Chapter Text
Chapter 6: Shadows of the Past
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A dimly lit interrogation room with a single hanging light bulb swinging slightly, casting long shadows across the metal table. The walls reminded Inko of those of a cell; cold and smooth with some cracks in the stone.
Inko Midoriya sat handcuffed to the metal table, her face illuminated by the harsh light above. There was no clear indication of any fear or anxiety on her, something she grew well at masking as boredom or tiredness. Yet, she didn’t need to hide how tired she actually was. Detective Tsukauchi sat across from her, flipping through a thin file. His eyes always did sag in a way that showed that he likely gets barely any sleep. She always found it amusing how the male still tries to drown himself in coffee. The Detective’s eyes slightly glowed, indicating that his lie detector quirk is active. He took a sip of his apparently cold coffee and sighed, not enjoying the bitter taste.
"Inko Midoriya, it seems we are to continue to meet each other in…interesting circumstances," Tsukauchi began, his tone weary. "We saw the state of the hospital and understand how you are feeling. However, finding you at the scene of the very destroyed warehouse, you got involved in something I’m unable to help you with." He rubbed his temple, gazing at Inko with a look of disappointment. “What exactly happened in that warehouse?”
Inko's eyes had been staring into the cuffs keeping her to the table, her mind replaying the scene of the ceiling collapsing and her son awakening.
Inko kept her eyes fixed on a spot on the table. She needed to use her words carefully.
Tsukauchi set aside the files and clasped his hands, sighing. "Look, I'm trying to help you here. If you cooperate, we can get to the bottom of this faster. What happened?"
At those words, Inko seemed to recall a similar moment in her life, an interrogation from long ago.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?" the store owner barked angrily, grabbing onto the wrist that held the stolen item.
A younger Inko, around 10 years old, glanced around nervously before attempting to slip a can of soup into her jacket. She had just been kicked out of her fifth foster home, and it looked to be the last time. The only clothes she wore were tattered, her face smudged with dirt from lack of a proper bath in weeks. As she turned to leave, a hand had grabbed her arm.
Inko struggled, but the grip was too strong. She was dragged to the back of the store where a police officer was waiting.
"What do we have here?" the officer asked sternly.
Inko glared at the officer, tears brimming in her eyes but refusing to fall.
"Why did you steal, kid?" the officer demanded.
Inko growled and tried to twist her wrist free, but it as clear that she was too weak to try to get away.
“Look stealing isn’t the right answer, kid. So tell me why you would steal?” he questions again.
"I was hungry," Inko mumbled, hiding her face under her unruly bangs.
The officer studied the kid, his stern expression wavering as he finally took in her appearance—the torn clothes, the dirt-smudged face, and the haunted look in her eyes. For a moment, his rigid posture softened, and he let out a quiet sigh.
"You should've asked for help," he said, his voice now carrying a note of concern.
Inko glanced up, her eyes narrowing slightly as she quickly assessed the situation. She needed to get out of this mess, and fast. "I was just trying to get this to my mom," she said, her voice trembling just enough to sound believable. "My mom... she’s sick a-and she’s waiting for me. I didn’t mean to steal. I just... I was scared and didn’t know what to do."
The officer raised an eyebrow at her strange behavior shift, clearly unconvinced. "You’ve got parents waiting for you? Where do you live?"
Inko hesitated for only a split second before rattling off an address she had passed earlier, the words rolling off her tongue with practiced ease. "Just a few blocks away. I got lost, that’s all. I didn’t mean any harm, honest."
The officer exchanged a glance with the store owner, who crossed his arms, his earlier anger returning. "If you’ve got parents, why are you wandering around like this? And why didn’t you ask for help instead of stealing?"
Inko bit her lip, trying to keep the frustration from showing on her face. She couldn’t afford to slip up now. "They’ve been working late a lot," she said, her voice taking on a more desperate tone. "I didn’t want to bother anyone. I just wanted to get home before they noticed I was gone."
The officer sighed, clearly conflicted. "Look, we can’t just let you go like this. I need to call your parents, make sure they know where you are."
