Story [BNHA] "Build Our Hopes Again" | OTP Date Night Challenge | Izuku & Toshinori/Inko, Short Story

Title: “and build our hopes again”
Fandom: My Hero Academia (Boku no Hero Academia)
Author: Mira_Jade

Genre: Humor, Romance (also: Family, a touch of Drama, and a whole serving of Mush)
Rating: PG
Time Frame: Vaguely Post-S3, (I'm still catching up on the manga, so call this an AU if you like, rather than post-anime!canon)
Characters: Izuku Midoriya, Inko Midoriya/Toshinori Yagi, Ochaco Uraraka, Tenya Iida, Ensemble Cast

Summary: Since enrolling in U.A. High, Izuku Midoriya may have broken every bone in his arms and legs more than once while endeavoring to make the power of One For All his own, sure. But he’s also successfully talked to a girl, made real friends, and has even come out on top of Kacchan’s bullying a time or two. Perhaps even more impressively, he’s faced down both the League of Villains and the Hero Killer himself, all the while surviving Mr. Aizawa as his home-room teacher. But, each of those trials and triumphs now pale in front of the new burden he’s taking upon his shoulders, his ultimate mandate, his one true duty - Operation: Mighty Parents!

Yeah, what could go wrong?


Author's Notes: So! Writing this story is venturing into new territory for me. As much as I love my animated series, I don't usually dabble in the world of anime/manga. But, I had a RL friend who recently introduced me to this fandom, and then actually requested that I write a story or two for her OTP - which has since become my OTP - and so here I am! Really, a comedy of errors is exactly what would fit these characters in question if they ever got to this point in their relationship, so, when I received a Technical/Mechanical Emergency for the OTP Challenge #10: Date Nite Gon Rong, I couldn't resist! Hold onto your hats, folks, because this is going to be quite the ride!

What's more than that, this turned into a short story - again - so I'm getting the ball rolling now so that I can at least get to the challenge stipulations, if not finish the entire story by the deadline of April 10th. I think I can do that in four or five updates, which is my current goal.

So, For those of you who are willing to follow me down yet another fandom rabbit-hole, I say welcome! If you'd like to read this story, but would prefer some background information to first better orient yourself, I've included a summary and notes about character relationships behind the spoiler cut. Then, as always, I thank you all for reading and hope that you enjoy!


Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, but for the words. The title is nicked from the song "Chosen," by Generdyn, which is one of my BNHA anthems for obvious reasons.

Spoiler: Fandom Notes

In short, the world of Boku no Hero is more like an Incredibles and Sky High mash-up, rather than the Marvel and DC 'verses you guys may better know. In this world, most of the population is born with a superpower - a 'Quirk.' Thus, if you have a suitable Quirk, the role of Pro Hero is a career option for fighting criminals who also have superpowers. Pro Heroes attend special schooling, where they are licensed and then organized by agencies to aid the local branches of law enforcement. Pro Heroes are paid by the government, so they are civil servants in the truest sense. The use of Quirks for fighting crime is strictly regulated, and the pros and cons of that system, along with the inevitable issues it creates within society are fascinatingly explored in the narrative.

In this world, All Might, or, Toshinori Yagi, is the indisputable Number One Hero and Symbol of Peace. His power manifests in the form of super strength - which is a vast understatement, to put it lightly. With the first villain he defeated on screen, he actually changed the weather thanks to how much wind pressure he was able to generate with the force of a single 'smash.' If you jumble up Captain America and Thor with a heaping dose of Superman, you get All Might.

But, the plot steps away from the traditional strongman cliché in this way: the secret to All Might's strength is that his Quirk, One For All, is a power that's cultivated, grown, and then passed down from bearer to bearer. He wasn't born with his power, instead, he was given his strength by a predecessor. And, what's more than that, he's currently dying. He was injured in an attack from the arch-villain of the series, All For One, years before the show started. This injury left him at death's door, and he looks like a tall, skeletal figure who's constantly coughing up blood as a result. He can still muster up his strength to assume his bulky hero form and matching power, but the time he's able to do that wanes as the plot goes on - especially after he passes his Quirk onto a successor. By now, in Season Three, he's since used up the last embers of his power in another big battle against All For One, and the world now knows about his true health. He was forced to retire from hero work, and is instead focusing on training his successor, a fifteen year old boy named -

- Izuku Midoriya. This kid is literally one of the sweetest, most earnest, just plain good characters ever written. He gives off mega Steve Rogers vibes, is the best I can describe. He was born without a Quirk - a rare condition that led to much bullying growing up. Even so, he was always obsessed with superheroes - and All Might in particular - and was determined to become a hero, even if he didn't have the physical power to do so. Through a few fluke circumstances and a subsequent whirlwind adventure, he met All Might in the opening act of the series. His heart, tenacity, and bravery inspired All Might at a time when he was coming to grips with his own flagging strength, and, as a result, he offered to pass his Quirk onto Izuku. Izuku, of course, accepted. The entire story is about Izuku growing into his new power - and I do mean growing. This poor kid has broken every bone in his body trying to master his strength, and it's a process, which I appreciate. But, anyway, the entire series is centered around Izuku attending U.A. High School - an elite school for future Pro Heroes, and the trials and tribulations he faces alongside his classmates. All Might joins the faculty as a teacher, and his relationship with Izuku quickly spirals way beyond mentor/protégé to a wonderful adopted dad/son sorta deal. I just can't even with these two, you guys, my heart.

Then, Izuku's mother is Inko Midoriya, and that's where my OTP comes in! You don't have to wonder where Izuku gets his heart from - it's all because of her. She's raised her son the best she could on her own, and is just so endearingly sweet and supportive of everything he does. But her softer personality doesn't prevent her from having a spine of steel - for example, she had no problem throwing down with All Might when she thought her son was heading down a too-dangerous path. All Might, in return, was completely smitten - even comparing Inko to his predecessor for her strength of spirit. Throwing Toshinori and Inko together in an actual relationship is more of a fanon thing than canon right now, but I love the idea of two people who have given everything to their respective roles in life thus far, and who are now kind of feeling adrift and wondering what comes next, finding a new beginning in each other. And, of course, Izuku getting both of his parents together for all sorts of found family themes is something that checks off every one of my boxes and then some. And, well, I've never written for the Parent Trap trope before. So, there's that. In the end, I couldn't resist; I just couldn't.

The only other characters you have to know, are:

Ochaco Uraraka: Izuku has made lots of friends in class, but you can argue that she's the closest. She has an anti-gravity Quirk that lets her float objects, to the point where she's currently trying to teach herself how to fly. She's just as sweet and good-hearted as Izuku is; they are constantly inspiring and pushing each other to be their best. She has a crush on Izuku that she's currently squashing in order to better focus on her training, just as Izuku can't yet believe that he's anything special that a girl would be interested in. These two are just such dears, but they'll figure it out!

Tenya Iida: He's the class president, and Izuku's other closest friend. He is very rigid and intense in personality, and he takes his education seriously to an extreme degree. He comes from a family of Pro Heroes who all have matching superspeed engine quirks, and is endeavoring to uphold the legacy of his name. Together, this trio is just a wonderful group of friends, and I love them to pieces.


I think that that covers all of the high points! If there's anything else you'd like to know, I'd be happy to better explain, or if I think of anything else I'll write out more notes in the future as needed. For now, I think I've rambled enough.

---

“and build our hopes again”
by Mira_Jade​

I.

If Midoriya Izuku was being completely honest with himself, the idea was one that started a long time ago.

When he was five years old, shortly after that awful summer when the doctor first diagnosed him as Quirkless, his father left. Or, rather, Midoriya Hisashi just finally ended his gradual slide away from his family and made his leaving official. For as long as Izuku could remember his father had a job that took him overseas for extended periods of time. Used to be, he was home more often than he was gone, at least, or so Izuku thought – the exact shape of his memories was honestly fuzzy about the whole matter. But, eventually, whatever life his father found in America turned out to be one that he preferred over what he already had waiting for him back home in Japan. A hushed divorce was immediately followed by a wedding to a new wife, and in the two years thereafter Izuku was joined by his half-siblings. He had a brother and a sister, or at least he did in name; he really only knew the younger Midoriyas in bits and pieces from infrequent phone-calls and cards around the holidays. (Each of his father’s new children had Quirks, Izuku tried not to dwell on – his sister had even inherited their father’s gift of breathing fire. That, he really tried not to focus on, and especially never out loud to his mom; it was one of those things he knew to keep to himself.)

There was one time, in first grade, when the teacher asked them to write a paragraph about the role their parents – or their guardians, in whatever shape that came – played in their lives. Most of the boys immediately decided to write about their fathers; they didn’t have to think twice about who they would pick. Even now he could still hear Kacchan’s obnoxious: you idiot, Deku doesn’t have a father – who would want to stick around for that nerd? interrupting when one of his classmates asked if he’d write about his dad. The words rang in his ears, poking at the hot pit of shame he still buried whenever he wondered just why his father had left. (His child-self had thought for a certainty that it'd been due to the obvious lacking on his part . . . he thought he knew better now. Somewhat.) Back then, he simply ignored Kacchan's mean words, clenching his small hand around his pencil and gnawing at his lip with his teeth. That was okay, the answer had seemed simple, he’d write about his mother instead. He had lots of wonderful things to say about his mom – Midoriya Inko was kind, she cooked the best food, and she always made sure that he was happy and taken care of. She was more than a parent enough to make him feel like he didn’t need a father – well, most of the time, anyway. She liked to play heroes and villains with him without saying that he was getting too old for the game like Kacchan did, and helped him fill out his notebooks while they watched the Pro Heroes on the news together, and did everything -

. . . everything except tell him that he could still be a hero, even though he was born without a Quirk.

His pencil hovered over the page, and he hesitated. He couldn’t seem to shape the characters he needed; the words just wouldn’t form.

That was okay, his child-self had thought then. He just had writer’s block, like happened sometimes at school. He’d draw the picture that was supposed to go with the paragraph first, and then he’d come back to write his essay. With that decision made, it was easy enough to draw his mother and him – that was a familiar subject, and he had lots of practice with his coloured pencils. He was pretty good for his age, even the art teacher said so. Yet, when the time came to add in his father . . .

. . . he couldn’t seem to do it. Sketching in the absent elder Midoriya had felt like a lie, even though it wasn’t. You couldn’t choose who your parents were, Izuku knew, because, if you could -

- well, he knew who he'd pick then, in a heartbeat.

Wait! the epiphany hit the same as taking one of Kacchan’s blasts too close to his head. The idea was so obvious that he should have thought about it first – immediately! His teacher had said parent, but, really parents were just role-models, right? Right! And, when it came down to role-models, who was better than -

- his pencil flew in a fury of graphite lines and pink eraser smudge as soon as he decided on his course. Then, it was time for colour, carefully placing each stroke of pigment down to properly honor his inspiration. He used his deepest blues and his brightest reds and his sunniest yellows, wishing all the while that he was older so that he could make his picture look more like the vision he had in his mind. But no one could have been in doubt of what he drew: Japan’s Number One Hero, the Universal Symbol of Peace and the World’s Pillar of Justice, standing proudly behind his mother and him. In the picture, he made sure that he wore a matching costume, and he may have made himself taller with a few muscles he definitely didn’t have yet. All Might towered over them in both height and mass, even on paper, but Izuku made sure to draw his hero’s hand resting on his mother’s shoulder; the other hand reached down to ruffle his hair in the illustration. Izuku was pretty sure that’s what dads did – right? It seemed like a dad thing to do. In the picture, his mother’s smile was wide enough to match even All Might’s beaming grin; he drew her as happy and proud as he could manage with what skill he had. Although he knew that the picture wasn’t real, he nodded in satisfaction; his mother deserved to smile like that, always. Who could make her happier than All Might? his child’s logic had been sound in its certainty. He’d been unmovable in his conviction.

Izuku had been ecstatic to turn his project in. (The teacher, he hadn’t known then, had been less thrilled, though she’d held a straight face to commend his artistic talent – and imagination – out loud. She never chastised him for straying from the parameters of the assignment. What had followed, of course – though unbeknownst to him – was an uncomfortable parent-teacher conference where the teacher tactfully expressed her concerns about his habit of fixation and clear means of escapism. A blushing Inko had tried her best to explain the Midoriya home-life to a stranger to assuage her concerns, but in the end, what was there to say? Her son idolized heroes, and she wouldn’t take that away from him when he needed a good strong role-model. When the projects were returned, Inko hung the picture with its gleaming gold star on the fridge anyway, and Izuku hadn’t let her take it down for his newer drawings for months.)

That picture was still carefully folded into No. I of his hero notebooks – right alongside his earliest sketched comic panels of All Might and Mighty Mom. Even though he was just newly sixteen now, and had grown beyond the fantasies of his six-year-old-self (for the most part, anyway), Izuku still didn’t have the heart to return the picture to storage with his other school assignments and art projects. But that wasn’t for anyone else to know but him.

And, honestly, the sketch rather paled in comparison to his reality now. Sometimes, he still had to pinch himself to remember that this was all real: he had qualified to attend U.A. High School, his dream since before he could remember. Not only had he made it into one of the highest ranked Pro Hero prep courses in the world, but he’d done it with a Quirk given to him by none other than All Might himself. He was the current holder of One For All, an amazing power cultivated and then passed down from generation to generation, from guardian to guardian. Finally, after so much effort and trial and error, he was learning to make that sacred gift his own. He may have had the scars and still lingering aches and pains to prove it, but that didn’t matter; he finally felt like he was on the path to becoming the successor that All Might deserved.

Best of all, he had All Might himself sitting across the table from him and genuinely interested in hearing about his morning. It wasn’t what he would have imagined if the scenario was presented to him years ago (honestly, if someone would've told him then that the hero he so idolized would someday become his mentor and quite literal guiding light, he would have laughed himself into a panicked fit for the wonderful impossibility of it all), but the reality was all the better for the unpredictable details that made it so. Instead of the smiling, larger than life hero of legendary proportions that he’d so long presented as his public face, Yagi Toshinori the man was a too-tall, almost emaciated figure from the injuries he’d sustained at All For One’s hands. His face was gaunt, and his eyes were sunken; his mass of blonde hair seemed to have a mind of its own when not being (mostly) tamed back in his persona as the Symbol of Peace. He wore an overly large suit as befit his role of teacher, with the excess fabric swimming about his bony frame to leave room for him to summon what was left of his power for his muscular form, no matter that those instances were now few and far between. (He was retired now, Izuku still couldn’t wrap his mind around that knowledge – he’d exhausted the last embers of One For All to protect his students and the city at Kamino Ward; he’d never return to Pro Hero work again.)

But that was okay, Izuku thought with a warm smile as he answered (bragged about, really) the questions All Might had about the marks he’d received in Mr. Yamada’s English class earlier that day. He wasn’t letting his general studies slack off in favor of the more hands on action courses the school designed to train their future heroes – which was a mistake many first years made. He’d had to rely on his wits before his brawn for his entire life before One For All was passed down to him, and some things never changed.

Eating lunch together in the teacher’s lounge had become something of a routine between them. Izuku split his school days between hanging out with Tenya and Ochaco in the cafeteria and buying out time with All Might away from the prying eyes of the other students. Mostly, they talked about his studies and his progression with One For All; on really good days he could coax All Might into sharing stories from his career and giving advice that would someday influence his own heroism. He’d started out attending their lunches with a notebook in hand – which had All Might rolling his eyes, but his sigh of really, fanboy? was fond, at least. Now, however, he kept his pen down and instead happily ate his unadon while All Might sipped at his tea. Apparently, missing a stomach and a few other vital organs put serious restrictions on one’s diet, but Izuku had long since gotten over his discomfort with being the only one eating more often than not – You want control over your Quirk to grow, young man? Well then, you have to take care of your body, first and foremost. No skipping meals, not if you want to be a proper vessel! He’d taken the advice to heart since then, just the same as he tried to do with everything All Might said.

Talk about Mr. Yamada’s classes led into All Might sharing anecdotes from when Present Mic was an up and coming Pro Hero, which of course ran into some of his more amusing tiffs with the more dour Mr. Aizawa, whose agencies had worked hand in hand in Utapau City. The two polar opposites had a surprisingly strong bond, all but for -

“ - Aizawa was trying to run before the media caught up on scene, like he usually does,” All Might was clearly relishing telling his tale, “but Hizashi and Miss Fukukado would not let him. They plucked him out of the shadows when the press arrived and gave all the credit for the villain’s capture to Aizawa. Clips of him with his eyes flaring red and biting out no comment were passed along the hero community for days after! I was in New York at the time for a UN summit, and they even reached me there.”

