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Inko stares at the blemishes on her son's skin.
Izuku continues eating his food right in front of her with relaxed posture and sleep-kissed eyes. Still not fully awake and simply stuffing his mouth with the rice and eggs she made for them while eyeing the miso soup.
There's a rash on his neck, multiple it seems. Some small in size and others bigger. She can't fully see some of the others just beneath his collarbone under his shirt, but they seem just as red and angry as the bigger one lining his neck.
She didn't see this yesterday when he came home from school; it must have been from some time in the evening.
“Izuku…” she starts with a light hiss at the end of her trailed words. Cringing at the better look she got of them. They're enough to make her skin feel like it's crawling at the seams. “You have a lot of rashes on your neck.”
Izuku looks up at her blearily, lazily. One blink, two, three and he's gently scratching against his neck before abruptly standing up.
“R-Right!” He says— shouts, really. While he turns and presents his back towards her in rapid movement like the words she spoke were some sort of a wake up call. Like he wasn't fully conscious of the discomfort until she pointed it out is all that Inko can come up with to justify the suddenness of it all to herself. “I'm- We have cream in the bathroom right? I'm just gonna go rub some on it!”
Inko hums an acknowledgement into her chopsticks while Izuku stumbles away. Yolk soaking its taste into the rice sat on her tongue while she wonders about it.
Maybe it's about time she and Izuku both finally changed their sheets and pillow cases.
The fluorescent lights in the living room and kitchen have started to flicker since the past week; Inko would be more worried about having to get them fixed if it wasn't for the fact that Izuku came back home with more rashes.
She stares at them as she fixes dinner on both of their plates and Izuku says his thanks.
At first Inko wanted to immediately get on defense and voice her alarmed concern. Hand pressed against her mouth with her brows furrowed tight.
Could it have been—?
She shakes her head to herself, she says nothing.
(The rashes are similar in their marks but they don’t quite reach the steps that would make them burn marks. And she's picked up the pattern on where she'd typically have seen them. There are no scorched burns on Izuku's gakuran, there haven't been for a while.)
The sheets and cases were changed two days ago on the sunday she saw they first appeared. They were just starting to fade— Maybe she should change the detergent?
“You shouldn't bathe with too hot water. It'll irritate them.”
Izuku's face is pleasantly flushed from his cheeks to his neck. Inko chalks most of it off to be from his bath and the consequence of its high temperature.
“Ah, yeah…”
“Are they itchy? Do they hurt?” She frets a lot over Izuku— She can't help it.
“They're okay.” Izuku offers in response. “I've been, uhm, rubbing the cream on them.”
“They could possibly be allergies… were you near any plant today, Izuku?”
“No, but it's fine! It's probably just… They'll go away soon.”
Inko frowns as she finally takes a bite of her food. The fried fish is warm and the glass Izuku was drinking from is set rushedly onto the table. The light flickers above them but neither pay as much as a quick glance to it.
“If they keep on happening I'll make an appointment for you at a dermatologist.” Inko finally states and Izuku shakes his head. “It's okay, they'll go away, I'll make sure of it.”
Another bite, another waver of the lights, another shared sip of the cold tea on their sides.
She should really call someone about the lights— the apartment management. It would be a pain to deal with little to no light because she's been putting them off so long. But she has to check her budget and costs for this month before doing so, and then she'll figure it out. That's the plan she's going to work with.
(The plan she's been putting on hold for almost two months now.)
Inko frowns. But she may want to focus on getting Izuku some relief for his rashes instead. Better to get that out of the way than—
“-idiot, stop putting them in obvious places…”
“Izuku?”
Inko raises her head up from the table. “Did you say something?” she was so caught up in her own mutterings and thoughts she didn't even notice him. Inko doesn't usually let their familial habit affect them when they're at the dinner table.
Izuku's breath visibly catches up in his throat. “I'm… I was just thinking about some assignments I have to finish. I've been putting them off lately.”
“Oh, Izuku… if it's because of your rashes I can call the school until—”
“No!”
Inko stops her chopsticks from going in midway and raises a concerned brow,
“I can't risk getting any absences even if the work is brought to me, so…”
“R-Right.” She says, almost dumbly.
(What was that just now?)
Izuku remains still for a moment before clasping his hands together and stepping out from his seat.
“... Thanks for the food.”
One light has already burned out in the living room— It's the first thing Inko notices when she trudges out into it and flips the switch only to be met with a dull flicker that cuts itself out.
