Chapter Text
The windows exploded from the heat of the fire, each lick of the flames rising higher as the destructive force grew.
The screams of the woman who had been stuck in the home resounded in the detective’s ears.
Eleven minutes. It took eleven minutes for support to arrive.
The woman might have been pretty at the start of the day. Her wide green eyes and softly rounded face were the only clues to what once could have been a person. Soot covered most of her body now. Charred flesh was still cooking, even as the healer attempted to put out the embers residing in her flesh.
No... not flesh anymore.
What could be seen under the soot was an angry red. Blood seeped out of every pore, and a white film was attempting to form on some of the areas the healer had finally managed to put out. Who knew that fire could continue burning even without visible flames?
What was most painful for the detective wasn’t the sight of the woman, or the smell of her burning skin—not even the screams of agony that pierced the air at certain intervals.
No, it was the pleading.
“My son! Please—my son! Izuku! He was in his room. You have to get him. I locked him in to protect him. Please—Izuku, my son!”
Her pleas sounded desperate. Guilty. They were broken up only by the short but intense screams that rattled her body when the healer touched some part of her that miraculously still maintained nerve function.
The three heroes on scene cringed at her cries. They couldn’t do anything. The fire was too volatile. Any attempt at nearing the flames would only lead to further casualty. They needed to wait for someone better suited for this job—someone with a strong water-based quirk.
At this point, however, if there really was a child in that building, he was probably already dead.
The cause of the destruction was being led away, handcuffed and muzzled for the protection of the officers transporting the fire-breather. He had no mark on him—immune to his own flame. His face beyond the muzzle seemed shocked. Awed at the destruction he had caused.
Most domestic abusers never actually meant to cause such devastation, after all. They only acted out for control. To maintain and monopolize their power in the home. If they went overboard, well... look at where the fire-breather was now—locked in chains and headed to a secure facility to await trial. All control lost in a single instance of overzealous rage.
Momma was going to be upset at him if he didn’t get back soon. He had been away for too long. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep on the park bench. Really, he hadn’t.
Daddy had been yelling so loud, and no matter how hard he covered his ears, the screams still bled into his mind. He just wanted to escape for a little bit. Momma’s cries were so hard to hear, and he couldn’t help her until the morning anyway.
Getting out of his room wasn’t hard. It hadn’t been for a while. The tree near his window had been climbed many times by now. Kacchan had helped him learn to climb trees just a few weeks ago and Deku rarely fell out of them anymore after all the practice he’d had.
Turning the corner, the bright light of the burning building came into view.
What was happening? Momma was in there! Daddy was in there! Why was the house burning so much? The fire trucks that surrounded the home weren’t doing anything. In fact, the fire just seemed to get bigger with each of the small boy’s steps.
“Momma! Momma!” the wide-eyed child cried out as he neared the line of police cars.
An arm snaked around his stomach, immediately stopping the child from going closer to the danger area.
“Whoa, kid! How the hell...?” The man seemed at a loss for words. His dark eyes were wide as he looked over the child in his arms.
“Momma! My momma! I want my momma!” the child wailed. The little body squirmed and tried his best to be set free, but the detective tightened his hold and refused to let the kid down.
“Kid! Kid! Are you Izuku?” The detective asked urgently.
The boy stopped struggling for a moment and turned back toward the man that wouldn’t allow his escape. His wide green eyes shone with tears, and snot ran down from his nose. An All Might onesie draped loosely over his petite form. The child nodded slightly.
Officer Tsukauchi breathed a sigh of relief at the confirmation before focusing on calming the small child. He had almost succeeded when another scream tore from the woman still being triaged.
“My son! Please!”
The little boy began squirming again, and this time, the detective could not keep his grip on the child.
Tsukauchi raced after the little form but was unable to keep him from seeing the sight of his half-dead mother.
Honestly, Tsukauchi wasn’t even sure if the kid would recognize her.
The world did not exist anymore.
Only pain and anxiety permeated reality. She knew she was screaming. She knew she was begging for her son, but no one seemed to answer her. Her ears were ringing. Maybe she just couldn’t hear them?
A cold and small something touched her arm. It hurt. It hurt so much. But it was familiar. Even with her body screaming, she knew that touch.
Inko hadn’t realized her eyes were closed until she had to force them open. Swirling lights and color blurred her vision, but Inko finally found him.
He was safe. He wasn’t hurt.
Her son. Her Izuku.
“Baby... I’m so glad you are okay,” she cooed weakly. The fight left her body for the first time since her husband had first hit her that night. “I’m so sorry, Izuku. I’m so sorry.”
Déjà vu permeated her less-than-together mind. How many times had she said that to her son in the last few weeks? How many times had she apologized as she watched her child cry over his shattered dreams?
She couldn’t let that be the last thing he heard from her. She had to tell him—even if she didn’t see how it was possible.
“Izu....” It was hard to breathe. “Izuku...” Everything hurt. “You can, baby.”
Why was he crying? Was he hurt?
“I lied before.”
The world wasn’t hurting so much anymore. Everything was fading to black.
She wasn’t even sure if the last words came out.