With what Izuku now personally knew from having Present Mic as a teacher – and the one time he’d met Miss Joke, he could more than believe that story. He was having a hard time holding back his grin, and wondered how much trouble they’d be in if he could convince his classmates to answer every question Mr. Aizawa put to them with no comment for an entire school day. It had to be worth the consequences, right?

. . . well, maybe, at least. Mr. Aizawa was more terrifying than any supervillain he’d yet to face when his class put him in a mood. Izuku fought off a shiver; he’d take showing down with the League again, or even Stain himself, over rousing his homeroom teacher’s ire. He had a sense of self-preservation enough for that.

Yet . . .

Izuku was searching for the words to present his plan to All Might and gauge his opinion, when his mentor turned the conversation down a vein he wasn’t expecting.

“It’s a fine talent, answering the media just enough to assuage their curiosity without telling them anything you do not wish to reveal – Aizawa must know that his silence only whets their curiosity for more. It's as I was telling your mother the other day, if she wishes to avoid the attention that will inevitably grow as a side-effect of your success, then - ”

- wait, what?

“ - you’ve been talking to my mother?!” Izuku blurted to interrupt, cutting off his predecessor mid-sentence. His chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth and a blob of rice and eel plopped back in the bowl in his distraction. He knew that his eyes were boggling, but he couldn’t seem to help himself.

“Why, yes,” All Might didn’t seem to find the idea half as bizarre as Izuku did. If anything, he tilted his head and furrowed his brow at him – just the same as he usually did when he was puzzled and trying to figure out the best way to proceed around his charge’s seemingly hair triggered emotions. “I’ve been meeting her on my days off to update her on your progress. It is one of my duties as your mentor, and part of the vow I gave to her when I promised to protect you on your path to becoming my successor. I have to, especially seeing as how someone here at this table does not call home often enough to sooth her worries.”

Izuku ignored the not so subtle criticism of his habits (he was just so busy, he wanted to protest, and U.A. swallowed every moment of his time – he kept in contact with his mother as often as possible, honest he did) as only a teenage boy could, refusing to be swayed from his path. All Might, his brain balked . . . and his mother. He tried again: his mother and All Might. His mother. All Might. They were talking – not just trading phone calls or emails as would have been more than enough for a teacher and a student’s parent, but actually meeting each other, in person. They were - both of his -

- he knew that his cheeks were flushing a telling shade of pink, and he was smiling. No, smiling wasn’t a strong enough word. He was grinning – beaming even, like an idiot. Alarmingly, his eyes felt hot and he couldn’t seem to stop them from -

“Kid, your face is doing that thing again,” All Might pointed out dryly. “Knock it off.”

“Yes, right!” instinctively, he straightened in his seat. He fought the urge he had to reach up and slap his own cheeks to better focus – he was really working on how expressive he could be, honest he was. It helped that All Might looked absolutely clueless as to what it was that had set him off this time. He didn’t want to give himself away; not about this, that would be beyond embarrassing. “Sorry, sorry,” he got a handle on himself. “I’m just . . .” but he faltered, looking for the right words to express what he was feeling without gushing over what was – if he was being completely soul-crushingly honest – just the remnant of his child-self’s most wildest dream. He'd found a mentor and even a friend in his hero, that alone was unbelievable as it was; what they had, here and now, should have been more than enough for him. And it was; it was. He could leave things as they were and be happy. So. “I’m just grateful,” he finished simply. “Mom . . . she’s always the one looking out for other people, you know? It’s nice to hear that someone’s thinking of her too; I’m glad that you’re keeping her updated. I know she worries.”

The furrowed look faded from All Might’s brow, and something almost gentle took its place, momentarily soothing the hard lines of his face. “Your mother is a strong, amazing woman; you don’t have to worry about her,” he cracked a smile to say – a real smile, Izuku thought, something softly sincere, rather than the blinding grin he usually flashed to inspire the masses. He paused for a moment – an overly long moment, one that didn’t at all help Izuku’s determination to ignore that little voice of what if that he was trying to beat back down into that same tightly locked box where he put the remnants all of his silly childhood things. “But I shouldn’t be surprised, looking at you,” All Might recovered himself to conclude. “It must run in the family.”

Great, the dorky grin was back – Izuku couldn’t help himself. His insides felt like he’d been touched by Ochaco’s anti-gravity power, and that place where One For All had settled in to rest and take root behind his heart felt warm and energized. Anything felt possible, in moments like those, just because All Might himself believed in him – and had for a long time now, even back before no one else did.

Anything felt possible, that box of silly childhood dreams was cracking open again, even . . .

But All Might discreetly cleared his throat, and then moved on to ask about Ectoplasm’s math class next. Izuku made a face for the change in subject, wishing that he’d picked any other course than that particular one – he got good grades in math only because he studied hard and twisted his mind into a proverbial pretzel to come up with the answers his teacher expected him to have. It was not a subject he naturally excelled in. The quadratic formulas they were learning about that week were the worst; seriously – Ectoplasm could have defeated villains just by droning on about numbers at them. That would work better than any army of clones he could ever hope to produce.

It helped, a little, when All Might opened up the notebook that Izuku had forgotten about since then, and started to jot down and discuss a theoretical problem on the pages. (Just like a real dad might have, helping him with his homework, that box of dreams opened just slightly wider.) Honestly, Izuku had a hard time focusing on the numbers – especially when, really, who would have guessed that this was a subject All Might was good at? He wasn’t just a pro at punching things, of course he wasn't. Izuku was distracted, and all of the technical talk was going in one ear and out the other. How could he be expected to focus on something as pedestrian as math, he felt vindicated at least, when he had so many more important matters to process and consider now instead? His mind was swimming, and he only just barely kept himself focused enough to struggle through the problem.

It was almost a relief when the warning bell rang, signaling the end of the lunch period and his frankly painful impromptu math lesson. It was time to go back to class. He picked up his things and said goodbye to All Might before skidding out the door and speed walking – not running, he wouldn’t get yelled at by Tenya for that again – down the hall. Mr. Aizawa was not one to tolerate tardiness, and Izuku knew better than to test his home-room teacher. He was smarter than that.

He made it to his desk well ahead of the final bell, and after a moment’s hesitation he pulled out his notebook again – No. 14 now. He opened it to the next clean page, and lifted his pen. He knew what he wanted to write, but it seemed to take a courage he didn’t know if he possessed to put his thoughts into words. The ability to stand up to a villain was one thing, but this was so much more than a matter of bravery. Writing this down was a commitment; it made his hopes real, in a way that was terrifying for its possibilities.

The tip of his pen pressed into the paper, leaving a blot of ink. But before he could drag the pen down in that first stroke, however, he felt a hand tap his shoulder.

“Heya, Deku-kun,” he looked up to see Ochaco smiling down at him. As always, he felt his face flush for how happy she seemed to be to see him; it was a reaction he was still unable to completely control. “We missed you at lunch!”

Even though he hadn’t written anything yet, he pulled his notebook away reflexively. The idea still felt too new – delicate, even, to share, even with his friends. Oh, he couldn't help but think, it would be humiliating if she knew.

But, wait a minute -

- you missed me? was his first reflex to stammer. He only just swallowed back the words, annoyed with himself for his gushing, even within the privacy of his own mind. Ochaco was his friend, and she’d been for months now, through thick and thin; he wasn’t going to go all weird on her. He wasn’t. Nope. He was going to play this cool, super cool.

“There is no need for missing, Uraraka-chan,” Tenya Iida followed right behind Ochaco, just as Izuku should have expected. Somehow, though out the course of the school year and everything they'd been to together, they always found a way to gravitate towards each other. Tenya reached up to straighten his glasses, his posture as straight and severe as ever. “There is wisdom in Izuku seeking out further guidance from our elders, even during periods of rest! He is an example that we should all emulate if we wish to make the most of our education.”

“Yeah,” Ochaco raised a brow at their tightly wound friend, and elbowed him good naturedly, “that’s exactly what Deku was doing with All Might, Iida-kun.”

“Uh, yeah – further study, you got it,” Izuku laughed awkwardly, feeling the blood drain from his face – no one else knew about One For All (except for Kacchan), and he was trying to keep it that way. But, if anyone was ever going to figure it out, it would definitely be one of his two closest friends, and more likely than not thanks to his own stupid inability to shut his mouth and play things close to the chest. He really was hopeless, wasn't he? “You know me, I just can’t stop . . . studying.”

“It’s because your Quirks are so alike,” Ochaco nodded, convinced of her own conclusion – and Izuku’s heart bottomed out of his chest to land somewhere by his feet. She was so smart, too smart, he wanted to flail. She was more than smart - she was brilliant, with a smile that made her eyes glitter, he couldn’t help but inwardly sigh. Her beautiful eyes in her beautiful, wonderful face, which topped off her beautiful, amazing -

- but no. No, no, no. He was not going to turn into Mineta around a pretty girl – even if she wasn’t just gorgeous, but also a brilliant, funny, wonderfully perfect girl. He was better than that, and she deserved better than that. End of story.

“Even though you’ve been doing better, I know you want to further your control. Who’s better than All Might to help, especially if he understands what you’re going through?” Ochaco continued. Izuku wanted to let out a breath in relief. She was close, again – closer to the complete truth than she knew . . . but just off enough that he was still safe. He felt something twist in his stomach in a queasy mixture of guilt and regret. Sometimes, there was nothing than he wanted more but to shout his secret to his friends. He wanted them to know; he didn’t like keeping anything from them. But for their safety – and for his and All Might’s and the delicate balance of their entire society . . . this wasn’t something that anyone could know. So, he'd keep his silence.

“Yeah,” he felt like he could say that much, at least, “All Might has been a huge help with me developing my Quirk.” He looked down at his scarred fingers – they were all crooked now, from how many times he’d broken them while trying to harness the power he’d inherited, and they probably always would be. He flexed his hands into fists over the still blank pages of his notebook.

“Just the same as he has been a bulwark for all of us students here at U.A.,” Tenya agreed, his voice taking on that hushed, near reverent glow that he reserved for academia alone. “It is a testament to the prestige of this establishment that only the best of the best are allowed to instruct the heroes of tomorrow within these hallowed halls. We can benefit all the more so if we make the most of our time here in every way we can. You are an inspiration, Midoriya.”

Ochaco sighed. “Basically, he wants to come to lunch next time and be a fanboy too, Deku. He all but said so in the cafeteria.”

“I did no such thing, Uraraka! How can you so easily betray my confidence like that, you heartless woman?!”

Izuku couldn’t help but laugh at the wounded note in Tenya’s outburst; it was just too much – even for him. Really, while he knew that he was fortunate to even have his power and a place alongside his fellow heroes of tomorrow, as Tenya had put it, he was all the more blessed to have made friends like these two. He smiled and said, “I’m sure All Might wouldn’t mind if you guys tagged along. I’ll ask him for next time.”

No matter what he said out loud, he may have felt the smallest twinge of jealousy for the idea as the words left his mouth. His time spent with All Might was special, something that was just theirs. Maybe his friends could just join them sometimes. Yes, he nodded smartly. That would be a good compromise; the best of both worlds. He’d like that.

Tenya’s gushing words of gratitude, however, were cut off by the arrival of Mr. Aizawa. All their teacher had to do was mutter a low threat about how the last person still standing without their textbooks open would meet him after class for a round of sparing, which automatically equaled sans Quirks for them. Those few words were enough to get even the likes of Kirishima and Kaminari to sit down and dutifully snap to attention. Ochaco and Tenya were no exceptions – with Tenya, of course, bowing repeatedly and loudly apologizing for not already being seated at his desk and ready to learn as befit the class representative. In Tenya’s mind, he should have been setting the example. Mr. Aizawa, in reply to Tenya being . . . well, himself, just looked tired.

But, before he took out his copy of Quirks and Their Practical Rescue Applications, Vol. I, Revision IV, his eyes were drawn down to the blank page he’d opened in his notebook, and the blot of ink he hadn’t yet been able to turn a legible string of characters. The distraction his friends had provided hadn’t been enough to sway him from his course. If anything, his determination was just as strong as it had been when he left the teacher’s lounge behind, no matter that he'd had time to think it over.

Your mother is a strong, amazing woman; you don’t have to worry about her, All Might’s words rang in his ears – drowning out even Mr. Aizawa’s voice as he moved aside to allow Thirteen to take over teaching their next lesson. Usually, this was a subject he’d be invested in to the full - and he would be. But, first . . .

Finally, his pen moved. He didn’t have the power to stop, even if he wanted to. His heart was hammering in his chest; for a moment he couldn’t breath at the sheer wonderful impossibility of it all. This, he thought, was something he had to do.

But I shouldn’t be surprised, looking at you. It must run in the family.

Izuku looked down, and there it was: a child’s wish turned into certain hope, spelled out in bold, irrefutable words, stark and black against the fresh white of the paper. He was going to make this happen; it was time to go beyond as only his time at U.A. and as the latest guardian of One For All could have prepared him for. Plus Ultra! Everything he’d experienced in his short career had just been leading up to, and readying him for this.

Operation: Mighty Parents!​

What he failed to notice, with the strength of his fervor all but blinding him as he started to jot down his ideas and plot, was that Ochaco had looked over in time to catch sight of the heading he’d written on the page before he made sure to better shield the paper from view. She noticed, and frowned as something distant teased at her mind before blooming with understanding. Oh, Deku.

Just what was her friend up to, she couldn’t help but worry for him, and, more importantly, what could she do to help?



~MJ

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha - Thank-you so much for the kind words, my friend! This cast has quickly become dear to me, and I'm all too glad that you're enjoying getting to know them too! And a project to match-make! What's not to love about that classic trope? It's just sweet and silly enough to honor the spirit of this challenge - and it's a vast change in genre for me, writing what amounts to a romantic comedy. So, here goes nothing! This is as unexplored territory for me as it is for Izuku and his unwary subjects, but every word has been a joy to write so far.


Then, as far as author's notes go, this update got . . . long, and it rambles a bit in a character study kinda way. But I suppose that can be expected, dealing with a new fandom as I am. This helped me get my bearings as a writer, and I hope the same goes for you as readers! The next update will check in with the adults, and see if they are at all malleable to the teenagers' plotting as they hope they are. Yep; I can't tell you how much fun I'm having with this.

As always, I thank you all for reading and hope that you enjoy!

---

II.

It was well and truly dark out by the time Izuku finally closed his last textbook for the day. His brain felt like scrambled mush, and he rubbed at his eyes to help ease the strain he'd put on his vision. The textbook A Brief History of Quirk Rights and the Founding of Our Modern Superhuman Society, he wanted to make a face, was neither brief or light reading, detailing that awful time long ago when Quirks were viewed as ‘mutations’ rather than the gifts they truly were. The history lesson made for even heavier reading as Izuku scoured the lesson for any mentions of a puppet-master in the shadows that may have subtly implied the existence of All For One. Such a powerful criminal who controlled so much of the underworld, and even influenced events in the proper spheres of society, couldn’t have been completely brushed aside without any trace, right? Mankind’s memory wasn’t that short. But, no matter how he tried, he couldn’t even catch a glimpse of the villain – or, at least he couldn’t in his school textbook. He’d have to pick up his search somewhere else.

All For One is our very own Moriarty, isn’t he? Izuku couldn’t help but think, his eyes flickering over to where A Valley of Fear was stacked along with his other schoolbooks for Mr. Ishiyama’s literature class. The thought was not a comforting one, and he shivered, even though his room was pleasantly warm against the chill of the autumn night. As they always seemed to do, thoughts of All Might’s nemesis – and thus his own inherited arch-villain – made his borrowed Quirk expand from where it’d taken root behind his heart. He could feel the warmth of One For All buzz from his chest all the way down to his fingertips, crackling with the same static that heralded its readiness for action. He breathed in deep before leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes, feeling as if the weight slung across his shoulders lifted then, ever so slightly. He wasn’t alone in his fight, at least, that promising thrum of power reminded him; he’d never be truly alone again.

But All For One was safely behind bars now, and there he’d stay thanks to All Might sacrificing the last of his power at Kamino Ward. Izuku didn’t have to worry about him for the time being. Instead, he had essays to write and projects to plan and tests to study for. Although he knew that he’d seen more – so much more – than most Pro Heroes did before even qualifying for his provisional license, he'd only just turned sixteen, and it was a relief all its own to worry about typical high school things for a little while. Instead of thinking overly much about the rotten underbelly of their world, he shook his head and tidied up the assignments he had ready to turn in. As he was putting his homework away, he caught sight of No. 14 and its crisp, waiting new white pages. After only a moment’s hesitation he pulled the pad of paper out of his backpack and settled it on his desk. He drummed his fingertips against the cover, debating with himself for only a moment before opening it to that same page from earlier.

