Inko Midoriya felt as though she were dying. She was not, however. Instead she was bent over clutching her stomach sobbing heavily in front of her husband's grave. She was alone.
She placed a hand on the front of the cold stone and traced her husband's name. This wasn't supposed to happen. He had grown heavily sick this past month. So sick that it took him away from her.
They had been trying for a child for years. And finally, a blessing came through and Inko had became pregnant. They were ecstatic. Happy, that they would raise this child together. That their family of two, would now hold three.
Inko pressed her hands to her face. Why was this happening? She couldn't do this alone. She didn't have the strength. The will. The courage to keep on.
Her lips trembled as Inko left. To go home. An empty home. Her hand rubbed her stomach. She would do this. Whether she wanted to or not, this child was of her and her husband. Inko would raise this child for the both of them.
--
It took only two more months for it to happen. Inko had been laying in bed, when a sharp pain ran through her stomach. It woke her up due to the intensity. She pushed herself up and stumbled to the restroom, feeling slightly dizzy. Something was wrong.
She looked down and saw blood running down her leg. Her eyes widened in horror and she rushed for the phone to call an ambulance. All the while her stomach had horrible pains.
At the hospital she layed in her bed and cried. Her body and her child's wernt comparable they said. They said her body wasn't strong enough to carry her until full term. Her body had killed her baby. She was allowed to gold the stillborn for a moment before she was taken. Inko held the still child to her chest and whispered. "I'm sorry I failed you Izuku. I'm so sorry, Hisashi. I'm so sorry."
Inko stared out the hospital window, distant, and unresponsive to the nurse's gentle prodding. They forced her to stay at least for another few days to be sure she was recovering as she should be.
Instead of bringing her child to be buried with her husband, she held a quiet burial with just herself and her child on their property. Near an old oak, halfway between Inkos house and the treeline to the forest. Her hands trembled near her sides as she looked down on the grave. She didn't cry. She had no tears left.
Months passed. Inko would stand in her kitchen and stare out the window to her daughter's grave longingly. Her child was gone. Her home was empty. And she was alone.
Inko hesitantly left her home and approached the old oak tree and her daughter's grave. And she sat and talked. She spoke of her husband. Of her plans for her. She didn't cry. But her voice shook and wavered as she spoke. This began to be something she always did.
Everyday she would come to the old oak tree. Inko didnt always speak. She would read, sing, or knit. Whatever she felt like doing, she would do it near her daughter's grave and the old oak tree. Though some days she simply sat. Staring into the forest, back against the oak. Her hands wringing together.
Things started changing. Though she wasnt sure when. The forest stole her attention. Even as she sat next to her daughter, her gaze would lock into the forest. At times she would blink and it would be dark. It was like something was there. It made her uncomfortable to a degree. But not enough to stop visiting her daughter.
It was long before she started hearing things. Indiscernible whispers. She thought someone was trespassing at first but no matter how much she looked she never found where the voices came from. As they never got louder. Only more consistant.
Overtime she became used to it. Uncaring. Apathetic towards the situation. Only slightly worried. The voices were only ever in the forest. They never reached into her home. She was thankful because she feared she would not get any rest if they did.
Her body started to weaken due to her forgetfulness and lack of care. Some days she wouldn't eat at all. She hadn't left the house in ages. She had plenty to live off of, if she wanted to not work for the rest of her life, due to the insurance from her husband. She would return to work eventually. But not now. She doesn't think she could stand it. Despite it having been nearly two years at this point.
--
One evening Inko stood in the kitchen with her mother on the phone. They spoke of how she was doing. Of mindless things. After thoughtless chatter, Inko brought up the voices from the forest. Her mother had grown silent. It took Inko asking if she was still there before she got a response.
Inkos mother reminded her of stories. From when she herself was still small. How they are tied to the forest from ancestors long ago. Her mother spoke of how Inko should listen. Because Inko had never bonded with the forest like her mother had. Like her grandmother had. The only pull she had was to stay near the forest like her mother had. But she never felt a connection.
Later that day Inko stared down at the fruit in her hands. It was beginning to mold. She would have to order more groceries later. Setting the fruit down, she placed both hands on the counter and sighed heavily again. Her eyes raised and stared through her window. Her eyes narrowed. It looks like something moved. Maybe a deer?
Suddenly she had the strangest urge to go see. Inko didn't have the strongest of quirks. Just a very very weak thing. But she wondered if this is what it would feel like. She felt as if her body was being pulled. She quickly slipped out her back door and walked hurriedly.
When she stepped foot in the forest it was almost as though a haze covered her. Her feet were bare and she winced at the feeling of jagged rocks and twigs pierce her skin. She glanced around feeling distraught. What was she doing?
Suddenly the voices start. The whispers are much stronger than when she was outside the forest. They seem to come from all around her. She looked around feeling panicked. She kept walking though. In the direction she was being pulled.
It was dangerous. She shouldn't be out here. Yet she kept walking. The voices seemed to become clearer yet she couldn't decipher them. Fear bubbled in her chest, despite how she tried to calm herself. She tried to bury it down. The forest was guiding her. To what? She didn't know.
