Author's Pre-Chapter Comments
Before you start reading the chapter, I would like to let you know that I wrote this chapter 4 months ago. Back then, I was trying different things with my writing style and when I had initially written this chapter, it sounded super professional. Now, it just sounds wacky to me for some reason. And I am too lazy to rewrite the entire chapter again when I am already working on Chapter 10.
Hopefully, you guys can survive the chapter...
Chapter 3
Everything Changed
In the dead of night, a black sedan roared down the crowded main road. Inside, three figures sat in silence: the driver, Yukimiru, and the President of the HPSC.
Sweat trickled down the President's forehead as she stared at the tablet in her hands, her mind racing. How had everything spiraled out of control so quickly? Just hours ago, her plan was unfolding smoothly. Not anymore.
The tablet displayed the profile of a bald man wearing glasses—the same man who had ambushed Midoriya unexpectedly.
"Miss Midoriya has been hospitalized at Musutafu Central Hospital," Yukimiru announced. His voice might have seemed detached to the untrained ear, but the President could sense the undercurrent of concern.
"And our guard?" she asked, her eyes never leaving the tablet.
"He's deceased, ma'am," Yukimiru replied grimly.
"Deceased...?"
He nodded. "His body was found in an alley near the Midoriya's apartment."
"Goddammit!" The President swore softly. "Do we have any updates on Miss Midoriya's condition?"
"Regrettably, no, ma'am," Yukimiru said. "But Izuku is now in the custody of the Musutafu Police."
The President covered her mouth, sinking into deep thought. This was a disaster. Her meticulous plan had fallen apart within hours.
She had orchestrated everything with precision. She had manipulated a low-level Tartarus inmate with the promise of freedom, instructing him to attack the Midoriya household and pretend to kidnap Izuku. A hero planted by the HPSC was supposed to intervene, eliminating the criminal—she never intended to keep her promise to the felon. And a HPSC agent had been posted outside the Midoriya's apartment complex to act as an extra security.
But her strategy had disintegrated. The paid criminal was nowhere to be found, and Miss Midoriya's fate hung in the balance, possibly sealed forever.
The failed operation left the President bruised, her pride battered and her anxiety and anger spiraling. 'Why target the Midoriyas? And who could have eliminated our operative?' she wondered.
Her nails dug into her palms as her thoughts raced. 'Had someone figured out Izuku's quirk? But that's unthinkable—only a select few know about his powers.'
"Ma'am."
Yukimiru's voice pulled the President from her thoughts. "Yes?" she asked.
"Should we go to the police station or the hospital?"
"Take us to the hospital first. If Inko Midoriya dies, it could create a serious problem for us."
"You heard the boss," Yukimiru instructed the driver.
The driver nodded, accelerating through the traffic toward Musutafu Central Hospital.
The President watched the cityscape blur past, knowing she had to adjust her plans now that Inko Midoriya was possibly dead. That meant her best source of information was gone.
She had meticulously researched Izuku and his family, trying to uncover how he had acquired those extraordinary powers. She had dismissed any possibility of him inheriting them from his mother's side, considering the long line of quirkless individuals. That left his father's lineage as the only plausible source.
Her search for Izuku's father had turned up nothing. No birth certificates, no government records, and not even a mention on Inko Midoriya's marriage certificate. It was as if the man didn't exist, as if Izuku had been born through some asexual means. Her determination to learn more had driven her to press Inko for information, but now she realized her curiosity might have just cost her valuable intel.
'Doesn't matter,' the President thought. 'I can still use this to my advantage. Hopefully, Izuku knows something about his father.'
Mitsuki Bakugo, a striking ash-blonde woman in her prime, was renowned for her beauty—a trait that only paled in comparison to her best friend, Inko. Her outgoing, albeit brusque, charm had garnered her popularity throughout college and high school.
But now, Mitsuki was consumed by worry. An unexpected call from the Midoriya residence had taken her by surprise. Given her son's recent actions towards young Izuku, she had braced herself for a prolonged silence from Inko.