And then, just as he had before turning his attention to Thirteen’s lecture, he stared.

. . . and stared.

. . . and then stared some more.

But, no matter his grand intentions, he hadn’t been able to jot a single character down outside of the bold proclamation of his header. No matter how he tried, he didn’t have any idea of how to turn his dream into a reality. He wracked his brain, but he was well and truly stumped. This wasn’t even like trying to plan for a theoretical bout between a hero and a villain – which he usually excelled at, weighing strengths and weaknesses and using logic to fill in how those highs and lows would fit together. No, this was an even more terrifying arena of battle than any fight fought with fists: romance. What did he even know about romance anyway? he slumped in his chair with a sigh. He’d only just successfully talked to his first girl at U.A., and he could hardly call his relationship with Ochaco romantic in any sense. They were just friends, best friends. To Izuku, who could count his friends on one hand and still have plenty of fingers left to spare before attending U.A. – no one wanted to befriend the Quirkless freak growing up, it had seemed, as if his condition was something contagious to be shunned – that alone was something he was beyond grateful for.

His cheeks burned, remembering the one time he’d found the nerve to ask one of his classmates to come with him as his ‘date’ for Aldera Middle School’s annual Culture Festival. Inoue Yuuko had only giggled behind her hand and looked him up and down before simply walking away without a word said in reply. Izuku had gaped after her, his heart hammering and his hands shaking from how much courage he'd mustered for that simple social interaction, but Kacchan – who’d seen the whole humiliating encounter, because of course – had no problem laughing meanly in his face to explain the meaning of Yuuko’s rejection. You stupid nerd, he’d chortled, what makes you think that any girl is ever going to look twice at you? You’re Quirkless, and your kids will be Quirkless too – no one in their right mind is gonna want a freak kid and a freak partner. It’s better for your useless genes to just die off, anyway. Face it, Deku, you’re cursed.

He’d wanted so badly to tell Kacchan that he was wrong, out there somewhere had to be someone who didn’t care that he was Quirkless, and yet . . . well, Izuku had little evidence to the contrary to support his argument – especially then. Instead, he’d hung his head in shame and simply walked away without a word said aloud to refute his tormentor. You know I'm right, Deku, he could still hear Kacchan's awful, baying laughter following his retreat. You'll thank me for this someday.

He clenched his pen tighter for the memory, even as his eyes darted up to find the line of All Might posters plastered on the wall. He squared his jaw and grit his teeth, letting the sight of them inspire him as they always did. If the first fourteen years of his life had taught him anything, it was how to stand up tall against everyone who said that something couldn’t be done. He just had to put his mind to the problem until he solved it; it was always just that simple.

Go beyond, young hero! one of the posters proclaimed in bold English letters. And he could, Izuku felt his determination soar within him; he would.

Alright then. So: he wasn’t good at romance, that was a well established fact. But that was okay, he’d seen enough movies and television shows to fill in the blanks. He got the general idea. And, if nothing else, he was good at weighing the best and worst of two opponents in any given match-up – how was this any different? Only, he wasn’t looking for a knock-out punch to win the day here. No, he was looking for a vastly different sort of victory.

So . . . what did he know about his mom and All Might? He could start with that simple step and then formulate a course of action from there.

Alright then! Cheered by that little bit of progress, he made a chart in his notebook. First: All Might. Likes: saving people. Defeating bad guys. Truth. Justice. Goodness. Peace! Well, Izuku made a face . . . that was all well and good for the Number One Pro Hero, and all were required qualities for the Symbol of Peace that the rest of the world was grateful for, and yet . . . okay then. Before going any further, he scratched out the heading of All Might and jotted down Yagi Toshinori instead. Already, that was much better. Heartened by his productivity, Izuku bit his lip while trying to call to mind all the interviews he’d seen over the years along with his own personal observations gleaned during their time together. He could do this.

Likes, he tried again: American food, he shook his head fondly as he jotted down that fun fact. Ginseng tea. Moody weather. The cedar forests of Yakushima was his favourite place he’d visited in his travels, even over the Redwoods of California. He didn’t like overly violent or scary movies – he saw more than enough of that day in and day out in the real world; he was more a fan of romantic comedies, though he was partial to classic sci-fi and fantasy too. He spoke three languages, but understood five. He couldn’t decide if he was a cat person or a dog guy; he was a sucker for anything that was small and furry. Sometimes, he still didn’t know how to talk to people outside of saving their lives and spouting inspirational quotes. He was as legitimately good and earnest in actuality as the persona he presented to the public, but he was quieter, in a sense, when he was out of the world's unblinking view. He reminded Izuku more of the cedar trees that he so admired when he was his true self than he did when he was at his full power, like nothing could ever bend or break him, so deeply rooted were his certainty and convictions.

That was . . . Izuku thought as he chewed on his lip, not a very long list. He put his pen down, feeling a tired, almost gaping feeling expand outward from his chest. Out of all the individual lights that made up the collective glow of his power, he thought to see a golden-yellow strand wink out and flare brighter from his innate sense of his Quirk then. After all the months he'd spent growing into a proper vessel, he could now recognize the shape of Shimura Nana’s eyes, staring out from the iridescent power he safeguarded deep within his own spirit. There was expectation in the seventh holder’s gaze, he thought to understand. A part of him imagined that he could feel her urging him forward, shining with enough radiance to dim even the steady, blue-white flame that ever burned by her side in comparison. All Might’s defining light wasn’t quite as certain as it flickered, Izuku thought, but he was being overruled by his own predecessor; Nana wouldn’t be crossed on this. There were few times when One For All was quite so . . . adamant as it guided him, and he could usually only see the actual eyes and ghostly impressions of his forebearers in high risk, heavily action oriented situations. This . . . was a first.

But it was a first that inspired him to hold his pen all the more tightly, feeling as the stakes rose that much higher. For a long moment, he thought to feel the encouraging pressure of strong hands resting on his shoulders; a phantom tugging seemed to draw up the corners of his mouth, and at her coaxing he couldn't help but smile. Okay then, Izuku thought. Right.

He wasn't sure just how sentient the remaining consciousnesses of the previous holders of One For All were, but he thought as loudly and clearly as he could: it's okay, Nana, I'll take care of him. I'll take care of both of them.

Did All Might even have any family to speak of? Izuku wondered on the wings of that last thought. He knew that Gran Torino was his mentor after . . . after Nana’s murder, but that relationship clearly had its boundaries. Torino-sensei was far from a . . . warm presence on the best of days. He encouraged with his fists, first and foremost, Izuku thought with a sympathetic wince. About family, all the public knew was that he was clearly American on his mother’s side. More than that, All Might only said that his parents were long gone, even before Nana passed her power onto him. He had no siblings, and only distant relatives overseas. He didn’t even keep side-kicks the way most Pro Heroes did, not since the earliest days of his career. Instead, his agency in Tokyo bore his name in theory to meet the governmental requirements for a licensed hero, but he rarely worked with the pros he employed there in actuality – for their safety, he explained when Izuku asked, as he always managed to attract the more deadly sorts of villains with vendettas and chips on their shoulders due to his strength and name alone. He wouldn’t draw anyone else into the wake of destruction that inevitably followed behind him if he could help it. There was that one police detective, Tsukauchi, whom he called his friend, and Mr. Shield, of course, and yet . . .

Even the celebrity gossip columns had struggled to come up with more scintillating rumors in regards to All Might. Outside of his duties as a hero, he was never in the spotlight for better or worse. He didn’t seem the type to seek out casual relationships, Izuku thought to know his mentor well enough to guess, and the media had never caught him with a long-term partner – and certainly not for a lack of trying. What was more than that, Izuku wasn’t alone amongst his classmates in feeling that All Might was dedicated to them in every way – the man clearly got along well with children, maybe even easier than he did with adults, yet he'd never bought out the time to have a family of his own.

That place behind his heart where One For All rested seemed heavy then; even sad, in a way. Outside of ensuring the safety of the world – which he so clearly devoted himself to as his life’s work and defining purpose – Izuku suspected that All Might kept a very simple, even lonely existence. And now, forced into retirement years before he should've had to turn in his cape, all thanks to the machinations of one ruthless villain . . .

. . . but Izuku didn’t write any of that down. It didn’t seem his place to do so; those weren’t his secrets to share, even in that small, relatively harmless way.

Instead, he moved onto his mother’s side of the chart. He could write about Inko Midoriya’s likes and dislikes all day. If she had to pick a favourite, she liked Italian food the best. Jasmine tea was her drink of choice, and she loved mochi ice cream - even the green tea kind that Izuku personally found gross. She was surprisingly competitive – in a softly smiling, almost scary kind of way – when it came to playing cards or board games. She could cook or bake anything, which Izuku missed now more than ever living away from home. She was actually a pretty decent artist, too, though she didn’t draw so much now as she used to. Superheroes were usually her subject of choice – people liked to assume that Izuku got his love of heroes from his father, but his father had never been around long enough to pass on anything but his genes. Nope. Izuku’s fascination had all started with his mother; she could keep up with any mega-fan when it came to rattling off stats and trivia. His hero notebooks had started as her idea, all those years ago, and he still kept up with them as they used to work on together.

Yet, as for anything more than that . . . Izuku frowned when he realized that most of his list was superficial, in a way. His brow furrowed as he tried to think harder. He knew . . . he knew that she’d gone to school for a degree in perioperative nursing, back before he was born. Her telekinetic Quirk made her an asset for supporting surgeons, and she’d chosen nursing out of a desire to be more involved in patient care before and after procedures. He knew where he got his desire to help people from – and it wasn’t just from watching All Might’s career so closely as he grew up. Yet, after his father left she’d cut down on her hours to raise him, until, finally, she’d not kept up on the tests needed to keep her certification up to date. She was a receptionist at Aldera General Hospital now – the pay was modest, and they’d had to live simply for as long as Izuku could remember, but she had more time to devote herself to being a single mother following her career shift. Izuku didn’t know if she regretted her choice; he didn’t even know what her goals were now that he was out of the house more or less following their switch to a dorm system. His mother never really talked much about herself, she was always so focused on him; she had to be, doing alone what should have been a job for two.

She . . . Izuku wracked his brain, but he couldn’t ever recall his mother going on a date since his father left. She could have hidden something like that from him, sure, but Izuku was doubtful. His mother . . . Izuku didn’t think that she thought as highly of herself as he did. Even though his father had been gone for a good ten years now, his shadow still lingered. Izuku knew how scary it was to speak to a girl for the first time . . . he couldn’t imagine how terrifying it would be trying to start over again after having thought you found your match for life, and then having it all fall apart. The idea of trying again must have felt impossible, in some ways.

Well then, he grit his teeth, reaching up to wipe at his eyes. That was why he was here now. He had a goal to ensure that both of the adults in his life were happy, and he was going to work to see it through. He was determined, no matter what the universe threw in his way. Such as . . .

. . . such as a complete inability to think of even one possible idea of how to turn what were purely professionally intended meetings between his mother and All Might into something more.

Above his desk, the smiling, glossy prints of All Might displayed in all his heroic glory seemed to mock him. Go beyond, young hero! Izuku glared up at the picture, and then stared down at the notebook again. He could do this, he tried to assure himself; he just needed to try harder.

But, just as he leaned forward to put pen to paper again, he heard a tapping at his door.

Startled, he leapt up from his desk with enough force to send his chair flying backwards into his bed. Hastily, he scrambled for his notebook and threw it into a drawer before slamming the drawer shut too. There, safe. His face flushed guiltily, as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn't, which was . . . well, wholly an overreaction, he could admit. But still.

The soft rapping sound brushed across his doorframe again. Now that his pounding heart had slowed enough to allow him to properly think, he could admit that was odd. It was as if his visitor was trying to announce their presence without being too obvious about doing so. None of the guys would hesitate to knock like that, and he couldn’t think of anything that his immediate neighbors would want that couldn’t wait until morning anyway. It wasn’t that he disliked either Mineta or Aoyama, or anything like that, they just . . . they were just different.

“Tokoyami-kun, is that you?” he asked out loud then – the only logical conclusion he could think of. “I’m coming,” he kept his voice just as soft. “Just a sec - ”

“ - Deku-kun, are you still awake?” he heard, just as he opened the door to see Ochaco’s concerned, pensive eyes peering at him from the other side of the threshold.

Gah! There was a girl at his door! his brain short-circuited. There was a girl at his door and it was night-time and there was a curfew – a curfew he’d already broken once before and Mr. Aizawa would kill him if he was woken up for his ignoring the rules again. Izuku felt his face burn as he imagined being caught with an actual, honest to goodness girl when there were taboos about that sort of thing for a reason, at that. Oh, but his mother would end him if she got a phone-call saying that he was caught dishonoring a classmate, and All Might would find one last Texas Smash! in him for his erring protégé and -

“ - Ochaco-chan!?” thankfully, he was able to dial his initial exclamation down to a hissed whisper from between his teeth. Seeing her there, he didn’t think twice before tugging her into his room – it would be the worst if Mineta came out to investigate all the noise and saw her there, after all. He didn’t want to put himself – or his friend or anyone, really – through an experience like that. With that immediate problem then solved, he swiftly closed the door behind them and only just barely kept from slamming it shut in his fervor to ensure that they weren’t seen by prying eyes. Ack, but that was close, he pressed his ear to the door, waiting to hear the sound of approaching footsteps in the hall, too close -

- and there was still a girl in his room!

The blood drained from his face as he swung away from the door, hardly swallowing a yipe as he did so. He could think of one – or twenty – embarrassing things that he’d rather Ochaco not see in his room. He knew, oh he knew, that he’d decorated his high school dorm like a pre-adolescent super-fan, rather than the near adult he actually was instead, but . . . well, he just wasn’t ready to let go of his childish collection of memorabilia. Not yet.

“I’m sorry if I’m making you uncomfortable,” Ochaco had two spots of pink colour flaming high on her cheeks, matching him blush for blush. Her short, chestnut bob of hair brushed her shoulders as she ducked her head. “I didn’t really think about that – I just . . . I saw your light on, and I wanted to check on you. Maybe that was silly of me? You’re right, I probably shouldn’t have come.”

Not as silly as the overgrown man-child she must think me to be after looking around my room! Izuku fought the nearly overwhelming urge he had to dart forward and sweep all of his action figures into the same drawer he’d flung his notebook into. Nope, he was going to stand still in one spot and play this cool - no matter how much he was regretting the red, white, and blue curtains and matching bedspread he'd brought from home with everything in him then. At least he’d finally gotten rid of the (almost) life-sized cut outs he’d first had; yeah, that was getting kinda creepy, even he could admit.

“No, it’s not silly,” Izuku forced a smile, rather than letting his face crumple into the expression of despair he was desperately trying not to show instead. This is just beyond humiliating. “And I’m not uncomfortable,” he tried to protest. Well, maybe that wasn’t entirely true, but he took in a deep breath and added, more sincerely then, “Or, at least, I can get over being uncomfortable, I should say. It’s you, after all.”

For that, her disbelieving look faded and she flashed him a small, dimpling smile in return. Things couldn’t be that bad, he finally let himself breathe, if she was smiling at him like that.

Even so, he held his next breath again as she walked over to his desk and looked down at the line of collectibles he had assembled there. Normally, he didn’t exactly like other people touching the things he had on display, but he didn’t completely mind as she picked up one of the figurines with a thoughtful expression. It was the limited edition All Might action figure from Kamino Ward, commemorating the battle that had sealed the necessity of his retirement. He was wearing his red crested costume, sans cape, and while half of his body was still bulked with the last remnants of One For All, the designer had captured him mid-slide into the thin, almost emaciated form that Izuku better knew as his mentor. He’d appreciated the collectible, most of all, for the look the artist had been able to capture on the figurine’s face: All Might’s expression was still creased in determination, no matter his waning power, and his blue eyes were burning, even when struck from a plastic mold. The thin right hand that wasn’t clenched into a fist, like his left, was pointing out in that now famous gesture from the aftermath of the battle. Looking at the pose, Izuku felt a familiar pang pierce through him. Next, he heard as a ghosting across his memory, it’s your turn. All the world had taken those words personally, as if their hero was speaking to them . . . but Izuku knew that he was the only one whom All Might had been reaching for through the cameras. The torch of One For All had been passed, and it was now his job to keep that flame burning.

Ochaco sighed as she carefully turned the collectible over in her hands. “I saw this model displayed at the store back home – my family can't afford action figures, so I didn’t ask, but it feels important to have this one. I’ve been saving to buy one for myself.”

