ORBIT
4
Running through the darkness with Hisashi was an experience in itself. Like with the first time she'd had to escape a police pursuit, Inko's blood thrummed uncontrollably around her body. Taking names, righting wrongs, wielding mallets; it got her heart racing in a way a mundane lifestyle never could.
Hisashi's hand – wrapped around her own – could surely feel her pulse pumping wildly as they sprinted through the tight and twisting back streets of Musutafu.
Where could she possibly take him? Where would be safe? Taking Hisashi back to her home was out of the question, even if a small selfish part of Inko wanted to do just so and never let him out of her sight again.
Other than her pulse, something thrummed inside of her. Selfish and enamoured, it demanded she cling to his hand and never let go, just as she hadn't let Mitsuki or the death of her father weigh her down as she clung to Orbit's identity.
It just wasn't safe to take him back to her apartment though – and if he left, Inko would have to move because what if he let slip-
No. She threw a glance over her shoulder; Hisashi trailed behind her, puffing slightly as he tried to keep up with Inko's fierce pace. Little tufts of smoke curled out from his nose and the corners of his mouth.
Hisashi wouldn't betray Inko's identity, would he? Yes, she had known him for under a day, but there was a connection there – she knew it – and she'd just saved him. There was a connection there because she'd felt it pass between them like the molten sparks he'd sprayed at the Villain accosting him. A tiny, naïve, but demanding, voice in the back of her head whispered they were fated. Why else would she have, quite literally, bumped into him?
Inko tugged at Hisashi's hand, urging him to speed up once more as sirens flared into life behind them. Pulling Hisashi into a side street she recognised, Inko led him deeper into underbelly of Musutafu's night scene. Inko's a patrol could be littered with, well, litter, but often there were tipsy salary men or pedestrians who were easy targets bumbling about on the street.
Things were more dangerous at night; the darkness often skewed one's perception of objects. What was once a shaded area in direct sunlight became a concealed treasure trove of uncertainty once the sun had set. People treaded carefully at night, unsure as to what the shadows may hide, and side streets were where Orbit apprehended those who wished to cause harm.
Orbit was there – a starry guardian – to oversea that these bumbling people walked safe streets or had a place of refuge, and she would not have it any other way.
Tired of deliberating, Inko made up her mind and took a sharp right. Hisashi swung himself around the corner of another street helplessly behind her. Inko slowed her pace, feet hitting the red glow of lights on the concrete rather than the harsh sterile white beams emitted by street lamps.
"Why are we here?" Hisashi whispered, knowing exactly what the rosy glow of the red lights and vibrant heart-motif neon signs overhead meant.
Inko shook her head. "Just keep quiet and try and hunch down on yourself if you can," she advised. Hisashi making himself a smaller target would help plead Inko's case.
Not that she wouldn't be taken seriously, but Hisashi didn't look like your average victim. For one, tiny specs of dangerous embers were released intermittently from between his lips as he huffed distastefully, and while one should never assume, he didn't seem the usual sort Orbit led to these places.
However, Love Hotels were places of discretion. Meeting a secret lover? Fine. Have some interesting kinks? They welcomed all and likely had a room to cater to your fetishes. Discovered that the charge for staying overnight in a Love Hotel is less than a fancy hotel for the same service (and more)? Tourists were welcome to stay as long as they liked.
Discretion was good, especially for Inko – and she needed to be able to hide people without secrets spilling from lips right now. On patrol as Orbit, Inko had directed many startled civilians to love hotels. In businesses that found sex and clandestine meetings to be lucrative, there was particular attention placed on safety. The way rooms were designed, the way staff were trained; all had to be intended for and moulded with customers in mind. Safety and consent were what mattered most, and if Orbit brought a shocked person in off the street, then the staff were already obliged to keep an eye on this person.
Usually, whenever Orbit directed someone into the red-light district, they would freeze up. Logically it made no sense; why go deeper into an area that might promote exactly what a victim was trying to flee? Yet, these places knew how to care for said victims. Usually, a quiet room was provided, and anyone who attempted to intercept the victim from their sanctuary discreetly dumped outside on the street while the authorities were called by a set of burly security guards.
Yes, a Love Hotel – while unorthodox – was the perfect place to lay low.
As soon as Inko directed Hisashi over the threshold of one hotel she was familiar with (looking over her shoulder to ensure that no police officers who were on foot had followed them into this labyrinth), the clerk behind the welcome desk straightened in recognition.
"Milady!" The woman beamed.
Inko nodded back. "Sasaki," she said. "Are you well?"
