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Inko would love a word with whoever decided to pen her first-time-mum book. Her book includes the normal expected things, which she, unfortunately, suffers. Her ankles are swollen and the baby would prefer that she sleep rather than continue with cleaning, cooking, or whatever she's daring to do.
No one can prepare her for nausea. She tries congee, bananas, and water. Unfortunately, it usually comes right back up. Inko suffers through the doctor poking her, measuring her abdomen, and asking whether she’s coping with the morning sickness?
Is she tolerating the morning sickness? Inko’s body is willing to tolerate one thing, which is frozen chicken nuggets.
She tries. . . Inko tries desperately to maintain her pre-pregnancy routine.
Here’s the original and preferred plan: wake up, work, cook, and clean with some relaxing activities mixed in. Her new schedule is to wake up and suffer excruciating nausea. Either she can sleep more or give up and suffer.
Usually, she goes with sleep and cycles between naps and morning sickness until the evening rolls around.
Bless whoever created the open-all-night store. Few are willing to mess with lugging groceries through the dark and aggravating the day's sore muscles. Inko has given up on her normal daytime errands.
The Bakugo family, or more specifically her companion in suffering, Mitsuki was determined to keep her on a normal schedule. It's unfair to compare them, though. Mitsuki’s pregnancy is enviable. Her morning sickness is minimal. People never grab her swelling abdomen or poke her, determined to make the baby move. The main, glaring difference? Masaru’s around to help her.
Inko manages to compromise. Her doctor suffers maybe, excessive phone calls asking whether whatever she’s suffering is normal, and shuffles through the store.
Few bother coming here. Things are inexpensive with poor variety being the downside. The same men and women come here, and Inko can usually recognize them. It's rare for someone new to arrive. . . Even rarer for them to have a child, too.
Inko guesses the little boy is around three. Unruly golden curls threaten to drop into his eyes, the same pretty gold. He clings to a doll, handmade with uneven stitching. She can recognize him anywhere, though with the unmistakable flaming beard, and deep red hair, both made from yarn.
Inko tries to ignore the two. It's tempting to kick up a conversation over. . . Well, whatever Inko can come up with. Her new routine has unfortunate consequences including limited socialization. Everyone in her small friend group is working or asleep. Her routine is lonely. Surely, another mum, a ‘seasoned’ one would understand and could offer her some advice without grabbing her abdomen or dropping invasive questions.
Instead, she feigns interest in the frozen veggies and watches them in the glass. It's difficult to miss the woman. She's pale and tall, her long hair wrapped in an unruly ponytail. Some strands have managed to sneak loose and dangle in her eyes.
“I think Endeavor is cool, too.'' Inko keeps her gaze on the veggies. “I don’t have a favorite person yet, though.”
She rushes off without her chicken or a response. Surely, that's a beginning step.
-
Kaina watches the woman go.
People rarely behave as though Keigo is a person. . . They prefer to use a mushy baby voice or ignore him for her. He's small for his age, and everyone believes that means incapable. Well-meaning older women love to ruffle his curls and coo over him while firing off questions for her.
Keigo hates the interactions. It's understandable, too.
Clearly, children don't deserve personal space. Is there a logical reason for them to invade his space? No. . . They assume he’s a simple, timid boy.
Watch him run back to her! Poor thing is shy.
Kaina's heard various things, some far worse than that.
People are clueless. Now, that woman is a new experience.
Keigo watches her shuffle off and clutches his doll a little tighter. Finally, someone complimented his love for the raggedy doll she's managed to piece together rather than a lecture on dolls being for girls.
“Her stuff had lots of chicken nuggets.”
Is she dealing with a similar struggle? Keigo is. . . Well, he goes beyond a picky eater. Kaina hates attending the group which his doctor ‘promises’ will help.
Everyone in the group whines. My child is a picky eater! Here are fifty things my child is willing to eat.
Keigo’s one ‘safe’ food? Is chicken nuggets. It's rare but she can convince him to have congee, crackers, or plain pasta. Maybe, there's someone else with her struggle. . . Someone she's never going to run into again.
-
Clearly, the world has a different plan.
Groceries are a tolerable chore.
Keigo, for all his progress, continues to suffer anxiety over being in public for too long. Unfortunately, its knocked off several locations Kaina used to attend including her favorite café, park, and libraries.
One thing forces them to leave the house; it’s a necessary evil.