But Mitsuki also knew that Inko did not hold grudges. She admired that about her—the green-haired mother was as fierce as she was forgiving, incapable of hatred.
When the call came, the voice on the other end was Izuku's, choked with sobs, his distress palpable even through fragmented pleas of "Please come here…"
Driven by concern, Mitsuki draped an overcoat over her shoulders and hastened to the Midoriya home, Masaru trailing behind. Katsuki was notably absent, likely confined to the house by her husband's stern instructions. The sight of police cars outside Inko and Izuku's apartment complex sent a jolt of shock through her.
She breezed past the officers, who were unable to detain her, and entered the Midoriya residence. There, medics were loading Inko's body onto a stretcher, the red blanket a grim indicator of the tragedy that had unfolded.
Masaru assured her he would stay with Izuku, urging her to accompany the medics. Grateful, she followed them to the hospital, where she spent the ensuing hour oscillating between pacing and sitting, her anxiety unrelenting.
Minutes past midnight, the doctors remained behind the ER doors. Mitsuki's hands were joined in prayer, silently imploring any deity listening to spare Inko, to not strip Izuku of his last kin.
As she prepared to resume her restless vigil, the operation light dimmed. She leaped to her feet and approached the door.
A few seconds later, the lead doctor emerged from the room, his expression somber. Mitsuki's heart raced at the sight. "Doctor... H-How is she?" she stammered, her voice laced with dread.
"And you are...?" he inquired.
"I'm Mitsuki Bakugo, Inko Midoriya's best friend," she replied hastily.
A look of recognition crossed the doctor's face, quickly replaced by sorrow. "I... It pains me to convey this, but there's no gentle way to say—"
"Out with it! Goddammit!" Mitsuki interjected, her patience frayed by worry.
The doctor exhaled a heavy sigh. "Inko Midoriya has passed away. My deepest condolences," he delivered the news with a heavy heart.
Mitsuki recoiled, collapsing into a nearby chair, her gaze fixed on the floor, eyes brimming with shock and disbelief.
The doctor approached, offering a consoling pat on her shoulder. "I regret that we could do no more," he expressed with genuine sympathy. Informing someone of a loved one's passing never got easier. "The blood loss was too severe. I'm truly sorry." With that, he departed to attend to his duties.
Mitsuki remained motionless, a single thought echoing through her mind: 'How will I break this to Izuku?' How does one convey such a harrowing truth to a child—that his sole guardian, his cherished mother, was no more? She cradled her head in her hands, tears cascading down her cheeks.
A stark realization dawned upon her; apologies to Inko would forever remain unspoken. She would never witness Katsuki's growth through Inko's eyes, nor share another moment of camaraderie over tea. Her best friend's presence had been irrevocably extinguished from her life.
The prospect of conveying such grim news to Izuku was daunting. Could she endure the sight of his luminous spirit shrouded in grief?
Her reverie was shattered by the shrill ring of her phone. Retrieving it from her coat, she saw Masaru's name flashing on the screen. "Hello," she answered, her voice a whisper.
"Mitsuki, there's more troubling news," Masaru's voice came through, laden with gravity.
A soft sniffle escaped her. "What now?"
"The authorities have taken Izuku."
"WHAT!? WHY!? Did you really let this happen!?" Panic laced her words.
"They intend to keep him. My objections were dismissed. They said we've been blacklisted," Masaru explained, his tone somber.
"FUCK!" Mitsuki's outcry was a tempest of fury. "Masaru, get to the hospital immediately. I need to speak with the receptionist, and then we're confronting the police."
"Understood, dear."
The call ended abruptly. Mitsuki pocketed her phone and, with a resolve as fierce as a storm, marched toward the receptionist to discuss Inko's final arrangements.
The black sedan pulled up to Musutafu Central Hospital, and the HPSC President stepped out, her junior following closely. Their entrance went unnoticed, a perk of their concealed identities. The President's appearance and name remained unknown to the public, allowing her the freedom to move without scrutiny. Yet, as a woman of caution, she preferred to use her quirk to obscure her visage—an invisible veil rendering her features indistinct and forgettable.
