Work Text:
Another business trip, to America this time, he heard his father say. Izuku nodded, hands clenched to his sides, keeping his thoughts to himself.
‘Those thoughts were selfish,’ he told himself, ‘And heroes aren’t selfish.’
‘They aren’t quirkless either.’ A mocking voice snarked in the back of his mind, Izuku shrugged it off.
His mother had her hand against his shoulder while his father knelt in front of him, all broad smiles and white curls. Izuku nodded and reciprocated his father’s warm embrace.
“I’ll be back as soon as I can Izuku.” He promised as he ruffled Izuku’s hair, the boy gave him a weak smile in return, keeping his head bowed to hide his watery gaze.
His parents exchanged their goodbyes. Izuku kept his head down for an entirely different reason then, still too young to understand the appeal of smooching . And like that his father clenched his suitcase and waltzed right out the door, like it didn’t matter. Like it was easy. Izuku sighed, gazing at the beige door to their apartment, dejectedly.
Sometimes Izuku couldn’t help but wonder what his dad did for a living, did all the salarymen go on so many business trips? He’d traveled to Korea, China, England, and now America, he’d been all over the world, so why couldn’t he be here. With his mom, with him . But he couldn’t think that way. He was lucky , he supposed, that he had a father to begin with.
Afterall, Tsubasa only had his grandfather, and that must be hard. Not having a regular mother or father of your own. Or maybe he didn’t even think that way, since he only had his grandfather for so long. Maybe that was like a father figure, more than anything else.
Izuku didn’t know, all he knew was that he was being selfish.
‘And heroes aren’t selfish. Think like All Might.’ It was easy enough to say, but it was difficult to practice.
-Bang -
Izuku jumped away from the noise. Wide-eyed he watched the door for any further movement. It sounded like somebody slammed against the d-
Knocking, insistent knocking turned into pounding and Izuku began to sweat-
“Izuku!” His father’s panicked voice sounded from beyond the door.
The boy froze, feet planted against the hardwood.
“Izuku! Help me!” Shouted, his father was shouting now.
Izuku ran forward, unlocking the door with trembling fingers, and tried to turn it. But it wouldn’t budge. It was stuck in place, he pulled, feet planted against the floor for support, but still, it didn’t move.
There was another loud bang-
Sweat began to drip down Izuku’s brow.
“Izuku.” His father said from beyond the door.
“I can’t get the door open for you, Papa!” Izuku shouted, tears springing from his eyes.
“Because you’re quirkless.” His father stated calmly.
Izuku paused, nearly falling over when his grip slipped on the doorknob.
“What?” He whispered in disbelief. His father would never say something like that.
“That’s why you couldn’t save me, it’s why I can never stay with you.” Izuku felt cold. “Because you’re a useless Deku!” His father’s usual rich tone morphs into Kacchan’s higher snark. The boy took a step back.
“Papa would never say that.” He whispered.
But the person on the other side didn’t answer, only a dull thud responded, as if the person had fallen. And another set of tears fell down his cheeks.
“Papa?” His voice shook, pressing a trembling hand onto the door.
Not even a breath in response, more tears cascaded down his cheeks, “Papa, are you okay?” Nothing, he started to knock, frantic tiny raps.
‘ He left and now he’s never coming back.’
Izuku let out a shaky breath, anxiety thrumming in his chest. He spun his head to look behind him, hoping to find his mother beside him, but found that place absent. The room was dimming, the light being sucked from the foyer, sunny hues graying. Izuku’s breaths came out in short puffs, fingers sweaty and trembling.
“M-mama?” He whispered, feeling unsettled, staring down the dark hallway. The inky darkness spread from the mouth of the hallway to the edge of the walls like vines. Izuku felt the press of the cold door against his black, shoulders rising to his ears.
The inky tendrils paused in their advance momentarily before rushing forward, straight towards Izuku. The boy screamed in response, arms flying to his head to block the darkness.
-Only to stare at the dark popcorn ceiling, his breaths coming out in quick puffs. Izuku frantically glanced around the room, gazing at the familiar All Might memorabilia, free from those dark vines. He blinked, rubbing his arm over his eyes to rid them of his stray tears.
His heart rate slowed to a normal pace, breaths settling. He gingerly reached for his bedside table, taking out his trusted All Might flashlight and flicking it on. The light filled the room with yellow hues, and he took in a deep breath, exhaling he swept his legs over the side of the bed. He stepped onto the cold hardwood flooring. Hurrying out of his room, he closed the door gently before making his way to the kitchen. His shoulders hunched he glanced around the room wearily, flashing his light at particularly dark corners.
He checked the time on the oven, it was a quarter till midnight. Izuku sighed before glancing at the front door, he gulped, making his way towards it cautiously.
