Chapter Text
Inko was a foolish woman.
Foolish enough to make a deal for some money and her freedom instead of looking for help, and foolish enough to think she could manage not loving her own son. Izuku, so she named him, was difficult not to love.
And perhaps she was even foolish enough to still tell herself that she would manage; she could make herself stop loving him as quickly as she started loving him when she saw him on the day he was born.
The nausea in her stomach was barely bearable when she simply watched as Hisashi grabbed her son by the wrist, slapped his hand on their new (and now fireproof) coffee table and leaned back his head to prepare to spit fire onto his small, delicate hands.
Only minutes earlier, Izuku had been nearly bouncing with excitement.
He always was whenever his father was home.
His small hands, now cramping and trashing while trying to escape Hisashi’s hold, had been grabbing his shirt to avoid fidgeting around with internalized energy. Hisashi had shown him several times before what the consequences were if he was too fidgety around him.
The small boy’s free hand was now grabbing his pants trying to prepare for the oncoming pain. Inko smiled slightly when he looked in her direction; she wasn't sure why.
Maybe to comfort him? Or maybe to unsettle him further.
She told herself that perhaps Izuku would learn to hate her and Hisashi this time.
The knowledge that she would not let that happen, that she would talk him into forgiving them again so she could love him back from a safe distance went ignored.
Izuku screamed when the flames did eventually hit his hand, struggling against the hold, and Hisashi shoved him away by his arm harshly enough that his small body stumbled and fell to the floor, his head hitting the floor unkindly.
The nausea returned threefold when Inko realized that she hadn't even thought of catching him.
Before Hisashi could do anything else, Izuku sprang back up and ran away, his steps quiet enough that even in the silence of their home it was hard to hear them after he left the living room.
Inko wasn't sure where he was now. Her sweet bundle of joy had gotten good at being quiet at home, hadn't he?
She truly was a despicable human being.
Hisashi sneered, then plopped down onto the sofa with a grunt of discomfort. She hoped he had some pains in joints and his back like she had sometimes. He deserved it.
He grabbed the TV remote from the coffee table; the TV remote he would now be searching between the sofa cracks, or perhaps be sitting on had Izuku not grabbed it just before Hisashi had been about to sit down earlier and try to give it to his father, smiling to brightly at what he had thought was an act of kindness.
She wondered how she had ever fallen in love with Hisashi.
"Leave him be", he scoffed, and switched through the TV channels. "Maybe he'll actually learn something this time."
Inko nodded, then sighed. "Do you want to eat dinner on the sofa?"
Her husband- and wasn't that funny, the man she despised the most was also the one she was married to- glanced at her, then nodded once.
She turned on her heels, thankful to escape the stiff atmosphere of the room.
Not even a minute later while she was pouring Katsudon into a bowl, Hisashi spoke up again loud enough to be heard over the TV. "His appointment is soon, right?"
"In three days, yes", Inko sighed again. "The wait is killing you, isn't it?"
Hisashi changed the channel.
"I just figured I’d start making preparations."
Another channel.
"In case he turns out useless."
Inko chuckled. She felt unnerved; five years now she had been preparing for that day. But now that it was getting closer, she found herself unwilling to actually let go of her child.
She brought Hisashi his bowl, then sat down onto the sofa with some distance to him. The cushions were old and in need of exchanging.
That would have to be done once Hisashi paid her for the deal they struck.
They spent the whole rest of the day like that; and in the night Hisashi excused himself and left again, saying he'd return the day after the appointment.
Inko closed the door behind him, turned around and bumped into the umbrella holder. There never was any place for that thing in their small entryway; perhaps she should just look for a new flat altogether once this deal was over with and she could divorce Hisashi.
One with only one bedroom, and no space for a child so she could ignore the burning hole in her heart she felt whenever she thought of Izuku’s departure.
Right. Izuku.
Her shoulders slumped.
"I know you're awake!", she called and soon a green haired head popped up from the hallway, shy and hesitant. His face was red and swollen from crying, his hand cradled to his chest with his uninjured hand over it to protect it instinctively.
"Come on", she started walking towards the bathroom, hearing the quiet patting of Izuku’s naked feet on the wooden floor.
"Is Dad gone already?"
Inko nodded.
"I didn’t even say goodbye."
