ORBIT
5
Since Izuku had been born, Inko had grown used to the sight of a bouquet of flowers on her door step every month. The precursor to said bouquet happened to be a blank white envelope pushed through her letter box; within which was a cheque addressed to Izuku with a handsome sum scribbled on it.
At first, Inko had panicked. She had punted the bouquet off of the balcony walkway – uncaring as to whether it hit someone walking below – and hurried inside to snatch a snoozing Izuku out of his cradle so that she could hold him securely against her chest.
Hisashi knew.
While disconcerted about how he knew exactly, because Inko hadn't been a Vigilante for the past five years without a heightened sense of paranoia helping to cover her tracks, Inko assumed that he'd discovered Izuku in the same manner he'd tracked her home down all those months ago. Hisashi had flashed his money around, and while Inko had been – and still was – careful to this day not to draw attention to herself, it hadn't been enough. Hence the flowers and the child-support cheques.
Inko hadn't wanted his help, and she resented the part of her that warmed at the thought of Hisashi still thinking about the both of them – especially now Izuku was in the picture. She hadn't needed his help, didn't really want the cheques, but it was pleasant to see that Izuku would not be overlooked in the event that anything happened to her.
Around the third month of monetary deposits, Inko took a leisurely stroll with Izuku in his pushchair to inner Musutafu. There she set up a savings account for her young son. Hisashi's money would sit in the account untouched unless Izuku needed or wanted anything. It would see him through college should he wish to attend one, or if he (heaven forbid) needed the money to pay off medical expenses, there would always be something in his bank account. Mostly, Inko hoped that Izuku would be comfortable. That he could live his life as he wished and not have to worry about bills or going hungry.
She did wonder though whether these cheques would ever stop. Hisashi had made no move, outside of acknowledging Izuku's existence somewhat, to pry Inko's child from her. Which she was glad for. She would not be held responsible for her actions should he try to take her precious little one away from her.
As if he could.
Mr Takiyama appeared to be a permanent fixture in Inko's small apartment. The crotchety old man had melted at the sight of Izuku's full head of matted, curly, green-tinted hair after visiting the maternity ward for the first time and had taken up residence in Inko's arm chairs during the long shift of night feeds ever since. It hurt a little – it should have been Inko's parents here helping her and getting to know their grandson rather than this stranger. But at two in the morning, while Izuku fussed and screamed and she couldn't get him to settle, Mr Takiyama's deep grumbling voice soothed both mother and son as he took charge; pushing Inko back to bed while he took care of Izuku.
Usagi was another person she hadn't expected to stay over as frequently as he did. The fourteen-year-old was interested in Inko's time as Orbit – which, after a month or so after she'd discovered she was pregnant, had whittled into nothing. Inko was unsure as to whether she'd ever fit into her Vigilante costume again, let alone fight crime.
Still, Usagi was enamoured with the idea of her and of having lived next door to a 'Hero' for the past few years. He quizzed her about her route, poured his attention over her gear, and inquired as to whether she or Izuku would ever conduct Vigilante work again.
"It's unlikely," Inko had said, Izuku dozing against her chest.
All Might had been more active than ever, and if that wasn't an indicator of the state of the world at the moment – a world where All Might was putting criminals behind bars just as quick as they were popping out of the woodwork – then Inko didn't know what was. Heightened levels of activity, from either Villains or Heroes, did not bode well for her; both as a civilian and as a Vigilante, she would be under constant threat either way.
Inko shook her head. Maybe one day, if it was necessary or if she had nothing else left to hold onto, Inko would pull on her costume and gear. "I have Izuku to think about now and it would be too dangerous. I don't want him to grow up without me here, so what if something happened on my rounds?"
Usagi's perked ears had drooped at the news, and Inko contemplated why he had been so invested in her story. "Usagi, you're not thinking of-"
"No, no, not at all," he shook his head. "I'm… I'm thinking about support though. You were really cool with me back when Taka and I got kidnapped, and my Quirk isn't really helpful. I managed to help Taka though by following your instructions, so I thought I could help people that way too."
Inko ruffled the bunny-Quirked boy's fur between his ears. "I think that's wonderful, Usagi."
Izuku started fussing then, and any talk of future careers were swiftly forgotten. Usagi and his mother spoke some more, filled in the high school application forms together, and bound their small family tighter to Inko, Izuku, and Mr Takiyama. Ms. Ametsuchi had been right; she was there every step of the way, just as the older woman had promised.
Still, one day someone would take a look at Hisahshi's expenses, wonder why a large chunk was being withdrawn every month and disappearing, and hound his spending habits until they found out why he was paying so much at florists for flowers not addressed to his wife or clients, and essentially spiriting his money away for no good reason.
Sure enough, when Izuku turned one, the cheques ended altogether after one final lump sum. The amount bequeathed to Izuku made Inko inhale a sharp breath as she took in the multiple zeroes. There was enough to cover her son's welfare expenses up until he turned eighteen – possibly more.
Inko did not hear from Hisashi again after that. One final bouquet waited on the front door mat; a cluster of daffodils – rare and out of season, and very lonely looking outside on the front step. [1] They lived, prolonged by Mr Takiyama's reluctant care, for a further two weeks. Inko eventually threw the shrilled flowers away.
If Izuku wanted to know the details, then she would happily tell him. If Izuku wanted to find Hisashi once he knew, she wouldn't try and stop him. But for now, the message was clear. 'I can't see the both of you anymore.'
One thing Inko missed more than anything as a new mum was that she couldn't just up and run for hours on end now that she had a little one to put before herself. Usagi, back from high school for the day and bouncing a gurgling Izuku up and down on his knee, suggested she invest in a sturdier push chair –a 'running buggy', or so he'd said– and just push Izuku around in it when she ran. [2] Inko could fill a rucksack with anything she or Izuku might need, and while it was less convenient than the arm pouches she relied on, Izuku had a lot more kit and caboodle to haul around.
Extra nappies, nappy bags, spare feeding bottles, a few changes of clothes, packet upon packet of wet wipes… it was mind boggling how much one backpack could hold.
Inko ended up taking Usagi's advice. Donning her workout gear once more, Inko lowered Izuku into his new specialised stroller –the toddler facing her, to protect him from anything in Inko's path as she ran– and set off at a light pace.
Her intermittent exercising sessions (snatched when Usagi or Mr Takiyama babysat), napping whenever Izuku finally settled down, and the overwhelming exhaustion that came with being a new single mother hadn't helped Inko's endurance one bit. She had grown accustomed to sleepless nights when Izuku had fussy fits, so there still remained her strong mental ability, but her physical stamina was pathetic.
Inko made it as far as the park where she had met Hisashi before sliding to a halt and collapsing onto a bench, heaving for breath while Izuku giggled and gurgled. At least someone was enjoying the trip out.
She ripped open her backpack, wrestling with the plastic cap on her bottle of water. When her fingers finally had purchase and the seal gave, Inko chugged back half the bottle in a daze. Still struggling to catch her breath, Inko rose from the bench and began to pace around the park to try and stop her muscles from seizing up because she had stopped to suddenly. Izuku squealed as soon as he realised he was on the move again.
Feeling her breathing and pulse settle after a short loop of the grounds, Inko returned to her bench to finish off the rest of her water.
"You look like you needed that."
The water bottle slipped out of Inko's fingers in surprise; her running shoes received an impromptu shower.
"Ah, sorry- I," the stranger sat on the bench beside Inko blustered, scrabbling to his pockets for a tissue. Inko waved him off and placed the now-empty water bottle back into her bag.
"It's fine," she assured. He didn't seem like a creep, but Inko knew better than to lunge in heart-first while meeting male strangers in the park. It hadn't ended so well last time – apart from Izuku. Izuku was probably the best thing to happen during Inko and Hisashi's brief relationship. "I'm really out of shape."
Izuku gurgled, and Inko's cheeks dimpled under the force of her proud smile. "That's right, Izu! Mummy's really out of shape, isn't she?"
Dipping her hand back into her backpack, and after pulling away the plastic shower-cover from the where it covered Izuku's seat in the buggy, Inko handed the toddler a snack to nibble on. The soggy remains of a rusk were likely going to have to be wiped away from where Izuku had smeared it across his mouth and chest, but the latter latched onto the treat with vigour. Inko had had her water break from working hard, so it was only fair Izuku had a little reward for being well-behaved while she ran.
The stranger seemed quite smitten with the way her son was gnawing on his biscuit too. The limp blond bangs covered most of the stranger's rosy cheeks, but Inko could see how clearly Izuku had wrapped another person around his chubby little fingers. Perhaps any other mother would be worried about a grown man cooing over her child, but Izuku had apparently inherited his father's charm and unwieldy curly hair.