Upon reaching the reception, the President and Vice-President were greeted by a receptionist with distinct Japanese features. He looked up, his gaze inquisitive. "How may I assist you?"
The President presented her obviously fake HPSC license. "I'm here on behalf of the HPSC to visit Miss Inko Midoriya."
"HPSC?" The receptionist's eyes widened in recognition. "May I inquire as to the nature of the HPSC's interest in Miss Midoriya?"
"It's a matter of confidentiality," the President replied curtly. "Would you be so kind as to direct me to her?"
The receptionist shook his head regretfully. "My apologies, ma'am. Without police clearance, I'm unable to grant access to Miss Midoriya's room."
Undeterred, the President produced a paper. "Perhaps this will suffice?" she said, brandishing clearance from the Musutafu Police Chief.
The receptionist scrutinized the paper, verifying each detail before returning it. "However," he warned solemnly, "Miss Midoriya succumbed just half an hour ago."
An eyebrow arched, the President responded, "Nonetheless, I wish to see her."
With a nod, the receptionist acquiesced. "I shall fetch the doctor who attended to Miss Midoriya. He will escort you to her room." Rising, he beckoned the pair to follow him deeper into the hospital's heart.
As they trailed the receptionist, the President pondered, 'I mustn't be too late to revive Miss Midoriya. Should she truly be deceased, I'll adapt my strategy accordingly—hardly an inconvenience.'
They paused outside an office where the receptionist requested the President and Vice-President to wait. Moments later, he emerged alongside a middle-aged man.
"This is Dr. Toshiro," the receptionist introduced. "He oversaw Miss Midoriya's operation."
Dr. Toshiro extended a greeting. "Pleasure to meet you. I understand you're here for Miss Midoriya on a confidential matter and possess the requisite authorization. I must reiterate, Miss Midoriya has departed this world. Do you still wish to proceed?"
"Yes," came the President's unwavering reply.
"Very well, follow me," Dr. Toshiro beckoned, leading the way.
The HPSC President and Vice-President resumed their pursuit, halting at last before room 666.
"Her body is in there," Dr. Toshiro indicated, pointing to the door. "I shall return shortly." With that, he departed.
The President turned to Yukimiru, her tone firm. "Guard the entrance."
Yukimiru nodded, assuming his post outside the room as the President entered, his vigilance encompassing the entire floor.
Upon entering the room, the President was enveloped by the sterile scent of the hospital. She gently closed the door and approached the lifeless form of Miss Midoriya, who lay upon a bed. Standing vigil, she gazed down with a mix of sorrow and empathy. "Alas, poor soul," she whispered. "Had you heeded my counsel, you'd be here still, and young Izuku wouldn't be orphaned in this cruel world."
With a solemn hope, the President placed her left hand over the chest of the green-haired woman, aligning it with her silent heart. "For your sake, Izuku's, and mine, let this be the answer," she intoned, invoking her quirk. Her hair whipped about as if caught in a tempest, her power and aura blazing with an intense fervor. Eyes clenched shut, she focused her quirk with all her might.
But moments later, resignation set in. Her hair settled lifelessly, her aura dimming to a mere whisper. Panting, she conceded, "It seems death remains an adversary beyond my reach," her voice tinged with disbelief and sorrow.
Minutes passed before the President reemerged.
"It was futile, wasn't it?" Yukimiru inquired, his tone mechanical and unyielding.
"Regrettably so," the President exhaled deeply. "Miss Midoriya has truly departed from this world."
"Our next course leads to Musutafu Police, I presume?"
"Indeed. But, there is something I must first ask the doctor."
"Ah, you are done already?" a voice interjected.
Both the President and Vice-President cast their gazes aside, finding Dr. Toshiro hastening toward them.
"You have my gratitude for granting me audience with Miss Midoriya," the President acknowledged with a nod.
"It's the least I could do. The poor woman's sole visitor was her dearest companion, as I recall," Dr. Toshiro remarked, his tone laden with melancholy.