"Wonderful- oh Milady I've never had a job for so long." Sasaki's eyes widened as she took in Hisashi, who had clamped his hand around Inko's once more – still heaving for breath from their run. A knowing smile graced Sasaki's lips; "Milady, do you need a room?"
"I need the room, if you don't mind," Inko corrected.
Sasaki's expression morphed into one of seriousness. "Right away, Milady. If you'd both like to follow me?"
Sasaki led the pair down a dimly lit corridor lined with various entries. No sounds could be heard, but it was safe to assume what may have been going on behind closed doors. The clerk paused momentarily, snatching one key out of many attached to a small metal ring that she carried.
Sasaki removed the key and handed it to Inko. When the latter deemed it safe for Hisashi and herself to leave, she would return the key to whoever was manning the front desk.
"Enjoy your stay," Sasaki chirped, smiling encouragingly at a still breathless Hisashi. "Please don't hesitate to call the front desk should you need anything."
"Uh… Thank you?" He replied.
Inko called after the retreating clerk. "My thanks, Sasaki. We should be gone around daybreak."
With that, Inko pulled Hisashi inside the room.
"What was that all about?" Hisashi asked, watching as Inko removed her heavy leather overcoat and slung it across the foot of the bed. She hummed, and Hisashi repeated his question.
"'Milady'?" Inko queried, and he nodded. "I helped Sasaki out of a nasty situation about a year ago. She had no where safe to go to, so I brought her here. The owner decided to take her own as a fulltime member of staff, seeing as she has first hand experience with… certain types of people."
"Yes," Hisashi probed, "But what prompted the nickname."
Inko shrugged. "I don't know. I presume she felt thankful for how I've helped her. Whenever I need to bring someone to a safe space, I usually bring them here." [1]
That wasn't always the case. If events had escalated too far, Inko would generally neutralise the threat by giving them a good thump with her mallet and would wait beside the victim to keep them calm – whisking herself away as soon as the police drew near. If Inko was helping someone to escape a risky situation from which they could pick up the pieces by themselves (or without her aid), she would lead them to the Love Hotels.
"A Love Hotel?" Hisashi iterated sceptically. "Really?"
Once again, Inko shrugged.
"They don't ask questions, they like to keep their customers safe, and it's unlikely that the police officers will follow a Vigilante into an area that's shady without back up." She smiled, "By which point, I've already left through the back entrance."
Hisashi sat on the prominent bed in the room. The latter was positively tame in comparison to others this hotel had, more akin to a piece of furniture in a normal hotel room than one that catered to specific tastes. A bland white bedspread, stretching across a wide mattress, glowed under the warm down lighting in the room – providing a safe, womblike feeling.
Though she could, and with lots of extra space to spare on the bed, Inko made no move to sit beside Hisashi. She shifted uneasily on her feet; her fingers toying with the key to their hotel room to distract her from how awkward she felt around him.
"Why bring me here then?"
Inko rubbed at her temples. "You were in danger, and I panicked slightly. Plus, you know too much."
"About you?"
"Yes, about me."
Hisashi chuckled warmly. "The thing is, Inko, I don't think I know enough."
He stood, smoothing a pair of sweaty palms over the knife-like creases in the front of his suit trousers. Inko's breathing hitched traitorously as he crossed the room to stand before her.
Hisashi loosed the top few buttons on his shirt, his breathing only now evened out from their mad dash earlier while Inko's was becoming erratic. "You met me this morning, why would you throw yourself into such danger. Why would you do so anyway without the correct training?"
Inko wished she'd bit her tongue as soon as the words tumbled from her mouth; "It's my job-"
"But it isn't, not really. So why?"
"Because it helps," she admitted, ducking her head to try and escape his intense gaze. "Because I feel like I'm doing something now, that I'd never been afforded – or wanted – before. Because you-"
She bit her lip. The green lipstick she wore smeared against her stark white teeth in granulated flecks.
Hisashi hummed, taking both of her hands in his. His palms were warm, if a bit clammy. Inko found she didn't mind the sensation that much.
"Does Vigilantism excite you?"
"Yes," she lisped back almost inaudibly.
"Do I…" He paused, cocking his head. "Do I excite you, Inko?"
Call it latent hormones, the effects of an adrenaline rush, or Inko herself just throwing caution to the wind once more, she shuffled closer so that she stood toe to toe with Hisashi. She raised her chin haughtily, narrowing her eyes behind her mask.
It sounded as though Hisashi was playing games with her – and Orbit, Inko, could play games too. Game plans, patience, and flexing both her mind and Quirk to gain the upper hand were what saved her from tricky situations, and he (for the short time Hisashi had known her) should have known better.