She's got a much later shift today, so she gets to have the time to actually make some breakfast for Izuku for once. When was the last time she hadn’t left Izuku alone in the morning? Sure, it's in good effect he's learned to be more independent but…
Inko sighs and rubs a hand on her cheek as she brings out eggs and other ingredients from the fridge.
Well, this morning will be better and she'll make sure of it. She'll surprise him with a filling breakfast before seeing him off. Maybe clean a little and carefully budget for those lights. It'll be a better day today, and she won't exactly be here for most of the evening up to the night but a good start—
“Mom?”
Inko jumps in her place and spins around immediately. Eyes widening when she sees Izuku right behind her with sleepy, glassy eyes. One hand rubbing against an eye with his nose scrunched up in light confusion.
“Izuku, what are you doing awake so early?”
It's six in the morning— School doesn't start up until around half past eight. She's usually up by now but Izuku…
“I'm gonna get ready?” Izuku mumbles with fatigue and quietly makes his way closer to her. Inko can't help but search to see if the rashes have gone.
They have not. If anything, they look worse.
“Your rashes…” she mutters and raises a hand towards them before they're lightly pushed away and held by Izuku.
Her son smiles and it's bright even in the early morning, even through the fatigue of getting up so quick for his routine. Does he always get ready right after her?
“I'm okay.” soft, reassuring. It's not exactly enough, not for her. Not when it comes to her baby that's already starting to outgrow her with his hunched posture and lanky limbs.
“You should get more sleep,” She says and it's quiet. Maybe that's the source of the rashes, not properly taking care of himself. He works so hard. He gets up earlier than she expected— Inko makes a mental note to focus on her son's health. “You have more than enough time for more sleep, go back to bed Izuku.”
“Ah… No, it's better if I get ready now, I have to do some things.”
“Things?” Inko repeats and Izuku mutely nods. She has half the mind to question further on what he could possibly be doing at the dawn of morning. But she doesn't want to hold him back and she still needs the time to make him a good meal to at least start the day straight.
The ingredients are still sitting on the counters and Izuku excuses himself to take a quick rinse off and get ready for his day. Inko breaks an egg and lets the yolk drip itself in swift succession onto the pan. Worry and trepidation swirling in her mind like they're the oil in the pan.
Giving a nod towards herself Inko rearranges the bowl of popcorn on the coffee table; gently pushing the food closer in front to where Izuku would sit.
The lights came back on In the living room— Inko counts herself lucky with them. If they could last a little longer, she could get them fixed by the end of the next month.
She feels relieved, she feels good.
The tea is just about done and there's a light patter she can hear coming from outside the room where she can almost imagine Izuku walking to his room to get fully dressed.
There's a new All Might special tonight and she's able to watch it with him. Hero themed chips sit beside the tea that she's been making that she bought just for him. Inko could almost smile again at the look of delight Izuku gave her when she brought them from her quick trip to the conbini.
Something about special notes in them with one being an All Might themed one. Inko says nothing about her son's obsession with collecting anything related to the hero— Why should she?
Whatever keeps him happy. That's all that matters, all she cares about.
Inko pours the drink onto specific cups in which their designs already signal for who they belong to. The door leading to the connected living room and kitchen opens behind her and Izuku steps in with a small noise that announces his arrival.
Inko’s just about ready to serve the drinks and chips before she pauses.
Inko’s fingers tighten onto the tray and she hesitates for a moment before turning her head to take a look at Izuku's neck.
They're still there.
What could she even say at this point?
(Not the sheets, not the pillowcases, couldn't be allergies, she's trying to monitor Izuku's sleep time and hours, what could it be?)
There's no sign of further discomfort with them from Izuku. If anything, Inko sometimes feels like the pain she thinks they give is more phantomly felt by her than Izuku himself.
Grabbing the tray and chips she walks towards the sofa. Gently setting the food down with a hum at the small 'Thank you' she receives.
The show is about to begin and Izuku pays her little mind with stars in his eyes twirling in enrapture.
She can't pay attention with the way her gaze chases onto the fabric rubbing against his skin. She can't pay attention with the plan and budgeting she's silently piecing together in her head. She can't pay attention with her phone in her hands as she goes onto a pediatrician site belonging to the hospital she's taken Izuku to since birth.
Until she can, leery and relieved all the same.
Her phone is on the verge of turning itself off beside her from idle use, the dimly lit screen reading a confirmed appointment.
The lights stopped working completely that night.
