly that it makes him cute! You know what I'm saying, he's so small and fat that he's–"

"He gets that from you." She said, a teasing smirk on her lips.

Oboro dropped his jaw in mock-offence, standing up to his full height and making to leave.

"How dare you. Y'know Nem, I thought we had something, but after this?" He said, his voice wobbling, whether from fake heartbreak or poorly concealed laughter she couldn't be sure. "I'm just not sure I can forgive you."

She gasped as he made for the door, pleading for him to come back and reconsider.

"No! Kumo please, think of me, think of Izuku!" She said, careful not to move too much lest she disturb the happy child in her arms.

Oboro stopped in his exit, twisting round, a hurt look on his face.

"Izuku?" He asked in a broken whisper. "You named him without me?"

She bit her lip, looking away momentarily before looking back, ready to tell him no, but he was leaving, his wispy white hair brushing off the top of the doorway as he passed through it.

"Wait Kumo! I'll do anything you want!" She shouted, knowing it would bring him back.

And it did.

Not a second later, her boyfriend was running back through the door and all but throwing himself at her bedside.

"Anything?" He asked, eyes lit up with mischief and wonder, a look she knew all too well.

Nemuri gestured to the baby in her arm, leaning in to press against a kiss against his lips like, resting her forehead against his.

"Maybe we'll wait a little bit, hmm?" She said, voice quiet and soft but hard in ways only Oboro would understand. "We don't need another happy accident so soon, wouldn't you agree?"

Oboro chuckled in that awkward "laugh, because if you don't, you'll cry" way, and she swatted him lightly until he devolved into one if his proper giggling fits, with his ugly — but extremely endearing — cackling laughter.

As crazy and hectic as those first few years were, especially the beginning, they evened out eventually.

Their parents played a huge role in helping them sort it all out, and Nemuri was forever grateful to them, and could never pay them back no matter how hard she tried.

They minded Izuku as she worked and made sure he didn't want for anything when she or Oboro couldn't be by his side.

That said, it's not like either of them were ever away from their son for too long. Sometimes, on the rare occasion, they were both together.

Actually, there was this one time when–

It was peaceful for once, in the Shirakumo household. The birds were chirping outside the window, singing happily to their little families and going on with their days.

Soft sounds floated through the apartment, those of a giggling toddler speaking in hushed whispers.

Nemuri smiled down at the pan, flipping a pancake and mentally congratulating herself on the perfect golden colour of its underbelly. It was a rare day that both she and Oboro were together to mind Izuku, but they'd both been given the day off, something each of them was eternally grateful for.

She slipped the pancake off the pan and onto a plate which she then put into the oven to keep it warm alongside the other small stacks of pancakes.

Adding a few more drops of oil to the pan, she scraped the remaining batter in the bowl into the pan. Now Nemuri was no artist, not like Oboro could be with his absurd pancake art or his infuriatingly amazing latte art — seriously, who let this man be so good at art? And with food? How dare they — but she could make a nice smiley face, especially if it was for Izuku.

She pressed a few more blueberries into the pancake, completing the smile before flipping it over, once again applauding herself for the perfect golden brown colour. God, she was amazing at this wasn't she.

The first 2 slimy, torn pancakes in the bin would be to differ.

Grabbing the spatula, she prepared to shimmy the last pancake onto the plate in the oven when a tiny body collided with her legs.

"Mum! Mum, look! Mum! Look at this mum! Look!"

She let Izuku fist at her soft pajama pants as she moved the pancake onto the stack, feeling just how impatient he was getting as he started to vibrate and his shouts grew louder.

Sliding the pan back onto the stove she turned around, a lecture on being patient sitting fresh on her lips.

It died the second she saw her son, a shrill gasp leaving her mouth instead.

She grabbed Izuku by his armpits and sat him on the countertop, trying to comprehend what she was seeing.

"Look mum!" Izuku said, pointing at his head as if she'd somehow missed it. "It's so cool! Right?"

And Nemuri, she was at a loss for words. Its not every day that your son's hair turns into fucking clouds after all.

She took a deep breath, letting the concerned parent wash out of her to be the fun 22 year old that got along with children.

"It's awesome Izuku!" She said, smiling at him genuinely — because of course it was genuine, this was exciting for Izuku. How could she not be excited for him?

"Yeah! I look just like Daddy now!" Izuku exclaimed, beaming up at her in his pajamas, little wisps of white cloud brushing at his forehead and curling round him like his hair used to.

"You do!" She picked her son up again, resting him on her hip and made her way out of the kitchen, pancakes all but forgotten about. "Let's see if we can find your Daddy, hmm?"

Izuku went quiet then, stretching his head up as far as he could — which really wasn't all that far, but his attempt was adorable — trying to reach her ear before whispering to her.

"Daddy's still asleep."

Nemuri was lost then, her hero persona slipping in and allowing a smirk to take over her face.

"Oh is he?" She grinned with faux-concern, "We better go wake him up then, yeah?"

Izuku nodded manically, smile growing wider as he began to kick at her side, wanting to get down.

"We have to be quiet though, okay?" She whispered, watching as Izuku's lips shifted into a thoughtful frown before he nodded once again.

"Okay, are you ready?" Nemuri already knew the answer to that, the firm kicks in her side only reminding her just how ready her son was.

She brought him down to the ground softly, stifling soft laughter at the way he kicked his feet under him as though he were already running despite having not moved an inch.

The second she let him go, he was off like a bullet, running around the apartment, his bare feet slapping on the wooden flooring in a way that was so loud they Oboro might wake up before they got to the bedroom.

Nemuri chased after Izuku, though she was significantly more silent on her feet than the 4 year old, stopping only when she reached the doorway to her and Oboro's shared bedroom. There was an urge to jump into the room and surprise her boyfriend by scaring him back into consciousness, but she refrained.

When she caught sight of Izuku, she was practically forced to stand there and simply watch. Her son was tip-toeing across the room, floorboards creaking under his weight, the sounds of which he was blissfully unaware of as he continued his journey.

She slipped into the room then, once Izuku reached the side of the bed he had slept in last night, their bed.

He looked up at her, his hands reaching skyward, his chubby little fists grabbing at the air, indicating he wanted to be picked up.

A huff escapes her throat at her son's antics, knowing full well that she'd brought this upon herself. But she went to him, hooking her hands under his armpits once again and lifting him up over the brow of the bed.

He wobbled for a moment on the springy mattress, and Nemuri was careful to keep him upright, but after a few moments he began to walk forward on his own.

Only to fall face first into the bed sheets.

And Nemuri, for all that she was a great hero and an even better mother… She cackled, laughing at how he tripped on the mattress. Had it been serious, she wouldn't be laughing, but considering it was the soft and fluffy bed he fell onto, she allowed herself a moment to laugh freely.