"Perhaps," she answered coyly, and was rewarded by the trail of his hands against her sides. "Maybe it's just anger though? You did destroy a third of my weaponry in one breath earlier."
"My apologies," Hisashi said contritely, but his tone was spoiled by the growing, boyish grin on his face and the smoke that clung to his teeth. "I really should make it up to you," he continued, dipping his head down.
"Please do."
The removal of Orbit's costume was a method with less ritualism and fanfare than it was to try and put everything on.
Her makeup, finely painted and artfully dusted, would blur under a facial wipe as she removed it – as was per the usual in her cramped little bathroom at the end of patrols. Now her lipstick was smeared across Hisashi's mouth, and her mascara felt as though it was clinging to her sultry eyes in thick, cumbersome clumps. The leather overcoat Inko had deposited at the foot of the bed had been kicked to the floor at some point – likely when they'd toppled onto the bed to fumble with one another's clothes.
This wasn't like the movies said it would be – or like her usual routine – Inko thought as Hisashi unzipped the front of her suit and she shimmied to ease the fabric down past her hips. The supple jumpsuit hit the ground with a weightier thump than one might imagine; it still had the numerous arm pouches and the portable radio attached to the sleeves and waist. The radio released a faint crackle; a crackle that was soon muffled by Hisashi's trousers and belt being thrown on top of the jumble of garments.
Taking everything off was easier than putting them on, and while she readied herself and Hisashi's fingers danced over her skin teasingly, Inko wished she'd never have to collect her clothing from the floor. Not yet, anyway. She didn't want the moment to end – didn't want to cover herself now that Hisashi knew who she, and who Orbit, were. She was exposed well and truly, except for-
"Inko." Hisashi's fingers trailed over her stomach, and she barely restrained a giggle at the ticklish sensation. "You can leave your mask on."
Those words, possibly spoken out of concern for her never having to acknowledge she was a civilian woman playing at Vigilante, cut deeper than Inko thought they would. Hisashi was right to ask it of her though, she supposed. While he knew of her, her did not know her – and the mask was the only thing stopping Inko from bearing all.
Or maybe… maybe it was for a different reason. Their current position was already precarious enough, yet Inko felt her face flush at the realisation of another meaning for his words. A cheeky giggle burbled in her throat.
She coughed, trying to stop her laughter in its tracks. Her green eyes flashed with mischief. "Does… does my mask excite you, Hisashi?"
"More than you'll ever know," he answered.
Afterwards, when Hisashi believed that Inko (her mask barely clinging to the skin beneath it) was fast asleep, she felt him shift in the bed beside her. A warm hand caressed the skin of her side, rubbed tender circles at her hip, and trailed lengthways to the snarled tangle of her tinted hair.
"Tell me about yourself," she whispered, feeling his lips press against the top of her head and not expecting him to answer.
She wanted to know more about him, wanted to know, desperately, more than she knew already. The little things like how his hair grew even wilder the more you ran your fingers through it, or why he had scars down his chest like someone had flung molten metal at his skin. She wanted to explore his past and their future together, if he would let her, and expand the knowledge she had so far.
Hisashi's mouth had tasted like a bonfire – not that Inko went around kissing many of those – and now, as he spoke mere centimetres from her face as she rested her head in the crook of his neck, she could smell the scent as it clung to his lips.
He had been silent for a while, and Inko assumed she wasn't going to be getting an answer to her question. She felt herself beginning to drift off into slumber.
"I'm supposed to be getting married, but you, my dear Inko, are making this very hard for me."
Sleepily, Inko's eyes fluttered back open. When she'd thought about getting to know him, she hadn't expected this. "I had my suspicions that you were involved in something dodgy, but premature bigotry wasn't the first thing that came to mind."
Hisashi lurched, rocking the mattress and nearly whipping away the covers tucked under Inko's arm. "I thought you were dosing."
"I was," Inko yawned, her mask pulling against the tender skin under her eyes. "I'm not now. Marriage?"
She rose to sit up in bed, adjusting the pillows behind her so that she could rest against the cold leather headboard. Hisashi slipped from beneath the sheets and fiddled with the room's down lighting, mustering up the courage to speak.
"My parents are quite wealthy," he said eventually, joining Inko under the covers once more and tucking the sheets around the both of them securely. "When you ran into me yesterday, we'd run into a little… trouble."
Inko waited for him to continue, rubbing her toes against the silken sheets.
"You have to understand, when it comes to business and family to my parents, business comes first. The only way that family gains importance to them is when family concerns business – can help strengthen and secure new deals."
Inko filled in the blanks. "They're marrying you off."