Inko is just about finishing donning her green cardigan when the door opens from the entrance. And as quiet as Izuku is shutting it she can hear his familiar thumps and footsteps. She's already hurrying to alert him of her presence before he can go any further in his routine.
Izuku seemed startled by her head popping out to look at him. Jumping before blankly blinking at her for a moment before addressing his surprise.
“Mom?”
“Izuku! Don't take your outside shoes off, I'm taking you to an appointment!”
Izuku looks at her questioningly but abides with a tilt of his head as she grabs her purse and extra belongings. “Appointment?” he reiterates the closer she gets towards him at the front door.
Inko hums while she moves to slip on her outside shoes to open the door. Grabbing Izuku's hand to drag him out and turn the waiting lock.
“Mom, I have some—…” Izuku tries to protest with a light pout that's cut short when Inko waves her hand at him in quick dismissal. “It should be fast.”
There's a slight twist to Izuku's brows at that. Unconvinced; still he moves a step after her.
They're descending down the stairs of the apartment complex when Inko finally speaks up,
“I'm worried about those constant rashes and sores. I'm taking you to a dermatologist your pediatricians assigned us to, let's hope and see if they can find out the root cause.”
Izuku stops behind her. And she can tell from the lack of steps furthering their places on the gravely concrete ground under them. Inko instinctively looks behind her to find Izuku with his head down. Staring down and hiding his face from her behind bangs that should really be cut soon.
He mutters something.
“Izuku?”
“They're not … they're not rashes,”
Inko pauses for a moment; a guilt and terror seeping into her form.
Oh god, are they bruises? Are they really a result of bullying?
She didn't want to believe it at first— everything seemed to have calmed down since the last time she visited the school. And Izuku has looked so much happier despite what she thought was a skin condition. Inko feels like clutching at the skin on her arms as guilt fully starts to spread and frustrated tears prickle at the corners of her eyes until—
“They're hickies.”
—Until Izuku speaks again and the remaining air is fully forced out of her lungs.
Inko blinks. Blinks once, blinks twice, thrice— And then—
“W-What?”
The waterworks that threatened to fall almost evaporate in an instant. A light blush spreading on her face, unlike the furious one that paints Izuku from head to neck in dark scarlet behind his raised arms.
“H-Hickies?!” She doesn't mean to borderline shout it, it happens anyway. “You have a girlfriend?!”
“Not from a girl…” Izuku mumbles and maintains his gaze away from her. Hunching further into himself in a clear show of anxiety, vulnerability.
“I'm… I'm dating Kacchan.”
Kacchan.
Kacchan?
Inko stares, Inko shifts, Inko looks him in the eye when he looks for her reaction. “Katsuki?”
A small jerk, a small nod, Izuku hunching over in a way that makes him look just as small as if he were a child again in defeat.
Katsuki?
Katsuki?
Memories of the boy she hasn't had a proper conversation with, let alone truly seen in places that weren't at the school he shared with her son flood her mind. One who she doesn't know what to even think of, especially when it comes to Izuku.
And she doesn't mean to, but the tears well up like the aggravation and shock curling into her chest. And how Izuku looks so susceptible at the moment with glossy eyes that mirror her own—
Inko chokes.
Her whole world clicks together at the same time it falls apart around her.
Everything, everything that has happened replays like a record in her head and it's all so much more clearer now. The quickly ended flustered responses and dark flushed cheeks, the reassurances that held something more beneath them. She shakes her head and can't help the bewildered look she gives Izuku. Izuku, whose heart seems to have visibly shattered in front of her.
“Why?” Is what she finally manages to get out. Body a trembling catalyst.
“Mom-”
“Why him, Izuku?” It comes out more angry and betrayed than she meant to.
Her boy looks so pained in front of her. Inko doesn't know what to do. For so long all she's ever wanted was for Izuku to not get hurt. He already goes through so much— why does he insist on clinging onto someone like Katsuki?
Someone who burns him like he's the skin on the calloused palms that are meant for it, someone who's sneered and looked down on him even with childhood's innocence at a public playground— Someone who she's prayed to leave Izuku alone—
“I love him.”
“You can't.”
Izuku's eyes widen and Inko could swear she could see her reflection deep in them despite the distance between them. In a stirred haze of anguished grief Izuku can only wheeze the breath out of his lungs and look at her.
And the silence feels like it lasts for an eternity with tension that could be sliced to pieces with a knife. Izuku's shoulders slump when he takes a step back, a step away, a step that threatens he's already warning to escape.
That's when Inko realizes her mistake, unsteady as she is raising a hand. “No, no, no Izuku. Not like that. I don't- I don't care if you like boys Izuku.”