In the next second, however, she was climbing onto the bed herself and scooching closer to Izuku where he lay face down on the mattress. She stifled a laugh at his limp form and picked him up again, barely needing to witness the sad little pout on his face before showering it with small kisses that had Izuku giggling in delight.

Once he had calmed down, she turned him off to the right, to where Oboro lay underneath the covers.

Slowly, they crawled towards her boyfriend, both of them carefully distributing their weight in the mattress to stay quiet.

Izuku was practically vibrating beside her, a large smile having overtaken his face and replacing his earlier pout. The wispy cloud on his head seemed to reflect his joy as it was fluffier than it had been before, looking almost like cotton candy now.

It was adorable, and while she was still a little worried about the change and what it might mean for the future, she allowed herself to coo over it at the moment. Once Oboro woke up, they could talk about it and think about what their future might look like.

And as disappointing as it is for her son not to get her quirk — there's still hope, of course, but the clouds are a fairly obvious sign that he was taking after Oboro — she's happy that he doesn't have to go through the pain that is living with Somnambulist.

She dispelled her thoughts quickly when they reached Oboro, still quietly snoring away, his upper body having come exposed from under the blanket, revealing his scarred and muscled torso.

God, that was a difficult time for her. When Oboro disappeared underneath all of that rubble, gone from her life for almost a full 24 hours, only for his limp and bloodied body to be taken out of the wreckage. She'd never cried so much in her life, never screamed so loud after someone she loved. Even though it was platonic back then, it didn't make any huge difference. Love was love in Nemuri's mind, and losing someone — friend, partner or otherwise — was always heartbreaking.

Only she didn't lose him, though it was a close thing.

He went under the knife for hours, pieces of rubble needing to be extracted and a small pipe that drove itself straight through his stomach needing to be removed.

She felt the urge to trace his scars as he lay there, let him know just how grateful she was for his presence in her life. Let him know how loved he was, and always would be, by her, and nothing he said or did could ever change that.

Swallowing, she pushed the thoughts away, resolving to simply wake him up first.

"You ready?" She whispered to Izuku, raising her hands and bending her fingers until they looked more like claws.

He nodded, doing the same, beaming all the while.

"Okay, we go on 1." Nemuri smiled at her son as he nodded again, this time focusing all his attention on his father.

"3"

Izuku began vibrating, shaking the bed slightly

"2"

A soft groan sounded out in the quiet of the room.

"1!"

They pounced.

Oboro woke up violently, shrieking as his stomach was attacked by grabbing hands and chubby fingers.

His laughter rang throughout the apartment, his voice slowly joined by two others as he began to tickle them back, forming a vicious circle of tickling and giggling.

Eventually, the all tired themselves out and flopped back onto the bed, Izuku lying atop his father's chest while Nemuri glued herself to his side, a soft smile on both of their faces.

"This is… interesting." Oboro said, his finger wound in a small tendril of Izuku's new hair. It clung to his finger like Izuku had only 4 years earlier, curling around his finger softly, almost lovingly in a way.

"That's one word for it" Nemuri snorted, resting her head in the junction between her boyfriend's collarbone and his jawline that rested against her head. "Think he'll get the rest of your quirk?"

Oboro hummed, neither confirming yes or no, simply acknowledging her question. It didn't bother her really, she knew it was a difficult question to answer without somehow offending her or her quirk.

"I hope so," she says, staring at Izuku's bright green eyes — and wasn't that a surprise to them all, their child having green eyes. But they both carried the gene apparently, so it was always a possibility — as he played with Oboro's other hand. "I don't want him to grow up like I did. He doesn't deserve to go through that."

"I'm sure he'll be fine." Oboro hummed again, pressing a soft kiss to her temple that melted the creases of worry from her face.

"Now what was this you said about making pancakes hmm?" He turned to her, a small smirk on his lips as they both knew what was coming.

"PANCAKES"

It might not have been the most eventful memory in her life but it was endearing and funny to her.

Although now that she thought about it… well there was a fairly important day in her life that was very eventful. More so than it should have been.

A string quartet played softly in the background, the large venue quiet except for that and the soft mumbling off a child. The sunlight dipped softly into the cathedral, stained glass bathing the room in a beautiful haze of purples and blues.

Nemuri stood at the top of the aisle, her fiancé and soon-to-be husband at her side, wearing quite possibly the most expensive thing she's ever heard of. It was gorgeous first of all, a soft white, but still pure white. Soft in the way that you wouldn't blind yourself looking at it, but it was still White.

And the rest of it– God, the rest of it. Silver lace climbed upwards from the bottom of the dress, weaving itself over the folds in the fabric to create a constant shimmer as she moved, only vaguely similar to Somnambulist and the way it seemed to shift and glitter in the sunlight.

But the silver accents weaved throughout the dress, the princess style of the piece only giving the designer more room to work with. And the designer evidently had fun designing this, as it was a princess dress through and through, but more modern and… more Nemuri than it was Midnight.Izuku to bring the rings up to the altar in his 7 year old hands for weeks. The first time she brought up the idea Izuku was vehemently against it, almost breaking down in tears because he thought he'd lose the all-important rings. She then got him to write out all of his worries about the wedding on paper for her to go over and do her best to pick apart.

It nearly broke her heart when she saw his long, long list of things that could go wrong between now and then. Like how he could forget the rings, or how he might lock himself in the bathroom and be unable to get out in time to bring up the rings. And the, admittedly funny idea, that the wedding would be crashed by a bunch of monster sized pigeons.

But she calmed Izuku down, easing his worries and relaxing him. Hell, he was probably the most relaxed person at the wedding right now, certainly more than her and Oboro combined. Not that they could help it. Being a hero was one thing, but actively being with another hero, and choosing to marry them in a public place, in this day and age? It was practically asking to be attacked by villains.

Some of the best heroes were patrolling around the cathedral though, Best Jeanist and Endeavour to name a few. Even the Pussycat's showed up.

So everything would be fine. No need to be anything but relaxed.

She continued to stare at the pillar of stone across from her, Oboro having suggested it would be better not to look at Izuku until they reached the altar, otherwise he might run to them and crack his head open on the stairs up to the altar. Okay maybe that was a little exaggerated.

Oboro hadn't been all that keen on getting married in a church, and to be honest neither did she. Weddings and funerals were just about the only celebrations of faith she ever took part in. But when she saw this cathedral, with its marble pillars and beautiful blue and purple stained glass… Well, how could she ever turn down such an amazing venue?

Nemuri was shaken from her thoughts slightly as a small thump sounded through the air. The temptation to turn around was strong, but she somehow ignored it. She continued to stare at the pillar, allowing a few seconds to pass, relaxing as nothing else sounded through the cathedral. If no one reacted to it, chances are that nothing bad had occurred. Someone probably slipped off the pew, a simple mistake really.

She simply kept staring at the wall, reaching for Oboro's hand to seek some small sliver of comfort.