Suddenly she stopped. Her feet rooted to the ground. She tried but she couldn't seem to move. She yelped when suddenly vines began to snake around her feet. she tried pulling away and pulling at them, but they clasped tightly around her legs. She glanced around and there was nothing. Trees and darkness. It seemed to be surrounding her. Suffocating almost.
A wet voice surrounded her, chilling her to the bone.
"There is a child of the earth."
She shakes and tries to find the source of the voice. Yet nothing was there.
The gravelly voice wasn't female nor male. It was raspy. Wet. High pitched, yet low. "You lost a child. A mere babe, not yet born."
Her mind raced. And her lip trembled.
"Inko Midoriya, you are blood tied to this forest. Your mother, your grandmother, and so on."
Her head snapped to the side as creaking and cracking came from her left. She didn't see anything but something was there. Something terrifying. Through her fear, she tried to process the words passing over her.
The noise grew louder like cracking bones and crunching leaves. A clawed black hand came out from the underbrush and its claws sunk into dirt. Inko was frozen in fear. She wanted to scream but couldn't. She couldn't run either. Her breath shuddered as she stared at the figure emerging with wide eyes.
It was solid black. It nearly blended in with the darkness of the forest. It was almost human shaped, except it walked with all fours. The limbs are too long, too narrow. Tallon-like claws sunk into the ground each time it took a step. It had no face, but the head was human-like. There was no mouth. No nose. No eyes. The entire figure was pure black. A void.
One of its arms held a folded cloth. She could barely make it out. The cloth so black it nearly blended in with the creature. She choked on a whimper as it got closer. Close enough to push the cloth into her arms.
Her hands silky held the black cloth trying not to drop it. It felt strange. Like she wasnt really holding anything at all.
Inko nearly fainted as the figure came close behind her and pushed her forward. She was surprised when she took a step and the vines no longer held her feet. She was pushed to a large tree. The voice sounded distant but she knew the creature was right behind her.
"This child comes from the earth."
Inko gasped. At the base of the tree lies something that absolutely should not be there. She dropped to her knees and wiped root and dirt from soft flesh. It was a tiny baby. It was healthy despite its surroundings. She untangled the bare child and pulled it from root and moss. It looked as if she was coming straight from the soil.
Her heart stopped. Light shined through the trees reflecting light green hair on top her head. The child wasn't moving. Was it breathing? Part of her wanted to drop the child and run. Run from the forest. But she felt vines snake around her ankles yet again. Almost painfully tight. A choked sob broke through her throat.
"We took interest in the body you shared with the earth."
She was wracked with sobs, holding the sleeping child to her chest. What had she done? The forest was not generous. Her child. Her baby. She was breathing. But at what cost?
"This is the child of the forest."
"Your child's bones and flesh are no longer where you placed them. They reside within this body."
"This is our child. But her flesh takes from you."
Garbled words and chattering seems to be like nails on a chalkboard. It made her head ache. Inko sank to the ground rocking back and forth with her child. It wasn't her child. Was it? It was an illusion. It must be. But she feels so real. So warm. The forest said her child was still buried. She felt as though she was going to throw up.
"This is not your child." Inkos voice was shaky. "This is my daughter." It wasn't. But it was.
The forest was silent. She fumbled to stand her eyes staring forward into the darkness surrounding her. When did it grow dark? The voice echoed in her skull, and sometimes around her. She knew not where the voice originated. Or if there were multiple creatures.
"That is not your child. But you will raise it. The child of the earth has been resting. Her last experience as a human was long ago. So you will keep her safe. You will raise our child."
Inkos breath shuddered. She could barely wrap her head around what was being said. She needed to speak to her mother. This was big. Important. She could faintly recall whispers of this as a child. She shakily wrapped the child in the forgotten black cloth that had been pushed into her hands not moments earlier.
"She will always belong to the forest."
After the last whisper the baby in her arms seemed to curl into Inkos warm form. Its eyes are still not open. But she could feel it breathing and puffs of air every so lightly leaving the lungs. This wasn't her child.
Ino stumbled backwards and suddenly found herself stepping outside the forest. She was disoriented at the sudden change at being pushed from the forest. Her body shivered in the night air. It was almost completely dark out. The forest had taken her time from her it seemed.
Not a moment later the bare child in her arms began to make small movements. Inko pulled back slightly and could read the discomfort on the baby's scrunched face. It was probably cold.
With heavy steps Inko made her way inside, not sparing a glance at her daughter's grave. When she entered the house she gently wiped the still sleeping child down from leftover dirt. Afterwards she swaddled the child and held her close. Inkos mind began to panic yet again.
She had a baby. In her arms. A live breathing baby. That was hers. She had many many baby items put away. She had not yet gotten the confidence to throw or donate anything she had overloaded on when she was pregnant. She was over prepared for a child.
Inkos mind raced, lightly rocking the child in her arms. She felt movement again and glanced down. Emerald eyes peaked through small eyelids. Inko felt her heart melt. The baby started with unfocused and slightly hazy emerald eyes around Inko. She began to cry again. This was not her child. But she wanted it to be. She had her baby girl in her arms, except it wasn't really her. Her baby was dead. Right?
The baby whimpered slightly and began crying. Inko calmed herself and tried to console the child. She would raise this child. She would be a mother. This baby gave her something to live for. Though it may not be hers, she would raise it as her own.