Panic flared in Inko’s chest, but she forced herself to stay calm. "No, please!" she blurted out, her voice high-pitched with urgency. "They’ll be so mad if they find out I got lost! They’re really strict, and I’m already in so much trouble. Please, I’ll just go home, and no one has to know."
The officer studied her for a long moment, clearly conflicted. "Alright, but I need to talk to them. What’s their number?"
Inko’s heart raced, but she managed to keep her expression steady. She recited a string of numbers she’d seen on a billboard earlier that day, hoping it sounded convincing enough.
The officer nodded and started dialing the number on his phone. As he did, Inko’s eyes darted to the door, calculating her next move.
As soon as the officer’s attention shifted to the ringing phone, Inko twisted free and bolted. She sprinted for the door, her small frame slipping through the store’s narrow aisles with practiced ease. The officer shouted after her, but she was already outside, her feet pounding against the pavement as she dashed down the street.
Inko blinked, the memory fading. Quietly, Inko began, "I had been called by Doctor Shinetsu about the situation in the hospital.” Her face hardened as she continued, “I didn’t believe it, and made my way, only to see my son missing.”
Her thoughts drifted back to the frantic drive to the hospital. She remembered the way her hands trembled on the steering wheel, knuckles white with the force of her grip. The streets had blurred into a mess of lights and shadows, her mind racing with worst-case scenarios. Inko had ignored the speed limits, the honking horns, and the terrified shouts of pedestrians as she weaved through traffic.
"What happened at the hospital is unfortunate, but what did you do after you arrived?” he pressed.
Her glare intensified, and she gripped her palm in anger. "I know you saw the message left behind. There was no way I was letting-”
“Message?” Tsukauchi interrupted with a confused expression. He opened the folder before him, flipping through the hospital images. He went back and forth, searching but not finding anything peculiar. Tsukauchi had been the first to arrive to the scene, even before heroes or other law enforcement could walk through. All signs pointed that attack at the hospital was coincidental and that Izuku was taken by someone else. Or atleast by someone that knew of his ability. If there was a message then this changes things, this was a targeted attack. Perhaps the same people that took Inko and her son before. “Inko, it seems I’m missing a few details so I need you to tell me everything you know.”
Inko stared for a moment, mirroring the same confusion in her gaze. “I-”
Suddenly, the door slammed open, and a younger officer rushed in, interrupting the interrogation. He urgently whispered something to Tsukauchi, who sighed angrily at what he was hearing.
"Right now?“ Tsukauchi glanced between Inko and the young officer, who in turn nodded a yes. Tsukauchi stood from his seat, excusing himself and stepping out with the other officer. As the last of the two stepping out, the younger officer offered a wink and a familiar teeth filled smirk towards Inko.
Inko caught the red glow in the officer’s eyes and realized what was happening. She refused to give him an inkling of her thanks, silently cursing him out instead.
Left alone for a moment, Inko’s mind raced as she pieced together the day’s events. Her son finally returning to her, All For One’s aid, the death of that bastard…
When Tsukauchi and the young officer returned, the detective stepped up to her, pulling out the keys to the cuffs when he paused.
“There’s been new footage uncovered from the scene,” Tsukauchi began. “It shows that you weren’t present when it collapsed and follow up details present that previous damage from the fire was the ultimate cause for its collapse. You were seen just barely arriving after a supposed vigilante stepped in and stopped the criminals who caused the bombing at the hospital and returned your son to you. There appears to be no trace of a message but the doctor that had seen it, said it only spoke of a ransom for your son.”
The key hovers above the lock and Inko knows that he’s waiting and watching to see what her next answer will be, “Is what I’ve stated correct?”
Inko gave him a look, knowing she needed to focus on the part of the statement that was most true—the ‘vigilante’ returning her son. If she thought of the whole thing as truth, Tsukauchi might see right through the lie.
“Yes, that is correct,” Inko nodded. Luckily, Inko thinks as vigilantes as neither a hero nor a villain, so she could say that All For One was closely a vigilante at the time.
It felt agonizingly long before Tsukauchi pursed his lips in agreement, letting out a hum before finally unlocking her cuffs.
Inko's shoulders relaxed, a sense of relief washing over her. However, Tsukauchi’s voice stopped her from rising.