But her hand met air, nothing of solid matter anywhere in the general area of Oboro's hand. She tried to turn her head slightly, in a way that she could see Oboro but wouldn't make it obvious to their guests. Her head had barely turned even a fraction before her eye caught on something amidst the navy carpet of the altar.

It was… fog?

Tendrils of white caressed the edges of her dress, as though she were princess of the clouds and ruler of the sky. They brushed softly against her skin, so peaceful yet so ominous. Because who was doing this.

She forewent courtesy and turned around to Oboro, not caring if the guests saw her at this point.

And there, lying face down on the altar was her husband-to-be, his suit ruffled and creased from the fall, the small flower in his pocket having been crushed against the floor. Its crinkled petals sat near Aizawa's mouth from where he too had fallen down.

Nemuri flew down to his side, quickly searching for a pulse, relaxing slightly at the steady pump of warm blood through his body. She turned him over even though he didn't seem to be having trouble breathing, stopping for a moment to witness the way the fog caressed his face, almost lovingly. The fog wasn't a True White, she realised as it brushed against the clouds of Oboro's hair. It was greener than that, only slightly, but it was still noticeable.

She turned around, ready to let Somnambulist burst from her skin, but the sight of the guests stopped her.

Every single one of them, adult and child alike, had fallen in some way.

Some of them were sitting on pews, heads lolled to one side. Others were flat out on the floor, uncaring of the fact they were allowing their wedding clothes to touch the dirty floor below them. And then there were others, clinging to the edge of pews or simply lying down across them lies a makeshift, and rather uncomfortable, bed.

She faltered for a moment, her hero training eclipsing her for just a fraction of a second. They were supposed to be safe. This was supposed to be a happy day for her and her husband. For her child–







Izuku








She sprinted down the stairs, kicking off her shoes the second they proved too difficult to run in. She was tempted to take off the dress too, the puffy skirt making it so much harder to run than her hero suit would. But she wore nothing underneath, and the dress at least provided some sort of protection should she encounter a villain.

Running down the aisle, she didn't find him, not sitting with her parents nor Oboro's. A panicked glance at Hizashi proved that he wasn't with him either.

She thought, for one precious second, that she'd found him when she spotted white hair amongst the sea of bodies, her heart nearly stopped from the relief. But it wasn't him, one of Oboro's relatives instead. God she wanted to scream, cursing the man for his white hair, for the horns that sprouted from his temples and the tattoos along his hands, because he wasn't Izuku. Izuku wasn't anywhere to be found.

So where was he.

"Izuku!" She called out, uncaring that the villains that no doubt caused this could probably hear her. "Izuku!"

No response. Not a sound breached her ears past the thundering of her heart and the breaths that were coming quick and fast.

Shit. How did it all go wrong? And so quickly? Nemuri was a top pro hero, well within the top 25 and she couldn't even protect her own fucking child. God, she'd never forgive herself if he was injured, if he die– No, it wouldn't come to that. It wouldn't. She will find him in time, she would, she would–

A small sound echoed through the cathedral. A sniffle. The sound of someone crying, doing their best to hold it in.

She sprinted towards the source, one hand clawing at the fabric of her dress, ripping a hole through her right sleeve and letting Somnambulist free. Liberating it to do as it pleased, just so long as Izuku was safe again.

Another sniffle, a half-sob this time. She drew closer with each passing moment each sound of despair or anguish. It wasn't long until the entire cathedral was filled with a pink shimmering gas, and yet the sounds still came, only increasing her worry for Izuku.

The villain was probably wearing a gas mask, effectively blocking her quirk, and her only weapon. But they had her child, and Nemuri would sooner cut off her own leg and club someone over the head with it than have a hair on her son's beautiful little head be damaged.

Another sob sounded out and Nemuri sprinted up the stairs at the back of the cathedral, taking them two at a time as the sounds grew louder. Whether because of her proximity to Izuku or his increasing desperation, she couldn't be sure. But she wasn't about to slow down and be cautious when her son could be dead.

She burst through the doors at the top of the stairs, pushing them open and watching as the fog was pushed back from the gust of air that came with it. The fog seemed to be thicker up here, stronger and darker in colour, approaching a darker pastel green from what she could see through the haze Somnambulist had caused.

Her head snapped round as another sob sounded out and she surveyed the area, confused at the lack of a villain. It was such an open space, with nowhere to hide, so surely the villain should be up here, no?

She moved then, faster than she probably should have as a Hero, but far slower than she should have as a mother. Her dress pulled at the pews as she passed by, snagging on splinters and catching on corners, but she couldn't bring herself to care. Her child was here, and she needed to see him to hold him in her arms and make sure he was alright.

Another sob had her turning her head again, spotting something in the corner finally.

Only… it was just a ball of mist. An object that the fog seemed to roll off of in waves, pouring off onto the floor and building up before tiling over the banister and down onto the pews far below.

It shook slightly, the fog curling around it, almost as if trying to comfort the ball, but being pushed away like the rest of it.

"Izuku?" She called out, hopeful that she had found him, not even thinking about the consequences of what would happen if this was her son.

All of the sounds stopped, and the ball only seemed to get smaller, more compact. Breaths coming quick and fast, shallow in ways they weren't before. Instantly, Nemuri was at their side, because it didn't matter if this wasn't Izuku. It was a civilian, and they were panicking. And it was her job as a Hero, even outside of her allotted hours, to help those in need.

She reached into the fog, her hand tingling slightly at the feeling as it brushed against her bare skin. It was left in empty air for a moment, but she reached in deeper until she brushed against something.

It went to move, to flinch away, but she latched onto it quickly and dragged it towards her, away from the ball of fog.

Out of it, attached to her hand, came a child, a child with white cloudy hair and watery green eyes wearing a small silver suit with a light blue bow tie.

Izuku

She dragged him closer to her, letting out a sob of her own as the tension melted off of her, like the fog that surrounded them.

Questions and theories popped through her mind, each of them zooming by, racing through her head like formula one drivers on a track, and if she didn't push them away one of them would crash. And they would burn, and she would be able to think of nothing else but that.

So she stopped the race, cut out the cars' engines and flipped off the drivers as she focused on her son.

"Izuku." The soft words had barely left her mouth before he devolved into another fit of sobs, each of them louder than the last, wracking his frame as he pushed his head deeper into Nemuri's stomach. As if he was trying to escape from the world.

She let him for a small while, let him sob and cry out all his emotion until he was snivelling and rubbing tenderly at his eyes. Only then did she swoop in to save him, to assure him that everything would be alright.

"Wanna tell me what happened, bud?" She asked, blowing away some of the clouds that had begun to thicken around his head as he cried. It seemed to seem from his hands too, which would suggest that he– Nope. Not thinking about it.

Izuku let out a mumble between sniffles, and she only caught the tail end of it.

"–the r‐rings." He hiccup between words, stumbling over sounds because of his tears and how his throat threatened to close up and block those words from leaving his mouth.