If the stranger had been smitten before, he was unlikely to ever escape Izuku's influence when the latter raised one pudgy rusk-smeared hand and waved. The blond stranger waved dazedly back.
"I'm going to have to watch this one when he's older," Inko smiled, finding a wet-wipe and cleaning up the great messy attempt Izuku had made with his snack. "Well, Izuku. I think it is time we got going again. It was nice to meet you… um?"
"Toshinori Yagi, Mrs- Ms," Mr Yagi corrected when he noticed the stark absence of a wedding band on Inko's finger.
"Inko Midoriya, and this is my son, Izuku." Said son burbled, and Mr Yagi's face crinkled up in delight.
Inko was going to be beating off Izuku's admirers with a stick when he was older. He'd already charmed Mr Takiyama, and even Usagi (who'd recently morphed into a grunting, sweaty fifteen-year-old). Who, after Mr Yagi, would Izuku conquer next? Would anyone be able to resists his bright green eyes, bubbly smile, and the lure of running one's fingers through his bouncy curls.
"It was nice to meet you, Mr Yagi." Inko folder the cover of Izuku's buggy back down. "Say 'Bai-bai!' Izuku."
'Buh' was the cute response, accompanied by a hefty spit bubble.
The next time Inko and Izuku ran into Toshinori Yagi was over a year later, this time by the seafront.
Inko's stamina had improved greatly, and she'd took to running further afar with Izuku – who, in a new buggy that accounted for his growth spurts, still loved being chauffeured. She tutted at the sight of a growing heap of fly-tipped material on the beach.
Inko slowed her pace, deciding that perhaps she'd pull Izuku from the buggy and let him toddle around the cleaner patch of the beach; then she remembered that Izuku was going through his first phase. Not the notorious terrible twos, in fact, Izuku was dealing with teething like a trooper. No, Izuku had recently seen the video of All Might's debut.
A trashy daytime television show had been recapping the chronology of the Heroes career, and Inko had been distracted with readying lunch for the two of them and a snoozing Mr Takiyama and had forgot to switch the channel over to afternoon cartoons.
That afternoon had sparked Izuku's love for All Might, and Heroes in general. Inko had bought him an All Might themed pyjama suit as a little gag gift the following week, but Izuku had yet to be pried out of the thing – even in public. It was getting to the point where Inko was seriously considered buying a fortnight's worth of the all-in-one suits, just so she could get Izuku to change without a fuss.
Realising, as Izuku kicked his legs in anticipation, that she had no choice now but to let her onesie-clad child loose on the beach, Inko sighed. "Come on then, Izu."
She lifted him out of the buggy, collapsed the latter, and settled Izuku onto her hip while she tried to juggle carrying him and the pushchair down the steps.
"Ms. Midoriya?" Inko startled. The weight of the buggy was lifted from her arm. "Let me take that for you."
"Oh- ah," Inko led the way down the steps to the beach. There, she set Inko down on the floor before he could squirm and wriggle out of her grip. "Thank you, Mr Yagi."
"Hi."
Mr Yagi rubbed at the back of his neck, craning his large frame down so that he could smile brightly at Izuku. "Hello there, little one."
Satisfied, Izuku nodded. He scuttled off to play with a few pebbles littered across the beach. Inko tucked a stray lock of her hair behind her ear. "Don't go too far out, Izuku."
"My he's grown," Mr Yagi said, watching the two-year old let sand filter through the gaps between his fingers in awe.
"My neighbour would perhaps say he was a 'rum'un', but that's Izuku for you," Inko beamed.[3] "What brings you to the beach, Mr Yagi?"
"Oh, um, Toshinori is fine, Ms. Midoriya."
Inko's nose wrinkled good naturedly. "Inko is also fine, Toshinori."
Across the way, Izuku tottered unsteadily. The pebbles – for her held one in each little palm – fell from his grip as he tumbled to the sand. Sitting confusedly, Izuku looked around wildly for his mother. Inko smiled, Toshinori had to smother his chuckle, and with that Izuku was back on his feet again. No tears, no fuss. Inko sighed in relief.
"How are you both?" Toshinori inquired.
Fiddling with the straps on her backpack, Inko replied; "We're both well. And yourself?"
"Also fine."
Their conversation was stilted; simple chatter, such as the weather, disparaging those who had cluttered up the beach, and whether the prefectural council would do anything about it. Then the topic turned to Izuku.
"He's an All Might fan then?"
Inko smiled fondly. "Oh, yes. I can't seem to get him to wear anything than those onesies at the moment."
Toshinori rubbed distractedly at his chest – almost as though the area around his heart burned and he was trying to sooth it. "I'm sure he'll grow out of it."
"Knowing Izuku," said Inko, "He won't. And when he does eventually have a growth spurt, then we'll be in trouble."
Toshinori winced sympathetically. "A fan boy in the making then?"
Inko snorted. If only Toshinori Yagi knew.
When Izuku turned three, Inko began to look around the neighbourhood for decent nursery schools. There were two, and each had varying pros and cons.
The first was only a ten-minute walk away; close enough that she could drop Izuku off and not have to worry about commuting with a small child anywhere. This nursery, however, did not come as highly recommended as the other.
The second nursery, while superior according to reports and those who had used their services, was a forty-minute walk, or fifteen minutes by bus – and it would take Inko and Izuku a further five minutes to get to the closest bus stop to their home. A longer commute, and a commute that was more likely to go pear-shaped due to any disruption, but an altogether better environment for Izuku to be in.
"Try the closer one first," Mr Takiyama had said, amusing Izuku as the three-year-old showed the elderly man a drawing he'd made… of All Might. The scribbles barely resembled anything, but the use of the three primary colours gave who it was supposed to be away. The two wobbly rabbit-eared protrusions Izuku had drawn onto the figure's head confirmed it.
"But what if-"
"Just try it, and if it doesn't work out send him to the other one," the elder harrumphed.
Sorting the applications went smoothly, as did the introduction day at the nursery. The staff had seemed competent and welcoming, and like Inko, a few other parents present had brought along their children to the meeting. Izuku was socialising well, the other children weren't mean at all. It all seemed so good.
Then, the following week on Izuku's first full day at nursery, Inko ran into Mitsuki Bakugou and her child by the front gates. Of all the people who could have resurfaced again in Inko's life, it just had to be her – and her child was likely a carbon copy of Mitsuki too.
"KO?!" Mitsuki rushed forwards, embracing her.
"…Mitsuki… nice to see you?"
"It's been so long, too long – oh. Who's this?"
Both she and Inko looked down. Izuku was clutching the pleats of Inko's pale pink skirt in his hands. His eyes had begun to water; threatening to spill with tears. Usually Izuku was fine around strangers – he'd taken to Mr Yagi and could just about charm anyone with his wide smile and vibrant eyes – but sometimes he became overwhelmed and clung to his mother for comfort. Inko couldn't blame her son from shying away from Mitsuki; Inko wished she could do the very same.
"It's okay," Inko soothed, ruffling Izuku's curls. "Why don't you introduce yourself?"
Izuku bowed unsurely; his lower lip trembled as he uttered his name. Mitsuki stared at him dumbly.
"Wait, Ko. You had a kid?" The blonde exclaimed, and both mother and son shied away from the intensity of her voice.
"Yes, obviously" Inko snipped. She wrestled to keep her temper in check. "If you could just give me ten minutes to get Izuku settled, I will speak to you."
If she was being brutally honest, Inko was thinking about dropping Izuku off with his classmates, pleading to whichever carer wasn't busy that she desperately needed to use the staff toilets, and launching herself out of the window should there be one – all so that she could escape talking with Mitsuki. It probably wouldn't deter the woman for long though.
Unfortunately for Inko, there was no window in the staff toilets. She would have to face Mitsuki outside whether she liked it or not.
Inko squared her shoulders, stuck her chin in the air, and walked out of Izuku's new nursery centre pretending to have confidence she did not currently possess.
"I have to say, this is a turn up for the books," Mitsuki chattered, blowing the steam away from the top of her coffee. She and Inko had relocated to a small café, not far from where they'd dropped the kids off. "Izuku's got to be around the same age as Katsuki – but we hadn't seen you again since that day."
"There's three months or so between them," Inko said, stirring a packet of sugar into her own beverage and going ham on the pot of cream the waitress had set out with their mugs to ease the bitterness away. "Izuku was a bit of a surprise, but a welcome one."
"I can imagine." 'No Mitsuki,' Inko thought, 'No you can't.' "So, you're seeing someone or…?"