Yukimiru leaned in, murmuring, "He likely speaks of Mitsuki Bakugo."
With a nod of affirmation, the President addressed the doctor. "Might I inquire about the arrangements for Miss Midoriya's final homage?"
"Indeed. Her friend mentioned intentions to conduct a memorial post-investigation, alongside her husband."
"Understood. I extend my thanks, doctor," the President offered a respectful bow. "We shall take our leave." With that, she pivoted sharply and made her exit, Yukimiru shadowing her steps. Their path now led to the Musutafu Police station.
"What do you mean we can't take Izuku with us?" Mitsuki Bakugo demanded, her frustration boiling over.
"I'm sorry, ma'am," the police officer replied, his tone measured and calm. "But your family is on a blacklist with the Child Welfare Service. We can't allow you to take Izuku."
Mitsuki and her husband Masaru stood together in the Musutafu Police Station, determined to take Izuku under their wing. Mitsuki felt a deep sense of duty to Inko, Izuku's mother, while Masaru supported his wife's resolve unwaveringly.
However, the authorities seemed to have different plans.
"Blacklisted?" Mitsuki's voice rose sharply. "We were never informed of this!"
"You'll need to speak with the Child Welfare Service directly, ma'am," the officer explained calmly. "If there's been a mistake, you can address it with them. Once cleared, you can apply to adopt Izuku Midoriya."
"And until then?" Mitsuki snapped, her anger barely contained. "Where will Izuku stay?"
"We'll place him in an orphanage," the officer replied, unruffled by her anger.
"You must be joking!" Mitsuki slammed her palms on the desk, her voice a mix of disbelief and outrage. "You would put him in an orphanage rather than let him stay with his mother's best friend?"
The officer sighed, his patience fraying. "Ma'am," his voice was firm and authoritative, "we are simply following established protocols. Indeed, Izuku's mother has passed, and I sympathize with his loss. But this is not an isolated case. Every day, we see children orphaned by villain attacks or other tragedies. To you, he might seem unique, but to us, he is one among many. Good night, ma'am."
The officer left, leaving Mitsuki and Masaru alone in the meeting room. Overwhelmed with exhaustion, Mitsuki slumped into a chair, burying her face in her hands as tears welled up. "W-What do we do, Masaru?" she asked, her voice heavy with desperation and sobs.
Masaru sighed wearily, feeling as lost as his wife. He knelt before her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm not sure. The only thing I can think of is contacting the Child Welfare Service to see if we can get off the blacklist. Maybe we can convince them to let us adopt Izuku."
Mitsuki lowered her hands to her lap, staring blankly at the floor. "Yes, you're right," she agreed after a moment. Standing up, she smoothed out her skirt. "Let's go and check on little Izuku."
"Of course, dear."
The two Bakugos left the room and ventured further into the police station. They encountered another officer reviewing some files.
"Officer," Masaru addressed him politely.
The officer looked up, eyeing them curiously. "Yes?"
"Could we see Izuku Midoriya, just once, please?" Masaru requested. "We only want to make sure he's alright."
The officer closed his file and sighed. "He's been very quiet since his arrival." He gestured towards a door to his right. "He's in there. Maybe you can get him to talk."
"Also," Masaru asked softly, "has Izuku been told about his mother's passing?"
"No," the officer replied, shaking his head. "We haven't informed him yet."
Masaru thanked the officer, and Mitsuki walked past without a word, her husband following close behind. Entering the room, Mitsuki's gaze immediately fell on Izuku. She hurried to him and knelt down.
"Izuku, dear," Mitsuki spoke with a mother's tenderness, "are you alright?"
But the blonde-haired woman received no response.
Mitsuki let out a sad chuckle. "What am I saying? Of course, you're not alright." She gently rested her hands on Izuku's shoulders. "Have you managed to eat anything, Izuku?"
Again, there was no reply.
Tears flowed freely down Mitsuki's cheeks as she looked upon the child who had once been so full of joy and laughter. Her heart ached, splintering with each silent moment. This wasn't the fate he deserved. He should be free to laugh and play, to experience the pure happiness of childhood.