She rubbed at his back, helping him to calm down a little more before looking at him, and asking him to repeat himself, a patient smile on her face.

He was quiet for a moment, another hiccup of a sob threatening to escape but he swallowed the sound.

"I… I can't find the rings." Izuku mumbled out, hanging his head low as if expecting some sort of repercussion.

"That's okay honey," She placed a soft kiss to the top of her son's forehead, delighting in the way he giggled at the firm, but soft pressure. "Daddy and I were gonna get tattoos anyways, the rings were just symbolic."

Izuku looked up at her, a confused pout on his lips. His eyes were still read, though definitely less so than before, and his nose continued to drip onto his suit, which Nemuri unfortunately could do nothing about for the time being.

"Sim-bol-ick?" He said, sounding the word out.

"That's right." She nodded encouragingly at him, "It means, we didn't actually need the rings. So it's all okay! Alright?"

"...okay" He replied, slowly gaining his confidence back, his eyes finally drying up completely.

"Now when did you become a smoke machine, huh?" She joked, poking at his belly and smiling at the giggles that jumped from his throat.

She lifted him up and made for the stairs, more than ready to leave the cathedral and began her descent to the floor once again.

Yeah that was… interesting.

Never, not in all her years of hoping or dreaming about falling in love and getting married at some super fancy wedding where she had fun with her partner, had she ever thought such a thing might happen. Then again, she never thought she'd be having children, but life loves its surprises. Not that she would ever change anything, even if she had the power to.

She was plastered all over the newspapers the next day, sitting on the steps of the cathedral, playing with her child in a ruined wedding dress as pink gas bellowed out the open doors of the cathedral behind her. Not her finest moment, but what can you do?

Not much when Izuku's quirk manifested, and was nothing like they'd imagined it to be.

Izuku, who they had originally assumed would take after Oboro in terms or quirks. And he did in a way. He could control clouds of his own creation and move them around at will, just like his father.

But… they never foresaw Somnambulist playing a part in Izuku's quirk. In hindsight, they should have, what with her and Oboro being two people with gaseous quirks both able to release them and control them — though that part was a little more difficult for Nemuri — at will.

And so, Izuku's quirk was what some people might call, a perfect combination of his parents' quirks. He could form and control clouds that he created from his own body — through his hair, and his hands strangely — but upon skin contact, those clouds induced a sleep inducing drug, similar to Somnambulist but different in that the potency of it could be changed should Izuku will it to be so.

A great quirk all in all. It was useful, especially if Izuku wanted to be a doctor or a dentist when he grew up. He could be a vet! Or a nurse. Or maybe even someone that sold his quirk through sleeping tablets to help those that needed them.

But no…

Izuku only wanted to be one thing in life.

Just like his mother and father.

A hero.

Nemuri knew something was wrong when Izuku came home. The second he walked through the door, body drawn in a tired line with his head hanging low… She'd been there herself.

People were cruel, and they always had been. Whether you wore something they didn't like or loved someone they didn't agree with, they would ruthlessly tear into you. And like all things in life, such vile behaviour somehow seemed to fixate on quirks. If your quirk wasn't powerful enough, if it was 'Bad' or wasn't traditionally 'Good'. If anything was wrong with your quirk, any flaw or imperfection, the world would pick it apart with vindictive glee and use it against you.

"Izuku" She called out softly, a small shoot of pain going through her heart as he turned his body away from her.

She got up from the couch and walked towards him, like one might approach a startled animal, though there was evidently more care in the way she walked, in how she forced her steps to make noise as she got closer. The urge to hug him when she was close enough was overwhelming, but she somehow pushed through, simply coming to stand in front of him.

He shook slightly, like the small offshoots of twigs from the thin branch of a tree in the wind, and she wanted so badly to hold him, but she knew that's not what he needed right now.

She lowered herself slowly until she was crouched, looking up at Izuku's face, almost completely covered by his hair which hung over his head like a shaggy sort of mop.

"Look at me Izuku." She said, practically whispering.

And he did, after a moment he stopped staring at the floor and brought his head up slightly until he was looking down on Nemuri.

Normally, Nemuri would take in the beautiful green forests that were her son's eyes, the small flecks of her own navy colouring like birds sitting atop the trees.

But the purple-black ring around his left eye took her attention this time and wouldn't let her look away. It was a terrible amalgamation of purples and blues, some reds poking through in spots that looked terribly sore. It was tender to the touch, and if the way Izuku squinted slightly — an eternal grimace stuck on his face, unshed tears in his eyes — was any indication, it was already sore.

"Oh Izuku." She held her arms open, and it wasn't long before the shaking body of her son crashed into her and sent them both to the ground.

Nemuri sat there, comforting Izuku as sobs wracked his frame, knowing just what made him like this.

People were cruel, they always were. They were physically cruel in the way they beat up those they disagreed with, in those they feared or hated.

But no physical pain they induced, no blow they dealt Izuku, would ever hurt as much as the words that struck and cut at his skin like hot knives, that shot at him and left poisons deep within his body.

Nemuri would know, she'd been there herself.

Something she also knew was how to lessen the pain. She couldn't erase the pain, not even close, but she could lessen the blow it made.

And that brought her to another memory she held close to her heart, the day Izuku started coming out of his shell again, becoming the bright and energetic boy he used to be. It was the day that his posture grew straighter and held his head high.

She led Izuku through the busy streets of the mall, not missing the way his eyes strayed to small groups of teenagers talking and laughing with one another, his expression longing and deeply sad.

They'd be changing that today, Nemuri decided as she dragged her son into the nearest clothing shop.

She put up a semi-serious face and turned round to face him.

"Step forward oh brave challenger." Her voice was deeper than usual, and she tried to make herself sound as over through top as possible.

It seems she succeeded as Izuku let out a little giggle at her antics.

"Do you accept the burden that is, The Sword of Renewal." She held herself stiff straight, looking down at Izuku like one of those old men in fantasy movies with their whole 'Greetings random child I just met, here's a centuries old power. Now go defeat this supervillain for me because for plot reasons, I’m too old!' spiel. Not that she really knew what she was doing, she was just trying to cheer Izuku up.

"I do.” He said, a half-smile taking over his face, as if he was still stubbornly trying his best to not be happy.

“Well then,” She continued, moving to the rack of clothes on her left. “You must first defeat… These clothes!”

A mountain of clothes was piled into his hands, and she shoved him straight into the dressing room. She didn’t advise him what to wear with what, wanting him to discover his own style, what he felt comfortable in. Nemuri would never subject someone to that. Clothes were a comfort to her, and they should be to others as well. If they didn’t feel comfortable in what they wore, then the very point became redundant. The life of shopping and dressing one’s self would be leached out and broken if that were the case.