Izuku felt his cheeks continue to burn for her words, albeit for a different reason, and he rubbed the back of his neck. “I know what you mean,” it was easy for him to commiserate with her, “I’m shocked that my mom got this one for me . . . I know how hard she works for what we do have. Sometimes, it shames me when she buys me silly things like this.”

“But they make you happy, so how is that silly?” Ochaco didn’t quite agree with him, gesturing around his room. “Your happiness has to make her happy too. And I've never gone without, I don't mean to say . . . my favourite toy growing up was a Seventh Wonder doll. She belonged to my mom, so she’s vintage, but I love her. You know, I still have her in my room,” she lowered her voice to share conspiratorially. “You’re not the only one who can’t let go of childish things just yet, Deku.”

A part of Izuku wanted to laugh at the sheer coincidence of it all – Shimura Nana: the Seventh Wonder, as she was better known by her Pro Hero name, of course. It felt only right that they were so connected. But:

“I would love to see that!” he couldn’t help the giddiness that bubbled up into his voice. “She’s a classic for a reason! And such a collector’s item, too, what an amazing heirloom your mother passed on!”

“The doll is still my favourite, she really is; and Seventh Wonder is the coolest!” as always, Ochaco’s enthusiasm had a way of catching at and encouraging his own. “I betcha she could've taken on your All Might, even,” she challenged, her eyes glittering mischievously. Playfully, she elbowed him. “You know, if their timelines had matched up better. Her career . . . it was over too soon.”

Oh, if you only knew, Izuku had to bite his tongue and clamp down hard to keep from sharing everything he had to tell, right then and there. His secrets were getting all the more difficult to swallow with each passing day, and he wanted . . .

- well, he just wanted, he finished lamely to himself. But he’d already been so blessed in so many unexpected ways. If his sin of omission was the price he had to pay for everything he'd since gained in life, then he would continue to keep his silence . . . no matter how much that silence was tearing him up inside.

“Anyway,” Ochaco returned the figurine to its place of honor on his desk, and pushed her hair back behind her ears. She seemed uncomfortable for only a moment before her expression steeled in determination, and she looked up to meet his eyes. “You see, I wasn’t really just passing by. I wanted to check on you because I was worried.”

Izuku frowned; he didn’t immediately understand what she was saying. “Well, I’m fine,” he held his hands away from his body as if to let her better look, before jabbing a thumb to point at his chest. “Mint condition, that’s me.”

“Yeah, you're probably right,” Ochaco said slowly. But she looked as if she was inwardly debating with herself, and, clueless, Izuku watched her struggle with something before she obviously reached a conclusion. “It's only . . . I saw what you wrote in your notebook earlier,” she finally chose a path of blunt honesty to bravely admit, “and I was concerned.”

Just like that, the flush he thought that he’d finally fought away from his cheeks returned and intensified tenfold. He could feel as his face turned red as Kirishima’s hair. “You what?!” he exclaimed, probably louder than he should have.

“I’m sorry,” Ochaco rushed to add, holding her hands out in front of her. For a moment he had the strange idea that she meant to touch him before she took a delicate step back, and let her hands fall to her side. Even so, her fingers curled into fists. “I don’t mean to pry, and I promise I wasn’t trying to snoop, I just - ”

- but the both of them were saved from what was proving to be a very uncomfortable turn in their conversation by another knock at the door. Only, this one was just slightly firmer in sound than Ochaco's had been. The each of them jumped, just barely swallowing noises of surprise, and Ochaco looked around as if to find somewhere to hide, which they both knew there wasn't. Just like that, Izuku felt the excess of colour drain from his face, leaving him pale with apprehension instead. Unconsciously, One For All bloomed so that he could feel its power thrum all the way down to his fingertips, but there was no one here to fight except for the consequences of his own actions. Even so, his heart painfully tried to somersault in his chest, knocking into his lungs and stealing his breath. They were caught!

. . . or, were they?

“Mr. Aizawa,” he attempted to summon a note of certainty to his tone, but his voice quavered anyway, “wouldn’t bother with knocking.”

“You’re right,” Ochaco whispered, fretfully peering over his shoulder at the still closed door as they heard the knock repeat itself. “But then, who - ”

“ - Midoriya!” they heard a forceful whisper sound from the other side of the door. “Your light is on; I know you’re awake! Open up!”

“Iida-kun!” Izuku exclaimed, surprised. But his bewilderment was swiftly undercut by a need for action; he didn’t want to have all of his friends caught for breaking curfew – especially Tenya, who'd been in just as much trouble as he had for disobeying orders and showing up at Kamino Ward to assist the Pros in saving Kacchan anyway. Then, there was the teensy little fact that Tenya was decidedly not quiet whenever he was worked up about something, and Mineta was a gossiping little snoop if ever there was one, and Izuku didn’t want to test just how thin the walls of their new home were just yet. He couldn’t -

- without thinking the matter through any further, Izuku opened the door and tugged Tenya inside with them before shutting it again in one quick maneuver. Once the door was closed he slumped back against it in boneless relief, only just able to catch his breath as his heartbeat tried to reclaim some semblance of a proper rhythm. He'd had one too many shocks to his system for one night, he decided; he was ready to call it a day.

“Uraraka-chan!” sure enough, Tenya didn't bother to keep his voice down. What he did manage to curb in volume - for him anyway, he more than made up for in gesticulation as his hands chopped at the air to loudly punctuate his words. Izuku felt a vein throb in his temple as he gestured for his friend to be quiet, but to no avail. “What are you doing here?” Tenya continued to demand. “Our teachers have implemented a curfew, with very strict rules placed on fraternization! At this time, when we should be endeavoring to earn back the trust of our elders now more so than ever, you should not be - ”

“ - Iida!” Ochaco’s voice was a furious growl of sound as she rushed forward to slap her hand over their friend’s mouth. “You’re being too loud! Do you want Mineta to hear you? Or worse,” she paled for a reason that Izuku couldn’t quite understand, “Aoyama?” She said his name carefully, as if just the hushed few syllables would somehow magically wake the other boy up and draw his attention towards their somewhat unauthorized little gathering.

“Besides, you forget that you’re breaking curfew too.” Honestly, Izuku forgot just how . . . scary Ochaco could get when she wanted to be, no matter how sweetly intoned her voice remained. “And that was before you knew that I’d be here. I’m not the only one violating our elders’ trust.”

They watched as that crucial bit of reasoning finally processed. Tenya’s eyes widened, and he gaped. It was then, and only then, that Ochaco drew her hand away, trusting that he’d be cooperative enough from there on out.

“It’s sweet that you’re worried about my honor, though; thank-you,” she softened her words to say. Her cheeks dimpled when she smiled, and for a moment Izuku couldn't help but stare. “That said, you have to know that I wouldn’t be breaking the rules unless it was important - ”

“ - yes, of course! I should have considered that first!” Tenya had the unparalleled ability to make even a whisper sound intense with urgency. “For what purpose are you here, then?” Just like that, the other boy swung his attention from Ochaco to pin him with his stare. In a move that was first too quick to first be seen, he darted forward to place his hands on his shoulders and bluntly look him over. Swiftly, he asked, “Midoriya, are you hurt? Are you ill? Has something happened to - ”

“ - oh no, no!” Ochaco wildly shook her head. “It’s nothing like that.” She hesitated for only a moment, looking his way as if judging whether she should speak or not before sharing in one rushed mouthful: “It has to do with his mother.”

“What? Miss Midoriya?!” if it was even possible, Tenya’s eyes widened even further. “Is she hurt?” he fired off his round of questions all over again. “Is she ill? Has something happened to - ”

“ - no, nothing like that, either! Iida, calm down,” Ochaco only had to take one menacing move forward for Tenya to wisely cover his mouth with his own hands. He took a careful step backwards from the much smaller girl. “It’s just . . . Izuku’s mother has an admirer!”

For that, Tenya paused, his brow furrowing as if he didn't completely understand her words. “An admirer?” Tenya tilted his head, perplexed for only a moment longer before understanding set in. “Ah,” he said, his voice sobering, “I see.” For that, Tenya turned to fix him with a solemn expression, and said lowly – more seriously then, “Izuku, is this something that you okay with? Is that why Ochaco is concerned?” His solicitude was more than evident in both his tone and expression, and the care both of his friends so obviously felt the need to express touched something deep inside of him. “I . . . it has only just occurred to me that you've never mentioned your father to us before. I've have never wanted to pry and risk bringing up an uncomfortable topic, but that may have been an oversight on my part. I apologize for not asking prior to this.”

“Oh, it’s okay,” Izuku ducked his head to better hide his gaze, just a little bit. “I’ve never mentioned him either, even after you’ve both told me about your families. There’s not really much to say – my biological dad is gone, and he has been since I was really little; he has another family overseas now, and we don't talk much. But that's okay . . . I've never really missed him.”

Liar.

When he braved looking up again, he was glad that he didn’t see pity in either of his friends’ expressions. Instead, there was only sympathy, and an overwhelming sense of compassion that made the previously yawning space around him seem not quite so vast. Yet, at the same time, he was pretty sure that they didn’t much believe him, either. So: “I’ve always just had my mom,” he tried to assure them. It was easy to inflect all the certainty he could into those words, at least; he meant every one of them. “She’s been more than enough.”

A long moment of silence passed following his proclamation. Really, what more was there to say? Sure enough, Tenya simply cocked his head and said, “I am happy to hear that. Yet, now, are you also interested in seeing that circle . . . expand?”

If he wasn’t, that same place in his heart warmed, he was sure that he and his friends would be having quite a different conversation following. But, instead, he couldn’t help the beaming grin that grew to split his face. All of a sudden he couldn’t remember why he'd been embarrassed to share his idea in the first place. These were his friends and they would support him through anything, just as they'd already stood by him for so much. For something that meant the world to him, they deserved to know as well.

“Yeah, I’m definitely okay with this,” he finally answered. He tried to keep his voice low with nonchalance, but giddiness was bursting in his heart like a star going supernova. He felt as if there were firecrackers underneath his skin and popping behind his eyes, so much so that he couldn’t help but add in an ecstatic rush: “All Might! I think that I may be able to set up my mom and All Might!”

A pin-drop could be heard in the silence that followed. Tenya gaped at him, and Ochaco’s warm brown eyes widened in honest surprise. For a moment, neither could speak as they processed his words.

But, only for a moment.

“What?!” wisely, Tenya clapped his hands over his mouth again to keep from exclaiming any louder. "Wait, All Might is your mother's admirer?"

“Izuku!" Ochaco too had to fight to keep her voice low. "Are you serious?!”

“Yes! I'm so, so serious!” Once he started, Izuku couldn’t seem to hold the words in. With that, he spilled everything that had happened to lead his logic to this point – from All Might first meeting his mother to discuss the new dorm system at U.A. and the vow he'd made to her while bowing in a formal dogeza on their dining room floor, promising to dedicate his life to his safety and education. It was . . . difficult, keeping everything All Might had said about choosing him to be his successor and comparing his mother to Shimura Nana to himself – but some things he couldn’t explain without giving a context he wasn't yet at liberty to share. Either way, he related everything else he could before racing on to share the news that All Might had been meeting his mother, in person, on his days off. Such was far and beyond anything a teacher was required to do for the parent of a student, and Izuku couldn’t help but hope that those meetings – dates – continued not only because of him, but because both of the parties in question simply enjoyed spending time with each other. He ended his rant by sharing what All Might had said about his mother in the teacher’s lounge that lunch period. Finally, he ran out of things to say, no matter that he remained all but bouncing on the balls of his feet in eager expectation for his friends' reply. His heart was in his throat as he looked between Tenya and Ochaco, waiting for them to weigh the evidence he’d presented and judge his conclusions accordingly.

A part of him – more than a part of him, really – expected them to call him crazy and try to talk him down from his goal. They’d be gentle about it, of course, but he knew that they’d try to guide him away from a possible course of action that would only see him hurt in the long run if his plan didn’t succeed. Was he grasping at straws? Izuku wondered then. Was this insane idea just the product of him wanting the two people he loved best in his life to be happy – and to be happy with each other, at that? Had he mixed up his feelings of admiration and devotion into some twisted form of idolization that couldn’t tell real from make-believe to the point where he'd skewed reality so much? Maybe he had; maybe he was just as hopeless as Kacchan always said he was; maybe this was hopeless, and he shouldn't even try to -

“ - honestly, Izuku, I don’t know,” slowly, Tenya gathered his words. The other boy was just so practical, and logical to a fault. If he thought that his plan was absurd, then . . . Izuku felt something deep inside of him wilt, defeated, before he continued by saying, “It’s a long-shot, I’ll grant you, but there is clearly a spark of something here. What, exactly, that something is I can’t begin to guess, but lasting relationships have been built from much less before. What harm is there in trying, especially when the possibility of success may further the happiness of those who are dear to you?”

“You are already All Might’s favourite student – clearly, everyone thinks so!” Ochaco beamed – as usual, being so, so close to the truth, but ultimately so far away. “And we all know how much you admire him too, that’s no secret. It would be like a fairy tale if he became a part of your family for real. What a beautiful story that would be!”

Wouldn't it, though? Izuku thought, feeling a bit dazed as he moved to sit on the edge of his bed. His legs didn’t seem to want to support his weight any longer, and his lungs felt curiously light in his chest. He was already living such a dream, so much so that a part of him felt selfish even wanting the fates to add to his blessings; yet, to compound his good fortune in such wondrous way . . .

It helped ground him from the spiral he felt himself spinning into when Tenya sat down next to him by his left, and Ochaco by his right. He wasn’t just imagining things, then; this could really, possibly work. All he had to do was put his mind to the problem before him, and plan accordingly to achieve a solution.

Then, if he did . . .

“Yeah, it would be amazing,” he acknowledged wistfully. “Only, I’ve kinda stumped myself. See, I’m no good at romance, and I don’t have a clue of where to even begin.”

“But that’s okay,” Ochaco reached over to rest her hand on his shoulder. He was suddenly almost painfully aware of where she touched him as the fireworks underneath his skin seemed to shift and crackle. A shiver traveled down his arm and across his neck, originating from her fingertips. “That’s what we’re here for! I’m glad you trusted us with this, Deku. Together, I know we'll think of something!”

Tenya looked only slightly less uncertain, but he nodded anyway before clapping his hand on his opposite shoulder. Briefly, he flexed his fingers. “I too must confess that this is . . . unexplored territory for me. But for the happiness of my friend, and one whom I too am proud to call my mentor, I say that we will face this challenge head on and overcome it together. Whatever help we can provide, we will!”

“Thanks, guys,” the words felt too small to encompass everything he felt inside, but they were enough. "I really can't tell you how much I appreciate this."

"You can thank us after we've succeeded!" Ochaco nudged him with a wink. "Alright then," she clapped her hands together. "Show us what you've got so far, and we'll plan from there."

In the end, they spent another few hours into the night planning and debating. There were a few good natured arguments that sprung up, and more than a few times when they'd gone quiet, thinking that they'd heard someone out beyond in the hall. Between Tenya's unavoidable enthusiasm and all of their combined laughter, Izuku was amazed that they hadn't woken up the entire floor. But, in the end, just how exhausted they were all going to be for classes the following day was worth it. They finally parted ways with a plan clearly in mind, and each of them ready to enact the respective roles they had to play. Even with the late night spent up plotting with his friends, Izuku beat his alarm clock awake in the morning; he was much too anxious with excitement to keep his body still any longer than that.

Alright then, he couldn't help but think with a determined grin as he got ready for the day, it was time.

Go beyond, young hero! the poster on the wall winked at him one last time as he shouldered his backpack and prepared to head out for class. He saluted the glossy print, resolutely meeting his mentor's eyes as if he was standing before him in actuality. "I intend to, All Might," he vowed to himself before turning to leave his room behind. Oh, how he intended to!



~MJ

 

@WarmNyota_SweetAyesha - Thank you so much for the kind words, my friend! The funny thing is that I did not intend for the kids to become such an integral part of the story! They were just my introduction and conclusion to what was supposed to be a long vignette . . . and now, here we are: 15k of character study in and I am only just setting up the date at the end of this chapter. But what I do love about Izuku and his friends is that they are there for each other, through thick and thin; they're one of my favourite trios since Han, Luke, and Leia - and that's not even adding in the rest of their classmates to that bond! (Well, for the most part. ) What's really great is that it's not just blind affection tying them together, they can be brutally honest with each other when needed. So, if Izuku was completely silly and far-fetched with his ideas, they'd say something. But both Tenya and Ochaco come from happy, supportive families - of course they want Izuku to tie his ideal family together if at all possible. So, yeah, Team Parent Trap is a go! (Oi vey, but the things I never thought that I would type . . . ) This is turning out to definitely be the most rom-com thing I have ever written, but I'm enjoying every word.