"Yes," Hisashi admitted. "And I was ready for it too. The man you discovered trying to assault me was from a third party – one that wished to stop the alliance between my father's and my fiancée's family business. I'd had a call when you met me earlier in the day to expect some interference, but I didn't think they'd go so far as trying to take me out."
He laughed breathily. "Then there was you, you brilliant, brave woman. I could hardly believe my eyes when I realised it was you clouting someone for me. I must say the stars are a lovely touch."
If he'd told her that to begin with, then maybe – just maybe – Inko would have been placated. Maybe she would have accepted Hisashi's story for what it was and have sympathised about being forced into an arranged marriage. Would have swallowed his compliments about Orbit's costume. Now though, she couldn't help how disgusted she felt with herself and the swirling, loathsome thoughts that eddied in her mind.
How desperate did you have to be – how starved of attention – that you jumped into bed with someone who was taken?
For once, Inko wondered why she was always punished for being selfish. Was it so wrong of her to desire things for herself, or to want to forge her own (though perhaps, misguided) path? Why was it that Mitsuki could demand, and demand, and demand, and get what she wanted? Why did Mitsuki get to have the perfect life – the husband and the child?
All Inko had ever received for her ambition was the death of her remaining parent, crippling loneliness, a slew of nosy neighbours, and a major secret that thanks to Hisashi's appearance may not be so secret anymore.
Why was it that Inko Midoriya got the short end of the stick? The unhappy ending? The scraps? Why was it that when she achieved a tiny sliver of happiness there was a larger portion of regret attached?
Inko blinked back her tears, and Hisashi drew his knuckles across her top of her thigh comfortingly. "You make things so difficult for me, Inko. I'm at a loss for what to do."
Disentangling herself from him, and shuffling out from underneath the bed covers, Inko fumbled in the low light for her clothes.
"Inko, what are you-" Hisashi started as she tugged her underclothes and jumpsuit harshly over her body.
Inko threw on her boots, checked that she had the remaining pieces of her equipment, and pulled on her coat.
"I should think that it's very clear what you have to do Hisashi," she told him, swinging her starry mallet through the air a couple of times warningly.
"But –"
"I would have been happy with you. I could feel it in my bones," she murmured, watching the surprise flit across Hisashi's features in the warm orange lighting. "But I will not wait while you're engaged to someone else. I could be selfish – I often am – but not this time. I not…"
"You're not, what?"
"I'm not going to play second fiddle, or watch you play with her, whoever she is, even if your marriage is arranged," Inko snapped. "Goodbye Hisashi. Please leave the room key with Sasaki on your way out."
"Inko-" He protested, hopping around while trying to pull on his trousers.
But Inko was already out of the hotel room and booking it home.
Slinking over the balcony railings and through the open door into her apartment, Inko took great pleasure in pulling off her boots and mask and striding into the living room despite her terrible mood.
Home was always a good, comforting place to be when you felt broken and alone.
"What time do you call this?"
Inko froze. She had forgotten all about Mr Takiyama. She turned slowly, rubbing at her neck and twinging as the heel of her palm hit a sore spot. Inko had a fairly good idea what that meant, seeing as Hisashi had nuzzled and nipped that area frequently. Inko would be wearing high-necked tops, scarves, and jumpers for the next few weeks.
"I know I'm late but-" the tops of Mr Takiyama's ears were red, and he clutched his own radio with a white knuckled grip – as though the device had somehow offended him. "Mr Takiyama, are you okay?"
The elderly man coughed and rose stiffly to his feet. "If you're behind schedule or run into trouble, then call it in and let me know – and for Kami's sake Inko, turn your radio off next time."
"What do you… oh no…"
Thankfully, Mr Takiyama didn't deign that this conversation should proceed any further and went to see himself out. Inko grabbed for her radio; horrified to find that from Hisashi's and her own impatient undressing the device attached to her belt had been switched on.
How much did he hear? She wondered, before remembering the flush along the tops of Mr Takiyama's ears. Everything then…
Mortified, Inko flew to the hallway and caught Mr Takiyama just before he'd slipped his other shoe on.
"I'm so sorry," she apologised with a deep bow.
"Yes, well," Mr Takiyama cleared his throat. "Keep it switched off, y'hear?"
Inko nodded solemnly, her face aflame. The bites and welts along the skin of her neck stung as much as her ashamed, red cheeks.
"And Inko?" She straightened from her bow. Mr Takiyama looked her squarely in the eye. "He didn't deserve you anyway."
The next thing Inko did the following day was replace all of her beads. Only then could she return to active duty. While a part of Inko wished she could do anything but, she threw herself back into Vigilante work with a single-minded vigour.