“However, this clears you of arson and breaking and entering charges but does not absolve you of other offenses. We have footage of you breaking several road laws, including speeding and reckless endangerment. As a result, your license will be suspended for a year. Additionally, you are receiving a citation for using your quirk illegally. Don’t do it again,” Tsukauchi warned.
As he spoke, Inko thought back to the many instances she had already been involved in but left those thoughts to herself.
Inko nodded, accepting the consequences with a weary sigh as her cuffs were finally removed. “I understand, Detective Tsukauchi,” she said, her voice steady despite the weight of her situation. Tsukauchi gave her a nod of approval, acknowledging her compliance.
Before she was led out, Tsukauchi leaned in slightly, his expression softening. “Ms. Midoriya, I truly hope this will be the last time we find ourselves in this kind of situation. For both your sake and your son’s, please try to stay clear of any more dangerous situations. I’d hate to see a kind woman as yourself get caught up with the law.”
The detective motioned for the red-eyed officer to lead her out, where she received a court order and a citation for her offenses. She knew she would need to take care of these before getting out of the police department's radar. As they walked, a faint voice echoed in her mind, "Say your thanks the next time we meet," before she felt the subtle shift in the air. All For One’s control over the young officer’s mind slipped away, but the officer remained fixed on the task given. He seemed to believe everything that had just transpired, calmly escorting Inko to her next destination—the hospital.
Izuku fingers loosely gripped the blanket over his chest, feeling a mix of boredom and fatigue from the ordeal. Restlessness kept him from settling until he could see his mother. She had been escorted by Detective Tsukauchi while Izuku was driven to the hospital. Dr. Hana, who had worked closely with Shinsetsu at a neighboring hospital, checked his vitals, her concern evident as she noted Izuku’s unease in his eyes. He’s been asking how long until his mother visits, but Hana has yet to receive an answer as well.
“Midoriya, you need to rest. Your body’s been through a lot,” she said gently.
Izuku glanced at his hands, weary. “Is... is Momma gonna be okay?”
Hana offered a kind smile. “She’s fine, kiddo. She’s just taking care of some things right now.”
“Is she in trouble?” Izuku tugged at the blanket.
Before Hana could answer, a soft knock echoed through the room. Taking the distraction, the doctor reached the door to greet whoever it is. Protocol has permitted for only certain visitors to enter, so she needed to see for herself who it was. Luckily, she knew from the look of the guard that there was nothing to worry.
A small child with spikes for hair peeked into the room, his eyes also showing signs of exhaustion. His gaze wandered around the room until it landed on Izuku’s green eyes. A larger version of the boy, visibly impatient, pushed the door open further. Both blondes gasped when their eyes met Izuku’s.
“Oh, Izuku,” Mitsuki gasped, dropping the bouquet of flowers she had brought. She had heard of Izuku’s transfer and the incident at the hospital but had not been informed of his awakened condition or the second kidnapping until she managed to extract details from a gossiping nurse. Her attempts to reach Inko had been in vain, and she could only hope for their well-being until she learned Izuku was admitted to admitted to another hospital.
Izuku’s eyes widened in shock, tears brimming and threatening to spill. Without hesitation, he stretched his arms forward, and Mitsuki, mirroring his instinctive gesture, pulled him into a tight, protective embrace. The two clung to each other, their shared relief washing over them as they cried quietly.
Katsuki stood frozen, his mouth slightly agape. He had never seen his mother move so quickly, and for a moment, he looked utterly dumbfounded. Izuku’s teary gaze met his, and with a frail, trembling hand, Izuku reached out. That simple gesture was all it took.
Before Katsuki realized it, his own feet had closed the gap, and he found himself pulled into the embrace. Tears streamed down his face, though he stubbornly refused to acknowledge them. If Izuku ever told anyone that he’d ugly cried, Katsuki swore he’d make him pay for it.
But Izuku wouldn’t let him forget—not for years to come. And maybe, just maybe, Katsuki secretly didn’t mind.