"Izuku's father isn't in the picture anymore," Inko replied tersely. Perhaps too tersely, but Inko really didn't want to be reminded of everything she could have had – which, coincidentally, Mitsuki possessed. "He hadn't been since we first slept together."
"You mean-"
Inko nodded. "Izuku was a surprise, but he was a welcomed one."
"I… I see…"
'No, you don't,' Inko thought snidely. She tipped back her coffee cup, draining the liquid quickly. Inko could just about picture what Mitsuki would do with this information. Likely run home to her husband and mouth off about Inko behind her back again, while appearing as all sunshine and smiles to the woman in question in public.
Yes, Inko Midoriya was a single, unwedded mother of one. Her child had been the product of a one-night stand with a business man's betrothed heir. She had no family to speak of other than her little one and the non-blood relations she adopted into her life.
What Inko couldn't see though, was that perhaps Mitsuki's life – that she desired and saw as perfect – may not have been as ideal as she had thought, and that maybe Inko Midoriya had all she'd never need in her life right there in front of her. That she had stumbled across a group of people who had shaped her future for the better. It was only now that Inko was beginning to realise that she wasn't all alone anymore.
"Apologies Mitsuki, but I'm in a bit of a rush." Inko stood, smoothing down the ribbed hem of her cardigan and fiddling with a few strands of her hair that had stuck to her jaw. "I may see you later though when it's time to pick the boys up?"
Mitsuki nodded silently. Inko left the café hurriedly, and she did not look back.
Meeting with Mitsuki was, thankfully, reserved only for the mornings and afternoons Inko took and picked Izuku up from day care. This civil ten-minute dance of banal conversation, prying their children away from one another, and exchanging 'Goodbye's was what they stuck to; no more coffee dates, or trying to be buddies again. And they had stuck to it for well over a year now.
Things changed though, because, somehow, Izuku had managed to befriend the boisterous Katsuki Bakugou. Inko wondered if her family line was cursed, or if she had killed a priest in a former life.
Katsuki had been another unexpected addition to Inko's somewhat stable routine; often demanding to go home and play with Izuku. Inko didn't mind hosting the boys' playdates – Katsuki would show his heart of gold out from underneath his mother's influence, often trying to help Inko in the kitchen while she prepared snacks for the two boys and Izuku chittered on about Quirks. The trouble came though whenever Mitsuki or Masaru came to pick Katsuki up.
Heaven forbid Inko ever have to do the opposite; Izuku was likely going to be held captive in the youngest Bakugou's bedroom until Inko could figure out a way to part the two from one another for the night.
While Inko was glad Izuku had a friend his own age, why couldn't it have been any else than Mitsuki Bakugou's child? Things were going to go badly in this friendship; Inko could feel her gut roiling with the nagging suspicion that it would – just as Mitsuki and her own's friendship had dissolved.
Sure enough, things came to a head after Katsuki's fourth birthday, with the emergence of Katsuki's Quirk. It was as though Mitsuki's teenage temper had manifested itself in little Katsuki's sweat glands. It was indeed silly of Inko to superimpose mother onto son, but all Inko could see while Katsuki lorded his new 'strong' Quirk over his peers at the nursery school was Mitsuki – and Inko did not like what she saw.
In the end, it all came down as to whether Katsuki would turn out just like his mother, and whether he would ever turn against Izuku. It would shatter Inko's child should Katuski do that; Izuku was captivated by the sparks the blond boy could produce, just as he was still captivated by Heroes and Quirks and being a Hero.
Inko wondered if she let slip that she was a Vigilante, would Izuku think she was cool too?
Shaking her head, Inko marched down the sidewalk. She stood beside Mitsuki just inside the outer fence of the nursery school, anxiously waiting for when Izuku and Katsuki would burst out of the door with their rucksacks in hand. Huge happy grins would stretch along their mouths, and Inko would be wrong. There was nothing to say that Katsuki took more after his father, and Masaru had come across as a fairly level-headed individual in the handful of times Inko had met him.
When the other children filtered out and hurried home with their parents, Inko felt a sharp stab of worry. Her eyes flicked to Mitsuki, who was frowning at the front entrance of the building. When a carer appeared at the door and beckoned the two mothers inside, a chill ran down Inko's spine. Had she been right to be suspicious of the Bakugou's and their behaviour after all? Had something happened to Izuku?
"We're not entirely sure what happened," the carer said solemnly. Inko fussed with the dressing wrapped around Izuku's right forearm. "Izuku is insisting that he asked Katsuki to show him his Quirk, and Katsuki will not answer us."
"Oi, brat," Mitsuki huffed. "What did you do to poor Izu?"
"He asked me to do it," Katsuki snapped back with surprising ferocity.
Mitsuki's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Why would Izuku ever ask you to burn his arm? Tell me the truth, brat."
Katsuki snootily turned his head, lower lip jutting out stubbornly. Inko could feel Mitsuki bristling. She hung her head, ruffling a hand through Izuku's hair. Like mother like son. Inko had been right after all.
"Izuku," she began. "Did you ask Katsuki to use his Quirk on you?"
Izuku cocked his head to the side, big green eyes blinking owlishly at her. "I guess? I wanted to see it though – it's really cool."
"See?" Katsuki sniffed, much to Mitsuki's ire.
"Brat, you don't use your Quirk on other people," the blonde woman returned. "I'm so sorry about this Ko, Masaru and I will speak with him later."
"Don't talk 'bout me like I'm not here," Katsuki protested, batting at Mitsuki's glycerine-coated hands as she grabbed for his wrist and led him outside.
Inko had hoped that first incident had been the end of it, and she sat Izuku down once they'd returned home to ensure that Katsuki had not hurt her son on purpose. An accident could be understood and forgiven; children with volatile Quirks were more likely to use their powers and lash out if panicked, or if they were showing off and suddenly lost control. Katsuki's blast was rather precise, almost as though the scorched-on palm marking on Izuku's skin had been planned by either, or both of them.
Izuku had quietly admitted to her eventually that he'd wanted to see what Katsuki's Quirk could do but knew that the pair would get in trouble for trying out the mini-explosions on furniture or equipment in the day care centre. Izuku had rolled up his sleeve, claiming that Katsuki would not hurt him. The blistered and angrily flushed skin underneath his burn cream and bandages begged to differ.
However, a few weeks after the first incident, Izuku returned home with his uniform scorched, and months later when Inko walked Izuku home she noted he kept rubbing at the area atop the left side of his rib cage. Inko had been worried as of late; since Izuku's fourth birthday had passed, he had yet to present his Quirk. Some children were late bloomers, but other kids wouldn't understand that. Not having a power when everyone else did had to upset Izuku a little, and it was possible his classmates could be turning him away because of his differences.
"Are you alright?"
Panicked, Izuku flailed. "It doesn't hurt that much! Promise!"
Inko paused. "What doesn't hurt too much?"
Izuku paled, eyes growing wide. He bit his lip so fiercely Inko thought he might draw blood. Inko sighed. They were close to their apartment block now, and she forwent asking any more questions until they were safely tucked away inside.
Inko settled her son onto the sofa and switched on the afternoon cartoons he liked to watch. She brought a clean sweatshirt (All Might themed, naturally) from his room. "Izu, I need you to change so I can wash your Uniform, okay?"
Izuku, distracted by his shows, tugged off the uniform required by his nursery school. A cheap move, but Inko was not about using them; she was a (former) Vigilante after all.
"Izuku, who did that to you?" Inko asked, knowing full well who had created the searing red mark on Izuku's torso. Izuku did not answer, and Inko found she had all the answers she needed.
"He said I was useless," Izuku whispered.
"Why would Katsuki say that?"
Izuku swallowed audibly. "Because I don't have my Quirk and I'm a useless Deku."
For the evening and following morning, Inko internalised her rage. She made Izuku's favourite – Katsudon – for dinner, tended to his burn, and ran him an All Might bubble bath overloaded with glittery foam. As she tucked him into bed that night she whispered of how brave Izuku was, but she also murmured softly to him that it was a mother's job to know about things that could be hurting their children, and that bravery did not always mean dealing with problems by yourself.
Hypocritical of her, perhaps, but Izuku was not Inko. If she could prevent him from making her destructive mistakes, then she would.
"Mums are like Heroes then?" Izuku questioned groggily, and Inko hummed.
This mum was a Hero. Kind of. Inko much preferred being a Vigilante and fighting dirty.
Katsuki had been dropped off at nursery earlier than Izuku that day, so Inko had no way of cornering Mitsuki or Masaru that morning. She asked to be let out of work earlier than usual (having taken up part-time shifts at a convenience store to help pay for the apartment's utility bills), and determinedly waited in ambush for either of the Bakugous to turn up and collect their son.