It was easier to do that than to pay further attention to her body's needs and wants; easier to throw herself into the cold and the danger than to keep track of silly things like emotions. She could pretend that Orbit wasn't affected, unlike she was. The joys of hiding behind a mask, Inko supposed.
The streets were growing colder as autumn drew near, and Inko swapped out her lightweight gloves for a specialist pair of mitts consisting of reinforced rubber pads and warm woven fabric. They were likely intended to be used as gardening gloves but served to keep Inko's hands toasty-warm all the same.
It had been two months since her encounter with Hisashi. Whatever trouble he'd been in initially had been swept under the metaphorical carpet, because Inko had seen hide nor hair of him. She would be lying if she said she didn't keep an eye out for that familiar mop of curls or his roguish grin, and her heart panged with fantasies of him abandoning everything just for her – that maybe he'd slide a ring over her finger instead of a business associate's.
In another life, perhaps he would have. Inko shook her head stubbornly. No, dreams and fantasies concerning people other than herself would never be a reality. The only one Inko Midoriya could truly fashion and shape into her ideals was herself – barely.
This was who she'd decided to become, this was the path she walked.
Orbit would patrol the streets and after her shift Inko Midoriya would weep alone in her bed and plaster on a smile for her neighbours. This would be how she'd live her life for now, and for now it would be enough. It would have to be enough, because Inko was uncertain what fresh disappointment would await her should she selfishly want more from her life.
One morning, Ms. Ametsuchi came calling. Inko had only managed to snatch three hours of sleep after her patrol before a short shift at a local general store, and instantly fell asleep on her sofa once she'd returned home. Forcing her lips into a genial smile was hard to do when you were heartbroken and doddering around on limited sleep.
"I'm sorry for waking you," the bunny-eared neighbour said sheepishly, worrying one lopped ear between her hands. "But I have an appointment to attend and Usagi's gone down with a fever. He insists that he's fine without me or someone else watching him but…"
Inko sighed. "You'd rather someone be there."
"Yes, exactly," Ms. Ametsuchi agreed. "I feel rude asking, but would you be able to keep an eye on him for a couple of hours? I would ask Mr Takiyama but the pair of them don't exactly see eye to eye."
It was true. Ever since Usagi had sent several of Mr Takiyama's plant pots flying, the elder had refused to have anything to do with the boy. Maybe it was childish of the older man, but Usagi wasn't exactly a child who could be excused for 'funny Quirk episodes' anymore; Usagi was a preteen with a warbling, cracking voice that sent Inko into hysterics whenever he spoke. Ms. Ametsuchi san had such a gentle, lilting quality to her voice, and her son, despite having the sweet exterior of a bunny rabbit (his head and cotton tail, at least) was likely to have this deep rumbling timbre totally incongruent to his appearance once he grew.
Inko was going to get a kick out of it while it lasted. It wasn't as though she had a lot to smile and laugh about these days.
"It's fine, I can watch him," she said finally to Ms. Ametsuchi's relief. "Is he up to sitting at my place, because I'd feel very rude falling asleep in your home."
"Nonsense," Ms. Ametsuchi tittered, slapping Inko lightly on the arm. "Though I assume he'd like to get out of the house for a bit."
A coughing and monumentally fed-up Usagi was hustled into Inko's living room. Ms. Ametsuchi placed a space comforter, and a large box of tissues beside her sulking son on Inko's couch. Thanking Inko profusely for looking after her child once more, Ms. Ametsuchi hurried her way out of Inko's apartment.
"So," Inko drawled. "Do you feel nauseous?"
Usagi shook his head. "Not really, just feel kinda rough."
"I don't have to find a bucket or anything then?" She queried, and Usagi shook his head once more. There was a worrying red tint to his cheeks, especially as it was paired with a dull lustre to his fur and the sickly pallor of the skin at the back of his hands. "Have you got a temperature?"
"Mm…" Usagi grunted.
"Fancy some ice cream then to cool you down?"
Usagi brightened; "Now you're talking!"
Usagi was finally dosing under the comforter his mother had left with Inko, a cool damp cloth laid across his forehead as he curled up at one end of the sofa. Inko propped her feet on a low-down coffee table that was littered with popsicle sticks, melted, sugary drippings, and plastic wrappers.
It had seemed like a good idea at the time to try and cool and calm Usagi down with the promise of sugar, but Inko had a feeling Ms. Ametsuchi wouldn't leave her son with her anymore if Inko returned him more hyper than he'd come.
Plus, there was a little nugget of wisdom tugging at the back of Inko's mind and ricocheting around her head with what sounded very much like her own mother's voice. 'Starve a fever, feed a cold,' it said, and Inko groaned. Had she worsened Usagi's condition?
