Chapter Text
It was 11 PM by the time Inko stumbled through the door of her apartment. As exhausted as she was, as drained as working two jobs made her, she was happy to be home. Her well-behaved, delightful little boy… well, perhaps not so little anymore. He was just taller than his momma now. But only just. Still a balm to her soul, and he’d always be her little boy.
Her little boy sat at the kitchen/dining room/living room table in their cramped apartment, a smile spreading ear-to-ear as she shuffled her shoes off.
“We got a package from Dad!” he announced, lofting the small brown cardboard box in the air.
“Is that why you’re up past your bedtime?” she halfheartedly tried to scold.
Her little boy just grinned, fingering the box-cutter he’d prepared.
She made an exaggerated sigh, letting him know that he’d won. “But after this, it’s straight to bed, Izuku.”
He tore into the packaging as fast as he could, his slim fingers reminding her of her absent husband’s. A quiet, sad fear lurked in her heart as the gifts inside were dispersed - did her son even recall his dad’s voice? This was all he knew of his father, really. Just packages with a wad of cash and some trinket or treat from America.
She pulled out the envelope while Izuku busied himself with a box of exotic fruit-filled chocolate. She counted to herself while Izuku read the message explaining the fruit was a small purple berry only found at high elevations that couldn’t be farmed, and berry-pickers had to go up into the mountains and forage for them the old fashioned-way, dodging bears and mountain lions!
Her tally told her this was three months of rent money. Izuku was in a growth spurt, he’d need new shoes soon and probably a new middle school uniform. Factor in the groceries, toiletries, and a little for wiggle room, they’d be okay. For three more months. Most of Hisashi’s earnings were going to him keeping an apartment in the states and feeding himself. The more she looked at it, the more this damn overseas job was a trap that they couldn’t struggle free of. His contract still had four more years before he could come home permanently.
In the back of the wad of cash was a handwritten letter in Hisashi’s orderly handwriting. She didn’t take it out. Her son didn’t need to see his momma crying over missing her lover right now.
“Mom, open wide!” Izuku commanded.
The moment she obeyed, her mouth filled with a soft milk chocolate that gave away to a sweet and tart fruity explosion in her mouth.
“Oh m_!” Her voice was garbled by the fruity chocolate.
Her little boy laughed, putting the rest of the chocolates away for later in the cupboard by the boxes of cheap tea. He went to bed happy, licking chocolate off his fingers.
He didn’t know it yet, but he’d treasure this memory forever.
When the morning started, Izuku felt fine. He got up early, checked out a new hero’s debut, and barely made it to school on time, arriving out of breath.
At school he made himself as small as possible. It didn’t hurt that he was already shorter than a lot of the other kids. And quirkless. And generally not worth their time. It was lonely, but it was better than being picked on.
The trouble started the period before lunch, during their “History of Quirks” class. It was the same set of stories that they learned every year. A glowing baby in China. Civil unrest. The United States being the first to make vigilantes into officers of the law, with hero laws. Japan following suit. Japan is therefore a nice stable place to live when much of the rest of the world still fights quirk wars. Aren’t you happy to be Japanese?
Nausea burned in his stomach. He started tapping his finger on the desk, focusing on it, waiting for the nausea to go away. It didn’t. Instead, it spread to his chest, like hot spears ripping through his body. Something was wrong. Really, REALLY wrong.
He jumped up. “Sensei, may I go to the nurse’s office?”
The quick movement sent the classroom spinning, and he grasped his desk to keep himself from falling over. Behind him, he could hear Katchan laughing at him and his pained face.
The teacher didn’t see the humor in it though.
“If you find this so funny Bakugou, take Midoriya to the nurse’s office,” she snarled, her cat-tail lashing. Everyone knew to obey Nyana-sensei’s tail. That didn’t stop Katchan from muttering obscenities under his breath while he stomped up the aisle to grab Izuku’s arm.
“If he vomits, you’ll need to clean it up,” Nyana-sensei purred.
The pain impaling his chest moved to his back, and he stumbled, making Katchan yell something that Izuku couldn’t parse, because the pain blocked everything out.
Then relief. Like whatever had been bottling it up inside him had just popped the cork. He blinked, his legs suddenly not feeling anymore, and looked up at Katchan’s face.
“You’re bleeding,” he mumbled, before slipping away from Katchan’s horrified grip.