He sounded upset, or maybe his voice was simply worn out from all the crying he had undoubtedly been doing.
Inko sighed in annoyance. It was easier to be annoyed and distant when Izuku was actually doing something she did not want from him. Like care about a father who really was a monster.
"He'll be back by Thursday. Now sit."
She fell into routine; as Izuku climbed on the closed toilet seat- he was very small for his age- she got a first aid kit, opened it and gathered the things she needed.
Burn cream, which she put in there soon after Izuku was born, gauze, disinfectant, band aids.
"You know why he had to punish you, right?", Inko asked in that scolding tone that she genuinely despised. But it was effective.
Izuku nodded. "'m not supposed to touch the TV remote."
"So don't do it."
As she wrapped Izuku’s hand, the back of which was now charred, disfigured and discolored with burns that would not heal for a long time, she noticed several cuts and bruises on his legs as they dangled from the toilet, gently swinging back and forth as if he was happy.
Normally she would scold him, make him kneel on salt so he would remember not to do that.
But today she looked at her son and just felt the deep rooted pain of losing him in a few days’ time, so she decided that he could have this for once.
"Did you play with Katsuki again today?", she asked instead. The son of her friend, with whom she had lost contact long ago, had taken a liking to Izuku and babysat him every now and then. Inko wanted to let Izuku have that, since playing with Katsuki protected Izuku from the cruelty of the children his age he was oftentimes a victim to, but the pure fear of someone finding out made her punish him with words and ignorance whenever he admitted that he was at their house and had talked to Mitsuki.
Izuku nodded. "He says that only really cool quirks come in this late."
"Well, Katsuki doesn't know what he's talking about."
Izuku grew quiet, and Inko sighed.
Now torn between comforting her son and not wanting to build up any expectations so she didn't have to deal with Izuku's dissapointed crying if his quirk turned out to be useless and weak, she decided to stay quiet as she finished up the wrapping of his hand and began packing everything away again.
"Go to bed", she scolds. "I won't be home tomorrow, so make sure to leave the back door open if you go play with Katsuki again."
Izuku brightened up at that so much that Inko huffed with fondness. She could make him happy these last few days he'd spend living with her, at least; and then she could forget all about his existence with a good conscious.
(When did lying to herself become so habitual?)
Izuku hopped off the toilet seat and ran out of the bathroom and (hopefully) towards his bedroom and Inko was left alone in the bathroom, staring into the mirror.
She looked young.
There were no bags underneath her eyes, no blemishes to her skin, and her hair was healthy.
She looked the complete opposite of Izuku, whose injuries on his legs she hadn't even addressed.
Inko knew he was getting bullied by other kids his age.
She knew his only friend was a middle schooler who probably suspected her of domestic abuse.
She knew he never slept through the night, tormented by nightmares and pains, and that he would be kept awake by the newly acquired burn on his hand that night.
And yet she herself slept soundly, only wallowing in self-pity every now and then.
She justified her ignorance with an attempt at gaining distance to her own child, hoping that she could stop the love she felt if she just stopped physically caring for him.
She justified her attempt at distance with...
With what, money? Her own freedom in exchange for that of her child?
She truly was despicable, wasn't she?
When the appointment finally rolled around, Inko wasn't sure she felt anything anymore. Her heart felt hollowed out; simply a pitiful amount of grief remaining as she looked at Izuku, so excited that he kicked his legs in his seat.
"What did we say about kicking our legs?", Inko scolded, and even she noticed that her tone sounded so much more kind, gentle than it had ever before.
Too gentle to scold anyone, really; but her sweet, innocent bundle of joy nodded as if properly scolded and apologized.
In the doctor’s office, her bundle of joy nearly exploded when the doctor told them that he had an empath quirk. The doctor, trying to adjust to the child's joy, listed in a very childish manner the properties and possibilities with such a quirk as Inko felt the pit n her stomach grow.
He told him how he could help people with their emotions, the part of people that nobody else can reach.
Told him that he could become an everyday hero; and Izuku hadn't even registered the rejection of his dream of becoming a limelight hero, instead just hearing the word hero.
His cheers were something that haunted Inko until an hour later, when they were back home and Izuku was taking his shoes off and she was just standing there, staring into the house.
She had to tell him.
Tell him that his quirk was no good, that he was useless and that his parents sadly couldn't love him anymore because of that.