As always, I thank you so much for your support! I hope that you continue to enjoy the story as it goes.

---

III.

For Yagi Toshinori, his morning routine wasn’t quite the same as it used to be.

His still woke bright and early, when there were far too few numbers illuminated on the clock’s screen, as had long been his habit unless he was pursuing a villain late into the night before. Yet, more often than not, it was now a struggle to rise at the insistence of the alarm; he rarely felt rested, even after a full night's sleep. All he wanted to do was grumble as he blearily opened his eyes and hit the alarm with more force than was strictly necessary. He was no longer in danger of destroying the clock by being unconscious of his strength, at least, he tried to think positively, but his efforts turned shaded by dark rumination anyway. That thought - admittedly more bitter than sweet - would only be the first of its ilk throughout the day. But, rather than lazing about and cataloging the dozen different aches and pains his body was loudly trying to vocalize, he forced himself to get up and start anew.

After stretching away the stiffness that had settled in his limbs from the night before, he sped through his morning ablutions. He’d never considered himself a vain man, but he was self-aware enough to admit that he'd had difficulties adjusting to his loss of muscle mass. Even seven years out from the inception of his injuries, he could hardly acknowledge the mangled, twisted flesh that distorted a great deal of his torso as his own. He had no desire to linger over his body for any longer than was necessary, so he was quick and efficient as he showered for the sake of cleanliness and toweled himself dry. Following, he briskly shaved the stubble from his face in front of the mirror, trying to ignore the pronounced ridges of his cheekbones and the shadows cast by his deep-set eyes. He smoothed his damp blonde hair back from his forehead with some success, but didn’t expect it to stay that way throughout the day; it always seemed to have a life of its own, and he was inclined to let it do what it wanted.

It helped that, just as he was fastening his arm brace so he could finish dressing, his phone vibrated, illuminating with an incoming text message. He glanced down at the screen to see:

Is it just me, or is more difficult getting out of bed the older we get?

The little dots at the bottom, indicating that his correspondent was still typing, blinked in a steady dance, and then:

Sometimes I wouldn’t mind a strength Quirk like yours – the alarm clock has it coming. It’s only a matter of time!

Toshinori couldn’t help the genuine smile that bloomed for receiving her message, nor the small chuckle he gave to the silence of his apartment. He finished fastening his brace, and flexed his scarred fingers to coax away the numbness that’d set in before he picked up his phone to reply. It remained a delicate task for him, typing on any sort of electronic device; he had to do so slowly, with only one finger picking out each character with careful precision. His students liked to laugh at him for his ungainly technical skills – even Izuku had traitorously joined their teasing more than once, but he managed anyway.

It’s an inconvenience replacing them, I can tell you from experience, he replied. I’m glad that you’ve been spared the hassle.

He paused, and then added: But . . . it’s always felt good in the moment.

Toshinori received a laughing face in reply, and then a little yellow face that was winking with a heart. He’d never admit aloud how long he stared at the two emojis, feeling irrationally pleased that he’d been able to garner such a positive reaction. He felt lighter as he shrugged on his dress shirt and patiently managed the buttons. His tie and jacket he simply put out and ready to go by his briefcase. By the time he was done, his mood was cheerful enough that he didn’t quite mind glancing in the mirror one last time to make sure that everything was in order before heading to the kitchen. His smile even remained as he portioned out his first round of pills for the day – a scintillating combination of prescription medication and vitamin supplements, and only then did he give a grimace instead. A good portion of one counter was dedicated to his own private pharmacy, and he loathed the sight of it. But, what was there to be done? Instead, he tried to focus on what was positive about his life.

At first, he reflected as he set the water on for tea, giving his number to Midoriya Inko had been for practicality’s sake as much as anything else. They needed to have a way to contact each other in case of emergencies, especially with Class I-A's ability to attract trouble like moths to flames. And, what was more than that, Toshinori knew that he’d been remiss in passing his power to Izuku without the awareness or consent of his mother; he understood his failings all too clearly in that regard. Just because he . . . well, he hadn’t had guardians of his own to consult when Nana Shimura bequeathed her power to him didn’t mean that his own successor was the same. He’d acted recklessly, he knew in hindsight, pushed on by the insistence of One For All when finding a vessel that was true and facing the grimly ebbing hourglass that was his own time remaining as a Pro Hero. He’d never stopped or looked back since then. Now, he was endeavoring to amend the error of his ways; Inko deserved nothing less.

To honor his determination to do better, he’d set up a schedule of weekly meetings to keep her informed of her son’s progress. It’d seemed impersonal to do so over the phone or through an e-mail, so he proposed that they meet in person. Even he could admit that their first meeting was, well . . . awkward, to put it lightly. All of the fire Inko had shown when standing up to him (the weight of his name and power had meant nothing when she was a mother wolf flashing her teeth to defend her cub) for her son’s safety seemed to flicker when she was just being herself. She couldn’t seem to separate him from his persona as All Might, and a fair amount of their initial time spent together passed with her simply staring while he fumbled to find his own words in return. He . . . well, in the interest of brutal honesty, wasn't well practiced in holding a simple conversation with a non-combatant when he wasn’t holding up the mantle of All Might, either. He felt just as adrift as Inko. But, well . . . he’d hung up his cape after Kamino Ward. Now, it was time to learn how to be plain old Toshinori Yagi all over again. Only, doing so was proving to be more difficult than he’d initially anticipated, in so many ways that he’d first failed to consider.

Inko, in her own unexpected way, was helping ease that transition. Their first meeting together without Izuku as a buffer between them had been admittedly strained, and he’d been surprised when she’d accepted his invitation to meet again soon after. But it got easier every time following, to the point where they found themselves chatting about subjects other than Izuku and his education. Their meetings seemed to last longer every week, and the texting about random things throughout the day was the latest development in their relationship. Toshinori found that he didn’t mind the change, he’d even call it refreshing in its own way. He hadn’t realized just how quiet (empty) he’d allowed his life to become outside of his duties as a vessel of One For All and Japan's Number One Pro Hero. Her unexpected friendship made filling in that void seem not quite as daunting a task as it'd seemed before.

The kettle whistled as the water finished boiling, and he fixed himself a small cup of tea, carefully measuring out the water for what little the remnants of his digestive system would allow. He felt a pang, missing his morning cup of coffee then more than ever. It was difficult, adjusting to the changes in his diet he had to make following his injuries from that penultimate battle with All For One. The single egg and half a cup of rice, with its tiny portion of sadly under-seasoned natto atop, when combined with half a banana was depressing no matter how he looked at it. Usually, to maintain the sheer bulk of his physique and fuel the rigorous demands he placed on his body, the amount of calories he’d had to consume every day had been well, impressive, to say the least, back in his prime. But, now . . .

. . . he stabbed at the rice with his chopsticks, and tried not to make a face. Just be glad you’re still alive and able to eat anything, Yagi, Gran Torino hadn’t tolerated his moping in the slightest, even when his wounds were still fresh. All For One was a twitch away from neatly bisecting you, remember? It’s a miracle the doctors were able to stitch you back together again. This is the price you paid for taking that bastard out – for Nana, and for all of Japan. What would you’ve preferred: that monster still alive and walking free from his crimes, or you keeping your nauseatingly American ability to plow through a dozen hamburgers in one sitting? Yeah, that’s what I thought. Now shut up, boy, and eat your damn yogurt.

“Fine, Torino-sensei,” he muttered out loud, reflexively bobbing his head in respect even when his surrogate mentor couldn’t see him. “I’ll shut up and eat my damn yogurt.”

He hated yogurt, for the record – absolutely detested it, even, along with most other soft, hospital-friendly foods. And he would give the single lung he had left for a juicy cheeseburger with all the toppings and a deliciously greasy serving of French fries. His non-existent stomach rumbled for just the thought, and it was only through a supreme force of will that he dutifully hunkered down and ate the meager breakfast approved by his doctors instead. He swallowed his doll sized portions of plain food without really tasting anything, just the same as he usually did.

Then, his phone lit up with another text message:

I’m still not used to Izuku living in a dorm – I’ve spent so long making breakfast for him too that I don’t know how to make food for just one person any more.

Her text was accompanied by a picture of a mouthwatering spread of broiled fish and seasoned rice and miso soup with a side of yogurt and fresh fruit. Even the yogurt looked appetizing. Inko, he thought with a pang, was drinking coffee with her breakfast, and she’d clearly added cream and sugar to her mug. Coffee with cream and sugar, didn’t that sound wonderful?

But, at the very least, it helped to focus on her, rather than his own circumstances. It always did.

It’s a sign that you’re a good mother, that same, now familiar smile grew to tug on his mouth as he assured her. Such habits are difficult to break, I can only imagine.

Maybe too good! Izuku was a growing young boy with a brand new Quirk to feed, but I certainly don’t need these hearty breakfasts. A pause followed those words, as if there was something further she was going to say before she thought the best of it. The blinking little dots seemed to hesitate, and then disappeared completely. Even so, he thought that he could infer her thoughts from the silence. Nonsense, he wanted to say, and insist that she looked wonderful. But that was . . . well, that was crossing a line, a clearly defined line that he wouldn’t even look at, let alone step over. So, when he couldn’t confront the true heart of the matter head-on, he chose a diversion instead.

He took a picture of his own breakfast, and attached it with the caption: This morning, I’m even allowed an entire half of a banana. He felt unreasonably successful when he managed to add a winking face to the text and hit send. Look at that: he was a modern man. His students would be so proud.

Such a splurge, he could well imagine her voice, droll but endeavoring to remain positive nonetheless. You know, you can do better than that, even with your restrictions. You don’t have a stomach, but you’re not dead!

Yes, well, that may have been true . . . but there still remained the one, simple little problem that -

- oh no, don’t tell me that you’ve lived on your own for this long, but you’ve never learned how to cook? You’re not one of *those* bachelors, are you?

He flushed, wincing for her uncanny level of insight. Perceptive woman, he wanted to grumble, he wouldn’t have put it that way, not quite, but -

- I can fry an egg, he felt honor-bound to try and defend himself. And . . . I’ve learned how not to burn rice. Just barely, but still, that was something.

Toshinori Yagi, he could hear her sigh as if she was standing right there next to him, you are an impossible man. We’ll have to fix that, of course.

Even without her physically standing there with him, he could feel his flush deepen in reply to her words. He reached up to bashfully rub at the back of his neck, only to realize the time on his watch as he did so. He had to go. Saved by the proverbial bell.

He cut his reply short to say goodbye to Inko, who only said: don’t think this conversation is over! in as kindly intentioned a threat as he’d ever received. But she wished him a good day, regardless, and promised to text him on her own lunch break later. His smile only grew as he returned her pleasantries one last time, and then he was out the door.

There was a chill in the air, but it was a beautifully sunny day outside and he enjoyed his walk to the train station. It well and truly felt like autumn, that bit of cold finally proclaimed. The summer had been slow to let go of the weather that year, and it'd remained unseasonably warm even into the start of October. Above him, the still green trees lining the street had only begun to gild with tints of amber and yellow-gold at their crests. Perhaps, it would be a mild winter soon to come.

No matter that he technically had an apartment of his own on U.A.’s campus, Toshinori chose to live separately from the school. He only made use of his lodgings there when he had late nights followed by early mornings the next day. His presence at the school put the children at risk, as they’d already found from grim experience, and so he tried to hold himself apart to some degree, as best he could. He’d been chided by his fellow faculty members for his decision, of course – they were stronger standing together, Principal Nezu had kindly tried to convince him, more than once – but on this he wouldn’t be crossed. He well knew the dark forces who were poised to revel in his downfall, and he wouldn’t see anyone else caught in the crossfire of his legend and the gross villainy of their world if he could help it. He may've not had his full power anymore, but this was something he could do to keep his students safe. So, he would.

Pillars crumble when they do not share bracing the weight above them with other pillars, Aizawa had muttered at that same staff meeting. But do what you want, of course, All Might – it’s your life. Somehow, the underground hero had managed to sound mocking without changing the dour inflection of his tone in the slightest. But it hadn’t mattered; Toshinori ignored him anyway. He carried the weight above him alone because he had to, it was that simple. There was no other choice he could make in good consciousness.

After all, look at what happened when even a hero as strong as Nana Shimura tried to balance the villainy seeking her ruin with a family of her own and -

- but that thought was not fitting for the sunshine and the fresh start to the day. So, Toshinori gently pushed it aside.

He only had to wait on the platform for a few minutes, thanks to his timing his commute just so. Taking the train to work like the vast majority of the population did was still a novelty all its own. He’d used public transportation in the past, of course, but not as part of a routine, and certainly not because that was the only option he had available to him. But he couldn’t leap skyscrapers in a single bound anymore; the sky and its pathways were now closed to him. Instead, he was stuck adhering to the fixed laws of gravity with both of his feet planted firmly on the ground, just like most everyone else in the world had to do. There would be no more thwarting petty villains on his way to the agency, where he’d then tackle the larger cases waiting him for a day of Pro Hero work. Perhaps, what was more difficult to adjust to, he’d never had a form that could easily blend into the masses, Quirk or no Quirk. The combination of his excess height and musculature, foreign colouring, and a face that was all too well known thanks to the media, made him an easily identified figure. Now, hunched over to make his too-tall frame less noticeable and dressed like every other businessman aboard granted him some semblance of anonymity, at least. His true form was now known to the world, true, thanks to the media coverage at Kamino Ward, but the public was still having a hard time adjusting their view of him. Toshinori knew that he was currently enjoying a brief respite while they accustomed themselves to his new reality. Eventually, he’d have to find a way to hide his identity all over again.

Right now, he only had one little girl who was staring at him with her dark brown eyes blown wide in recognition. Her mother was busy tending to a fussy baby in a stroller, and failed to notice her daughter’s growing fascination with the stranger standing across from them. All Might, he could see her mutter breathlessly, an awed smile growing to split her face. His altered appearance clearly didn’t matter to her; in the simple ways of children, he was still a hero in her eyes. But he held a finger up to his mouth to ask for her silence, and she somberly nodded her head as if he’d given her a great duty to fulfill. He was grateful for her discretion, at least; he didn’t want to deal with the attention of the crowded train then, if he could help it.

Instead, he busied himself by reading in order to pass the time. The book: Even Dummies Can Teach! was proving to be quite the lifeline. Hizashi had intended the gift as a gag, he knew, but Toshinori had found the book to be a more than beneficial building block as he adjusted to his new career. He’d since littered the margins with notes, and highlighted key points that he wanted to remember with each re-read. He never dedicated himself to anything half-heartedly, and if this was to be his role in life from here on out then he was determined to master his chosen profession to the best of his ability. His reading that day was supplemented by: Math – Everything You’ve Forgotten and Everything That’s New! Math had proven to be Izuku’s weakest subject to date, so he was determined to study in order to better help the boy succeed. He would do everything he could to assist his protégé, in every way, it was always just that simple . . . no matter how much his own mental faculties were aching for the strain in the meantime. This wasn’t nearly the same way U.A. had taught mathematics when he’d been in attendance, he wanted to grumble. It hadn't even been thirty years, yet; math was timeless, right? or so he’d assumed. How could it just change?

The train came to his stop before too long, and he made sure to tear and fold a little piece of paper from his notebook with his autograph and placed it in one of the family’s bags as he passed by to disembark. “Be good for your mother, young hero,” he whispered to the little girl. He winked, and watched as her jaw fell open to gape.

“Mama!” he heard from the platform, just before the doors closed on the train again. “That was All Might, didn’t you see? All Might!”

For that smallest of encounters, the ache in his joints didn't feel quite so pronounced as he shuffled along with the crowd. Even if he couldn’t physically be out there fighting villains on the frontlines, he knew that the resounding power of his name was just as potent as it ever was. He was still the Symbol of Peace, and that symbol would continue to inspire a whole new generation to achieve even greater heights than he had ever reached. From there, they would find and elevate their own heroes from amongst themselves. Like Izuku, he thought with no small amount of pride. Someday, the boy’s star would shine brightly enough to eclipse his own, of that he was more than certain.

From the station, it was a short walk to the school campus. He was greeted warmly by the security guards at the entrance, who were used to the routine of his morning commute by then. He made a point of remembering their names, asking about Hatano’s newborn baby and young Miss Kita’s progress in applying for the police academy. He stayed and chatted for a few moments, leaving smiles behind him in his wake. Once through the gates he had both his first year students and the upperclassmen who wished him a good day with beaming grins and waving hands as they passed. All Might-sensei! he heard over and over again as he walked down the path to the faculty offices. Out of all the titles he’d carried in his life, he thought that it was that one he was coming to appreciate the most.