"How dare you," Inko seethed, as soon as Mitsuki stepped through the front gate. "You said that you would sort this-"
"Ko-"
"Don't you 'Ko' me – you said you would sort this, said you'd speak with your son about his behaviour."
Mitsuki shook her head. The spiked cut of her bangs fluttered with the motion. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"I could forgive the first time it happened, young children have trouble controlling their Quirks – but months after that, Mitsuki? And Izuku's still coming home with burn marks on his clothes and skin?" Inko fumed.
"Inko I have no idea what you're talking about," Mitsuki replied waspishly, drawing herself upright and towering over Inko's short frame.
"Your son," Inko bit, "Is still causing physical harm to my son. You said you would sort this out Mitsuki, but you've obviously failed to do that. Izuku is so shaken up about this Mitsuki; just because he's a late bloomer, your son thinks it is appropriate to label my child as Quirkless – not that there would be anything wrong with that if he was."
"Katsuki's just a little tyke," Mitsuki had started to say, but then the children were released from the day care centre's rooms, and a triumphant looking Katsuki was trailed after by a singed, dejected Izuku. "Inko, I… I didn't think-
"That's right Mitsuki, you didn't think. You never do!"
They were drawing quite the fair bit of attention from the other parents, and Mitsuki shuffled uncomfortably under their scrutiny. "Hey, that's uncalled for. Can we not do this here?"
"Where else should we do this Mitsuki? Back at your home so Katsuki can taunt my child even further? I don't think so," Inko laughed disbelievingly. She scooped a sniffling Izuku up into her arms, cradling him against her chest. The hot splash of his tears against her neck had Inko grinding her teeth together in irritation. Could Mitsuki not see what Katsuki was doing – what effect his aggressive behaviour had on other children?
"I think maybe you need to take the kid gloves off, Ko. Most children aren't afraid of a little roughhousing," Mitsuki replied; Katsuki stomped his feet impatiently, raring to get home.
"'roughhousing'… is that what you think this is?" Inko murmured, horrified. "Your child is bullying mine and you think it's just a simple case of boys being boys– oh Katsuki's just given Izuku another burn. Can't be helped, boys will be boys, right?!"
Mitsuki shook her head once more. "I don't have to listen to this."
Inko's mocking laughter followed after her. "That's it, Mitsuki. Do what you always do when things don't go your way with me; run."
Inko had drawn a little too much pleasure from lashing out at Mitsuki. Unlike when she was eighteen, Inko did not collapse in a flood of tears and wish Mitsuki would forgive her. She tucked Izuku closer to herself – if possible – and carried him the entire way home. As always, the correct motion had been to cut the toxic people out of her, and now Izuku's, life.
"I think I'm going to have to change nurseries," she said to Mr Takiyama that night. Izuku was fast asleep, pressed against her legs on the sofa. She would have to move him to his bed soon, so that he could be more comfortable.
"Do what you think best," Mr Takiyama mumbled, scratching at his neck. The elderly man had been off with everyone for a short while; less quick tempered and crotchety, but more likely to zone out and not participate in conversation. He fell asleep quite often when babysitting Izuku, not that the boy would mind; he could quite easily occupy himself with thoughts about Heroes or his drawing pad and crayons.
"I don't think I know what's best," Inko muttered. "But he needs moving. Mitsuki can't control her own son, so and I obviously can't rely on the staff to separate the two of them. Maybe we should all move? Buy a house somewhere and start over?"
"You can't protect him from everything, Inko," Mr Takiyama replied wearily. "Even though we both know you'd give it your best shot. Change his nursery school, but there's no need to go to such drastic lengths, you foolish child."
Wetly Inko coughed. Tears collected at the corner of her eyes. "I don't want him turn out like me."
Mr Takiyama hummed. "Well, it's too late for that. He's already got your hair colour and leaky eyes."
Inko's neighbour had been correct in saying that; Izuku cried as much as she had done in her youth, back before Mitsuki had shattered her view of the world and her father had died. She was overreacting though. she'd been trying to pull a classic Mitsuki move without realising – running away from her problems instead of sticking it out and trying to face issues head on.
Inko would ring around and make some inquiries about changing Izuku's schools in the morning. For now, she was going to try and calm down, and settle her little one into bed.
When Izuku turned five, his Quirk had still yet to appear. The new day care centre treated all of their students neutrally; there was no attention lavished on just one pupil with a 'flashy' Quirk, every child was encouraged and treated equally. It soothed Inko to know this, and Izuku settled quickly into the new environment. He was tucked under the wing of an older child from a different class during playtimes, with sunshine blond hair and beady blue eyes.
Izuku still fretted over his lack of power, though. Inko resolved to take him to see a specialist to try and ease Izuku's mind; there would be no reason that he should not inherit either her or Hisashi's Quirk, or even a combination of the two – a way to telekinetically control fire, maybe?
The specialist confirmed that while Izuku possessed an extra toe joint, there would be no telling in how long it would take for his Quirk to present seeing as it had not manifested shortly before he'd turned four, nor had it been present since his birth. There were no obvious signs for the latter however, seeing as no one in the Midoriya family had (to Inko's knowledge) possessed a Mutant-type Quirk.
Izuku had seemed dismayed by this but held himself confidently when told that he would have a Quirk… someday. Inko was proud of her son either way.
Three months before Izuku was due to start primary school, he dashed into the living room one afternoon in search of a hug from his mother. Inko opened her arms wide in anticipation, knowing that Izuku liked to try and tackle her into a hug. She pulled at him gently with her Quirk, helping him fly into her arms.
A crackle of energy surged between mother and son as Izuku drew nearer – lunging with his hands outstretched and orbiting around her erratically. What happened next was a blur for the pair, resulting in Inko half-embedded into the dry wall partition separating the living room from the hall and Izuku landing safely on the cushioned sofa.
"Mama?"
Inko groaned, trying to push herself away from the wall. A human-starfish indent remained in the plaster when she finally tumbled to the floor; chunks of materials and a hefty cloud of dust following Inko and she fell in a heap.
"I'm okay Izu," she said through gritted teeth. Her back felt as though it were aflame, and she was likely to have a few bruises the following day. Inko was more worried over Izuku and if he was hurt from the impact.
Inko shuffled forwards on her hands and knees tentatively. Whatever it was that had propelled the two of them away from one another might still be present in the room; it was almost like a barrier. Almost. Sure enough, Inko slammed head-first into the barrier… thing… recoiling to clutch at her forehead. Another bruise to add to the collection, it would seem.
"Mama-"
"Don't!" Inko flung out her arm; it bounced harmlessly away from the barrier. "Stay where you are, poppet. We don't know where or why this is happening, and I don't want you to get hurt."
"Inko? We heard a crash," Usagi called from the front door. "Are you both alright?"
"We're fine," she replied, eyeing Izuku for any obvious scrapes and bruises. It was lucky the couch had been there to take the brunt of the collision, and not the wall like it had Inko. "There's something keeping Izuku and I apart though, and I can't work round it."
"What do you mean?" Usagi questioned, slouching into the room.
Usagi, clad in the local high school's uniform, was set to graduate this spring. While he presented himself in accordance to the school's dress code for now, the eighteen-year-old had taken to obscurer fashion than perhaps his mother might have liked.
Ms. Ametsuchi and Inko wore a lot of pastels. Usagi did too, but naturally, he preferred his pastels with patterns, spiked collars, and eyeliner. If high school weren't there to stop him, Inko believed that Usagi would never be changed from his favourite pair of plaid baby pink trousers and would likely have coloured his fur lavender with wash-out dyes the moment he had the chance. She couldn't quite see the appeal of the Pastel Goth and Faery Kei styles Usagi adored, but she had to admit he could pull it off rather well.[4]
"I can't even touch him, Usagi. Whenever I do, there's an invisible wall blocking me- watch your hand!" Inko warmed as Usagi spread his fingers and pressed his palm outwards – making contact with milky green surface the barrier. It was warm to the touch and rippled under the weight of his hand.
Usagi whistled. "That's a forcefield all right. Do you think…?"
Inko's eyes widened. "It can't be, it's nothing like-"
"I've…" The pair turned to look at Izuku. An unadulterated expression of joy swept across his face. "I've got my Quirk! Mama, Usa – I got my Quirk!"
"We can see that, Izuku," Usagi said proudly, pressing both hands against Izuku's barrier. "The question is, how do we turn it off?"
Things were a little odd in the Midoriya household from that point on. There had been no easy way for Izuku to simply 'switch off' his Quirk like Usagi and Inko had hoped. Rather, they had calmed the boy down to the best of their abilities – skirting around the stinging forcefield as they went – to the point where the barrier had retracted.