Recognizing the weight of the moment, Doctor Hana quietly stepped out, giving them space. She knew it wouldn’t be long before Izuku’s energy waned from the emotional and physical toll. With a small smile, she hoped that by the time she returned, Izuku would be resting peacefully—and that the room wouldn’t be completely flooded.
After all, Doctor Shinsetsu hadn’t been exaggerating when she warned her about how much the greenettes could cry.
After a few more minutes of tearful hugs, the three finally separated. Izuku’s face was red and damp from wiping away his tears, and he noticed Mitsuki and Katsuki looked similar. He gave a weak smile when he caught Katsuki trying to hide another tear.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Mitsuki asked, retrieving the bouquet she had dropped and placing it neatly by Izuku’s bed.
Izuku rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “M’ better.” A yawn escaped him, and he felt even more exhausted now that his Auntie and best friend were by his side.
Mitsuki took a seat on the edge of the bed, her presence comforting. “Well, it’s good to see you looking a bit better. We were all so worried about you.”
Katsuki sat beside him, his eyes still reflecting the worry and fatigue he felt. He glanced at Izuku, struggling to keep his emotions in check. “Yeah, idiot. You had us all freaking out.”
Izuku managed a small chuckle, though it was interrupted by another yawn. “Sorry for causing so much trouble. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.”
Mitsuki shook her head, brushing a stray lock of hair from Izuku’s forehead. “None of this is your fault, Izuku. We’re just glad you’re okay.”
Doctor Hana re-entered the room, noting the emotional scene with a soft smile. “How are we doing in here?” she asked gently.
Izuku, now feeling the weight of the day catch up to him, gave a sleepy smile. “All good!”
Doctor Hana nodded. “That’s understandable. Rest is what you need right now. I’ll leave you with your family for a bit. Just remember, if you need anything, I’ll be around.”
Mitsuki squeezed Izuku’s hand gently. “Get some sleep, kid. We’ll be right here when you wake up.”
Izuku leaned into the bed and closed his eyes, the exhaustion taking over. As Izuku’s breathing steadied into a more peaceful rhythm, the room fell into a quiet, comforting silence. Mitsuki and Katsuki remained by his side, offering their unspoken support as Izuku finally succumbed to the rest he desperately needed.
The weight of the past few hours seemed to hang heavily on Inko’s shoulders, despite the small sense of relief she had felt after her interrogation. The officer's presence was a reminder of the seriousness of the situation.
The two of them reached the hospital's main entrance, where the cold night air slipped through the automatic doors as they opened. Inko paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. The bustling sounds from within the hospital—the beeping of monitors, and distant voices—filled her with a mixture of anxiety and depression.
The young officer turned to her, his expression more empathetic. “You’ll find your son in Room 312,” he said, pointing down the hallway. “I’ve made sure you’ll have some privacy when you get there. Take your time, and if you need anything, just let one of the officers or nurses know.”
Inko nodded, her heart pounding as she took her first steps toward the hallway leading to Izuku’s room. The detective gave her a supportive nod before turning to head back to his duties.
As Inko walked, her thoughts raced. The sight of her son lying in a hospital bed, exhausted and frail, was all too vivid in her mind. She felt a deep pang of guilt.
Reaching the end of the hallway, Inko took another deep breath and gently pushed open the door to Room 312. The sight before her made her heart ache—Izuku, resting in the hospital bed, with Mitsuki and Katsuki seated by his side. She noticed the bouquet of flowers on the bedside table, a gesture of warmth from Mitsuki.
Mitsuki’s eyes met Inko’s with a mixture of relief and sadness. “Inko,” she said softly, standing up from her seat. “He’s been asking for you.”
Izuku’s eyes fluttered open at the sound of his mother’s presence. He looked at Inko, his expression shifting from surprise to overwhelming emotion. He reached out trembling hands, his eyes filling with tears.
Inko’s eyes watered, moving swiftly and carefully wrapping her son. “Izuku,” she choked out, her voice breaking. “I’m so sorry. I’m here now.”
The room seemed to fall away, leaving just the two of them in a cocoon of warmth and relief. Their bond was palpable, each drawing strength from the other’s presence.