By the time he came upon the teacher’s lounge to see about maybe finding another cup of tea, he was little surprised to find Izuku already waiting for him on a bench in the hallway. The boy was hunched over with his nose stuck in one of his notebooks, as was far from unusual; his pen flew in a fury across the blank lines on the page, and he mumbled under his breath. Izuku usually found a way to say good-morning before heading off to homeroom, as had become their routine, and today was no exception. Only, Toshinori tucked away a frown to look his young charge over, there were bags beneath his eyes and his shoulders seemed slouched to his critical gaze. Did he sleep well the night before? he felt a moment’s concern to wonder. He didn't appear to be nearly rested enough. But, he tried to stop himself and think logically, most likely Izuku was just up too late with his homework. U.A. didn’t slack when it came to offering an elevated high school education in addition to its hero courses, and it could prove to be difficult juggling the two extremes, especially for first year students. Toshinori knew from his own experience just how hard it was to excel at U.A.; a few sleepless nights were to be expected along the way.

But, still . . .

“Good morning, young Midoriya,” he greeted when Izuku still didn’t look up. “How are you today?”

“Ack!” Izuku jumped to his feet, clearly startled by his arrival. Spooked, he threw his notebook up in the air before darting forward to catch the pad of paper and awkwardly hugging it to his chest as if to forestall dropping it again. The pen clattered as it fell the ground and rolled across the floor. “All Might!” he shook his head as if to clear it, and then smiled a bit too widely to be comforting. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there, and you surprised me. Good morning!”

Toshinori blinked, taken aback by the reaction he'd garnered. Izuku hadn’t been quite so . . . well, excitable around him in over a year now. What, he felt that same twinge of concern to wonder, was going on?

“Are you alright?” Toshinori didn’t mince words to ask. He bent down to pick up the pen, and handed it back. “You’re acting strange.”

“What, who, me? Strange? There's nothing strange about me; everything's normal?” Izuku made an unconvincing show of looking bewildered. He snatched the pen back, and his hands went white-knuckled to clutch at his notebook. “No, I’m fine; super, even; I couldn’t be better!”

Uh huh . . . sure.

“Was it just a late night?” Toshinori tried to reason, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. A lack of sleep could make anyone jumpy, he would give the kid that much. Even so, the explanation didn’t ring completely true.
For a moment, Izuku just stared at him. “A late night? What do you mean: a late night?” he laughed nervously. “What would make you think that?”

“You’ve got bags under your eyes,” Toshinori gestured. “And you’re . . .” well, all there was left to do was gesture again, this time more broadly. How did he put that into words, otherwise? “Has Aizawa been assigning too much homework?”

Izuku shook his head. “Oh yeah, that’s it, right,” he exhaled a bit too deeply, as if relieved for a lifeline. “Just lots of . . . homework. We have a test coming up. Yeah, I didn’t get to sleep until late.”

“Well, I understand that – U.A. is the best for a reason, and it’s not always easy.” Even so, he couldn’t help but feel that there was something he was missing. He'd learned to trust those instincts after years of fighting villains. “Don’t let the stress get to you, as much as you can help it, and remember to try to keep up on your rest. A full night’s sleep is just as important to your mind as well as your body. Good habits now will only pay off in the future.”

That, he more than knew from his own experience, he thought with a wince. Every injury he’d taken on the job for the past few decades seemed to dully throb at once, then – and he could only attribute the more obvious aches and pains to All For One, at that. Proper sleep, diet, and exercise would prove to be paramount - the boy would thank him later.

“You’re right, of course,” Izuku bobbed his head in a quick bow to acknowledge. But the determined look that ignited his eyes was more familiar then, at least. “I’ll do better.”

“Of course you will; I had no doubt,” he couldn’t help but smile to say. Yet, even so . . . he held the door open to the teacher's lounge to let Izuku go first, and then walked over to the counter. Sure enough, there was already hot water to be found from the comings and goings of the staff during the morning rush, and he made himself another cup of tea without fuss. Pointedly, he ignored the coffee. All the while, Izuku loitered awkwardly in the middle of the room, anxiously fiddling with the notebook in his hands. Something still wasn’t right, but he wasn’t quite sure how to draw out the answers he was looking for if Izuku didn’t want to talk about them.

So: “Is something on your mind?” he tried asking one more time. Usually, in his experience, it paid to be direct and honest. Or, at least, that's what he told himself when he struggled with subterfuge and tactful wordplay. Unfortunately, teenagers required quite a bit more nuance than he'd first been prepared to handle, but he was trying his best.

Thankfully, however, Izuku only looked relieved by the segue. “Well, yeah there is, actually. Nothing bad, or anything like that, so you don’t have to worry . . . but, I did want to ask you something.”

Hah! His instincts were correct. Feeling irrationally proud of himself, Toshinori gave what he hoped was an encouraging smile. “Ask away, young man,” he held his hands out to invite, “I’m an open book.”

“Weeell,” Izuku took in a deep breath, looking lost for only a moment longer before his expression steeled and determination set in, “I just wanted to know: are you busy tomorrow night? I know it’s a Saturday, and you probably already have plans . . .”

The question took him by surprise. That was . . . well, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting but it most certainly wasn’t anything along those lines. What was more than that, he fought not to make a face for just how busy he wasn’t on a Saturday night. Lately, especially all the more so since the aftermath of Kamino Ward, he didn’t much care for the weekends. Instead, he just wanted Monday to come back around and bring a full work-week again. “No,” he said carefully. “I am not busy.”

“Oh good,” Izuku looked relieved. He was tongue-tied for only a second longer before he inhaled deeply as if to fortify himself, and then said, in a quick rush of exhaled breath, “because I was wondering – well, actually, Mom was wondering, and I thought I'd ask for her – ifyouwouldmaybeliketocomeoverandhavedinnerwithus?”

Toshinori blinked. He got maybe half of that. “Come again?” he didn’t want to make Izuku repeat what had obviously taken him a lot of courage to say, but, at the same time . . . “Breath, Izuku,” he tried to encourage, “and use your words.”

Obediently, Izuku sucked in a deep breath, and let it out slow. “Mom was wondering,” he tried again, his face creased in determination as he clearly enunciated every word, “if you’d like to come over and have dinner with us?”

Oh, was that it? From the thematic build-up, he’d been expecting something more difficult than that, truth be told. His brow furrowed: why had that been so hard for Izuku to say? And -

“ - huh,” he puzzled out loud, “I’ve already talked to your mother a few times this morning and she hasn’t said anything about making plans.”

“You’ve talked to Mom already?” There was a dazed, starry sort of cast to Izuku’s expression that Toshinori, for the life of him, couldn’t even begin to understand.

“Uh . . . yeah,” he answered slowly, wondering where the trap was. “I have.”

“She’s only said good-morning to me,” Izuku frowned and made a face, “that’s it - ”

“ - but did you write her back?”

“Ah,” Izuku blushed to admit, “well, no – not yet.”

“We see again, then, how important using our words is,” Toshinori pointed out dryly. “That’s how conversations happen.”

“Yeah, yeah, I get it,” Izuku rolled his eyes – and at the unconsciously teenage reaction to his counseling, Toshinori found the reassurance he’d been looking for. That was more like it. “But, still,” Izuku regrouped to repeat his invitation, “if you’d like to come over, then we would – well, she would – appreciate that very much.”

“Sure.”

“I understand if you have other things planned, and all – I mean, you're still All Might, but we would really like it if you could – oh, sure? Yes, you said yes! Sure! That's awesome!” Izuku cut himself mid-ramble, and his eyes lit up to glitter with happy surprise. Toshinori suspected that he only just kept himself from punching the air in triumph. “I mean . . . that's cool,” he clearly tried to tamper his excitement, but failed miserably. “We’ll see you around seven, then?

“Around seven,” he confirmed. “Sounds good.”

“Around seven,” Izuku repeated to himself, sounding only slightly dazed. “We’re a go, now,” he said under his breath – and Toshinori saw the exact moment when whatever idea was on Izuku's mind took his attention far away again. Toshinori shook his head, bemused. He didn't even bother trying to figure out what was going on with his successor when the warning bell rang – startling Izuku and drawing him to sprint out of the teacher's lounge for homeroom after wishing him a good day. Toshinori simply waved goodbye and picked up his tea to head on his own way. He had an assembly with the combined third year student body where he would be one of the lecturers to speak on the subject of collateral damage – a very real thought to be on the minds of both the soon to be licensed Pro Heroes and their support systems.

Yet, instead of wholly focusing on the speech he had to deliver, he found his thoughts wandering. He had a date with the Midoriya family, he couldn’t help but smile to look forward to. Izuku wanted – no, he said that Inko wanted . . .

For a moment, Toshinori paused in the middle of the hallway, trying to pick apart the curiously warm and weightless feeling that thought inspired somewhere in the vicinity of his chest. The sensation wasn't quite unlike carrying the full warmth of One For All inside his heart, in a way. He didn’t quite understand what it was he felt, or why; he only knew that it was a good feeling – a very good feeling. It wasn’t something he felt inclined to question, at that. So, he simply chose to accept it, and moved on.

As he turned a corner for the senior classrooms, only decades of trained reflexes had him stepping out of the way of young Ochaco Uraraka as she barreled down the corridor, clearly trying to beat the bell before it rang to signal the start of class. The hall was almost empty, and she was cutting it close – it looked as if she had just ran all the way from the dorms, at that. Her tie was fastened in an uncharacteristically sloppy knot, and her hair was still tousled as if she’d jumped out of bed and gotten ready in a rush. She had the same bags underneath her eyes that Izuku had, and her reaction time was off as she just barely missed running through him.

“Miss Uraraka,” he said, surprised to see the normally mature young woman in such a state. “That must be some test coming up – did any of you sleep last night?”

“Huh?” her brow furrowed as she skid to a halt – for a moment looking bashful that she’d almost ran straight into him, before her eyes widened as she processed what he said. “Ah, yes, that’s it! We have a test coming up. That’s why I overslept – I was up late, you know . . . studying. For the test.”

Perhaps, Toshinori thought drolly, there was something in the water that morning. What was it with these kids? he wondered, feeling only mildly unnerved as Ochaco continued to stare at him. There was something soft about her expression, and she was smiling a warm, almost goofy smile that he was clueless to understand.

Stress, Toshinori shook his head – it did weird things to people.

“Miss Uraraka, is something amiss?” he asked as delicately as he could.

“What? No, of course not!” she hastened to assure him. She hesitated, and for a moment he thought that she would continue on her way, before she said: “I am just . . . really, really happy for you. I hope that everything works out, All Might-sensei; you all deserve it.”

And, with those cryptic last words, she turned on her heel and rushed off to her classroom. He spent a moment staring after her, wanting her to explain what she said but not wanting her to be late for homeroom. Aizawa was not a forgiving teacher, to say the least; he wouldn't wish his colleague's ire on anyone, let alone one of Izuku's friends. Instead, he shook his head to clear away his bewilderment, and then continued on his own way.

Teenagers, Toshinori simply huffed to conclude, were like nothing he could ever hope to completely understand. Sometimes, it was easier fighting villains.



~MJ

 

Finally caught up! This is a really fun and sweet story so far—I know absolutely zero about this fandom, but your characterization is so well done (as usual!) that I can follow everything perfectly. Izuku is such a dear, earnest, loving young fellow, which shows itself in so many ways: his studiousness in developing his Quirk, his love for his mom after all he and his family have been through (his dad sounds like a real piece of work), his esteem for All Might, and his earnestness in wanting to bring his mom and All Might together—the two people he loves and respects the most in the world. His friends Ochaco and Tenya are a delightful pair of co-conspirators; I can tell the three of them have cooked up some kind of momentous plan. And his scenes and conversations with All Might are just wonderful—just so full of earnest encouragment on both sides, with a bittersweet tinge as the now-past-his-prime, retired hero no doubt sees some of himself in his young student. I really like the way you’ve depicted his challenges and difficulties in making the transition from superheroism to regular-persondom, and the way even pretty ordinary things like taking the train to work instead of flying are such a big change for him. But one can tell he considers the change totally worth it, and even in his grumpy moments his pride in Izuku really shines through. They both seem to be admirably carrying on the legacy of Nana Shimura; I bet wherever she is, she’d be proud of them.

And a dinner invitation to the Midoriyas’! Izuku is so cute with his nervous, jumpy delivery of the invitation... though I can tell All Might is beginning to put two and two together about a plan. Can’t wait to see where this will lead, and I really can’t wait to see how you’ll work in the “technical/mechanical emergency” prompt! Thanks for sharing your talents, as always!

 

It really is fascinating that, for a superhero fandom, this is probably one of the most normal things I've ever written. And, really, these two are already further along than they realize, which is so much fun to write, as you well know! The breakfast part came when I looked up a recommended diet for a total gastrectomy patient and saw the half a banana portion size listed on the chart. It's hard for anyone to lose their health, period, but for a man who's lived his life defined by his body and strength . . . yeah, I can't even begin to imagine how hard that is, and the rest just wrote itself from there.

Thank-you so much for reading, my friend, as always!

Aw, thank-you! Honestly, this was a fic that I was just writing as a gift for myself. Having a few lovely readers along the way who are interested too just makes that all the better! I thank you for taking the time to give this story a try!

Izuku is just the dearest - really, he's a cinnamon roll in every sense of the word, even in the face of so much adversity. All three of these characters are just so lovable, and they deserve to be happy - if that just so happens to be together, then so be it. And, as I'm currently holding the pen . . .

And yeah, Hisashi is definitely a piece of work. I wrote him out of the story as an unremarkable, typically bad father, but you should see the fan theories that are convinced that the number one big badguy is really Izuku's dad. It could possibly be so much worse, as much as the idea of All For One and All Might fighting for custody amuses me.

Oh, just you wait and see! This trio of friends is just one of my favourites since Han, Luke, and Leia, so it was all sorts of fun writing them conspiring about this together.

!

One thing I really adore about this fandom is how carefully the author has taken a thoughtful look at the toll superpowers would have on everything from society as a whole, to the finer points as to what a superhero career would entail, and then, finally, to exploring the fact that having a 'Quirk' doesn't make you invincible. There are very real tolls taken on bodies in this world - there's no 'cured by the next comic issue' easy way out. Watching Toshinori adjust to losing his power/health has been bittersweet in the anime/manga, but he's just so ridiculously proud of Izuku that I can't even sometimes. Izuku isn't the only one smitten, which I adore. Toshinori has really taken this kid under his wing in a father/son type way, and it's one of the best found family feelings I've had the pleasure of viewing. Yes, Nana Shimura is so very proud of her two boys, indeed!

Izuku is so cute, and thinks himself sly, but the adults have been around the block a few times. They're not going to need much to get what's going on. The comedy of errors next to come has tickled me so much to plot out - now I just have to get the words down.

I can't thank you enough for taking the time to read and leave your thoughts, again. And all the more thanks for hosting this challenge in the first place! It's been a blast!

 

Author's Notes: Oh my goodness, but the introspection and exposition just exploded in this chapter. Inko, apparently, had a lot to say about everything that's happened throughout the series, and I had no choice but to listen! Honestly, I can't say that I blame her; I was all too happy to give her character a voice. (And, in this story I am further deviating from canon in that Inko now knows about Izuku's powers after Kamino Ward. It's been long enough, and if the likes of Katsuki can know the truth, than so can she. ) But, from here on out we've certainly delved more than enough into the characters' minds. The pace will now pick up.

---

IV

The apartment was much too quiet now.

Oh, it usually was this early in the day, at least. Her son was not a morning person, to put it mildly, and back when Hisashi was a part of their family that'd been one of the few things father and son had in common. Inko was used to being the first one up; she usually enjoyed her brief respite of peace and quiet as she took care of herself before preparing breakfast for her family. Like magic, the smell of good food – and coffee for the adults – would have her sleepy boys ambling out into the kitchen like drowsy bears roused from their winter dens. Even long after Hisashi left, sharing a hot breakfast remained a tradition well into Izuku’s school years, and Inko cherished those moments spent together.

But now she didn’t have anyone relying on her to get up early and help start their day for them. She could take more time for herself and just indulge . . . well, in theory, at least. In all honesty, she was still having trouble figuring out exactly what that meant, in more ways than one.