He stood in front of it for a moment, waiting for any sign of movement, but there was none. Izuku took a steading breath before flipping the lock and opening the door. The empty street greeted him, dark aside from the yellowed streetlights. Feeling satisfied he closed the door, flipping the lock.
‘ Just another nightmare.’ He assured himself.
Izuku turned back to the kitchen, shining his light on the calendar on the fridge; he ignored the date, instead making his way to the fridge. He opened the fridge door, enjoying the cool blast of air that hit his red face, his eyes sweeping the contents until landing on his prize. He took the gallon of milk out, kicking the door shut as he spun towards the counter. Izuku braced himself on his tiptoes, plucking an All Might mug from the cupboard along with some honey. He poured himself a glass, sticking it to warm in the microwave. He leaned against the counter, flashlight never straying from the hallway, waiting for any sudden movements.
- Beep-
Izuku jumped, rushing to take the steaming cup from the microwave. He frantically danced around a bit, before setting the scolding mug on the counter. He poured in a generous amount of honey, praying to All Might that this concoction will knock him back out. His mother swears by it, he just hopes she’s right.
Izuku wraps a towel around the mug to keep it from burning him, glancing at the front door again. He slowly shuffles towards it, taking a final glance at the dark hallway, he perches himself cross legged on the floor in front of the door.
And waits, for what, he really didn’t know.
It was just a nightmare, one that wasn’t particularly new or astonishing, but it horrified Izuku regardless. Maybe it was Kacchan’s words earlier that week regarding his father’s frequent absences. Or maybe it was that small rise in crime in Musutafu recently.
Either way, Izuku was far too old to be sitting here waiting for his father to come back, over a silly nightmare no less. He’d been told his father would arrive tomorrow morning, just in time for the party his mother was planning. He knew this, and he trusted his dad wouldn’t miss it. But yet couldn’t help the way his sweaty fingers rung together, clicking and popping at certain twists. Something kept him awake, almost to the point of biting his nails, something he couldn’t name.
“Izuku?” Said boy almost flew ten feet in the air at the sound of his mother’s voice.
“Mom!?” Izuku barely stopped himself from shouting, fumbling for an excuse. Thoughts swimming, his mouth opened and closed like a fish, completely at a loss for words.
“You can’t sleep, honey?” His mother interrupted him, turning on the light in their small kitchen. Izuku hissed at the burn the sudden light gave his retinas.
“Mom, please turn that off. It hurts.” He covered his face with an arm, as his mother treacherously chuckled, flicking it back off. He blinked again at the sudden darkness. His abandoned All Might flashlight being the only illumination in the small kitchen, it lit up the eggshell walls, casting a full glow throughout the kitchen. His mother plucked the flashlight off the counter.
She let out a fond sigh, making her way over to him. She sat beside her son in front of the door, setting the flashlight on the floor as she brushed Izuku’s bangs behind his ear absentmindedly.
“Honey, you know that your father is gonna be here tomorrow, right?” She whispered gently, Izuku glanced at her then looked away, slightly embarrassed.
“I know, Mom. I’m not waiting for Dad.” He rushed out, taking a scolding sip from his mug and nearly choked.
“Oh really?” She said, a little too knowing.
“Yep!” He struggled out, coughing a little.
“Then why are you up this late?” She continued her idle combing of his hair and he allowed himself to lean into it a little. He wasn’t too old for that right? And even if he was, Kacchan and his friends weren’t here to make fun of him for being a baby. So maybe it was alright to accept the comfort.
“-Just couldn’t sleep, Mama.” He mumbled, his mother hummed, not completely convinced.
“Are you sure it wasn’t a nightmare?” She asked gently, Izuku shook his head fervently and she retracted her hand. He straightened his back, already missing the contact.
“I’m too big for nightmares.” He muttered.
His mother stayed silent for a moment before speaking again. “Izuku, honey, you’re never too old for nightmares. I get them, your father gets them.” Izuku hunched his shoulders, “and besides, no matter how big you get honey, you’ll always be my little boy.” She finished by pinching his cheek.
Izuku blushed and squeaked out an affronted “Moooooommmmm!” which earned him a laugh in return.
“What was the nightmare about?” She asked with a smile and Izuku pouted, choosing to look out the dark window into the street instead of his mother.
“I don’t wanna talk about it.” He knew he was being childish. But confiding in his mother about his nightmare would require a lot of explaining, he didn’t want to have to go into. It was best to save her the trouble, Lord knew he caused her enough as is. The gentle caress returned to his hair as he refused to make eye contact with her.
Then a sigh, “Alright you don’t have to tell me. Just know you can come to me with anything, you know that right Izuku?”
He nodded, “Yes, Mom.”
“Good, I never want to see my baby upset, and neither does your father.” Izuku’s fingers tightened around his mug as he blew on it.