The surface area it covered was still substantial, but Inko could at least wander around her home without the fear of crashing into an invisible wall every five seconds. The tough part of Izuku developing his Quirk, was that until he learnt to control it better or shrunk the barrier down to a manageable size, no one could touch him.
In the mornings when he woke up, when he arrived home from primary school, and in the evening before they said goodnight, Izuku would always hug his mother tightly and receive a kiss to the top of his head. Now their hugs were always given two feet apart with arms outstretched. If Inko was feeling brave enough, some days she would lay herself against the barrier and wrap her arms around it tightly – ignoring the tingly heat and the way the repulsing force crackled against her skin, because this was as close as she, and anyone else for that matter, was going to get to her son.
Life and the routines the Midoriya's kept had become abnormal. Inko yearned to brush her hands through Izuku's hair or to hold him close to her. Time moved on. Izuku's barrier shrunk. But still, if Inko was an attractive force then Izuku was a repulsing one. Their Quirks battled and negated one another in a spectacular fashion. Some training had revealed that Izuku's Quirk worked both similarly and dissimilarly to Inko's own. He could manipulate objects around him – could push them away, unlike his mother who drew them closer – as well as being able erect a barrier to protect himself and others should he choose to.
When Izuku turned eight, the barrier bloomed in full force once more; pinning everyone in the room to the wall, except the lone figure of Mr Takiyama.
They had been celebrating. Izuku had done well on a test. Usagi was going to enter his final year in college, but he'd also been scoped out to help Hero agencies with his quick thinking, multitasking, and level headedness. Mr Takiyama had fallen asleep in his favourite chair while Inko played hostess and passed around the soft drinks and party food. They'd ordered take out. Mr Takiyama had grumbled but had insisted on paying the delivery man himself.
"Gramps," Izuku called softly, tugging on Mr Takiyama's pant leg. "The food is here."
Mr Takiyama did not wake. A small smile stretched across the thin, white lines of his wrinkled lips.
"I'm thinking of switching back to my old job," Inko told Toshinori as the pair watched on while seagulls swarmed on the horizon and scavenged what they could from the beach before them – which, while near pristine six years ago, was almost unrecognisable now.
Toshinori hummed, and Inko saw that as her cue to elaborate more on the matter. "I retired because I had Izuku to think about, but now I'm not so sure. He's older, he has a Quirk that is largely defensive, and I feel that at the moment the world is stable enough for me to take the plunge."
"Will it make you happy, doing that again?"
Inko smiled thinly. "An acquaintance of mine would say I was a fool for even thinking about it again, but yes, I suppose it would bring the excitement back into my life again."
"Then what is there to stop you?" Toshinori inquired.
Inko drained the last of the water in her bottle; crumpling the disposable plastic container before she screwed the cap back on and deposited it in a nearby bin. Futile perhaps, seeing as others had decided to use Dagobah Municiple Beach Park as a glorified dumping ground.
She nodded to Toshinori, and he smiled right back. "That's all that matters then," he told her. "Well, I'll leave you to the rest of your run."
Izuku had been dropped off at his friend's place for a sleepover. Mirio's parents were more than happy to host Izuku for the night, and to drive the boys to their martial arts classes the next morning. It was a 'well deserved' night off for Inko, according to them. That Inko's apartment currently looked like a green house might have also been a factor. There wasn't a lot of space left for two young boys to dash around in; every available area that wasn't necessarily claimed by another object was full of potted plants.
Knowing that Izuku would be some distance from their apartment should things go spectacularly wrong settled Inko's jittery nerves. Her son's Quirk was strong; he could cloak himself and others from harm under his barrier and could widen and shrink the range. If that failed, shoving the danger away both physically and with the secondary use of his Quirk would have to do.
Usagi had temporarily moved into Inko's living room; two large carboard boxes with various electronic devices had been emptied across the furnishings and the wooden floor. Inko meandered around them, disentangling a wire from her ankle with a quick shake of her foot. In her hands she carried a dainty watering can and would stoop to feed each of the plants on her route.
Looking up from his laptop, Usagi asked Inko whether she'd had any cult followers back in the day.
"I'm not sure what you mean?"
Usagi exhaled sharply. "Like, did you have fans when you were doing Vigilante work?"
"I… no?" Inko thought on it. "I worked mainly at night, so I guess you could say I operated a lot like an Underground Hero."
"Seriously?" Usagi's pert black nose twitched. A nose ring with a tiny bell attached to the loop jingled with the movement. "No one supported you?"
"I guess you could say I gained the support of some of the people I'd saved or pulled out of a nasty situation, but even then, they were more of a support network than fans."
Usagi's hand reached for his phone; he clocked the time, his whiskers twitching mischievously. "We've got about an hour before you're due for patrol, go and get changed."
Inko ran a hand through her hair. Her fingers snagged on several knots, and she grimaced. "Why?"
"We're going to set you up a fundraising page."
Taking photographs in her living room, with care as to not display anything in the frame that could get Inko recognised, was an experience in itself. Usagi had improvised studio grade lighting with his laptop screen and had positioned Inko so that she used Mr Takiyama's numerous plants as a leafy backdrop while he snapped away at her with his phone.
The idea – allegedly – was to have it look as though Orbit was the night sky emerging between the gaps in the tree tops when one looked up in the middle of a forest. Inko thought Usagi was being ridiculous, and that he was potentially endangering them all. Ms. Ametsuchi, as placid as the woman might be, would string Inko up if she got her son arrested (Inko was already pushing it as it was with having Usagi involved) – and who would look after Izuku if Inko was remanded in custody?
She also thought that any photographs of her body were likely to be rubbish. Inko had worked hard to get herself back into shape, but eight years of child rearing, minimal exercise, and part-time work had not done her any favours. Her thirty-two-year-old body was not the same as the one she had possessed at eighteen. A post-pregnancy body could never quite be what it once was, no matter the effort one placed into shaping it so or if the bearing of the child had gone smoothly.
Inko was pleasantly surprised her jumpsuit still fit, though it ran a little tight around her widened hips and larger bust.
"I don't see why this is necessary," Inko whined as Usagi pleaded for just one more shot.
Usagi ignored her, and Inko winced as his phone camera flashed once more. "I'll show you why when you get back."
"Please tell me no one can track where this page was created," Inko wiped her face clean of sweat with a makeup wipe. Her mask – which she hade peeled away from her face moment prior – rested on the table by Usagi's laptop.
"Who do you take me for?" Usagi sniffed. "I know enough about covering my back to do something as simple as scrambling signals and addresses Inko."
"I'm only asking," the older woman retorted. She had the right to worry; this 'Patron' page Usgai had set up could well lead unsavoury figures or the police to Inko's door. "This feels weird though. People are giving me their money for a few hours of general labour and bashing the odd criminal over the head."
Usagi replied that Inko's role was much more than that. Multiple donations had rolled in already, and he was tracking tags and tending topics online – whatever that meant. Inko sighed. She earnt and had enough money to live already, and she wasn't a legitimate Hero; Inko couldn't expect monetisation for her feats because in the eyes of those in power she was no better than a criminal.
She had known this before becoming a Vigilante – and she had chosen the latter because other than she herself making a mistake and jeopardising everything, she had nothing to lose. That is, if she wished to call it a day, she could. If Inko wished to slip into anonymity and civilian life, she could and destroy any evidence. If things went wrong on her patrol, she could easily cover her tracks and never look back.
Not once had earning money for her deeds crossed her mind, and five hours after Usagi had fiddled with accounts and a place for donations to be collected, money was already rolling in.
"Right, I'm going to get changed." Inko stood slowly, her back and knees creaking. "I had a full bottle of cider thrown at me this evening, and I need to get this suit washed before it goes sticky."
Inko had ducked just in time, but the half-full glass bottle had exploded against the wall behind her – the fruity liquid spraying all over the back and right-hand side of her suit. After angrily knocking the drunk out and zip-tying his hands to a nearby lamp post, Inko had pettily stuck a glow-in-the-dark star sticker to his nose. 'I hope it drives you barmy,' she thought, knowing that the glowing object at the tip of his nose would likely annoy the life out of this disorderly individual. Just like an itch he maddeningly couldn't quite scratch.
"I'd wondered what that smell was…"
Inko laughed quietly to herself. "Let me guess, Usagi. You were to polite to ask?"
A gentle 'ping' sounding from the speakers of Usagi's laptop. "Hey, Inko?"
"Mm?"
"Someone's just donated – they've left a message if you want to read it?"
Inko stooped, levelling her gaze so that she could view the text: 'We've awaited you return. Welcome back, Milday.'