"I-Izuku, dear," Mitsuki managed, her voice cracking with emotion. "Please, speak to me," she pleaded through her tears.
But Izuku remained silent, his eyes distant and unresponsive.
Mitsuki's shoulders slumped, her eyes closing tightly as tears slid down her face. She had known this moment was coming, had steeled herself against it, but nothing could prepare her for the sight of such a vibrant child reduced to this state of desolation.
What cruelty had the world inflicted on this innocent soul? How could it be so unforgiving?
Suddenly, she felt the softest touch on her cheek. Her eyes flew open, meeting Izuku's gaze. The sight that greeted her deepened her sorrow.
Izuku was attempting to smile, a brave but ultimately heartbreaking effort. He was trying to reassure her, to convey that he was holding on. His lips parted, wanting to speak, but the words refused to come.
Seeing his struggle to articulate his thoughts, Mitsuki pulled him into a tight embrace, cradling his small head against her shoulder as she wept. She wept for the boy who had been so deeply hurt, yet still tried to comfort her.
"M-Mom..." The word finally slipped from Izuku's lips, his voice barely a whisper. "H-How is she?"
Mitsuki gazed at Izuku, her eyes filled with unspeakable sorrow. She held him tighter. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry," she repeated, her resolve shattering as she felt Izuku go limp in her arms.
"I promise you, I will make this right," Mitsuki declared, her voice steadfast with determination. "I will ensure you join us, that you become part of our family. Don't worry," she reassured him, feeling his head nod against her shoulder. Releasing him gently, she looked at him with unwavering resolve. "Just hold on a little longer. You'll be with us before you know it."
Izuku offered another nod, accompanied by a weak but earnest smile.
Mitsuki wiped away her tears with her sleeve, then stood up with renewed purpose. "Come, Masaru. We have much to do," she said, striding out of the room.
Masaru offered Izuku a compassionate gaze. "You possess a strength beyond your years, Izuku. To smile in the face of such hardship is a remarkable feat. Your heart is enormous, and your empathy endless. Stay strong, young one. Everything will be alright in the end," he encouraged.
Izuku looked up at Masaru, his small face lighting up with a timid smile. Masaru nodded in acknowledgment and hurried from the room, keen to reunite with his wife waiting at the police station's exit. As they prepared to depart, they encountered two enigmatic figures—a woman and a man—dressed entirely in black. Masaru could clearly see the man's face, but the woman's features remained obscured, almost as if her visage was deliberately hidden. Was this some kind of quirk? It was possible, but with more pressing matters at hand, Masaru pushed the thought aside and followed his wife to the parking lot.
The President and Vice President of the HPSC paused near the entrance of the police station. The President glanced back at the departing couple.
"They were the Bakugos," Yukimiru informed, deciphering his superior's inquisitive look. "Inko Midoriya's friends."
"Hmm. They must have been here for Izuku," the President mused casually.
"Most likely," Yukimiru agreed with a nod.
"No matter. They can wait," the President declared, proceeding towards the commissioner's office. "We have an appointment with Izuku."
Arriving at the Police Commissioner's door, the HPSC leaders knocked.
"Enter," came a voice from within.
The President and Vice President stepped into the office discreetly. The Police Commissioner looked up, his expression turning to one of recognition. "Ah, the HPSC representatives," he surmised.
The President affirmed with a nod, her arms folded assertively. "Indeed, we are."
The Commissioner had been reviewing documents but set them aside. Leaning forward, hands clasped, he rested his chin atop them. "How may I assist you?" he inquired. "Are you here for Izuku Midoriya?"
"Yes," the President replied succinctly.
Rising, the Commissioner gestured for them to follow. "This way, please," he directed. They halted outside another room. "He's in there," the Commissioner indicated, cautioning, "Be aware, he's been quite reticent."
Acknowledging with a nod, the President exchanged a meaningful glance with Yukimiru, who understood immediately. She then entered the room, her gaze quickly locating Izuku by his distinctive hair. Approaching, she towered over the still boy.
