Chapter Text
Izuku had a gentle quirk.
When he was sad, it pulled a toy to him.
When he was cold, it covered him up.
When it was too dark, it lit up the room.
Some would say that spatial manipulation wasn’t a powerful quirk to become a superhero.
Although Izuku disagreed, he would soon find out they were right.
Izuku was in his room, watching All Might movies for the millionth time, when something happened.
His mom came to check on him when the floor… changed.
By reflex, she pulled him close, burying his tiny face into her shoulder while the rest of the room fell apart.
The light faded almost completely.
Darkness consumed everything except for the faint glow shining from the crystals that had replaced the wall.
The floor became earth.
They ended up in a sort of cradle made of crystal, glowing walls surrounding them on every side but one.
Inko looked around desperately, searching for any sign that all of this was just an illusion—
the house, the light, her life.
Her son cried, confused and terrified.
Everything is going to be okay, Izuku.
She sat down with him on the crystal bed.
She was going to wait.
The illusion could fade.
Everything could go back to normal.
But every human has a time limit for how long fear can beat boredom.
And hunger.
When she realized none of it would disappear, she decided to look around.
She wasn’t an expert, but as far as she knew about caves, there should only be rock and dirt for kilometers.
Nothing alive.
Nothing edible.
She had nothing to light the way, but fortunately, the crystals glowed as far as she could see.
Holding hands with her son, she walked for a while.
The darkness seemed gentle, complemented by the soft blue shine of the crystals.
Then, a sound.
Metal scraping glass.
Slow.
Deep.
Terrible.
The roar reverberated through the cave, traveling from Inko’s ears down her spine.
She turned her head.
Slowly.
And almost proved right there that this had to be a nightmare.
The creature… swam through the air.
A monstrous fish, its teeth forming a cage out of its jaw.
Its eyes were completely white, announcing its blindness.
“Izuku,” Inko barely whispered. “Mom needs you to be brave and run as fast as you can, okay?”
“But what about you, Mommy?” Izuku stared at her, wide-eyed and tearful.
“Mom will get to you, okay?” She smiled—small, fake.
“Run. Now!”
Izuku ran beneath the fish.
Surprised, it took too long to react.
It turned toward the boy, but was pushed aside by some kind of pressure in the air, straight toward Inko.
“I’m right here!” Inko shouted, using her magnetic quirk to pull the monster toward herself.
Izuku ran back to the crystal cradle.
Crying.
Alone.
Only to find his mother… lying down.
Sleeping.
“M-mom? How did— I thought—”
Inko moved slightly. Then she woke up in shock.
“IZUKU!”
“I’m right here, Mom,” he sniffled, smiling.
“B-but how? I sh-should be—” She started crying.
Izuku approached slowly and hid under her arms.
She held him like he might disappear any second.
“Okay, okay. What kind of mom am I, who needs to be comforted by her baby?”
She laughed weakly, wiping her eyes.
The monster discouraged her from looking for food again.
For a while.
Until her son’s stomach growled.
She grabbed a pointed crystal.
And went out.
Alone.
She followed a new path through the glowing maze until she found a sparkling bush—
like a Christmas tree, with blue orbs the size of apples hanging from its branches.
She bit into one.
Waited.
Delicious.
She filled the hem of her shirt with the fruits.
Came back—
Only to find two hungry eyes behind her.
The impact.
The scream.
The bite.
Darkness.
And then—light.
Izuku was over her, staring.
And the fruits were above her, restored along with her body.
“Eat, Izuku. They’re good.”
He took one, suspicious.
He bit.
“I hope they’re not radioactive,” he said with his mouth full.
Inko laughed.
She ate one too.
How long had passed?
Weeks?
Months?
They couldn’t tell.
Izuku and Inko fell into a routine.
She would go out looking for food, die, and return to him.
She taught Izuku: safe routes, monsters’ weaknesses, how to deal with the leeches that clung to everything except the glowing crystals.
They discovered that eating a lot of fruit made them shine.
And any injury—every one of them—would vanish after they died.
It’s a trap, Inko thought.
This place wants us to keep dying.
Izuku had a natural talent for mapping the place because of his quirk. It came easily to him.
But Inko avoided bringing him along.
She noticed the changes.
With each death, Inko came back less human.
Bright eyes.
Claws.
Teeth that grew wild.
And one time… she forgot her son’s name.
When the voices finally came, she wasn’t surprised.
Surrender yourself.
Join us.
Bring your son.
K i l l y o u r s o n.
It wouldn’t work.
She would die a million times first.
But the place didn’t only bring horror.
One day, Inko woke up floating near the ceiling—like the monsters.
Scared at first, she only relaxed when she heard Izuku laugh.
She picked him up and spun with him through the air.
His first laugh in so long.
She hoped it would be the first of many.
It wouldn’t be.
Izuku didn’t die as much as Inko. So he wasn’t as… molded.
He had no claws.
No fangs.
His eyes didn’t shine.
And he couldn’t fly.
He was still human.
Fragile.
Then, while running from a monster, he couldn’t escape the ledge.
It’s okay. If I die, I’ll come back home.
Not noticing he already called the only safe place he knew “home”, Izuku fell.
He didn’t die.
He hit the floor.
The crack of his spine echoed louder than the monster’s roar.
Inko flew down after killing it.
“MOM!” Izuku screamed. “It hurts! It hurts so much!”
“I-it’s okay. I can make the pain go away, okay? It’ll hurt for just a second.”
She raised the crystal stake.
Hesitated.
Only for a second.
And drove it down.
Easy.
Too easy.
Killing her son should never be that easy.
In the next days, Izuku still comforted her, thanking her for ending the pain.
But she noticed.
He flinched when she came close.
He looked uncomfortable when he met her eyes.
He felt fear when, for a moment, he confused her with a monster.
Inko was losing herself.
They both knew it.
And as soon as he was alone… Izuku would be the next.
His fangs were already growing.
His eyes shimmered faintly.
His quirk stretched space too much, responding to fear.
I have to take my son away from here.
She thought it when she woke.
When she slept.
When she hunted monsters and ate their flesh raw.
I need to take my son away from here.
She kept jumping from cliffs to strengthen her connection to the place, to open the portal.
If I manage to open one, I can send him somewhere safe.
She thought it when she forgot his name.
When her hands no longer looked human.
When the voices laughed.
And then, finally—
Izuku disappeared right in front of her.
Gone.
Far away.
Somewhere safe.
The portal had opened.
And he was gone.
Alone.