The group is for Keigo. Every single specialist and doctor on his team swears, promises, and vows it’s going to help him make progress. It does help in some areas. He’s more willing to sample new food and attempts to maintain her gaze, rather than watching the ground or wall.
One thing she would change without consideration is the uncomfortable conversation with families in the group. A group might help Keigo. It's a pain for her. Women compete with one another to determine who is suffering worse, or whose child is making better progress.
Kaina usually shoves her nose in a book or relies on headphones to deter conversation. Today, she's going the book route and attempting, desperately to make ‘real’ progress. Just one minute into her reading, someone’s shuffling towards her, slow and wheezing. Kaina lowers her book, prepared with some excuse for why she can’t sit there. It dies on her tongue though as she’s face-to-face with the grocery store woman who looks unwell.
“Is someone using the chair there? Sorry. . . I usually never bug a stranger. Everything else is taken, though and my legs are killing me.”
Is she completely unaware? Her legs and ankles are swollen. Up close, she realizes the woman’s abdomen is swelling with that telltale bump, and her skin, while pale and damp, has the glow everyone believes pregnant women have.
“I’m sorry. . . Do you know that you’re swelling?”
“Oh, I know! I do everything my doctor can recommend. Yet, I keep winding up with the swelling and morning sickness. . .”
Her conversation goes on and on. Her name is Inko. Can she share something personal? Mommy group might be there to help her ‘feel’ ready for the baby. It's useless, though.
“I hate going to group. I look around and everyone’s having a fun, easy experience. One woman complained her morning sickness was keeping her from ice cream, and I wanted to shriek. I can barely manage congee!” Her voice rises, warning them a few looks. Inko huffs, lacing her fingers together and looking bashful now. “I’m sorry. . . I completely unloaded on you there. Everyone I know is promising it gets better. I want to give them a shake and ask when.”
Kaina swallows hard. “I. . . I think I know what you mean.”
Maybe she’s tumbled into a dream loaded with romantic clichés. The woman's smile is real, though when she scrawls down her number.
-
They have a rule.
Whether he’s there for group or a regular doctor checkup? They never pass the maternity ward. Men and women loving a baby without strings attached are foreign to him. Keigo is woozy whenever families pile onto the elevator with them. Newborns are lucky: pink and scrunched up and oblivious to the world. They have families who love them, and he thinks, wanted them. Kuina loves him. Kuina chose him.
Keigo believes her, too when she tucks him in for bed with a kiss and hug that she loves him. It remains odd, though imagining women and men that automatically love a baby and want it. Whenever families are near? Mum tries to conceal him and declines conversation.
Mum would rather suffer a sleepless week over conversing with some stranger. Yet, there's a woman with her now. Her poor cardigan is struggling to conceal a growing abdomen. Knitting lies in her lap; a pretty, deep blue yarn. Is she the chicken woman? Her hair is the same color.
Her gaze lands on him. . . Quick and a little scared as she gathers up her knitting.
“Thank you for the invitation. I’ll bring over my knitting and create something special for him.”
People rarely come over. Mum plans and cleans up the house. She tries to pick up special food and drink for the occasion and never complains when they cancel.
Keigo can't remember having someone over when he’s awake. Some do manage to come over, preferring to show up whenever it's late and he’s ‘sleeping’
Usually, he's watching his ceiling which mum covered with glowing feathers. Endeavor lies alongside him, dirtied by the day's adventure. Whoever is there, is gone whenever Keigo wakes up.
Inko is different, and it’s a little unsettling. People love to ruffle his hair, or worse his wings, and behave as though he's a baby. Inko breezes by him, as though he's invisible, and sinks into the couch with a groan.
“I’m so sorry for being late! I intended on using the opportunity to exercise and do some walking. Mitsuki learned my intent, and gave me a long lecture. .”
Mum smiles and it's been a long while since her eyes crinkles on the edges like that. “You're going to be swollen the whole pregnancy unless you stop. Now what’s the project today?”
It’s fun watching them together. Mum’s fingers are slow and clumsy. She mumbles expletives when she drops yet another stitch. Keigo watches Inko, the complete opposite. Her fingers glide with confidence; there's no room for mistakes on her end. Carefully, slowly he inches closer and dares grab the fabric, a pretty, pale green between his thumb and forefinger.
“What’re you making?”
Mum goes rigid. Keigo’s watching the ground rather than dare keep her gaze. It’s a step, though and Inko continues with her work, as though it’s normal.