"Izuku Midoriya," she addressed him with a lack of authority. Her voice was soft and gentle, with a motherly touch to it.
Izuku, however, remained silent.
"My condolences for your loss, Izuku Midoriya," the President offered more softly.
At this, Izuku flinched—a small but telling reaction.
The President knelt on one knee, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. "I understand the darkness that envelops you," she spoke with empathy. "The pain of losing a mother is an agony no child should endure. I pledge to you, Izuku Midoriya, on my ancestors' honor, justice will be served for your mother."
Yet, the boy remained mute, an expected silence to the President. She knew well that Izuku was not ready to speak. But with the right words, she could win his trust effortlessly.
Releasing a sigh, the President continued, "It grieves me to see your sorrow. Once a radiant child, now you cast only a shadow of your former self." A sorrowful chuckle escaped her, "Such is the cruelty of our world, where children lose their cherished ones overnight, and their plight goes unnoticed. If only a savior could emerge to transform this realm into a haven. Heroes were meant to be that beacon of hope. But alas, it is time to wake up to reality. Heroes, it seems, have fallen short of that dream."
Many would consider such words spoken to a grieving child reprehensible, yet the President remained indifferent. Her resolve was unyielding; she would do whatever it took to sway Izuku to seek vengeance through her. She envisioned channeling his grief and rage down a path of her design, molding him into the hero she desired. The prospect of commanding a figure as formidable as All Might himself ignited a silent, internal mirth.
With a final, reassuring touch on Izuku's shoulder, the President stood. "I ought not to suggest this, but should you wish to aid in the pursuit of your mother's true assailant, do not hesitate to reach out," she intoned, leaving a card bearing her contact information on the adjacent chair. With a purposeful turn, she left the room.
Her gambit was set; now, it was a matter of waiting for Izuku's response. Should he refrain, she was prepared to initiate Plan B, an alternative she hoped to avoid.
The following morning, the air was thick with tension in the Bakugo household. Mitsuki had spent the early hours trying to reach Child Welfare Services, dialing relentlessly since her return from the hospital around 2 a.m., with no luck. Masaru had finally managed to persuade her to step away from the phone and led her to their room, promising to handle the call in the morning.
When dawn broke, Mitsuki was back at the phone, waiting anxiously for a connection.
"Hello. CWS member, Yoru Kitagawa speaking," a smooth, feminine voice responded. "How may I assist you?"
"Hello, this is Mitsuki Bakugo," she said firmly. "I need to file a complaint."
"Is this concerning your own child or someone else's, ma'am?"
"Someone else's. It's regarding my best friend, Inko Midoriya's son, Izuku Midoriya."
"I see. And what is the nature of your complaint?"
"I'm having problems adopting Izuku," Mitsuki replied, her voice edged with frustration. "And it seems I've been inexplicably blacklisted by your department. I need to know why and request to be removed from that list."
"Understood. Could you please provide your full name and social identity number?"
"Mitsuki Bakugo. 7453-1985-2247."
"One moment while I verify that," the voice on the other end said. After a pause, it returned. "Are you the mother of Katsuki Bakugo? With the social number 7467-2015-4787?"
"Yes, but why are you asking?" Mitsuki replied, her brow furrowing in confusion.
"It seems the reason for the blacklist is clear," the CWS representative explained. "As you know, Katsuki has been enrolled in rehabilitation under the Child Behavior Improvement Act I—CBIA-I—due to his behavior. Following a complaint from Mr. Eraserhead, multiple allegations of severe bullying by other parents were lodged against your son, and his record has been escalated to CBIA-II, a more stringent act. As a result, your family is barred from any form of adoption until Katsuki's behavior significantly improves."
"Wait a moment!" Mitsuki exclaimed, her voice rising. "We were never notified about this! When did this happen? Why weren't we informed?"
"We did send an official notice from the CWS directly to your address, ma'am."
"But... But we never received it!" Mitsuki insisted, her voice cracking with dismay. "I swear, we were never given any such notice."