The preteen let out a sniffly snort and bunched the blanket further over his shoulders. Maybe not then.
Inko blamed her poor ideas on her even poorer coping mechanisms. She'd fallen into the habit of drowning her sorrows and worries with food even since her mother had passed away. Inko had been put in charge of making meals early on by her father, and if her portion sizes were disproportionate from what they should have been, he didn't comment.
Leftovers were useful, and the remainder of a hearty meal was better to snack on than junk food, correct? That was the way Inko had seen it at the time, but since she had grown up she'd had to control her eating habits better.
Inko knew that as Orbit – who demanded Inko to be the pinnacle of fitness so that she wasn't arrested – she had to reassess how and what she consumed. That did not stop the petty adult in Inko ascertaining that there were no parents in her life (… how she sometimes longed there were…) and that she could buy and eat whatever she wanted.
Grocery shopping and her battle of wills was a nightmare. Of course, there were the necessities she had to buy but Inko still felt a vindictive flash of childish glee at impulsively placing sweets and snacks in her shopping basket. The popsicles had been one such product she'd nonchalantly placed on the till's counter, trying to act blasé about it while the cashiers were probably wondering why she was acting so shiftily.
It hadn't been too bad of a binge though. Out of the box of six, Usagi and she had each ate three. The meagre offering of sugar had been enough to break Usagi out of his funk, and Inko had felt a little better herself. Though now, however, there was a sickly feeling creeping up inside of her.
Knocking snapped Inko away from the strange, sickly sensation, and she hurried to her feet to catch whoever it was at the door – hopefully Ms. Ametsuchi. Inko cursed herself for not hiding the popsicle wrappers sooner. Ms. Ametsuchi would think she was setting a horrid example for Usagi, and while the child played on her last nerve at times, Inko couldn't dispute she didn't like Usagi's company.
"Inko-"
Inko slammed the door shut in alarm.
What was Hisashi doing on her front doorstep?!
Timidly she peered through the peephole. He was still stood there. It was really him. Had he called it off – had he decided that herself and how Inko made him feel was more important than money?
Or was it all too good to be true?
Inko felt sick again. How had he even found her?
She dashed into the living room, trying her best to hastily spruce things up a little before tearing down the hall into her bedroom. Inko snatched the portable radio out of her wardrobe, pressing down a button and speaking quickly into the receiver.
When she returned to the hall to open the door, raised voices could be heard on the walkway outside.
"-doesn't want you here-"
"I'll be the judge of that."
Inko cleared her throat and opened the door a crack. "You can both come in," she told Hisashi and her stalwart defender, Mr Takiyama. "But you'll have to not raise your voices – Usagi's staying with me and he's not very well."
Mr Takiyama grunted, shambling his way inside. Hisashi hesitated on the front step.
"Inko, I-" Something shiny glinted on his left hand.
"Come in, Hisashi."
Letting two grown men (one elderly and enraged, and another who was married and liable to spit fire everywhere) and a slumbering, sickly child sit in her living room while she brewed tea in the next room over was a more surreal experience than Inko could believe.
"There we go," she placed two steaming mugs on the coffee table and cradled her own between her hands. "Why are you here, Hisashi?"
"I couldn't just leave it be, Inko," he said, watching the steam curl skywards from his own mug. "I… I want-"
Mr Takiyama snorted. "We know what you want. You want to have your cake and eat it-"
"That's unfair-"
"And what about what's fair for Inko?" Mr Takiyama spat.
"Please don't shout," Inko hushed them softly, watching Usagi stir slightly.
"Inko I'd say is pretty capable of looking after herself – she's a Vigilante after all, and not to mention a grown woman," Hisashi bit back smugly. "Look, Inko, will you give me another chance?"
"How can I give you another chance? You have a ring on your finger, Hisashi," she said dumbly. "You married her then?"
The look on Hisashi's face suggested he would have rather burned himself to ashes with his own flames before agreeing to acknowledging his arranged marriage, but he grumbled out an affirmation that, yes, he was a married man now.
"It's not working between us, Inko. She's… she's not you, and I can't. I just can't." Hisashi shook his head, balling his fists in his lap.
"So, I'm to be the other woman then? How do you think that makes me feel, to be the bit on the side while you've gone off and married someone else – vowed to devote yourself to someone else, huh?"
Inko inclined her head regally, looking but not feeling powerful at that very moment. She longed to palm Orbit's mallet; to swing it at Hisashi's face and release her irritation. "You chose her – chose your family's business – over me, and I know where I stand."