This routine of dropping off Izuku with Ms. Ametsuchi or young Mirio worked in a sense that Inko or Usgai assumed that either the latter's mother, and the Tōgata family were able to watch the child for the night. Most of the time it worked seamlessly. Inko would do a weekly patrol until she got into the swing of things again and shift to multiple days, and it was easy to plan these patrols for when someone was free to take care of her child. The more patrols she wished to conduct however, the trickier it became.
It had been two years since Usagi and Inko had established their routine, but Inko felt that a couple of nights sweeping up after criminals and the pluckier Villain really wasn't enough. She was in her mid-thirties; most women at this age were squeezing out their last few children or readying themselves for the remainder of their life spent in a dead-end job before they retired, all the while taking care of their kids.
The last option was no trouble – Izuku was as good as gold. Inquisitive (insatiably so), but his heart was in the right place. He dreamt of Heroes, of being a Hero himself. Mirio and Izuku had it all planned out – they knew what they wanted to be in future, how their Quirks could benefit one another. Inko liked to think Izuku had received her brains, as she could quite adeptly work her way out of a sticky situation while improvising with her Quirk and what she had to hand.
A part of her selfishly wished that Izuku would one day take up Vigilantism like herself. He had a great sense of justice and a desire to help people, but sometimes that wasn't enough. Bending the rules, covering the ground that money-hungry or honour-bound Heroes didn't like to tread, helping everyone because they needed your assistance – not you in need of their assistance to fill your quota. That's what it was to Inko. That's why, other than her need to stick it to the proverbial man (or rather, Mitsuki Bakugou and her cretin of a child) Inko could operate on her own in a high-stakes environment.
In hindsight, maybe she should have found employment working with stocks and shares? That would have been far safer, and definitely more legal, though just as precarious in today's economy.
Inko smiled wistfully as she laced up her boots. She had to move quietly; no one had been able to look after Izuku for the night. It was the one time where both Usagi and herself had no one to rely on, and Inko hoped that Izuku would sleep blissfully through her patrol that night. The ten-year-old was already tucked up in his bed, snuggled and snoozing beneath his covers – All Might themed, as always. Usagi had gently set out his equipment in the living room. His headset, programmed to match with an earpiece he'd swindled off of an 'associate' he'd made in college, would block most of the background noise in the apartment out.
Usagi's job generally involved guiding Inko through the streets. It had not always been like that; initially, the young man had only been watching out online for developing news stories, Villain hotspots, and Orbit's donations reeling in (Inko donated the majority of the money raised to various charities, but kept a little aside for a rainy day, paying Usagi's wage, feeding Izuku because he was a growing boy and they had to buy things in bulk, plus – when he came to visit – Mirio, and replacing or repairing her gear), but over the last couple of years Usagi had branched out. He picked up frequencies used by Hero agencies and emergency services, dispatching Inko to those locations if he deemed it safe or necessary. He also told her when to get out.
"There's been a report of disturbance roughly two blocks away from where you are currently," Usagi told Inko after she confirmed the area she was in with local landmarks and signage. "If you go now- Izu!"
"'Izu'?" Inko parroted. She clutched at her ear as shattering levels of crackling and screeches sounded form her earpiece. "Usagi, what's going on back there?"
Was it worth responding to the disturbance at this rate? Inko could hear police sirens in the distance. She slunk into a shadowed shop doorway; not entirely hidden, but also not in full view of anyone thinking she was a suspicious figure in the area. "Usagi! Pick up the damn head piece and speak to me! What's going on? Is Izuku okay?"
Inko clutched at her head as the crackling returned.
"Mum." It was Izuku. "What are you doing? Usa said you're out at the moment, but he's speaking to you through this-"
"Izuku, where's Usagi right now?"
"Oh, I pinned him to the wall with my Quirk because I thought he was doing something bad," Izuku explained. Usagi must had been chuffed, and Inko likely had another human-shaped dint in her wall to fix.
"Right," she muttered. "Right. Tell Usagi I'll be home in twenty minutes, please let him down from the wall in the meantime, Izu. I promise I'll explain everything when I get home, I will – I swear."
The sun had been blinding her. Twenty-five minutes later- with Inko stood sheepishly in her living room in full Orbit attire and Usagi nursing a lump on the back of his head with a packet of frozen peas – that was what she could recall when Izuku asked her about how the family business began, all those years ago. Izuku poured over her gear, how she had trained, and reluctantly she told him of Hisashi. She had promised she would not withhold the truth from him years ago, but she would only tell Izuku if he asked. The age of ten was old enough to realise that not every relationship was perfect or could last a lifetime.
Inko's mind always drew back to the pivotal moment where it had all begun though; that one spark that had inspired her, led her through nearly two decades of heart ache and disappointment, but which had also brought her so much joy. It had been an unpleasantly sunny Tuesday afternoon, she recalled, and it had shaped her whole life from that point onwards in sixth period Maths.
[1] Daffodils can mean a lot of things; mainly it's unrequited love, but there's also the idea that the flowers mean 'You are the only one' or express that the person being gifted them brings happiness to the one doing the giving. It sums up Hisashi and Inko quite well.
[2] This is an actual thing. Not far from where I live, an event is held where runners and their children (inside these buggies) go hell for leather around a forest. It's… it's certainly something.
[3] 'Rum'un' or 'rum one' can mean anything between cheeky/mischievous to someone who's likely to misbehave. So, like, a local person whose known to vandalise stuff might be called a rum'un, but at the same time, someone who's boisterous, or slippery (think Reigen Arataka) might also be a rum'un. British colloquialisms, people.
[4] That's right, Usagi is a Pastel Goth bun-bun. Fite me.
A/N 28/9/2018 : Well. That's it.
Thank you to everyone who had read, reviewed, favourited and followed. I hadn't planned to make this story so long, and I wasn't sure if I was going to continue ORBIT after publishing the first two chapters. I'm glad I did though.
It may not be the best story out there (it really, really isn't), but I'm proud of it anyway. I think it's easily one of the better AU's I've written, and I haven't written many because I suck at them.
Thanks for joining me along the way.
-Yuilhan
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I couldn't leave it there. These are scenes that I wished to place in this last chapter, but ultimately did not make the cut. Enjoy, and thank you for reading!
1. In Which Izuku Sees the Light
(Or rather, Izuku learns that Vigilantes aren't always the criminals the media makes them out to be.)
"Why didn't you just apply for a Hero licence?" Izuku asked in bewilderment. His mother had been a Vigilante since before he was born.
Granted, she'd gone on a long hiatus since discovering she was pregnant, but she'd been a Vigilante for years before that point. Inko Midoriya was a Vigilante. A Vigilante.
How had Izuku never noticed before?
While growing up, he'd never been allowed to see inside the large boxes Inko kept under her bed (the place she had safely stashed her gear after deciding her wardrobe and a protective plastic bag wasn't cutting it anymore), and he'd always wondered why she was so insistent on going for runs. Some people liked to keep healthy and exercise, but his mother took it to an almost obsessive level.
Izuku's mother had simply shrugged and uttered an apology. "I just never got around to it, and at the time it was all about sticking it to the man."
Izuku's face crumpled, and Inko could see the mental agility going on as her son muttered and mumbled and twiddled his fingers like the beads on an abacus as though it would – could – make him understand. "I… I… why not?"
"I never wanted to be a Hero, sweetheart," Inko told him softly. "I just wanted to show the world that the poor orphaned eighteen-year-old could do something by herself. I wanted to show the people who had left me behind that I could survive without them."
"And becoming a Vigilante was the next course of action?" Izuku replied almost scornfully.
Usagi, still trapped between this heart to heart between mother and son, coughed inelegantly. He wasn't used to such sassiness from the little kid he'd changed nappies for all those years ago – and wasn't that a shocker? Usagi felt very old in that moment. Felt like he was intruding on a moment so private that he had no right to be there, although Usagi had known about Inko being a Vigilante too, and he hadn't told Izuku anything about it.
"Well, I mean…" Inko shifted in her seat. Her leather overcoat, still adorned with spray-painted stars, creaked. It needed feeding with a set of polish or dubbing and buffing with a soft cloth to allow the leather to supple up again. "I guess it was rather extreme, but honestly, who could say that I – average grades, personality, and looks Inko Midoriya – would ever become a Vigilante after I graduated from high school?"
Izuku looked like his whole world had just come crumbling down. He had a lot to think about. Not only had his mother lied to him about being a pseudo-Hero before his birth, and after it, but she'd only become so to get a rise out of her peers. No one became a Hero for a reason so petty, right? Heroes wanted to help, not prove a point.