“I think it might be pajamas or pillowcases. Give me one week and I can bring something special back. ”
-
In his experience? Whenever someone gives him something, whether it's something as simple as water or something expensive? They expect something back.
Mum is determined to reassure him; it's different now. Yet, his nerves grow raw as the week drags on, and he can't come up with some rejection for her offer, or something he can give in return. Instead, he watches the ground when she shuffles inside. Her voice is. . . It’s the same? There’s no rage or shock, that he would lack something in return.
Her tone is scared when she drops the gift in his lap.
“I can make something different! I have different patterns! I thought this suited him, though."
Pajamas. . . One regular size for him and one sized down for Endeavor. Whatever material she picked? It’s far, far softer than anything he's ever experienced; a deep, dark blue with a pattern woven into them.
Thank her. Thank her NOW ! Instead, he presses his cheek to the rich silkiness and offers something more.
“Thank you. . . Do you want to know my favorite food?”
“I would love that.”
-
They develop a new and comfortable schedule together. One could argue that things are the same.
They are.
Things are less rigid, though. He would dare and claim that things are relaxed. Mum is wearing her hair down more, unconcerned when a strand or several tickles her face. Keigo loves grabbing whatever loose piece is dangling too close and picking through the differing colors.
Inko mimics him and tries to name whatever colors she stumbles upon. Mum begins going to the doctor with her, and whenever a friend asks whether she's getting serious? Her face goes red. She's only going when Mitsuki is unavailable. Yet, there's no explanation for her staying over. Eventually mum asks whether he would be okay with her moving in.
The Bakugo’s help. Mitsuki, a no-nonsense woman orders the moving company around and somehow manages to keep them from messing up his careful order. Her husband is gentler, a kind man that whittles down his walls with every single visit, and watches cartoon re-runs without complaining.
It’s difficult to recall being happier or more comfortable. Mum is happier, too.
He stumbles upon them kissing while cooking, and dancing together in the living room, a poor clumsy mess while attempting to navigate the cramped room.
Personally, his favorite? Is when the two nap on the couch together, and leave a space sized for him.
It’s difficult getting close to Inko, though. He means that literally, too. it seems as though her (already) gigantic abdomen is getting bigger, with every passing day.
Keigo watches it move and gives a tentative poke. Mum’s braver with her fingers splayed over Inko’s abdomen, and her mouth pressed into a thin line.
“Is he moving?” Keigo whispers. “What’s he doing?”
“I think he’s sleeping in there. Earlier, the doctor tried to make him show off his face, and he rolled over.”
Lately, the fridge is growing crowded with his artwork and the baby. In some, he's a mere spec or blur. Lately, though, he looks cramped in there, and Keigo is tasked with helping decorate the nursery. He hopes, whatever the little boy's name is, that he loves Endeavor, or more specifically the newly knit plush he helped make for him.
More importantly. . .
“What’s he going to call my mum?”
He kicks, as though to announce that he, too would love a say. Mum watches her fingers, smiling when he kicks her.
“I think. . . I think he can use whatever name he prefers. I don't care so long as I'm not Mother K, or something similar. I'll feel old then.”
I want to call you both my mum.
“I vote for Ma. . .” Inko teases. “We can go fancy and use mother.”
He never gives them a chance to decide. Inko wakes up, miserable with white-hot cramps racing through her body and the doctor orders her to come in now . Mum rushes off with her, and Mitsuki watches over him offering whatever update she receives.
Inko’s doing well. Her doctor is watching her progress, These things, can, unfortunately, take a long time. He'd love to be awake for the birth. . . He tries, too. Mitsuki insists on tucking him in and promising to wake him when there's an update.
He tries staying awake. Instead, he goes to sleep, watching a reporter interview Endeavor. When he wakes, there's someone new behind the desk with All Might, and Inko has a baby.
-
Izuku arrives with the sunrise, weighing right below the average with long, skinny fingers and toes. Keigo marvels over him. He's so small, and covered with wrinkles, twitching peacefully in his slumber. Someone, a nurse he guesses, has attempted to tame his unruly curls. Mum and Inko whisper to one another, too low for him to understand as he rises on his tiptoes, desperate to get closer.
“He's coming with us, right?” Keigo asks, running a finger over his fuzzy head.
“Yes, we're coming back soon,” Inko promises. “I have to stay here for a day or two longer. It’s normal, I promise.”
They're coming home. They're going to be a complete family now. He gives the baby’s curls one more stroke and makes his own promise.
“I will never let anything happen to you or our moms, brother.”