"It's not like that," Hisashi stammered, ignoring Mr Takiyama's dark chuckle.
It was going to hurt to say these words, but Inko pressed on anyway. "I don't want you, Hisashi. Please leave me alone from now on. If you could see yourself out?"
Please don't go, she thought as he drained his cup and rose from his chair.
Don't leave me, she pleaded internally as she heard him tread down the hall.
Come back and love me… Inko's tears began to fall with the slam of the front door.
"Child, are you alright?" Mr Takiyama inquired as Inko shook and shuddered in her seat.
Usagi yawned exaggeratedly from his perch on the couch. "Did I hear that right? Miss Inko's a Vigilante?"
"I think…" Inko lisped, catching Mr Takiyama's eyes. "I think I'm going to be sick."
She promptly vomited down the front of her jumper.
"Easy now," Mr Takiyama huffed, settling a freshly changed Inko back into her chair with a fresh mug of ginger tea – the latter to soothe her roiling stomach.
"I couldn't have caught anything off Usagi; Ms. Ametsuchi said he had a fever, not a vomiting bug," Inko clarified. "Plus, I haven't seen Usagi in a while, so I highly doubt I could have been infected just from two hours of sitting with him."
"I haven't been sick," said Usagi with his crackling voice. "So, you've not got what I have."
"Brilliant," Inko moaned, swallowing down some bile with a sip of tea.
Mr Takiyama snickered knowingly. "Of course, you're not ill. There's something else going on, but you're not ill."
Inko tried to understand what Mr Takiyama meant by that. There weren't a lot of things outside of a medical situation or inebriation that could cause vomiting other than-
"I can't be," Inko hissed, palming at her stomach. "We were safe."
Hisashi, bastard though he was, had made sure to use protection. Inko's cycles were all over the place; a combination of constant stress, bad habits, and likely not being the most fertile person on the planet making her menstruation cycles spotty and hard to track. She'd assumed she be fine without any follow-up pills, having felt no warning signs or being able to track an incoming cycle.
She would not assume so lightly ever again.
"I'm going to need a test," she whispered, hanging her head. "Usagi, do you have your mother's contact number on hand? I don't really feel up to walking about at the moment, so I'm going to ask if she could do me a favour."
Usagi rolled his eyes, handing over a basic flip phone his mother had bought him after he'd thumped his feet and sulked enough. "I get it, you might be preggo, but you're seriously a Vigilante?"
"Yes!" Inko snapped, then dialled Ms. Ametsuchi's number.
"What do I ever do now?" Inko sobbed about an hour later on Ms. Ametsuchi's shoulder. "I don't want him to be part of my life anymore, but I also do, and now I'm having a baby and-"
"Deep breaths Inko," the other woman replied. She was still bemused at the situation she had been flung into – Inko and her other house guests having had to explain things in detail.
Though she older woman couldn't quite believe she'd been living next door to a Vigilante all these years, one thing she could believe in was that families raised by a single parent with a fantastic support network thrived.
"It's all going to be fine," Ms. Ametsuchi soothed.
"Do I even tell him?"
"That's entirely up to you. Do you want this child though?"
Inko thought about the positive pregnancy test resting in the bathroom sink while she wept. She thought of lucky Mitsuki and her swelling stomach, and of Hisashi; who was one consecutive let down after another. Despite that, and all the hurt he'd brought, Inko couldn't find it in her to hate him like she justifiably should.
She couldn't hate a child composed of both Hisashi and herself, a child that had been conceived by accident and who would be kept from having a conventional upbringing due to circumstance.
If Inko Midoriya couldn't have what she wanted but could have a piece of that happiness which was rightfully half her own, then she would take it. She would hoard this precious happening like a dragon with its gold, and she would never let it go.
"I do." Her hands fluttered to her tummy – no noticeable bump there yet, but in time there would be. "I do."
"Then that is all that matters," Ms. Ametsuchi replied, leading Inko back to the living room so they could announce the news. Mr Takiyama and Usagi awaited them, the pair having managed to put their differences behind them in support of their neighbour. (However, Inko suspected that Usagi was only interested because of her newly revealed status.)
Inko nodded to the elderly gent and the preteen. Both broke out into wobbly smiles, mirroring her own.
Ms. Ametsuchi rubbed a comforting hand across the plain of Inko's back. "Believe me when I say we'll be here to help you every step of the way."
On a tepid summer's evening in July, Izuku Midoriya was born.
He was small, and oh so fragile. Green-tinted curls were matted against his head with fluid as he squirmed and wailed in the doctor's grasp. Inko was desperate to use her Quirk and pull her child towards her, anxious to hold him against her chest and never let go of him ever again.