That his dear father had to give him away now because of that, and his dear mother would never wrap his wounds again because he was simply useless.
"Izuku", she called out to the overexcited child who was about to run to his room. Izuku whirled around, facing her with such a bright grin that Inko felt her heart squeeze.
"I...We have to talk, go sit on the sofa."
Izuku nodded, then raced to the sofa and wow, didn't it hurt what a bit of excitement could do to her child.
His steps were loud, he threw himself on the sofa with joy she had never witnessed before coming from him.
She could have, but she had always scolded him.
She didn't today.
Instead she slowly followed him, her shoes still on her feet, and sat down next to him.
"Your quirk...", she started, then swallowed. "The doctor lied."
Izuku's smile froze.
"Your- your quirk is not...I'm sorry, baby, but you can't be a hero.” Inko looked up, towards the turned off TV, and didn't dare look back down as she continued. The TV was angled ever so slightly upwards, and inside the reflection she saw the old, cracked ceiling of their little flat.
"You- you could have no quirk and it would make no difference. Your quirk is...useless."
She looked towards him, and he was still grinning but it was wrong. It looked haunting, and she looked towards her feet.
Her shoes were old and worn.
The last time she bought new shoes for herself was so long ago that she could not recall it.
"A-And...You know, it's..."
She couldn't find the words.
But she tried to, anyway.
"Dad and I will have problems now. Bec-because it's...hard, loving you when you're useless-"
She felt her heart skip a beat as she realized her misstep, "-when your quirk is useless."
Her correction felt too late. The words were said, and she didn't dare look at the light of her life. Her ears rang.
"Mommy will try, I will try very hard to love you, okay baby? I promise I will try. But sometimes, we can't...control things. Or feelings."
That felt ironic to say, after his quirk turned out to be an empath one.
The question of why an empath quirk lingered in the back of her mind, but she wasn’t sure how genetics worked and maybe she had heard once from her own mother before she passed away that a distant uncle of hers had an empath quirk, before he killed himself because he couldn’t deal with all of the emotions.
Did Izuku know what she felt in that moment?
Inko didn’t really want to know.
"Daddy will come tomorrow and bring you somewhere else, because we-"
She choked on her words. Swallowed. Continued.
"-we don't want to live with someone we can't love, okay? So you'll have to be good and don't cry when Dad will bring you away."
She turned to Izuku, but the second she did he darted from the sofa so fast that she didn't even realize it at first, following his retreating footsteps too slow to see him duck into the hallway.
The door to his room was slammed, and she was glad that Hisashi wasn't home because that would have earned Izuku several new burn scars.
Inko felt her shoulders ride a hitch up without her doing, and she brought her hands up to her face just in time to stifle the first few sobs that escaped her.
She had just destroyed her sweet child's childhood, future, hopes; destroyed everything he had and now here she was, crying when she had not right to cry.
She really was as bad as Hisashi.
Spending a big portion of the night crying silently in the living room, ignoring the heartbroken, loud sobs and stifled, desperate cries from Izukus bedroom, the night passed more quickly than Inko would have wished and she found herself facing Hisashi early in the morning.
She had messaged him during the night, telling him of Izukus quirk, and he looked appropriately pissed when he entered the house. He didn't take off his shoes when he walked in, and normally Inko would be angry at him; but she still wore her own shoes as she had never taken them off, so she chose to ignore it.
"Where is he?"
Inko got up from the sofa, wiping her still wet face as she walked up to Hisashi.
It seemed that during her crying session that night her resolve had strengthened.
If she could not escape Hisashi by fleeing, she would change his mind.
"Where are you taking him?"
"Is that any of your business? I'm taking him off your hands. The deal's over, you did your part, I'm doing mine now."
Inko stepped in front of him when he moved towards the hallway- towards Izukus room.
"I- Just let me take him", she said, shaking where she stood. "He's useless to you anyway, isn't he?"
Hisashi stared at her as if she had grown a second head, then barked a laugh. "Don't tell me!" He grinned, as if he had just won a prize of some sort. "You actually care for the brat!"
"What does that have to do with anything?", Inko barked, loud enough that for a second she worried she'd alert the neighbors.
"Nothing." Hisashi went back to his cold, dismissing demeanor. "But your sudden change of heart won't do anything, I'm afraid." Inko stepped further in front of him, now fully blocking his path; he was taller than her, but she didn't really feel scared about the possibility of him hurting her.