As the alarm droned on, Inko narrowed her eyes at the obnoxious little box. She had time enough to lay in bed for five more minutes, and so she would – never mind that she may have used her Quirk to accidentally yank the clock off the nightstand for no other reason than it felt good to do so. As the alarm fell blessedly silent, she had to smother a giggle when, quite beyond her control, she imagined Toshinori doing the same. Sometimes, a strength Quirk had to be as cumbersome as much as it was useful – which she now well knew from Izuku. Recently, asking her son to remove the stuck lid from a jar of pickled cucumbers for her had resulted in the entire glass container shattering, with broken shards and pungent vinegar had splattering across everything in the kitchen, leaving quite the mess to clean. The closet door by the entryway had to be replaced after Izuku tried to force it open when it jammed, only to yank the entire thing – including its hinges – off of the wall, and that had happened just last week. Now, Inko thought to understand a little bit better what Mitsuki went through with a – quite literally – explosive child on her hands for so many years. Somewhat, at least.

In the end, the thought caused her too much amusement to keep to herself.

Inko used her Quirk to pull her phone to her from the nightstand with an absent gesture, still much too comfortable to get up, and typed: Is it just me, or is it more difficult to get out of bed the older we get?

Sometimes I wouldn’t mind a strength Quirk like yours, she continued after the first message sent. The alarm clock had it coming. It was only a matter of time!

It was still a surreal thing when she thought about it: texting All Might, of all people, to say good morning and wish him a pleasant day. The idea would have been bizarre – bordering on the absurd – if it was put to her just a few months ago, even. Yet, she shrugged to herself, the larger than life figure of All Might the Number One Pro Hero was just . . . well, different from Toshinori Yagi the everyday man. He was quieter, in a sense, than he was when wearing his cape, with a sense of confidence that was assumed more so than exuded. He wasn't quite so boisterous, and he didn’t always smile like his professional persona did; yet, he didn’t have to. Here, outside of the unblinking eye of the public, he could better be himself. It was exhausting to be the encourager all the time, she could sympathize, rather than the encouraged.

And, Inko couldn’t help her own smile to reflect: Toshinori Yagi was a dork, first and foremost – an oftentimes awkward, goofy, earnest sweetheart of a dork. It was impossible for her to feel any sort of intimidation for the fact that she was chatting with All Might when she focused on that. Honestly, how the man she’d watched stand up against evil time and time again on the evening news – protecting them all like some vengeful, guardian kami – was also the same one who could link her videos of cute baby animals and use emojis when texting she still didn’t know. But she found that she didn’t quite mind the dichotomy; a part of her liked how those two seemingly polar extremes made up his whole, even.

In the end, it only took him a moment to write her back:

It’s an inconvenience replacing them, I can tell you from experience. I’m glad that you’ve been spared the hassle.

Inko had to smother her grin behind her hand to keep it from growing. Sometimes, even in their superhuman society, it was hard imagining their heroes doing anything as mundane as grumbling at an alarm clock – even her initial musings had pictured All Might sleeping in his costume! She’d bet that he even dreamed about defeating villains and defending the public peace; she could imagine nothing less.

. . . not that she was imagining what he slept in, of course – or even him sleeping, at all, Inko mentally backpedaled. And she was most certainly not wondering about his dreams! Nope, no siree! That was not at all what she meant, and she was unsure why her mind was even hyper-focusing on this in the first place. It was just silly. She knew she was blushing then, which only made her roll her eyes at herself. She hated blushing – her face turning red clashed awfully with the colour of her hair, and her mother always said she looked like a watermelon, a sad fact which Inko quite agreed with, so she wouldn't –

- but, her phone lit up a moment later to add, interrupting her ruminations, it’s always felt good in the moment.

For that, a bubble of laughter escaped her mouth. Amused, she had to keep from typing: Most of the things we regret later often do at the time, don’t they? That was her first impulsive thought, but it felt much too . . . well, flirty to say, and she lost her courage. She was not flirting with her son’s teacher – with All Might, of all people. She was just saying good morning and bantering about alarm clocks while she lazed in bed. Yes; that was all.

Her inner-voice of reason – which still suspiciously sounded like her mother, no matter that she was a grown woman with a nearly grown child of her own now – was less than impressed by her attempted rationalization. Inko didn’t much feel like suffering through a lecture just then, even an imagined one from herself, so she limited herself to responding back with a smiley face and a wink. Resigned, she then threw back the covers and got up from her comfortable nest of pillows. It was time to start the day.

By long habit now, she was used to getting ready quickly for practicality's sake. She always seemed to have too much to do during the day and not enough time accomplish everything that needed to be done. She pulled her hair green-black back from her face so it would stay tidy and out of her way, and then put on just the barest amount of make-up. (Good heavens, but she was not focusing on the fact that she was starting to look like she was over forty, now, she wasn’t.) Dressing in a navy blue skirt and white blouse for work was next, no matter that she refused to wrestle on her stockings until the last possible moment. She left those terribly necessary things with her dress shoes and equally dark blue cardigan by the door to worry about later.

Even with lazing about in bed for a few extra minutes she was still ahead of schedule by the time she walked into the kitchen to fix herself breakfast. A cup of coffee was the first order of business. She set the pot to brew and got out her favourite cup, a piece of All Might themed merchandize that Izuku had gotten her years ago that boldly proclaimed: Number One Mom! in cobalt coloured English letters. The paint was chipped and one of the protruding yellow antennae on the rim had broken off a long time ago, but she still preferred the mug to all the others they had in the cupboard. She fixed her cream and sugar and waited as the heavenly aroma of brewing coffee filled the air, her mind wandering. Absently, she ran her fingers over the cup’s familiar decals, lost in thought.

Her life had, admittedly, been a strange one as of late. All throughout Izuku’s last year of junior high, and even long before, considering his future was enough to put her heart in her throat. Her son had been so determined to get into U.A., even without a Quirk. No matter how she gently tried to encourage him towards the General Education path the school offered, rather than their Pro Hero course, he wouldn’t be swayed from his goal. She knew how hard it was for even those with strong Quirks to be accepted into U.A. – only the best of the best trained for their future careers at an such an elite institution. And then, her dear Izuku, for all of his drive and desire . . . well, he was Quirkless. He was only going to hurt himself, aiming so high; even more so, she’d feared for how far his heart had to fall. Especially, she couldn't help but fear, if he somehow managed to achieve the impossible and went up against the villains who littered their world anyway. If he became a hero, all without a matching way to defend himself -

- well, Inko had passed more than a few sleepless nights over the years, to put it mildly. Somehow, through a cruel trick of fate, her boy had been born with the soul of a hero, but without the Quirk to match. How so many others in their world had powers they didn’t respect, or worse, felt entitled, as if their physical strength elevated them over those who were weaker – Mitsuki’s boy was only one such bully of an uncountable many that came to mind – was something Inko couldn’t quite wrap her mind around. It just wasn’t fair, she’d seethed more than once. Yet, little about life truly was. Instead, it was to each of them to make do with who and what they were, and find happiness and purpose in their course. Inko had tried to guide Izuku towards acceptance and inner-peace, yet no matter how she tried this remained the one thing he wanted more so than anything else: to become a hero. As his mother, to know that his happiness wasn’t something she had in her power to give . . . well, that knowledge had tormented her.

Izuku had trained relentlessly before applying for U.A., and she’d worried all the while. But she’d done nothing to stop him – how could she? No; she’d let him dream a little while longer. Then, when it turned out that he was not only accepted into the Pro Hero course, but he was accepted because of a Quirk – a late-blooming, amazing Quirk, she’d . . .

Well, she’d been happy for her son, of course. Inko had been relieved and ecstatic and had vowed to support him in any way she could. But, at the same time, she’d wondered. The doctors had pointed out, with evidence taken through X-rays, how Izuku’s body simply hadn’t evolved like the majority of their society had to support such an ability. How did he have a Quirk now, so many years after it should have manifested? And, how was his Quirk nothing like anything in either her or Hisashi’s families? She had a minor telekinetic gift, an offshoot of her mother's agrokinesis; everyone in Hisashi’s family had Quirks connected to fire in some way. Inko trusted in medicine, and she believed in science; something wasn’t adding up.

Now she only fully understood in retrospect, how her boy had grown strong – amazingly, brilliantly, terrifyingly strong – while All Might grew weaker and weaker with each passing day.

She hadn’t realize it at first, but the headlines with All Might preforming heroics slowly turned few and further between. That made sense, she’d reasoned months ago: he was now a teacher, with duties to his students to fulfill. (And he’d taken an interest in mentoring her son, of all people – what was that for an unbelievable twist of fate?) He didn’t have the time to dedicate to patrolling or working with his agency in Tokyo as he had before. But then, when the battle at Kamino Ward was broadcasted for all the world to see . . .

That fight, she even still fought a shudder for the memory, had been like nothing she’d ever seen before. She hoped never to witness its like again.

Inko had followed All Might’s career since before Izuku was born - before she started dating Hisashi, even. She remembered being in her last year of high school, crowding together with her friends in front of a single television screen to watch his debut play over and over again on the news reel. A thousand people rescued from the Jakku earthquake, on just his shoulders alone – he’d always been amazing to watch, like a force of nature in motion rather just a man and his fists. After well over two decades of observation, she knew All Might’s style like the true lifelong fan she was; she knew which moves he favored over others depending on the situation, and just how fast and strong he was; she knew his ability to come out victorious, time and time again, no matter how seemingly impossible the odds were stacked against him.

At Kamino Ward, All Might had been hampered by Katsuki being held hostage, she knew that. (The knowledge that Izuku’s class had been targeted again was fodder for her nightmares all on its own.) But one, maybe two hits should have been enough to nullify the villain after the children cleared the field. Yet the deceivingly genteel man, wearing nothing more flashy than a business suit, of all things (was that breathing apparatus for his Quirk, or some sort of life support system, Inko had clinically wondered then?), had hung on through every punishing blow. That . . . that thing had stood toe to toe with All Might himself, and even pushed their Number One Hero back. What was more than that, even though the media couldn’t capture audio from the helicopter above, she thought that this fight was personal. She couldn't quite understand from the sidelines, but there was a history between the two. After decades of practice with ignoring his foes' monologuing, All Might’s moves were sloppy in reply to this particular villain’s taunts, as if he was fighting back intense feelings of grief and rage. His anger – his righteous indignation, even the cameras above could capture, turning his eyes blue and burning as his power flared to lend him what further strength it could. It was terrifying, watching All Might himself slowly fade in the face of a superior opponent, but he was: he was turning slower, growing weaker with every second longer the battle dragged on. (More than once, he went down so hard that Inko had to close her eyes and wish he’d mercifully stay down for his own sake.) But he kept on getting up, he kept on fighting back, even when he should have been defeated over and over again. The battle had been awe-inspiring to watch, just as it was heartbreaking in its desperation and horrifying in its intensity. In all her years, she’d never witnessed its like before; Japan had never witnessed its like before.

Well . . . almost, at least. In a small way, Inko had seen that same sort of brazen determination – the will of a hero who would give everything he had and then more for those he protected – in the face of her son, only just months ago. She’d seen Izuku fight with a similar such intensity at the Sport’s Festival, against that child with the fire and ice powers. The similarities were breathtaking, and she knew, watching All Might finally stand broken but victorious at the end . . .

. . . she knew.

Understanding had dawned, and her world had spun as comprehension smacked into her with all of the force of a Detroit Smash!

Now, it’s your turn, All Might had pointed into the cameras to say once the brazen newscasters were finally able to approach on the ground. For the first, he hadn’t smiled to reassure the public that all was well: the day was saved. Instead, his withered form was replete with a solemn intensity. A torch had been passed, all the world had known. Or, perhaps, they had reasoned, a promise had been made to the villains who were still at large. But Inko knew that he’d been talking to her boy. She was certain of it. All Might, their Symbol of Peace and the Number One Pro Hero – arguably the strongest superhero to ever exist – had just fought his last battle. He’d broken his body beyond repair and sacrificed the last of his power on the altar of the world’s safety, all to protect them from that . . . that fiend. And now he was passing the burden of his legacy onto her son – her son, who already had that same reckless desire to protect and inexhaustible will to defend. Someday, if Izuku stood where All Might had against a similar such foe, then he too would -

- Inko hadn’t been able to help herself. She’d only just made it to the kitchen sink before heaving the contents of her stomach down the drain; the bathroom had been too far away. She’d retched and retched until she only had bitter bile left to give from the stress and fear of it all. Tears had flooded her eyes to imagine Izuku as broken but victorious as All Might, standing in the rubble of a battlefield with a villain subdued at his feet – or worse, with their situations reversed – and she’d wanted to scream.

Over. Her. Dead. Body.

Then, to find out that Izuku had been there – he'd been there on the outskirts of the battle, ignoring direct orders and foolishly attempting to rescue Katsuki on his own . . . she'd been beyond shock. It hadn’t mattered that the pros had the situation well in hand, instead, Izuku had needlessly put his life in danger to save that monstrous bully of a child – again! Inko had seen red in reply. She could count on one hand how many times she’d ever been angry enough with her son to raise her voice, but, then, she’d been capable of voicing a very real tongue lashing. The only thing that had held her back was just how . . . well, empty Izuku looked when he returned home. He’d seemed shell-shocked; numb and disbelieving. Then, worry for his well-being had taken precedence over her anger. She could lecture him later.

But Izuku hadn’t wanted to talk – and, even worse, he’d ran off again just as quickly as he returned. He hadn’t answered her when she demanded to know where he was going, and instead left her fretting in the doorway with her imagination running wild.

When he finally came home, not even an hour later, she had her words prepared; it was time they talked. Or, rather, it was time for her to talk. She was going to talk, and Izuku was going to sit there and listen. This had gone much too far, and as his mother she was done biting her tongue.

But, all it took for her to swallow every last one of her words was when her son – her darling, brave boy – slid down against the closed door of their apartment and started to cry. “Mom,” his voice had torn at her heart, “I ruined All Might.”

Then, finally, the entire story had come pouring out as he sobbed: meeting All Might over a year ago and learning his secret (his secret!); his rushing into the fray to save Katsuki from that sludge villain and inspiring All Might through his bravery (because of course he would, she’d wanted to faint); him training so hard to become a fitting vessel for All Might’s power (his power!), and then receiving that selfsame power; and every adventure (misadventure!) since then. But:

“If I didn’t have All Might’s Quirk he wouldn’t have to retire now – he would have destroyed All For One in a snap. But instead he gave his power to me – to me! I don’t deserve this, Mom, I’m not worth it – I’m not worth this, no matter what he says. All Might will never be able to do hero work again and it’s all my fault. I ruined him.”

Inko could only hold her son as he cried, shushing him with nonsense words and running her fingers through his hair and up and down his back as she hadn’t done in many, many years. There was nothing more she could do than tell him that it was alright, everything was going to be okay, while, inwardly, she seethed. Her son was just shy of sixteen; this was too much of a burden to carry on his shoulders. Her hackles were raising, and she’d felt the very real desire to punch something then – or, rather, someone.

In that moment, she'd felt strong enough to throw down with All Might himself. Bring it, Mr. Symbol of Peace! For her son, she’d go toe to toe with the ultimate hero. She wouldn’t stand down on this; too much was on the line for her to shrink back; she refused.

Her anger had cooled from her rash storm of fury to a calm sense of purpose, at least, by the time she stood up to Izuku’s mentor. In the end, she’d only been swayed by two things: one, Izuku’s soul-deep happiness when he showed her that letter from the little boy he'd saved, and then, All Might’s formal vow to dedicate himself to her son’s safety and training when she confronted him on the matter. Instead of scoffing at her protectiveness, All Might had acknowledged the legitimacy of her fears and humbly apologized for not keeping her informed and included from the start. Even just the memory of All Might – All Might! – prostrating himself on her dining room floor in a traditional dogeza to seal his oath was enough to make her feel lightheaded. Sure, she was still afraid – terrified, even, when she thought about her son’s future to come. But she was also proud, so very proud. And, she’d since come to admit to herself, she was thankful. This was the one thing Izuku had always wanted, more so than anything else in life: to be a hero. She couldn’t give that future to her son . . . but, All Might could. When All Might had even promised his own life as forfeit to see her son succeed, she’d meant it when she’d sank to her knees on the floor next to him and asked him to live. That’s what her son needed, most of all. So, no more foolishly explosive battles: All Might was sticking with her for the long haul to see her boy grow up healthy and happy. She’d have him remember his promise whenever she felt it necessary to remind him.