She could barely see his hair, merely a small cluster of cloud hardly visible above the clothes. They’d need to do something about that too. Izuku’s hair was… interesting. Like Oboro’s hair, it was part cloud. Unfortunately for Izuku, instead of simply turning into a cloud whenever he used his quirk — which also happened — it changed depending on his emotions. When he got upset or angry, his hair would discolour and darken slightly to resemble that of a new storm cloud. Currently, it was a little grey, but less so than earlier. But it was still fully cloud.

(She had never seen his hair black before, and she's not sure she wanted to, given what the colours implied)

If they were going to make him happy, a haircut would be in order. And if they wanted that haircut, Izuku’s hair would need to be more than a wispy mass of condensation.

The curtain closed in front of her and she was off then, practically running through the shop, grabbing at things for Izuku to try on.

By the time she got back, her arms were laden with clothes, a few pairs of shoes and some hats thrown haphazardly on top. Izuku was out by then, picking at the hem of his… shorts? Interesting choice.

She took in the bright yellow Present Mic hoodie and the brown cargo shorts he'd paired them with. Nemuri dutifully ignored the pink crocs on his feet pretending she didn't see them.

Leaving the clothes in the dressing room, she stood back and took a look at her son. Her hands folded in front of her and she tilted her head slightly, farrowing her brows. She examined Izuku for a moment, taking it all in again.

"It's…" She began, gesturing her hand vaguely and trying — and failing — not to laugh. "It's definitely interesting–"

Izuku's face fell a little, and Nemuri was quick to get that smile back.

"I like the shorts!" She said, pretending to inspect them further, when she was really.just racking her brain for any good points about what he was wearing. There weren't many. "Maybe not with… anything else, but they're nice!"

"Maybe something different this time, something you like but wouldn't normally wear." Nemuri gestured at the pile of clothes in the dressing room. "There's plenty of stuff in there for you to go through."

He nodded, solemn for a reason Nemuri couldn't really understand. But she left him a with few more words of advice before she

Izuku disappeared then for another few minutes, leaving Nemuri alone with her thoughts. It was cute really, that Izuku wore the Present Mic hoodie out of everything she had given him. He'd known the man practically since he was born, and yet he still worshipped him like every other Hero.

And within their little group, their 'squad' as Hizashi used to loudly proclaim, the Hero worship wasn't limited to just Hizashi. No, Shouta was subject to it too. Even herself and Oboro, possibly more so than the others.

Izuku just held them all in such high regard. It was admirable really, to look at someone and love them so much, to praise them for all the hard work they did. It was harder still when those people were your parents, the close friends of your parents. And yet he did it anyway. Sure he may have been a little embarrassed at times, but Izuku would happily rant about how awesome Eraserhead was or how effective Present Mic was in battle, whether or not either of the pair were within earshot.

God, to think Izuku had known them for 12 years of his life, and he still thought the world of them. Then again, he'd known Hitoshi for 10 of those years, and he thought much the same of him, his feelings of admiration just as strong as — if not stronger than. Yes Nemuri saw the way those two boys looked at each other,
she wasn't blind — those he felt for Hitoshi's parents.

The sound of the curtain sliding across the wooden curtain rod called her attention, and soon she was back in the present, staring at the boy in front of her.

The boy who was wearing a dark green skirt. And a black crop top, rips going up and down the side.

Once again, interesting. And… certainly nothing she would expect from Izuku. But that's what this was for, self-exploration was a good thing and a great way to cheer people up. It's why they were shopping toda–

Izuku shuffled in front of her, swallowing in a way that practically screamed discomfort. Nemuri let go of her thoughts immediately, moving towards him, arms hovering anxiously.

"Izuku?" She asked, cautiously, not wanting to offend him but hating how unhappy he seems in the clothes.

He hummed an affirmative back to her, fiddling with the hem of the skirt, his eyes focused on his hands almost avoiding her gaze.

"Izuku look at me." She said, waiting for his eyes to timidly meet hers before continuing. "Are you comfortable in this?"

"… yea–"

"I want an honest answer, Izuku. Are you comfortable in this?"

He hesitated, and she knew then, before he had to say anything, the answer.

"No." He eventually replied, shoplifting his gaze off to the side of her head, probably at some clothing rack behind her.

"Izuku," She began, "Today is about you. It's about you feeling happy with being You, and being yourself. This," He'd hand gestured at the skirt, "while cute, isn't making you happy with yourself. And do we want that?"

He let out a soft "no" in response, and Nemuri accepted it, knowing that pushing him would get her nowhere.

"Exactly. Now don't get me wrong, you chose a good outfit, it's nice!" She encouraged him "Just try to apply this to the clothes you like this time, okay?"

He gave a little grunt before awkwardly walking back to the dressing room and drawing the curtain again.

It gave Nemuri a bit of time to think about it all, why Izuku wore such a thing if it made him so uncomfortable. But then she thought of how she dressed, what she wore on patrol every day, what the media plastered over the city in every magazine and newspaper they were exposed to on a daily basis. Her own choices more than likely influenced Izuku's, but evidently not in a good way.

He, apparently, saw her costume as something he would have to take on, due to the nature of his quirk, but that wasn't true at all. Nemuri only wore the thing because it was efficient and comfortable. If she didn't feel comfortable wearing it, she wouldn't have. But Izuku thought she expected that of him? To wear revealing, and objectively attractive clothes. To show others that he was his mother's son?

It's not what she wanted, not even close.

She just wanted Izuku to be happy, and if skirts and crop tops made him happy then so be it, but if he would prefer shorts and a terrifyingly yellow hoodies that clashed with everything, then who was she to stop him?

She, who wore only soft and comfortable clothing at home, who could often be found swaddled in one of Oboro's large hoodies, or buried under blankets on the couch.

Nemuri was many things, but a hypocrite was not one of them. She would take the world for Izuku if he wanted it, and let him do it himself if he wanted that too. The point is, whatever her son found joy in, she would too. If it made Izuku happy, how could it not bring her joy?

"Mum?"

Nemuri shook herself from her thoughts, startling at the sound of Izuku's voice, but only slightly.

She went to speak, but found no words leaving her throat, her eyes finding what he was wearing and taking it all in.

The black t-shirt that lay under a checkered white and grey flannel caught her attention first. It was simple, a plain black t-shirt really, but when she stood up to move closer it shifted slightly in the light.

Nemuri moved around again, waiting for the moving image on the t-shirt to still. When it did, she was presented with the sight of Shouta, or more accurately she was presented with Eraserhead, his hair standing in end as his capture weapon floated around him. It bore an uncanny resemblance to the real thing, she thought gleefully.

The thing that impressed her most was the fact Izuku had managed to find something like that. She hadn't really looked through anything she'd grabbed, simply chucking things in the pile once she knew they were the right size, so this was certainly a surprise.

From there she moved on to the flannel which seemed to be woolen now that she saw it up close. It looked soft too, maybe she'd buy one herself. It was a simple thing though, just checkered with a few buttons here and there.