Inko jolted sharply as Izuku slumped from the room. Usagi grabbed hold of the older woman's coat tails before she tore right after her son down the hall.
"Let him be," he said. "This is a lot to take in. Are you returning to duty, or are we calling it a night?"
"Pack everything up," Inko said sadly.
Childcare never became an issue after that. The cat was out of the bag, so to speak, and would not be bundled back inside for love nor money.
Izuku was fairly good at harbouring secrets; it was second to his skill in strategy and observation. He would not discuss Inko's secret identity with anyone outside of those already in the know; Usagi, Ms. Ametsuchi, and, if he were still alive to this day, Mr Takiyama. Izuku had never met his father, but he presumed this 'Hisashi' knew as well.
The discovery of Inko Midoriya's Vigilante identity had created a rift between her and her son. Izuku could hardly bear to look Inko in the eye, let alone speak to her. They sat in silence over meals, and Inko talked one-sidedly to the despondent boy.
"I've upset him greatly," Inko confessed to Ms. Ametsuchi.
The lop-eared woman replied; "Sooner or later the rose-tinted spectacles had to shatter. Heroes aren't the be-all and end-all the public think they are."
Izuku would either hole himself up in his room when Inko began her nightly patrols and sleep through the majority of her route if they occurred on a school night. Sometimes, when he felt more curious and less disinclined to be saddened by his mother's less than legal actions, Izuku would sit with Usagi in the living room.
He would watch as Usagi completed what looked like several tasks at once; monitoring Orbit's movements, maps, radio feeds, the donation page, and even a social media account he'd set up after coercing Inko some more, all the while bouncing around his location and throwing off any attempts of external tracking. Usagi could have found a job answering critical phone calls in for emergency response units or Hero agencies, the rabbit-Quirked man could handle the pressure and the disproportionate work load.
Instead he'd decided to potentially get himself arrested by aiding a Vigilante.
(If Izuku had known Usagi Ametsuchi at the age of ten, he would have realised that this hyperactive multitasking was the biproduct of the older male likely being descended from the Duracell Bunny, and not a extreme level of skill.)
Inko had explained to Izuku that Usagi took a weekly wage from the donations, and the rest – save for a small packet that Inko used to pay for utility bills, groceries, or kit repairs – was donated to varied charities. The latter money found itself distributed between the victims of Villain catastrophes, hospital patients and medical research foundations, and a local pet shelter.
"Your mother helps a lot people," Usagi told Izuku. The young boy was wrapped in a fleecy blanket on the sofa, watching with rapt attention as Inko reported that she'd successfully apprehended yet another mugger that night; potentially one from an organised group, if the coordinating hoodies was anything to go by, and that there was a stray dog loose in the park she was going to have to try and wrangle. "I think, despite her not able to act legally, she has enough common sense not to do anything stupid."
"But she didn't want to be a Hero for the right reasons," Izuku protested.
Usagi heaved a sigh, typing out a quick message for Orbit's followers and fans that the western quarter of Musutafu was free of muggers for the night and questioning if anyone had lost a dog. "Most Heroes don't become Heroes because they want to help, Izuku. Some want the fame and the glory, others the money. A select few do it because they've been told it's all their Quirk is good for."
Izuku stubbornly shook his head. "Not All Might."
"Ah," Usagi grinned. "But there's only one All Might – all the rest are just playing at Hero or trying to beat him. Your mother, on the other hand, helps anyone and everyone if she can. She doesn't expect payment, she didn't go out or intend to help, she just wanted to see if she could. Inko's been a Hero to people who real Heroes would overlook."
"…Really?"
"Yep."
"Mum is… Mum's pretty amazing isn't she?"
Usagi snorted. "You can call it that. But after everything she's been through – and there's a lot, believe me – I think 'tenacious' might be a better word."
2. Repousser
In which Izuku is a chip off the ol' block.
The French 'Repousser' I got from searching for translation of repel.
"I don't think I want to go to Yuuei anymore," Izuku announced one night as Inko served the Katsudon she had prepared earlier.
Harsh choking sounded from Usagi's side of the table, and even Ms. Ametsuchi covered her mouth politely. Inko was not so lucky and caught unawares by Izuku's declaration she dropped the full load of rice between her chopsticks directly over her lap.
"Excuse me," Usagi coughed, slapping at his chest. "But did the Hero-obsessed preteen just announce that he doesn't want to go to Hero school? I'm hearing things, right? Or has Inko slipped hallucinogenic into the battered chicken?"
"I don't tamper with my food," Inko answered sharply, before directing her attention to a proud looking Izuku.
The twelve – soon to be thirteen, he would protest – year old boy beamed brightly at his mother, cutting through the panko crust on the chicken with practiced finesse. "I wand to be a Vigilante instead."
"Nope. Now I know I'm definitely dreaming," Usagi griped.
As it turned out, Izuku was being deadly serious. He wasn't side tracked at all by Usagi's pandering or by his mother's worries. Not even Mirio Tōgata's influence – with which he had charmed Izuku into Heroism way back in nursery school, and vice versa – could make Izuku see sense. Of course, the latter wasn't told anything of Orbit; Izuku had nonchalantly mentioned he wasn't interested in being a Hero anymore.
Mirio was gutted, but Izuku would not be persuaded. He was adamant on helping his mother with patrols before he started high school at least.
"Fine then," Inko said stonily. "We're going for a run."
If Inko couldn't verbally persuade him, then perhaps a good run (with Inko's devilish pacing) would convince Izuku otherwise?
When he pulled himself up on the bench beside Inko in the park, puffing and panting, Inko knew she'd failed yet again to get through to him. Wordlessly she handed him a water bottle and a napkin to daub at the excessive sweat on his forehead and neck – Inko herself was hardly breaking a sweat.
"How… do… you do… this… all -hahh- the time?" Izuku wheezed.
Inko's lips quirked. "I've been at this a lot longer than you. You're only twelve Izuku, you shouldn't really be pushing your body so hard, and I wouldn't want you on patrol with me at such a young age. I started when I was eighteen, you know, and I still wasn't prepared for some of things I went through."
"I can… handle it."
Inko raised an eyebrow. Izuku was currently struggling to catch his breath, so how would he be able to handle a knife attacker, or someone who was assaulting another person – or a Villain thrice Izuku's size on the rampage? Izuku's Quirk was useful, indeed, and Inko was pleased to no end that her son could at the very least throw up a repulsing barrier to misdirect danger away from himself. The fact remained though that her son wasn't strong. It had taken a while for Inko to raise her level of fitness. Izuku, though starting out young, couldn't be pushed like an adult because his body was still growing.
"Let's strike a deal then," Inko said finally. "You're going to do light training, still do the best you can in school, and you're still going to apply for Yuuei-" Inko wagged her finger as Izuku bristled. "Hear me out, you're still going to apply for Yuuei, but in your last year of middle school let's see how well you handle a year of patrols and go from there. You might find being a Hero is worthwhile after all, or you could continue Vigilantism through the rest of your education."
Izuku's head tilted to the side as he thought over the offer. "Deal."
The pair shook on it, and Inko was pleased to see that Izuku was thinking over his future plans now rather than blindly charging in. It was wonderful to see the change in her son, the progression – and it appeared that someone else had seen it too.
"Inko, is this little Izu?" Toshinori asked, his stroll through the park halting as he stopped to speak with the pair. "The last time I saw you, you only reached my knee."
Toshinori stooped with his ridiculous frame to show just how low down that was, and Izuku expected the blond man's painfully thin body to snap in half as he folded close to the floor.
Inko had mentioned that she used to speak with a 'Toshinori Yagi', and that Izuku had wrapped the hulking man around his little stubby fingers as a toddler. She had mentioned that in recent years she hadn't seen him so frequently, but now Inko could hardly believe the man before her was the same as the one she knew.
"Toshinori, you're so thin…" she breathed. "What happened?"
Toshinori hung his head. "I was caught in the middle of a Villain's fight. I've – I've lost most of the use of my stomach, so I don't eat a lot and well…"
Inko closed her eyes, sighing. Toshinori rubbed the back of his head; ruffling the scraggly blond waves of his hair. Izuku was intrigued at all this talk of a Villain, and gingerly inquired as to when, where, and who. Toshinori was more than happy to oblige – or he would have done, had Inko not grabbed her son by the back of his t-shirt and barked at him that they were to continue their run.
Ms. Ametsuchi was far closer to the age of sixty than she would have liked. Silver tipped her cheeks and the point of her ears now, and the caramel tint to her fur had softened to the colour of bleached sand. The perks of being middle aged, ready to retire, and you son still living at home while illicitly aiding one's neighbour – a Vigilante – was that Ms. Ametsuchi had a lot of free time.