You’re basically co-parents, Mitsuki had scoffed into her drink to conclude following Inko's much abridged tale. (She’d only just started talking to her old friend again after Kamino Ward – they’d been close, once, only to drift apart for the way Katsuki bullied Izuku. Yet, no matter their clear differences in parenting, she understood the pains of having a budding hero for a son, and she could only imagine how she the other woman must have felt when her child was kidnapped by villains, so she’d reached out and reconnected.) A pity you don’t have the benefits that traditionally go with that arrangement. All Might, eh, In-chan? Do you know how many women would kill to be in your shoes? Well – looking as he used to, at least; I’m not so sure about now.

Inko had been able to stave off a furious blush for her insinuation by taking issue with Mitsuki’s last comment. There was nothing wrong with the way Toshinori looked, she’d turned her nose up to protest. He was just battle-scarred, and those scars were just a reminder of how much he’d sacrificed for them all. Without him, her teeth had flashed to point out, they wouldn’t be able to meet so simply for drinks and a fun night out together. The world was safe only because of everything he'd given up – including his own health and strength, and she’d argue the better of anyone who wanted to claim otherwise.

And, if she was being completely honest with herself, she still . . . liked the way he looked, even now. But she knew better than to ever say anything like that aloud to Mitsuki. The woman needed no further ammunition than she already had.

Yet, for some reason, the little she did say still had Mitsuki laughing outright anyway. Yikes, calm down, would you? I wasn’t trying to insult your man – you know I’m as grateful as anyone else for what he gave up for Katsuki. Jeez, you’ve really got it bad, don’t you, hon? Her eyes had glittered, as if she knew something that Inko didn’t. Mitsuki already looked like the center of a flame with her red eyes and ash-blonde hair, and that likeness only intensified when she smirked like that. No matter how Inko tried, she couldn’t make her new-old friend explain herself.

At first, just after Kamino Ward, she told herself that she was content with merely All Might’s vow alone, her reflections continued as she finally poured her coffee. Inko leaned against the counter for a moment, happy to sip out of her mug and enjoy the warmth and caffeine before she started cooking breakfast. She’d been surprised when he offered her his number next – stuttering to say that it was solely for discussing Izuku’s progress, of course, he in no way meant to be forward. When he whispered that his name was Toshinori, so that she didn’t have to save his contact information under All Might – which of course would have been a dangerous thing to do, she’d been flummoxed. It only helped to know that Toshinori had been as clearly flustered as she was. She knew that she was one of maybe a dozen people who were privy to that information, she understood the weight of the gesture; he trusted her to keep his identity a secret.

When their meetings started – another surprise, but one that made sense – Toshinori also trusted her with the truth of his passing on his power to Izuku. She had a right to know, he said, and he sincerely apologized for being so remiss in stepping into her son’s life without her input. He’d overstepped his place in a massive way, and that knowledge shamed him. But then it was her turn to surprise him with saying that she already knew. She’d had an inkling from the start that something wasn’t quite right, and then Izuku had only recently confirmed her suspicions by telling her outright. She still had moments where she was hurt and upset by the knowledge that her son had lied by omission – even if he meant well, for her safety . . . but what's done was done. One For All needed a vessel, and All Might had needed a successor; it was that simple. Now that she’d had time to think about it, she was just as awed and proud that he’d chosen Izuku as much as she was absolutely terrified for her son's future. But, coming to grips with those conflicting emotions would be her burden to bear, just as Izuku would have his own battles to fight.

Yet now, especially over the last month or so, finding more than a . . . well, a co-parent in All Might himself had paled over to surprise that she'd actually found, well, a friend in Toshinori Yagi. Yes . . . a friend, she felt comfortable in calling him that.

He was her friend.

The simple truth of that thought had her humming as she put her coffee down to start making breakfast. It was, she predicted while humming under her breath, going to be a good day. She felt light on her feet as she got what she needed out from the fridge and turned on the stove. She was happily busy for the next twenty minutes or so until she realized -

- she’d made too much food for one person to eat alone . . . again.

Inko made a face, feeling as her good mood threatened to teeter, just slightly. She’d never lived alone before, ever. From her earliest days, she'd helped her mother tend her father and brothers, and then she’d happily fussed over her dorm-mates in college. That trend had only continued with Mitsuki when they’d shared a flat together after graduating – that woman would have been a mess without her, before she happily handed that role over to Masaru. Then, Hisashi and Izuku had come along. She enjoyed taking care of others – as a daughter and friend and wife and mother, and even as a nurse, in her professional life – yet now, with Izuku gone . . .

. . . it was still a novelty, being alone. While there were aspects of having her own space and time for herself that she certainly enjoyed, she could also admit that she’d much rather be -

- this'd be better if Toshi was here with me.

Inko blinked, taken aback. Where had that thought come from? she was bewildered to wonder. “Honestly, Inko,” she muttered aloud, just to hear something in her apartment beside the hum of the appliances, “the quiet is getting to you, isn't it?”

But, still . . .

. . . that didn’t make the thought any less true.

She shook her head at herself, bemused. But still, instead of resigning herself to a quiet meal passed alone, she took a picture of her breakfast and attached it in a text message. I’m still not used to Izuku living in a dorm, she selected a bashful emoji to accompany her words, its tongue sticking out. I’ve spent so long making breakfast for him too that I don’t know how to make food for just one person.

It’s a sign that you’re a good mother, it only took a few moments for Toshinori to reply. He always replied promptly when he could, and that habit more than reassured her when she worried for whether or not her chatting bothered him at first. Such habits are difficult to break, I can only imagine.

She snorted – yeah, wasn’t kicking old habits always the problem? Maybe too good! she continued. Izuku was a growing young boy with a brand new Quirk to feed, but I certainly don’t need these hearty breakfasts.

That text was typed and sent too fast for her to first consider what she said. Really, she could have smacked herself for being so thoughtless – it wasn’t like she was chatting with Mitsuki, here! For her to draw attention to, well . . . everything that she didn’t like about her body as she aged was pretty high on the list of no-no's when talking to a man – to any man! Her blunder was just made all the worse when that man just so happened to be All Might, who was, in a physical sense . . . well, you know . . . but, her blush threatened to overwhelm her if she completed that thought, even if just to herself. It wasn't that she cared whether or not Toshinori found her attractive, of course, she tried to regroup. It was just, well, she'd rather not him think that -

- oh, why wasn’t her Quirk the ability to melt through the floor and disappear entirely? Inko thought miserably. She poked at her rice with her chopsticks as if her breakfast had offended her, inwardly berating herself.

But, of course, Toshinori was too much of a gentleman to call attention to her slip. Curiously, she fought a sense of relief and disappointment at the same time. She scowled, annoyed with her conflicting emotions. Just why was she putting so much thought into reading more into their exchanges than there actually was? She was being ridiculous.

Inwardly, she heard a laugh that sounded all too much like Mitsuki. Yikes, In-chan – you've really got it bad, don't you?

No, Mitsuki, Inko growled to spear her rice again, I most certainly do not. I have no idea what you're talking about!

She distracted herself from the outlandish turn her thoughts had taken by opening up his reply, instead. He'd sent her a picture of his own breakfast – as sad a minimalist spread as she’d ever seen, and typed beneath it: This morning, I’m even allowed an entire half of a banana! The text was accompanied by a winking face. For a long moment, the dots beneath danced, as if he wanted to say more, before falling still in silence.

Inko fought an unflattering snort for the sight. Such a splurge, she wanted to tease him. She’d seen her handful of total gastrectomy patients come and go, and had even been involved in their post-op care back during her nursing career. He could do better than that, even while still taking care to honor his dietary needs.

You know, she said as much, you can do better than that, even with your restrictions. You don’t have a stomach, but you’re not dead!

For a long moment, the dots indicating that he was typing a reply blinked before disappearing. They blinked again, as if he was searching for words, and Inko narrowed her eyes as a suspicion overcame her.

- oh no, don’t tell me that you’ve lived on your own for this long, but you’ve never learned how to cook? You’re not one of *those* bachelors, are you?

That time, his answer was quick. I can fry an egg, even the toneless words of the text came through like a defendant who was consigned to his guilty verdict. And . . . I’ve learned how not to burn rice.

Well then: Toshinori Yagi, she couldn’t help but sigh. We’ll have to fix that, of course.

She bit her lip as she hit send, wondering if she was being too forward in her teasing, before the conversation was cut short by him informing her that he had to leave for work. Fine then, she’d let him off the hook, but only for the time being.

On that note: Don’t think this conversation is over! she had more to say on the matter, and he wouldn't be able to avoid her forever. She couldn’t seem to stop smiling as Toshinori ignored her last threat in favor of wishing her a good day at work. She did the same, and finished her meal with a smile. She only managed to eat a portion before placing the rest in the fridge for leftovers. At least, she told herself, she had breakfast for the following day figured out, and that was that.

She finished getting ready, and made it down to the bus-stop just in time to make her connection. She was only slightly out of breath from taking the stairs instead of the elevator as she took a seat and waited for her commute to begin. She tugged at the collar of her blouse, feeling warm even though the weather was finally cool outside; it was promising to be a beautiful fall’s day.

As the bus pulled away from the curb, she pulled out her phone when it beeped, happy to see that Izuku had finally texted her back.

Good morning, Mom! He used quite a few exclamation points and smiley faces to emphasize his words, much to Inko's fond amusement. I ate breakfast – even if it wasn’t as good as yours, he told her. And I did my laundry too – everything’s clean and presentable, he answered before she could even think to ask. You'd be proud of me!

Did you brush your teeth? still, she had to find something to ask. She was only half serious as she gave a winking face.

Mom! she could hear Izuku’s exasperation as if he was sitting right there next to her, you haven’t had to ask me that since I was five.

Just checking – let your mother worry about you, she added another winking face. But . . . you did remember, didn't you?

Yes - oh the life of a teenager was so hard wasn’t it? Inko didn't at all sympathize. I brushed my teeth – are you happy now?

Very, Inko answered, and hit send.

For a long moment it seemed like her son was writing, but there were only a few words to show for his efforts when she finally received his message. She felt a moment's concern, wondering what was the matter. So, he started, what would you say to me inviting All Might over for dinner tomorrow? Would that be okay?

She tilted her head, wondering why that had been so hard to say. Well, I suppose, she answered. If he wants to, anyway – don’t harp on the man, Izuku. She was sure Toshinori already had plans on a Saturday evening, after all – he was still All Might, of course.

You know I’m working tomorrow, too, she continued. I don’t know if I can prepare a meal in time for - but before she could even hit send she received -

- I’m not that bad! I've been toning it back, honestly! Izuku protested. If he was there, she would have just fixed him with a Look. Of course I’ll be polite. And then he added: I know you’re working tomorrow, too. I’m going to cook. Leave everything to me. I've got everything planned - you'll see!

Izuku was going to cook? she couldn’t help but raise a brow. Oh, she hadn’t raised a lazy boy – Izuku had been helping her in the kitchen since he could hold a spoon, and he knew the basics. Yet, he was just, well . . .

. . . some people were naturally gifted in the kitchen, and others . . . were not, to put it delicately.

I’m going to follow a recipe, Izuku seemingly read her mind to defend. I won’t give All Might food poisoning – not like last time, I promise.

Inko wasn’t quite mollified by that, but, she reasoned, she’d be home from work early enough to make sure he was serving something presentable, and, well . . .

. . . Toshinori had to say yes, first, right? Inko wasn’t holding her breath for that.

Sure, sweetie, she said. Whatever you like.

She received a flurry of exclamation points and emojis after that, and then: Good! Izuku’s happiness was a near tangible force, even through the phone. Because he’s already said yes.

For a long moment she could only gape . . . and stare . . . and then gape some more. She felt as the blood drained from her face, and she clenched the phone tighter in hand.

He’ll be over around seven, Izuku continued – blithely unaware of his mother’s turmoil. I’ll have everything ready by then, so don’t you worry about a thing. I’ll see you tomorrow, mom! Gotta go now – Aizawa-sensei is here. Love you! Bye!

Inko was still too stunned to do anything more than type back a generic: Have a good day, too, honey, after that. How could she expect her mind to process anything else, when she was stuck on the knowledge that she had a dinner-date with All Might. She had a dinner-date with All Might, she stared dumbly at the little screen, trying to make sense of the idea in her mind. Well, they had a dinner-date with All Might, she amended. Izuku was an all too important part of this equation - without him the equation wouldn’t even exist, even. That . . . well, that was a relief, obviously. Yet, even so . . . she wasn’t sure why she felt what seemed like a stone sink in her stomach.

Sensibly, she frowned at herself, trying to sort through the dozens of seemingly conflicting thoughts and emotions bounding through her mind at once. She’d already met Toshinori several times before – in cafes and parks and even once at a noodle cart right outside of U.A.’s campus on his lunch break. It’d been a long time since she was nervous about making plans to spend time together. Now, there was a part of her that even looked forward to their meetings. Yet, those were always professional sessions, where Izuku’s care and development was the chief focus shared between them. It didn’t matter that they talked about other things after the subject of Izuku was exhausted . . . or that they texted in the morning and bantered about alarm clocks and breakfast. Their relationship still had its clearly defined parameters.

Clearly, Inko was comforted by that knowledge. See? There was no reason for her to be apprehensive about Toshinori coming over to their home. It wasn't as if he sharing a meal with them like they were an actual, real family instead of -

- but she hacked that thought short at the root, and stomped it down until it was mercilessly buried in the furthest corners of her mind. There would be none of that nonsense, she scorned. Toshinori – All Might, she corrected herself – was simply her son’s teacher. Izuku was the heir to his power, and that was the sole reason he was invested in their lives. She needed to remember that there was nothing more than kindness and duty binding them together. She’d done the whole unequal relationship thing before, after all, and she’d choose to be alone a hundred times over before doing it again. She wouldn’t turn silly about this, like a fangirl with an overactive imagination and a heart bigger than her eyes. She was old and wise enough to know better.

Yet . . . for all that she had her thoughts clearly in order, she wasn’t sure why the bright, beautiful day outside suddenly seemed sad to her eyes. Inko continued to stare at her phone, the screen having long since turned black, lost in thought as the stops passed on by. Finally, when they reached the block for Aldera General Hospital, she slipped her phone into her purse and got up from her seat. She disembarked, wishing the driver a good day in as cheerful a voice as ever, and started the walk from the bus-stop to the hospital’s main entrance.

Your son’s mentor is coming over to have dinner with his successor, Inko stubbornly repeated. She'd make sure that her mind knew that truth for what it was, and knew it well. This is for Izuku, and you will just so happen to be there. This is a great, amazing thing for your son! Don’t make this about yourself; don’t be that stupid, Inko. Remember Hisashi!

It was that last thought which did it, like dousing cold water on an ember struggling for flame. She held her head up high, and walked into work with her priorities in order.



~MJ

 

Wonderful introspection here from Inko. I’ve been curious about her perspective on all these things from the start of the story, and it’s great to have the chance to get to know her a little better. I have to admire the strength she’s shown over all these years, and the support she’s shown her son in his ambition to attend UA even without a Quirk—he really does have the heart of a hero to bear the kind of burden he bore fro All Might, and I see very clearly now where he gets that heart, because his mom has it too. The conflicting feelings she’s experiencing both about her son’s relationship with All Might and her own are so very characteristic: she’s both intensely concerned about Izuku’s role as the new carrier of One for All, but she’s also clearly so proud of him—and despite her very understandable initial annoyance at All Might for not telling her of this plan to begin with, she’s clearly “carrying his words in her heart” and understanding that the right choice was made, both on All Might’s and Izuku’s parts. And All Might—Toshinori—is in turn showing himself to be a caring friend in the way he’s made a point of keeping in touch with Inko about Izuku’s progress. (Contrast that with that catty Mitsuki—wow, what a piece of work! Looks like her bullyish kid takes after her too.)

And wonderful text conversation and banter with Toshinori—yes, a bit of banter, even if Inko doesn’t want to admit it yet! I’m afraid “really got it bad” is one area where Mitsuki was right. But really, can you blame Inko? The cincher, of course, is all Toshinori has done for Izuku—that is how she can tell that he really does have a good heart.

Can’t wait for the not-really-dinner-date—Izuku’s got something cooking, and not just literally. (Though I’ll be curious to see how the culinary side of things goes, too, given his mom’s reaction on that score—it’s definitely not a talent everyone has!) I wish I could hug Inko and tell her her feelings are nothing to be ashamed of—it almost hurts to see her being so self-effacing and so insistent that This Isn’t About Her, because it’s so much the trap that so many moms fall into (been there). She deserves to be treated and recognized for herself, as Inko—even her son can see that’s true (and that says a lot about his good character ), and this will be such a wonderful chance for that to happen, even if we know there will be a Gon Rong involved somehow! Looking forward to more real soon!