And the dark red trousers he wore with it, while plain, brought the outfit together. She also wasn't oblivious to the red beanie that sat atop Izuku's head, white curls and wisps of cloud poking out from under it.

She loved it.

"Does this– Is this better?" Izuku asked her, suddenly timid despite how he broke the silence between them, or maybe because of it.

"Well I don't know," she said, looking into his eyes. "Do you like it?"

Izuku seemed confused by the question, tilting his head to the side, almost like a puppy.

"Do you find it comfortable?" She elaborated, gesturing this way and that with her hands. "Would you wear it out of the house? If you were using your own money, would you buy it?"

He paused for a moment, a small smile overtaking his face — a tiny quirk of his lips that would have been lost on anyone else, but Nemuri knew Izuku like she knew the back of her hand. She knew he was happy — as he thought about it.

"Yeah." He replied, "I like it."

She smiled back at him asking him to twirl and give her a full view of the outfit. When he did, she caught notice of the pockets on the back of his trousers, one black the other light grey. Damn, he'd done well to match them with the flannel.

"Okay, next one!" She shoved him back into the dressing room and delighted in the way his smile grew brighter, his hair slowly turning back to the curly white mess she knew it to be rather than the cloud she had seen earlier today.

They spent the afternoon like that, trying on different outfits and clothes, laughing at some of them, appreciating others. And with each passing minute, Izuku only grew happier.

They left the shop eventually, hands full of bags upon bags of clothes. The outfits they'd bought ranged from the flannel and trousers look Izuku had come up with to some 'soft boy' items, some comfy clothes, a few pieces of hero merch — it was Izuku, after all — and one rather revealing outfit that Nemuri was proud of her son for trying. He hadn't looked particularly comfortable in it, but he was smiling when he came out, obviously enjoying how it looked on him.

That was enough for her to buy it though. Even if he didn't wear it the way he had — a dark grey — and semi-transparent — shirt with the top three buttons opened, a pair of black high-waisted trousers, and some leather boots. He wore a necklace too, a silver and black chain that hung low on his neck. Nemuri could only imagine where he got that idea from — he would still get good use out of the clothes themselves.

On their way back, they passed by a barber shop and Nemuri dragged Izuku inside, practically throwing him at the chair. And for once, Izuku was all smiles. He didn't shy away from anyone that tried to touch him, he didn't fear what his quirk might do if he let go of his control, he simply sat there and conversed with the barber, about quirk theory of all things! Nemuri didn't care for it, but she still watched and listened intently.

Of course, Izuku didn't have a say in the haircut, because if he did then he'd leave it the shaggy mop it currently was, and in the words of one of the heathens she taught at UA, "it's not the vibe".

So they left the barber shop that day, lighter in both their mood — and Izuku with his lack of hair, the sheep's pelt having been turned into a simple but effective, and very handsome, undercut — neither of them being weighed down by the bags in their hands.

That was one of her fondest memories.

She and Izuku had always been close with one another, but that day had brought them closer, her son now coming to her when things were bothering him or when he couldn't handle the pressure of bottling everything up. They talked about anything and everything under the sun, gossiping or joking, it didn't matter really.

The one thing they never talked about though was boys. And yes, it was boys, Izuku only had eyes for one guy in his life, and it was painfully obvious who that 'guy' was. If that weren't enough proof though, he had been raised by herself and Oboro, the best duo of disaster gays if there ever was one. You don't get raised by a bi mum and a pan dad and not end up even a little bit gay.

Speaking of being raised by disaster gays though, Shouta and Hizashi and their own little gremlin they'd decided to raise.

The very gremlin her son had fallen for.

"Does my ass look good in these trousers? Shou wouldn't give me a straight answer when I asked"

Nemuri rolled her eyes, throwing the magazine she was reading at Hizashi, hitting him squarely in the back of the head and cackling.

"Of course he didn't give you a straight answer," She snorted. "He's about as straight as his spine Hizashi."

It's true, Shouta's spine was more bendy than a spring, and not in a good way. The typical perch he took during patrols forced his spine to bend. Constantly falling asleep wherever and whenever he liked, uncaring of the circumstances, definitely had an impact as well.

Hizashi snorted, moving for the door, seemingly having chosen what he was going to wear for date night.

A loose white shirt, made of some type of silky fabric, was tucked into bright orange high-waisted trousers. And by god were they tight. The only thing he wore tighter than them was possibly the leather trousers he used for hero work. Though Nemuri was joking with him earlier, they really did show off his… assets. God she couldn't wait to see Shouta's face when he saw them.

She picked herself off Hizashi's bed and caught up with the man just as he entered the sitting room. Shouta and Oboro were sat on the far end of the couch, speaking quietly with one another. It looked like Shouta had actually put some effort into his appearance for once though. His hair was split, half of it in a bun while the rest tumbled down his neck and onto the collar of his blazer, a black shirt sitting just underneath. His trousers were black too, though she couldn't tell what kind from the doorway.

Hizashi had entered the room, somehow not rousing the other two men from where they sat on the couch. But the blonde moved through the sitting room till he reached the door to the kitchen.

Just as he was about to slip inside, like the spawn of Satan her friends and husband knew her to be, she called out to Hizashi.

"Y'know you were right Hizashi," She barely suppressed the urge to smirk, only the knowledge that this would be well worth it keeping her face neutral. "Your ass looks great in those trousers."

Shouta's head snapped around as Hizashi disappeared into the kitchen, an "I knew it!" on the blonde's lips. The poor man wasn't ready for the sight of his husband's ass in the trousers, as was evident as he looked away, swallowing slowly with a heavy blush on his face. The tips of his ears were red as a fire truck, and he shifted on the couch, obviously trying — and failing — to avoid attention.

Nemuri met Oboro's gaze from across the room, rolling her eyes and forcing him to stifle a laugh. She had plans though, Oboro wouldn't be able to contain his laughter when she was finished.

"Admiring your husband, are you?" She asked, falling onto the couch and gluing herself to Shouta's side.

"No–"

"I can't blame you really," She ploughed over him, ignoring his protest and continuing to tease him. "His ass is amazing."

Nemuri turned to Oboro, leaning forward slightly and smirking as she caught sight of Shouta's quickly darkening blush.

"Isn't that right honey?" Her voice was walking the fine line between innocence and teasing, light but suggestive in her tone.

Oboro took only millisecond to reply, a small moment of brief hesitation where he gathered himself before becoming the chaotic little gremlin she knew and loved.

"You're so right Nem." He smirked leaning closer to Shouta under the guise of moving towards her, the poor man now sandwiched between them. "God, the things I would do to squee–"

Shouta shot up from the couch, disappearing into the kitchen and returning not a moment later, dragging Hizashi along behind him. Oboro had devolved into a fit of cackles, having gone red in the face himself from the lack of oxygen he was getting. She would be worried had she not known this was normal.

And even then, she wasn't quite finished with Shouta.