She quite enjoyed Wednesday's arts and crafts night at the local community centre. The class had introduced her to a lot of her hobbies, and Ms. Ametsuchi was rather partial to knitting and embroidery. She was also the only one out of Inko, Usagi, and herself, who had not been surprised at young Izuku's voracity in following down his mother's path.
Ms. Ametsuchi could note the care with which Inko had crafted Orbit's jumpsuit and coat. It was the same care that Izuku approached his own designs with.
"I want a shorter coat, something lightweight but still warm. Boots and loose moving pants, a high-necked undershirt – though those can all be purchased." Izuku listed the aspects of his costume one afternoon while visiting his neighbour for tea and cookies. "The issue I'm having is how I'm going to hide my face and hair."
Ms. Ametsuchi hummed. "Your mother and ladies have it quite easy in how they can manipulate long hair, but that mop on top of your head it rather noticeable."
Izuku flushed, running a hand through his hair. Inko had said it was just the same as his father's; liable to tangle further the more one messed with it. Izuku, other than conditioning them properly and gently carding through the curls with a wide toothed comb, did not touch his hair. It was wild, and his attentions to the mass would only worsen the springy, uncontrollable locks.
"Have you thought about a full-face mask?" Ms. Ametsuchi inquired as she stirred a spoonful of sugar into her tea. "I could probably whip up a balaclava for you if you pick out some yarn."
Repousser entered the crime-fighting scene shortly after Izuku Midoriya's fourteenth birthday. The Yuuei entrance exam was coming up soon, but all Izuku could focus on was lacing up his boots, pulling on his ski mask, and placing baseball cap on top of his head to finish off the look.
Repousser – Izuku – had a case of jitters. He was dressed in loose comfy trousers (embellished with a reflective trim running up the outside seam of each leg – added by a begrudging Inko, who was secretly flattered Izuku had picked up on her reflective and glow-y theme), a dark undershirt with a collar that rose up to his neck, a fair-isle ski mask to hide the memorable green curls atop his head in a variety of white and neon-coloured wool, as well as an embroidered baseball cap.
Inko, readied in full Orbit-attire, held open the last pieces of Izuku's costume out ready: A varsity jacket, made by herself and embroidered by Ms. Ametsuchi, and a pair of fingerless dark grey leather gloves that Usagi had found while thrifting for more Pastel Goth clothing.
Izuku slipped his arms into the sleeves of his coat. Slowly tugged on his gloves. When Usagi took Izuku's right hand in his own and curled Izuku's fingers around a small earpiece, the latter knew there was no turning back from this.
It was time for mother and son to fight crime.
During their first patrol a slime Villain emerged from beneath a manhole cover beneath a bridge in a sleepy suburban street, and Inko groaned. This time she didn't hesitate to spear him through with her beads, and Izuku used his Quirk to erect a barrier to keep them dry as the jellied chunks rained down.
All Might, who had been pursuing the slime Villain for the best part of an evening, was left with only bits and pieces to apprehend and collect from the roadside. He could have sworn he saw to slight, glowing figures escaping into the shadows as he scraped the Villain back together and shoved the chunks into a soda bottle.
I'd like to think that at some point during Izuku's first few patrols, he's allowed to split from Inko and somehow runs into Eraser Head. The Underground Hero looks of the tiny problematic Vigilante child, but steers clear of the mother; she could slam him into a wall quicker than he could cancel her Quirk.
3. Hello, Inko
In which Izuku attends Yuuei, and Inko reunites with a less than savoury character. This takes place after Izuku and Inko's deal ends. Izuku decides to throw all of his effort into becoming a legitimate Hero but considers the experience he gained from working alongside Orbit to be detrimental to his learning.
"I'm going to grab us some snacks," Usagi said.
Both he and Inko had wangled tickets to watch the Yuuei Sports Festival live in the arena and were steeling themselves for excessive throat exhaustion as they cheered Izuku on during the one-on-one battles. Izuku, placed into Class 1-B at the start of the year, had triumphed in the earlier battles.
Inko had been surprised to see Mistuki and Masaru's son as the spokesperson before the first years' tournament had begun, but she wasn't at all surprised that Katsuki Bakugou had ended up at Yuuei. Likely the child had been fed lines of how strong he was – and Inko was not disputing that Katsuki was not strong. But what had been done in the meantime to curb his temper and destructive tendencies – so apparent when he was four, but no one other than herself had taken note of them – whilst Katsuki riled up his peers.
The smirk on the teen's face was pure Mitsuki, and Inko felt her stomach roil. She messaged Izuku shortly before the battles had begun (they were allowed to check their phones in their locker rooms before the tournament resumed) mainly to update him on how Mirio was storming ahead in the third years' tournament, and to check that Katsuki wasn't up to his old tricks.
Izuku had confided to her that he didn't really remember a lot of what had transpired between Katsuki and himself when they were four, but that he felt infinitely better after Inko had done something about it. Moving Izuku to different schools, meeting Mirio… it had been a step in the right direction for Izuku, who, to this day, was far more confident than he ever imagined he would have been if Katsuki Bakugou's temper was anything like his mother stressed her once best friend's was. What kind of person would he have become, had Inko not protested and taken action?
Izuku had taken the chance to call his mother after she'd text, watching dispassionately as Monoma blathered on bout Class 1-A only seeking to discredit their own class. He rolled his eyes, before explaining to his mother than Katsuki had hunted him down at the first whisperings of a Midoriya attending Yuuei.
"It's as you said, he used to call me 'Deku' – still does. No big deal though, I sent him away; most of my class don't like him though."
"…Izuku."
"Okay, so maybe it was more of a deal than I was willing to say. He barged in palms blazing and I got a barrier up in time to save the people sat closest to me. Either way, once he found out he couldn't bypass my barrier, I started pushing him further away. He lost interest after that and when a teacher showed up."
Izuku heard his mother sigh on the other end of the phone. He prepared himself for the oncoming lecture. "I… am so proud of you. Never forget that."
Choked up, he whispered a goodbye and ended the call. Izuku was being called to fight, and he was determined to see a podium finish if only to show her that her pride wasn't misplaced – not that it ever could be.
The tickets had been expensive; funded through extra donations by Orbit and Repousser's patrons and some of the funds Hisashi had left after Izuku's birth (the latter of which Izuku was adamant to supply so that his little family unit could always come and watch him in luxury), they allowed Usagi and Inko to buy tickets for seats with a better view in a far less crowded area. They were sat in a private box amongst the top tiered Heroes and businessmen and women scouting for up and coming talent.
Behind these private areas was a large gathering area, where drinks and snacks could be purchased – Usagi had hoped they'd be complimentary, considering the price of the ticket, but alas it was not to be. It should not have been taking Usagi as long as it had to purchase a box of popcorn. Inko clutched her phone between her hands.
"Inko?"
Ice shot through her at that voice. It was deeper, gravelly – likely from smoking, or from excessive expulsions of fiery breath – but still held that same tone that had sent her weak to the knees fifteen years ago.
When she looked over her shoulder, there he stood; halfway through the door into her private box. The black curls were now waving salt and pepper shades, fine lines tugged at the corners of his dark eyes and the corners of his mouth. He was still impeccably dressed to this day, and his left hand – curled around the edge of the door to keep it from swinging open as the stands exploded into frantic cheers once Izuku Midoriya and Shoto Todoroki took their places on the field and readied themselves for a pummelling – held no glinting golden wedding ring.
"Hisashi," Inko replied coolly, hating the way her heart lurched hopefully and swallowing down the hurt because she knew she'd only be disappointed in the end.
Hisashi's eyes softened. He crept into the box, leaning over the balcony as ice surged across the field and Izuku flung it straight back to its creator. There seemed to be a lot Hisashi wanted to say. Maybe why there was no wedding ring on his finger now. Possibly why he had never sought them out. Perhaps that he regretted not giving it all up, not doggedly pursuing her when she would have welcomed him back and instead backing away and handing over fistfuls of cheques like coward.
Did Hisashi wish to say that he regretted ever stepping away – that he felt repentant for never taking the time to get to know his son (who wouldn't even be able to pick him out of a crowd, despite Inko's best attempts at describing him).
"He's amazing, Inko," Hisashi said finally.
"I know."
Down on the field, Izuku bellowed something to his opponent. It was too faint for Inko and Hisashi to hear, but the raucous clamour of the crowd said enough. Shoto Todoroki's left side erupted into flame, and when his Quirk collided with Izuku's and the steam finally cleared…
Izuku was still standing.
"Believe me," Inko beamed. "I know."