"That's something you'll need to look into yourself," the representative said. "It's possible someone at your residence might have received it."
"Please, please listen to me," Mitsuki begged, her voice trembling. "You must help me, Miss Kitagawa. My best friend... she passed away last night, and Izuku was placed in an orphanage. I promised her I would take care of him if anything happened. Please, you have to do something. I can't face her memory if I fail now."
"I understand your situation, Mrs. Bakugo," the voice said sympathetically. "But you must also understand ours. Katsuki was under CBIA-I specifically for bullying Izuku Midoriya. We believe it would be detrimental for both children to live under the same roof until Katsuki's behavior improves. We can't risk allowing them to meet, let alone live together."
Tears streamed down Mitsuki's face as she clung to a single tiny thread through desperation. "Can't you make an exception? I swear, I'll ensure Katsuki behaves. Please, let us adopt Izuku." Her voice broke with each word she spoke. The emotional trauma was too much for her.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. We can't make exceptions."
Mitsuki hung up the phone and collapsed onto the couch, her hands covering her face as she wept. She had failed again, unable to honor her promise to her dear friend. What kind of friend was she?
Masaru stood by helplessly, a silent witness to his wife's grief. No words of comfort seemed adequate in the face of such despair.
"FFFUUUCCCKKK!" Mitsuki's anguish burst out as she swept the items off the desk in a fit of rage. "Masaru! Did you see any notice?" she demanded, her eyes flashing with anger.
"No, dear," her husband replied, shaking his head.
She slumped against the desk, her tears darkening the wood. The house echoed with the sound of heavy footsteps descending the stairs, and Katsuki Bakugo appeared, his face contorted with anger.
"Oi, old hag! Why the hell are you bawling so early in the morning?" Katsuki's voice was harsh, dripping with his usual contempt.
Masaru's anxiety spiked, a bead of sweat trickling down his brow. This was a dangerous moment. He caught Mitsuki's eye and flinched.
Rising slowly, Mitsuki was a shadow of despair, her eyes veiled by her tousled hair. She approached Katsuki, who recoiled at his mother's haunted appearance.
"Katsuki," Mitsuki began in a low, trembling voice. "Did you or did you not receive any letter from Child Welfare Services?"
"Huh!" Katsuki snapped, irritation evident in his tone. "What does it—"
"DID YOU or DID YOU NOT receive any letter from Child Welfare Services?" Mitsuki repeated, her voice rising, each word drawn out.
Katsuki gulped, fear finally gripping his heart. He glanced away, unable to meet his mother's eyes anymore. "I did," he admitted in a small voice.
"And where is it?"
"I... I threw it away."
Without warning, Mitsuki's hand struck her son's face. The crack of flesh on flesh echoed through the room. Katsuki's hand drifted to his cheek, his eyes wide with shock and bewilderment. His mother had scolded, shouted, but never had she resorted to violence.
Mitsuki dropped to her knees, seizing Katsuki's shoulders with a fierce grip. Her tearful eyes bored into his, revealing a vulnerability he had never witnessed before.
"Why!?" Mitsuki's voice was laden with desperation. "Why must you be this way!? WHY!? Why can't you be like Masaru!? Why must you mirror my flaws!? WHY!?" Her words were punctuated by the shaking of her son.
Masaru intervened, gently prying Mitsuki away from Katsuki. "Mitsuki!" he cried out. "Mitsuki, think about what you're saying! He is our child."
Mitsuki's gaze turned to Masaru, her eyes brimming with desperation, her voice ragged from her cries. "Why, Masaru!? Why must it be this way? I'm barred from adopting my best friend's child because my son is LIKE ME! Why couldn't he take after you?" Her sobs were interspersed with hiccups.
Masaru enveloped her in an embrace, his hands drawing soothing circles on her back as she wept into his chest. All he could offer was a shoulder for her tears—a refuge in their shared sorrow.
"W-What do you mean adopt, De... Izuku?" Katsuki stammered, his voice trembling with fear. "H-Has something happened to A-Aunty Inko?"