“Speaking of your father, I’m sure he would want you to get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow, honey.” His mother gently chided. Izuku took a sip of his warm milk, finding the temperature more tolerable, letting the gentle warmth travel down his throat like molten honey. He sighed, feeling the gentle tug of sleep on his eyelids.
“Tomorrows not that big a deal.” The next words came in a whisper, “I’m sure he’ll have an excuse to miss tomorrow too.” But his mother caught it just the same.
“Izuku Midoriya.” Izuku flinched at her sudden tone shift. “Your father is a very busy man; he works hard for this family. But never, ever doubt his love for you. You are the light of our lives, the most precious gift either of us have ever received. He misses things, but by God, he will never miss tomorrow!” Izuku tilted his head down meekly, watery eyes darting to his mother and regretting his mistake.
His mother had tears cascading down her face, and guilt spiked through his heart, making his throat feel tight. He darted his gaze to a particularly interesting groove in the wooden floorboards.
“Izuku look at me.” He hesitantly met his mother’s gaze, and she pressed her hands against his cheeks lifting his face to meet hers. She sniffled, thumb sweeping away the tears he hadn’t realized had fallen. Then she pressed her forehead against his. “You know we love you, right Izuku?” She whispered.
He did, he knew his mother did love him. Despite being quirkless, despite being a burden to her life, he knew that she loved him despite it all. However, sometimes he wondered about his father. The man had been a pillar in his life, a figure that was always there for a warm embrace and encouraging words. But after his diagnosis, it seemed the man wasn’t around as much, didn’t call as much. Izuku was lucky to see his father once or twice a year. And he would be lying, if he said that it didn’t hurt. That it wasn’t the biggest chip in his shoulder.
Kacchan could call him worthless.
Kacchan could call him a crybaby.
Kacchan could call him Deku.
He was used to it, accustomed to the words as if they were branded across his skin with iron. After those words being thrown at him like knives for all these years, the cuts they caused barely hurt anymore.
Aside from the snide remarks about his father… About his father’s frequent absence and lack of phone calls. About how instead of being picked up from the school by his dad, like Kacchan did every afternoon, they got a paycheck in the mail. A large sum of money being the only proof that his father was still alive sometimes.
Phone calls were infrequent and too short for Izuku’s liking. And when his father visited, it was distant. It was funny, how they could be in the same room but feel like they were miles apart. Sometimes, they talked like they used to, analyzing quirks like they used to, and his father would be interrupted by a phone call. And he’d leave the room, he’d leave Izuku sitting on the couch with his notebook poised in his lap.
He’d leave Izuku waiting and waiting and waiting.
And here he was, still waiting . For his father’s annual visit, for his gifts and money and distance. And as he looked into his mother’s fond gaze, filled with love and adoration. He closed his own, trying to believe her.
Like when he was 4 and believed in Santa Clause. Back to a time when he believed with his whole heart, that a jolly, fat man rode a sled and slid down your chimney. Back to a time when he knew, without a doubt, that both of his parents loved him. He opened his eyes, looking into the dark green of his mother’s gaze, tears slid down his cheeks as he tried to believe her words.
“Yes, Mama.” He said, even when the little devil on shoulder told him otherwise. “I know that you love me.” And gave her a watery smile, desperately suppressing the sob building in his chest.
She thumbed the tears away again, searching her son’s eyes for a moment. After feeling satisfied with whatever she saw she smiled, offering a ‘good’ in return before standing.
He missed the warmth of her hands but tried not to let it show, as he gingerly rose to his feet beside her.
Inko glanced over to the stove and smiled at the time. Izuku followed her gaze, sighing at the sight.
They looked back at each other, his mother had fresh, happy tears springing from her eyes and a fond smile to match.
“My baby.” She choked a little as she lunged forward, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. Her fingers went back to carding through his hair, chin resting against his head. He returned the embrace, allowing his heavy eyelids to slowly flutter shut.
“Happy 9th Birthday, Izuku!’ She muttered, and his grip tightened around her waist as he took one final glance at the door.
He was tired of waiting… Tired of yearning for the phone calls and quality time. Not when he had his mother to give him all of those things, to provide the emotional labor of two parental figures. Izuku rested his head above his mother’s heart, listening to the gentle rhythm and nearly dozed off.
He was content, he told himself. And he ignored the rise of pain from years of disappointment, ignored the buzz of anxiety he couldn’t explain. And he pretended that the little bud of hope in his chest wasn’t there.
Because Izuku was too old to play pretend, he knew this, just like he knew his mother’s love. But still, here he was, pretending that he didn’t feel any excitement at the idea of his father being there when he woke up, cooking his favorite All Might pancakes.
Maybe Kacchan was right?
He really was a baby .
Or maybe this was an adult’s game too. Izuku pretended he didn’t still care for his father, and his father pretended he didn’t have a family aside from one day a year.
And maybe Izuku just wanted to play pretend with his father again, exchanging their capes and masks for distance.