Izuku was so precious, and he was her son. Hers. Not anyone else's, and he was so small and precious. She burst into tears as a nurse gently laid the infant at her breast; and suddenly the nine months of emotional turmoil, back ache, and swollen ankles, along with her uneasy labour had been worth it.
Izuku was more than worth it. He was irreplaceable. He was everything.
Inko was proudly filling in her son's birth certificate information for the registrar, but the pen in her hand stilled over the sections asking for Izuku's birthfather's details. It was then that Inko realised she had never known Hisashi's last name.
She'd known of his charm, and his appearance, and his circumstances, but she didn't know the last name of the man who had fathered her child. Izuku stirred in his little cot beside her bed on the maternity ward. A selection of congratulatory cards, 'It's a boy!' balloons, and an artfully arranged plant pot of pansies, crocuses, and primroses (Mr Takiyama's doing) were displayed on her bedside locker. [2]
Inko left the section blank.
She'd answer painful questions when Izuku asked them, and not a second sooner.
[1] It's actually because I forwent using honorifics in this fic and couldn't find an appropriate equivalent to '-sama'. So we gon' use 'Milady' instead, like Orbit's some celestial monarch come to take arse and kick names.
[2] Pansies are symbolic in flower language of 'thought', crocuses of spring-like flowers and 'children', and primroses with 'new life'.
A/N [14/9/2018] : What's this, another update in under a week? Is the world ending?
Nope, I just felt really fired up about this fic for the first time in ages. Late Hero Academia, which was supposed to update this week, has been put on the back burner because I'm not feeling inspired enough to write for it yet.
Has anyone been watching Chio's School Road? If you like that series, I've got a short one-shot up on AO3 you might enjoy reading, and another that I'm dabbling with too. Check out Chio and the Fad on there.
I really can't write sexy-times, so if it seems glossed over in-text that's why. I just find writing anything remotely citrus-y uncomfortable, but I can write a good fluff fic! I think I did somewhat okay with the mounting sexual tension between Inko and Hisashi, though that could just be me thinking that...
And now, it is with great anticipation that I must turn to the reviews.
Hello again, RandomDude!
It kind of is because you're an anon reviewer, but if other people are reading these A/N's and finding my poor attempts at explaining how I write interesting, that's fine by me. I have fandom-phases too! Jeez, the other week I hopped back to OHSHC for the first time in years. I get what you mean though; sometimes it's nice to take a break and allow works to flourish, or for new works to appear.
To be honest, I do get giddy when I receive reviews, and while it is nice to know your writing is appreciated I'm not holding anyone to reviewing immediately after a chapter goes up. If you scream excitedly at me, I will scream excitedly back, and all that jazz. None of my stories have ever really taken off – compared to some of the mega-reviewed and favourited fics on this site, that is. Truthfully, I don't know whether I want that or not? You Only Tell The Truth had a slew of notifications the morning after I'd posted the first chapter, and it really freaked me out. I also don't know whether I'd like the pressure of so many people waiting on my shitty writing. (Moderately successful, is what I'm saying I'd like my stories to be. Why that took several sentences, I don't know…)
I don't know whether its because no one's dropped it in a review, but you seem to be the first person who noticed the slime Villain! Finally, someone's noticed the cameo! Usagi is my fave boi and you can't change my mind otherwise. I do a lot of work with OC's, so I guess I'm just used to writing them convincingly? Hajime from Late Hero Academia is currently one I really enjoy writing for, because she's a mix of oblivious and dead inside. Hari from Pom-Pom Pom! Is another OC I love to bits, and I really should update that fic (it's been over a year) but I'm procrastinating on writing the mother of all final arcs.
I'm really crap with long winded writing. I do giant time skips because… and this sounds really bad… I have zero patience to sit and write out trivialities unless they aid my story. I wasn't going to hang around and spout details about four years of Inko basically doing the same routine. I've set it as a goal to have this story finished in five chapters, therefore I have to be strict with what I'm typing. I needed to essentially get key parts of Inko's story down and nothing else.
A lot isn't known about Hisashi canon-wise, and to me he's just AU-fodder in this fic. His mysterious circumstances in canon, while paving the way for Dad Might, doesn't sit right with me… I want to know what he's been up to all this time, or if he's a major prat like he is in Orbit. Still, this story is AU, and I hope I've been able to twist their circumstances enough for that.
Mitsuki will return, but that's all I'm saying on the matter.
It may be a while until Chapter Five is out. Then again, it could be the following week. Who knows? Still, I hope I do it justice.
In the meantime, come natter with me on Tumblr! I'm yuilhan-writes-things.