No, all she felt war pure, unbridled rage because what kind of mother was she, that this man had hurt her child all these years and she had allowed it?
Supported it even at times, contributed?
Just so she would be left alone?
And now that her child had been about to be torn away from her, she realized how horrible she was?
It was not like she could fix anything; but she could protect Izuku from a worse fate.
„Why do you want to take him? Isn't he useless?"
Hisashi sneered at her. „To me, yes. To my dear colleagues, not so much. I'm sure they will appreciate the little present."
Inko felt her heart skip a beat. „I— I won't let you take him! This deal is- is over! I'm not trading anything!"
Hisashi bellowed a laugh, and Inko flinched as if struck.
He had never struck her; why was she so scared?
„My dear Inko!", he laughed, then grabbed her chin a bit too tight to be gentle and forced her to look at him. „A bit too late, don't you think?" Inko slapped his hand away, and Hisashi sighed. „So dramatic. Now move, would you."
„You won't get my son."
Hisashi looked at her, blinked, then snorted. „Your son?" Inko swallowed, waited for him to continue. „I can recall being very involved in the process of his creation. And didn't the deal end when his quirk was revealed? Therefore, I'm simply retrieving what is rightfully mine."
He smiled, and it was a disgusting and sly smile. „Now, if you'll excuse me. You’re free to go, do whatever."
He stood up straighter, and Inko wanted to stop him but didn't know how-
„Izuku!"
„Stay away, Izuku!", Inko yelled right after him, still staring Hisashi into his toxic yellow eyes, more terror-struck than she had ever been-
Her head jerked to the side and she stumbled.
Oh.
He’d hit her.
„Don't test my patience, Inko", Hisashi hissed harshly, then called out again, „Izuku! Come here, right now!"
This time he sounded harsher, less sickly sweet and more like he'd stuff her son into the trunk of his car.
And so, Inko made a split second decision.
She turned on the heels and bolted.
Hisashi, sadly, was quick to react and grabbed her hair, throwing her whole body against the wall but never letting go of his iron grip on her hair. Inko cried out, but it got stuck in her throat as she saw Izuku stuck his head around the corner, as shy and hesitant as ever.
„Izuku, baby, run! Get away from he-"
She was cut off as Hisashi jerked her head back, towards himself.
"Look, Izuku.", he said, so fake sweet that Inko really wanted to throw up.
She tried to kick behind her, hit him, but he just kicked her into the backs of her knees so she would fall to the floor. Hisashi’s grip on her hair prevented her hitting her face on the wooden boards, but she also discovered that it was hard to breathe right when you were held up by your own hair. „Mommy will show you what will happen if you don't listen to Daddy!"
He let go of Inkos hair, and she scrambled to get to Izuku, grab him and run.
She stuck her hand out, nearly touching her bundle of sweetness, her source of light, her only reason to keep going and the only source of goodness in her life.
With her leg placed beneath her she found her footing and she got up, gra-
Perhaps if she had listened to Hisashi, she would have rolled aside first.
Perhaps if she knew how to fight, she would have fought back better.
Perhaps if she had used her quirk more often and trained it, she could have used it as a weapon.
Perhaps if she had steeled her resolve earlier, or hadn't lied to herself that Hisashi would let them be, she would have fled earlier.
But ‚perhaps' were only speculations. Speculations she would never get to explore, or even think about as heat hit her back and she crumbled back to the floor, screaming out in pure agony in a way that she had not thought possible of herself mere minutes ago.
And yet, her eyes were trained on her child as they felt like they were melting.
Her mind was busy with his well-being and worry for his future while it felt like it was going mad from pain.
Her heart was breaking from the look of anguish and terror on face as it started beating loud enough from the adrenaline now pumping through her that she couldn't hear anything.
And as the flames stopped- or did they ever really stop?- she felt little hands grasp her still intact one; how was it still intact? Was it still intact?
She was going mad from the pain.
It hurt.
Everything hurt.
It hurt so much, she wanted to die.
She wasn't sure why she wasn't dead yet.
She wished the hands touching her would kill her.
She didn't hear anything.
She didn't see anything.
She felt nothing but pain and grief as she took her last breath.
And Midoriya Inko was no more.