Mitsuki and Katsuki watched silently, their hearts aching for the pair. Mitsuki placed a comforting hand on Katsuki's shoulder, and he glanced at her, his expression a mix of empathy and determination. They both knew that this family had endured enough and that it was time for them to find some semblance of peace.
As Inko held her son, she whispered softly to him, “We’ll get through this, Izuku. Together.”
Izuku nodded, his eyes closing as he found comfort in his mother's warm embrace.
Inko slept beside her son, Mitsuki and Katsuki having departed a while ago, leaving the two of them alone. Her hand was clasped with her son's, a tangible reminder that he was still there beside her. The steady rhythm of his breathing was a soothing lullaby, and she drifted into a dream, a cherished memory from when Izuku was only an infant.
In her dream, the soft, golden light of a late afternoon filled the room. Izuku's giggles reverberated around her as she tickled his tiny belly, his laughter pure and infectious. His chubby hands reached out to grab at her fingers, his grip surprisingly strong. She could feel his warmth, his small body wriggling with joy.
"All Might!" she exclaimed, her voice filled with playful excitement. Izuku's eyes sparkled, and he let out a delighted squeal, his legs kicking in the air. She continued, naming heroes one by one—"Endeavor! Best Jeanist! Mirko!"—each name drawing a new burst of laughter from her son.
Inko's heart swelled with love and pride. These small moments were treasures, etched deeply into her memory. She remembered the way Izuku's eyes shone with innocent wonder, his toothless smile lighting up his entire face. He was her little hero, even then, filled with boundless energy and an unquenchable spirit.
She could smell the faint scent of baby powder and feel the softness of his tiny onesie beneath her fingers. The room around them was filled with the gentle hum of a lullaby playing softly in the background, mingling with Izuku's laughter to create a symphony of pure happiness. She leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his forehead, feeling the warmth of his skin against her lips.
"Who's Mommy's little hero?" she cooed, her heart melting as Izuku's bright eyes met hers. He gurgled in response, his little hands reaching up to touch her face. She captured one of his hands, marveling at the tiny fingers, the perfect little nails. Everything about him was so small, so precious.
She savored these moments when Izuku was so small, his world simple and filled with love. She remembered the way his eyes would follow her every move, the trust, and adoration in his gaze. She cherished the times she would rock him to sleep, his soft breaths a reassurance that he was safe and content.
The dream shifted slightly, and she found herself cradling him in her arms, his head nestled against her chest. She could feel the gentle rise and fall of his breathing, his tiny body relaxed and secure in her embrace. She hummed softly, the melody of an old lullaby, her voice barely a whisper as she swayed gently.
"Sleep, my little hero," she whispered, her voice filled with tenderness. "Mommy's here. Always."
Suddenly, the dream shifted, and her son was no longer in her arms. She looked around, the living room morphing into the warehouse where the recent ordeal had taken place. Instead of seeing Aku and her son, she saw another familiar figure. This person's face was blurred, and their words sounded like static.
Inko's heart tightened. She never remembered meeting her mother, but she recalled her dark hair and beautiful smile. Her mother’s face was always elusive, forever out of reach in her memories. Another figure stood beside her mother, someone Inko recognized all too well—the police officer who had been a father figure to her during her difficult childhood until the day he was taken from her.
All too suddenly, the dream shifted once more at the sudden recollection of the memory. Her eyes widened at the realization of what was happening, and she let out nervous breaths, trying to steady herself.
“No, no, no! Stop! I don’t want to see this!” she cried out, but the dream had a will of its own.
The scene shifted abruptly, placing her inside a small home, specifically a disheveled kitchen. Inko was no longer standing but crouched on the ground, a lifeless body slumped into her lap. The police officer, bleeding from a wound in his chest, wore a weak smile even as his eyes grew dazed and lifeless. Tears streamed down her face as she realized, with horror, that she was screaming. Despite her attempts to silence her screamss, her form shrunk and grew smaller. She sat as her 10-year-old self, clinging to the man in utter anguish.
“Why am I seeing this?” she sobbed, her voice echoing.
“It wasn’t my fault! I didn’t mean for this to happen!” The echo returned, her own anguished words from the memory repeating.
Flashes of a knife and blood splattering across the room surged through her mind. The fragmented memories resurfaced, but she squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to block them out.