She made for the entryway and found them putting on their coats and shoes, Shouta almost finished with the laces on his right boot. Better make this quick then.

"Have a great night you two." Shouta stood up and made for the door, holding Hizashi close so the blonde couldn't curse them with more of her teasing. Not that it would help them.

They opened the door, and Shouta went to close it but she grabbed it and pried it open again, smiling innocently under his tired gaze.

Nemuri stayed there, waiting and watching them walk away until they were about halfway down the hall.

And then, as loud as she could, she shouted

"And don't forget to use protection!"

She slammed the door before either of them could throttle her, but she didn't miss the way Shouta whipped round, eyes glowing red with a deep blush on his face to match.

Oboro's cackling had turned into wheezing laughs that probably had him on the floor. She allowed herself a little giggle at the sound, her own laughter turning into something more reminiscent of Oboro's when she caught sight of the man, sprawled out on the floor, gasping for air like he was drowning.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, laughter filling their friends' home.

Eventually, they ran out of breath and calmed down, laughter slowly dying out, their breathing returning to normal.

"Right," She said, trying to make some semblance of a plan. "You raid the kitchen and I'll get the boys to pick a movie."

And with that, Nemuri set off to find Izuku and Hitoshi and force them to watch — and make fun of — some shitty movie they inevitably picked. Some laughter still rang through her head, small little huffs escaping her mouth though she tried to suppress them.

She turned the corner, passing by Shouta and Hizashi's bedroom where she'd helped the blonde pick out his outfit for tonight. While she enjoyed teasing the pair, she did really want them to have fun tonight. It'd been a long time since they could go for date night, what with Hitoshi — She and Oboro always offered to watch him when they mentioned how they couldn't go out, but they always refused — and how their patrols always lined up. Someone out there must really hate the pair because Shouta always seemed to work late on the days Hizashi needed to wake up early, so they barely saw each other like ships in the night really.

Recently though, there'd been a change. Gaining traction had been slow going for Hizashi, but a few months ago his popularity skyrocketed. So much so, that he was given more regular hours, allowed more off days and so on. He was still a good, attentive hero, and didn't take that many days off anyway, but the point is he had the option now.

So now, months later, he and Shouta were going on a date for the first time in years. And Nemuri and her husband were looking after Hitoshi.

That wasn't a big deal, it really wasn't. They'd known Hitoshi since he was a child, they got along — as much as any teenager and adult really could — and they had thay awkard "I care for you but saying so out loud would be torture for all of us" relationship.

And, by association, Hitoshi knew Izuku. God they were like conjoined twins when they were together, they could never pry one away from the other. Honestly, even trying to go home was a struggle sometimes.

But while she complained, Nemuri was glad her child had found such a good friend. God knows he needed one, what with the shitty hand he'd been dealt in life already. She doubted that the pair wouldn't be close, knowing that if Hitoshi was nothing like his parents — which he very much was — he wouldn't have been able to shake Izuku, even if he wanted to.

She smiled at the thought, stopping at the door to Hitoshi's room. Now normally, Nemuri would knock in case he was changing or to simply give him that small semblance of privacy that the door provided. But today, after what happened with Shouta, she was feeling chaotic. More so than usual, which was never a good sign for anyone around her.

So she forewent knocking, simply opening the door wide, and letting it fall inwards.

Revealing a topless Izuku straddling an equally topless Hitoshi, sharing a messy but obviously heated kiss.

For a moment, Nemuri just stood there, unable to think as her child continued to pull at the other's lips. But then, when her brain shot back into her skull from where it had launched itself into the stratosphere, she had only one thought then, her mind somehow empty and full at the exact same time.

"Shouta owes me so much money."

Instantly, the two were scrambling away from each other. Hitoshi pushed Izuku off of him, sending the boy flying to the floor with a heavy thud. His chest heaved as he stared at Nemuri, and she found it funny how the boy could be so panicked and yet not have a proper meltdown at what had just happened.

Izuku's head popped up from behind the bed, wisps of cloud rising high above where he was crouched.

"Well at least Shouta's training is good for something." She said, glancing at Hitoshi's chest and arms. For a teenager, his muscle mass wasn't half bad especially for someone without a physical quirk. A little leaner than she thought he'd be, but that would probably improve over time. Although it depends on what Shouta had in mind with Hitoshi's training, what muscles he was trying to build, whether he was focusing on flexibility or strength.

"Mum!" Izuku gasped, there was a bright red blush on his face, his white hair making him look like a candy cane. Hitoshi wasn't any better, his own blush having taken over his face and begun creeping down towards his chest.

"What?" She asked defensively. "I'm just saying you could've done a lot worse."

Then somehow, Izuku was pushing her out of the room, having somehow chambered over the bed and closed the large gap between them in the blink of an eye. His face looked even darker up close, the blush completely hiding his freckles now. It was adorable.

"Mum"

She raised her hands in mock innocence as Izuku pushed her out the door, barely resisting the urge to break down in laughter again. God, Izuku was going to hate her for this.

"I'm not really equipped to handle this type of relationship." she said, a small giggle escaping her throat which she somehow disguised as a cough. "I'm a woman, y'know?"

There was a brief pause where the two hoys looked confused, Izuku's efforts to push her out of the room still going strong however.

"But I'm sure Shouta and Hizashi would be more than happy to talk to you both about it."

She barely saw the looks of dawning horror on each of the boy's faces before the door was slammed in her face.

There were twin screams of anguish over their terrible fate, shouts of grief and uncontrollable laughter filling the house as the boys despaired their shared doom and Nemuri revelled in the chaos she had created.

The two boys had come out of the room shortly after to find herself and Oboro sitting on the couch "watching the movie". In reality, they were gossiping on how to break the news to their friends. Regardless, Izuku and Hitoshi sat down in front of them and kept quiet the rest of the night. It was by far the easiest time she had to mind Hitoshi.

When Shouta and Hizashi found out though, Izuku and Hitoshi did all they could to escape, but it did little to help them. They just had to sit through a longer, more thorough, talk about their relationship and how they'd have to deal with it. To say they were too haunted by the talk to be alone with one another for a long while would be an understatement. There was also the threat of a surprise visit from Nemuri again. However unplanned the first time may have been, she had, completely accidentally, done it a few more times now, revelling in the embarrassed looks on their faces.

She could see they loved one another though, that much was obvious with how they looked at each other. It was somehow more obvious than when Hizashi was smitten with Shouta in second year. God, they practically never left each other's side anymore. And while it was touching and adorable, and she was so happy that Izuku had found someone who loved him the way he should be loved… It was also detrimental.

Nemuri had gone to the training camp this year. Usually she didn't, but Izuku was going, as was Oboro — and Shouta and Hizashi — so there was no reason to stay behind at home. An extra pair of hands was always helpful anyways, especially when training — and just generally managing — two full classes of Hero students.