Izuku pauses before finally looking back at her in the eyes again with a glimmer of hope she can't let fester too long because—
“Izuku, I don't mind that you like boys at all, I—” Inko fumbles with her words as her hands move in frantic gestures. Thoughts running a hundred miles per hour with questions and concern and torment piling up on her tongue, but all that comes out is:
“But why did it have to be him?”
Izuku grips tighter onto his arms. Fingers digging deep into the flesh just behind the thin layer of his gakuran.
“Mom…”
“Don't think I don't know what he's been doing to you,”
“I've known since you two were so little, Izuku, I could smell the burns on your uniform and I saw the redness on your shoulders every time I accidentally stumbled into you after your showers.” Inko says, voice cracking and tears forming in her eyes at just the memory. The memories, countless ones filled with her son, her baby broken and bruised from the boy he's never done anything as much as admire to.
She stares at the blemishes on his skin. “Those… those hickies he's given you pass better off as bruises. Izuku.”
“I've wanted him to stop hurting you for so long, you've started to come home looking less troubled. I thought your school board finally did something about all that bullying after I— Don't tell me it's because of him.”
“He- He's protected me! He's gotten most of them to stop!”
“He didn't do that before! Before you- all-”
Inko hiccups and the tears are finally starting to flow; covering her mouth as she tries to swallow back a sob. Izuku stares back at her looking like a mirror, tears glistening under the golden hour of dying sunlight.
“Izuku,” She whispers, “baby, what are you doing with a boy like that?”
Izuku sobs.
“I didn't… I never understood it Izuku, I never truly grasped your admiration for him.” Inko confesses and the words feel bitter and rough on her tongue just like everything else. Tasting like regret and longing she knows she and her son have always shared in sentiment.
“All Might I could understand, but Katsuki … baby, I can tell you that he hung the sun to give light on this earth and you'd believe it in a heartbeat just like that.” Her fingers snap in emphasis.
She's looking down onto the ground and to her feet. Only physically is she doing so. Because the memories are finally starting to whirl into motion from the tight and quick flash they previously ran throughout her mind just seconds ago.
“Hes my best friends son… and Mitsuki has always been rough.” A small laugh, tears fall. “It wasn't a surprise for it to be the case with him too. But then he changed and the roughness grew into something I couldn't even recognize or translate to me and Mitsuki's relationship throughout all our years… and yet, you still chased after him.”
“Mom…” He looks so sad.
“What are you doing with a boy like that?”
A bird leaves its silent watch on a powerline. Multiple follow up behind it until they're nothing but black dots up in the tranquil sky nothing like the atmosphere surrounding them.
“Are you happy with him? Does he treat you right?” The words are cracked in their tone and there's an almost manic look of grief in Inko's eyes. “All this time I've been worried for your- for your rashes but they've truly been-” There's light flush dusting itself onto her face at the attained realization that hits again. But she refuses to pay it any further mind because—
“I'm happy.” And isn't that what she should truly care about? What she's always cared about? “He's still mean but he- he's trying to change. I know Kacchan.”
Too well, he knows him all too well. Her boy is loyal like that.
“How?” and her voice comes out shaky, her lips sunken under teeth as she chews on them. “How did this happen, Izuku?”
For the life of her she can't imagine how they managed to do it. She can't imagine someone as angry as Katsuki striking up a conversation with Izuku without intent to hurt, much less a confession?
He's still a child, her mind whispers. Inko doesn't know how to respond to that.
Izuku flushes under her gaze and looks away. Inko can only stare.
She can only stare at the blemishes on her son's skin.
She feels slightly stupid now, they're so clearly hickies but the thought had never crossed her.
An eternity could have passed and neither of them would have known. All that happens for the passing long-drawn moments is Izuku with his head down to the ground and Inko staring right at the lowered top of it. The hue around them changes from its golden orange light to a pink and purple that bleeds into the sky.
“Doesn't he…” she trails off for a moment as she looks for the right word. “disprove of your dream?”
Izuku raises his head, tense but thinking about it. “Kacchan and I haven't… I've been avoiding the subject of heroes with him as best as I could… mostly, anyway. And we—”
“Izuku, Izuku he belittles you. I may not be there but I can remember most reasons of his past temper lash outs as a child, the ones I recall the most that have hurt you came from your dream. He disregards you—”
“You did it to me too!” Izuku cries, Inkos eyes widen.