“Stop!” she shouted, her voice breaking the cycle of flashes. The weight on her lap felt lighter, and the kitchen was eerily silent except for her quiet sniffs and whimpers. She could still feel the blood on her small hands, the warmth of it grew colder. Memories of the police officer—his kindness, his unwavering love —flooded back.
She tried to stifle her whimpers. The last person who had cared for her was now gone, and she felt utterly alone. Her breathing grew shallow, panic rising as her mother’s blurred face and the officer’s kind smile seemed forever out of reach. None of the foster homes wanted her, or her uselessly weak quirk. So she ran away. Being alone felt safer, a way to disappear without anyone noticing.
Inko tried to stand, but her legs felt heavy, anchored by the weight of her grief and fear. The memories she had long suppressed surged forward, overwhelming her with their intensity. The pain was as raw as the day it happened, leaving her feeling powerless.
The dream began to fracture, bits and pieces falling away like shattered glass. The darkness of her past leaked through and it was soon becoming difficult to breathe. It felt like the darkness was taking hold of her and reminded her of her guilt and of how she has nobody.
Just as she was about to succumb to the darkness, a soothing sound made her pause. She realized the sound was a voice. It was calling to her.
She had almost forgotten she wasn’t alone.
Slowly, she removed her hands from her face and opened her eyes to find that it wasn’t as dark as she thought it was.
“Momma?” Izuku’s concerned voice reached her ears. She turned her head to see her little boy standing there, his head tilted in worry. Inko gasped, and she took a deep, clear breath. Her body felt lighter as she stood up, moving swiftly to lift her son into her chest, her tears soaking into his clothes.
“Momma, are you okay?” he whispered.
“Yeah, I’m alright, green bean,” she replied, feeling an overwhelming sense of relief.
She felt a gentle tapping on her face, pulling her from her slumber. Inko blinked awake to find Izuku staring at her with a concerned expression, his small hand still holding onto hers. She noticed the dampness on her cheeks and realized she had been crying in her sleep. She quickly wiped her face and smiled at her son. “I’m alright, thanks for waking me up.”
Izuku pursed his lips thoughtfully before reaching up to touch her face. “I’m here now, Momma. You won’t be alone.” His words, though simple, touched her deeply. Inko’s heart swelled, and she reached out to pull him closer. Izuku nestled against her chest, his small form fitting perfectly in her arms.
“I love you, Mama,” he whispered.
Inko’s already puffy eyes filled with tears once more. She held him tighter, her heart full. “I love you too, Izuku. Always.”
Inko could feel the steady rise and fall of his small body against her own. The warmth of his embrace grounded her, dispelling the remnants of the haunting dream. She closed her eyes, savoring the comforting presence of her son and the peace it brought her.
Izuku looked up at her with a mix of curiosity and concern. “Momma, are you sure you’re okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with innocence and worry.
Inko nodded, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “I am now,” she said gently. “Having you here makes everything better.”
Izuku’s face brightened with a smile. “I’m glad,” he said, resting his head against her shoulder. “I don’t want you to be sad.”
Inko’s heart ached at the tenderness in his voice. She gently rocked him, whispering words of comfort. “I know, sweetheart. And I promise, I’ll be okay. Just having you here with me helps more than you know.”
The room around them seemed to take on a softer, warmer glow. The harsh memories of the dream faded into the background, replaced by the soothing presence of her child. Inko took a deep breath, her tension slowly melting away as she focused on the here and now.
Outside the window, the first light of dawn began to filter through the curtains, casting a gentle glow over the room. The hospital’s sterile environment was momentarily forgotten as the warmth of the morning light seeped in, adding a sense of new beginnings.
Izuku shifted slightly, looking up at his mother with sleepy eyes. “Can we stay like this for a while?” he asked.
Inko smiled through her tears, nodding. “Of course. We can stay like this for as long as you need.”
They stayed together in that tender embrace, the quietude of the early morning wrapping around them like a protective cocoon. As she held her son close, she allowed herself to cherish the peacefulness of the moment. Together, they drifted off to sleep, her dreams now lighter.
End of Chapter 6