It wouldn't be easy, not for them or their students. The training plan was gruelling and the teachers would be supervising them, under the hot sun, in the middle of the forest, all day. Nemuri knew she was being a bit dramatic, but seriously, nothing was as bad as being under the harsh glare of the summer sun all day.

Except there were worse things, worse and far less shallow things that she was currently facing.

The blazing sun of the day had faded away to reveal the night sky, filled with dark and ominous clouds that rolled with a promise of pain. And the pain was delivered, marking her body in bruises and open wounds that had her crying in agony as she limped back towards the camp.

Muscular was no run of the mill villain. He wasn't some shoplifter, or even a money launderer. He was far worse. Even the worst villains she'd come across in her time as a hero would pale in comparison to the vile beast that called himself Muscular.

Very few people that encountered him ever left alive, and even then most of them succumbed to their injuries on their way to the hospital.

But Nemuri couldn't do that. With Izuku and Hitoshi on her heels, and little Kota tucked in her arms, still wetting the shoulder of her costume with his tears… She couldn't let them down like that.

Better tears than blood, she thought after a rock sent a particularly sharp wave of pain through her body.

She pushed through it though, only a small wince crossing her face at the movement. But she had to keep going, had to get Kota back to Mandalay so she could worry about her own kids. And yes, they were her kids, despite Hitoshi not being hers. She still felt responsible for him, like she did with Izuku, and though she didn't love him as much as she loved Izuku — not that she could love anyone more than Izuku, unless their name was Shirakumo Oboro that is — she felt the same type of love for him. If anything happened to harm one pretty little hair on Hitoshi's head, she doesn't know what she'd do.

Nemuri kept running, the fire catching the dry shrubbery around her, a facsimile of the heat from earlier in the day. But this was more crushing, it held far more weight than the heat of the sun. The way the blue flames licked at the ground as they ran, how it heated their bodies until Nemuri was sure she would collapse from the overwhelming sense of burning. It was all consuming, as though she was suspended mere inches over a volcano full of hot lava, ready to be swallowed at the merest movement of the earth.

She kept running.

It was all she knew now, running. Right foot after left, down onto the uneven terrain of the forest, trying desperately to get back to camp. The pain in her side as she ran, shaking her injury far more than she should. She had no choice but to run, to worsen her own injuries to make sure the children were alright. To escape the flames.

There were screams in the forest, shouts of terror and shrill screams that echoed through the night, each of them more terrifying than the last. It gave her fuel, to run, to help. To save. To get out of the damned forest and string whoever started this by the neck.

Another shout sounded through the forest, and Nemuri continued running, ignoring the distant noise because she could see the camp–

"Hitoshi!"

She skidded to a halt, spinning round on her bad foot, not even feeling the pain as she twisted. Something went flying by her, clipping her shoulder as it did, but she was too focused on the sound of distress her son had made.

Izuku sprinted past her, tears in his eyes and a manic snarl on his face. His voice was raw as he screamed, scratchy and damaging but so full of heartbreak that Nemuri could barely stand to hear it.

She ran after him, far faster than she had before, barely even feeling the injuries that littered her body like designs on holiday wrapping paper, each of them bold and stark against the plain backdrop of her skin.

The uneven terrain became no easier to navigate, and yet she flew over it as though it were a running track. Where she previously stumbled and fell, she now succeeded, flying through the forest like a hummingbird in its natural habitat. Nemuri didn't magically get better, no, her injuries pulled at her skin and itched like crazy, but desperation dulled them. Desperation to see her son, to save Hitoshi from whatever lay in front of her, it forced adrenaline through her body, allowing her to sprint after her son's quickly shrinking form.

A moment later, she burst through the tree line, the blue fire still raging behind her, the heat at her back forcing her further into the clearing.

It was a mess, a violent dance of villain and hero, both sides outnumbered and outplayed in any number of different ways. It was hopeless.

She left Kota on the ground, hashing him to stay quiet and stay put. To run if her saw someone coking to get him that he didn't recognise, to scream for help if–

A guttural roar sounded through the clearing, and suddenly Nemuri was on her feet sprinting for the source.

Because there, in the centre of it all was Izuku, his hair black and dangerous as the clouds above him, equally black mist rolling from his palms, falling from his eyes like cascades of smoke.

He was surrounded by villains and heroes alike, each of them out cold on the floor, the black fog clinging to their skin as though it were alive. And he was screaming, crawling over the bodies at his feet to reach–

Nemuri turned her head, catching sight of something purple in Izuku's path, something that bellowed smoke, clawing and terrifying in its movement. In how it barely moved at all.

And then she saw it.

Hitoshi, clawing at the villain's arms, tears streaming down his face as his body was swallowed by the mist, his face being sucked through slowly. Slow enough for a small "I love you" to escape his lips.

It echoed across the clearing like Izuku's shouts, like his desperate screams of "HITOSHI!" As he sprinted for the villain.

But it was for naught.

Hitoshi disappeared into the mist, the villain disappearing with it. The only evidence that the villain was there at all being the choking sobs that wracked Izuku's frame, the calls for his boyfriend, the boy he loved to come back to him.

Nemuri was by his side in an instant, crashing to her knees and surrounding Izuku in her tight embrace as he sobbed, as he kicked and screamed to be let go. To go out and find Hitoshi.

She held him tight, tears leaking from her eyes as he struggled against her. She knew what it was like, after all. When Oboro disappeared beneath that rubble… It took 5 of her classmates to subdue her, to stop her from leaving to dig him out herself because that was her boyfriend, the man she would marry.

Nemuri hugged him closer, both of them sobbing onto the other under the dark light of the sky.

There were few moments in Nemuri's life that she was sure she would never forget. Never could forget.

The summer camp was one of them, as was the day Oboro was buried beneath an entire building's worth of rubble. They were things she couldn't escape from when the bad days came, her brain forcing them to the forefront of her mind, making her watch them over and over again.

But in saying that, there were good times too. When Izuku was born, the day his hair turned to cloud. They were good days she thought back on, reminiscing about the fun they had when Izuku was so young.

And she would remember this day too. She would never forget how Izuku walked onto the stage, black and green aviator jacket and matching combat trousers on, the way his black boots made no sound as he practically glided across the stage. His hair was the curly white mess it always was, ever so slightly green as the sun caught it from behind.

Izuku smiled up at her when he reached the table, taking his license in hand and foregoing the appropriate handshake for a much more loving hug. She hugged back, squeezing her son tight as he did the same.

And then she watched him walk off stage, down into the crowd of his classmates that cheered for him and celebrated his achievements. She watched him catch Hitoshi in a hug, capturing his lips in a kiss that had the crowd cooing, wolf whistles sounding through the group.

No, Nemuri would never forget this day.

But who is she kidding, Izuku is the light of her life, her son. He's the reason she is the person that stands on that stage today, the reason she became the good person people know her to be.

She would remember everything Izuku did, and she would treasure each memory with tender care and affection.

Because that is the extent of a mother's love.