“You've hurt me too! You've— mom.” He says and he sounds so small. Her boy is fourteen with a heart he's been trying to mend on his own since four years old. “You were the first to disregard me.” Izuku hiccups, and he's caving in on himself like just remembering causes him pain.
“You've never mocked me, but you've never believed in me either!”
Izuku's eyes are closed as he folds in on himself but the tears flow down from his cheeks like a faucet thats been opened inside his head.
And Inko knows. Inko remembers. Inko laments.
(An old video playing the first rescue of a hero Izuku has looked up to since first sight; Inko sobbing onto her son while he hiccups with silent drops of tears falling onto her soft and pink cardigan so unlike the sce—)
How long has he been thinking of that day?
(Maybe he always has.)
“Izuku…”
“I can take all of it from everyone else, they're- they're just mean kids around me! I can take Kacchans! But mom, mom I couldn't have just forgotten yours.” Izuku grits out— hard. A sound of agony.
“I just needed someone to believe in me. Even if it was only you.”
Inko finds herself touching the soft fabric of his gakuran.
She doesn't register the small jump in surprise Izuku gives from the shock of her making her way to him so quickly. She doesn't register the tears that soak into her skin and clothes from the crook of her neck.
But she feels the way Izuku closes his eyes against her skin, weeping lashes fluttering shut. She feels the way his limbs seem to grow heavy and useless with lead that slump his shoulders and lean him towards her.
“I'm sorry,” she whispers. It's shaky but controlled, it has to be. She has to be the dam protecting her son that she thought she was, the one she hasn't been. “Baby, all I've ever wanted was to keep you safe.”
Izuku is shaking. Inko wraps her arms around him, hunched over as he is, they're almost the same height.
“But,” tremoring, accepting. “I've denied you happiness because of it too, right?”
Izuku doesn't reply— not verbally. But he knows. She knows.
Shared grief; synchronal collapse and they're both on their knees onto the warm concrete.
“Oh, baby,” Inko says; “my poor, sweet baby.”
Inko wishes it was easier. Inko wishes she can pull her words from her throat and string them along her son's head, let them be heard through deaf ears.
Inko knows it can't be done— Not easily. Not when she's the reason Izuku is the way he is.
Creatures of heart they are. Of feelings. Logic has never had the greatest pull on her until she became a mother. And even then.
Inko pulls her son closer.
“I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Izuku, I'm sorry,”
“No.” Izuku sobs. Inko holds him tighter.
“I'm sorry, baby. I'm so sorry, moms sorry.”
Quiet, dabbed on kisses. His hair feels softer than she's ever felt it be before. “I'll do better.”
Izuku chokes, and gags, and tries silencing himself by burying his face deeper. Deep enough into her neck Inko worries he's not getting any air to breathe.
“I love you Izuku, I love you so much and I'm doing what I can to support you I just—”
But Inko is selfish. Inko is selfish, so she says: “I just don't want you to be hurt when you realize things too.”
Inko is a mother.
Izuku clutches onto her and Inko sighs through a closed mouth and water blurred eyes. She hopes her words were gentle enough, she hopes her son understands. She hopes Izuku will forgive her. She hopes Izuku can forgive himself.
It's quiet from there. From rocking him outside on the grueling pavement to the silent steps back up their home.
Inko blearily thinks that she should call up and cancel the appointment she made.
'The appointment...' She thinks, 'At least I know better now.' She adds to herself. Grateful that Izuku told the truth of what those ‘rashes’ really were. Otherwise, the confrontation would have been far more humiliating for the both of them.
Inko wants to laugh at herself for not realizing what they were. They were in such particular places she should have immediately realized from the first time she saw them.
Izuku mumbles that he's going to bathe himself. Inko collects his gakuran to air out for the rest of the evening. An easy meal is prepared through her muffled mind.
It's not quiet, it's not fully static either, her thoughts.
The lights in the living room are still out but the remaining sunlight is enough with the paired kitchen lights that threaten to die in their luminescence too.
Their dinner is quiet, their dinner is eaten side by side, their dinner is heavy with unspoken questions and revelations.
There's an anticipation growing in her chest that seeps deep into her bones and bonds them together with it. Aching in the cracks with the cold water against her skin when she does the dishes.
Inko doesn't berate herself or Izuku when they both fall asleep on the couch together. Inko doesn't wake him up when she makes her morning coffee until it's eight and her boy has gotten his rest. Inko doesn't spare a second glance at the almost faded purples and reds on his neck.
Inko doesn't mention the blemishes on his neck again.