Masaru exhaled deeply, unable to meet Katsuki's searching gaze. There was no gentle way to deliver the news. "Miss Midoriya... She... She passed away last night."
"W-What?" Katsuki's voice faltered. "W-What do you mean 'passed away'? That can't be true."
"An intruder broke into the Midoriyas' residence last night and attacked Inko," Masaru explained, his voice steady despite the turmoil within. "The medical team tried to save her, but... she had lost too much blood."
Katsuki's world shattered in an instant. It couldn't be real, could it? The thought of Aunty Inko, always so full of life, now gone, was inconceivable. He remembered her warmth, the homemade chocolate cookies she offered, the comfort she provided when he scraped his knees. Tears welled up in his eyes. "W-What about De... Izuku? Is he okay?"
"No," Masaru responded, his tone laden with sorrow. "He's... not well. We had hoped to take him in... but it seems we've failed."
"Because...of me...?" Katsuki's whisper was barely audible, his right hand gripping the cloth over his chest.
Masaru hesitated, the weight of the truth heavy on his tongue. It was a harsh reality to convey, especially to one's own son—that his actions had inadvertently caused further suffering. Yet, it was a lesson Katsuki needed to learn. With a heavy heart, Masaru spoke the hard truth. "Yes."
On that day, the destinies of three individuals were irrevocably altered.
Izuku, who had lost his entire world in the span of a single night.
Mitsuki, who had to grapple with the loss of her closest friend and the crushing blow to her self-worth.
And Katsuki, who came to the stark realization that actions bear consequences.
The repercussions of these events would sculpt their futures in ways yet unknown. Whether for better or worse, only time would serve as the ultimate arbiter.
A week had passed in a blur for Mitsuki Bakugo. She stood at the living room window, watching as the rain poured down, as if the sky itself mourned Inko Midoriya's death. Today was the day of her funeral, a small gathering that Mitsuki had meticulously organized. She had reached out to old college friends; some agreed to come, while others claimed to be too busy, a thinly veiled excuse to avoid the somber occasion.
Inko's family was small. Her father had been an only child, and her mother's sisters had long since cut ties with her. Her husband had been an orphan. So, the guest list was short, something Mitsuki preferred. Only those who truly cared about Inko would be there, not those who showed up merely for appearance's sake.
"Mitsuki!" Her husband's voice echoed through the house.
Masaru entered the room, dressed in formal black and white attire. "It's time, Mitsuki," he said softly.
Mitsuki turned away from the window, dressed in her own black dress. She walked past her husband in silence, her eyes meeting Katsuki's as she reached the doorway.
Katsuki quickly looked away, intimidated by his mother's gaze. The past week had been tough on the entire family. Mitsuki's silence had unnerved Katsuki, who feared her simmering anger.
But then Katsuki felt a gentle touch on the back of his head.
"Let's go. We need to honor Inko," his mother said, her voice surprisingly gentle.
Katsuki nodded slowly, and the family left their home, getting into the car. They drove for half an hour before arriving at the Musutafu City cemetery.
Mitsuki stepped out of the car, noticing a police vehicle parked nearby. She assumed Izuku was inside. Shielding herself from the rain with an umbrella, she approached the officer's car. "Good afternoon, officer," she said.
The officer turned to her, recognition in his eyes. "You must be Mrs. Bakugo."
"Yes, that's correct," Mitsuki confirmed. "Is Izuku with you?"
"Yes, he is," the officer replied, opening the back door.
Mitsuki's gaze fell upon Izuku, a poignant reminder of where she had fallen short as a parent and friend. Izuku was dressed in mourning clothes, the picture of despair. No child should ever look like that. He climbed out of the car without a word, standing uncertainly in front of Mitsuki.
Mitsuki bent down slightly, mustering a tender smile. "Izuku, dear, how are you doing?"
Silence. A stark indication that the once lively boy might be forever changed by life's cruelties.
Mitsuki extended her hand. "Come, let's go inside," she said, waiting for Izuku to take her hand.
Izuku took her hand, and together they huddled under the umbrella, walking towards the cemetery. Suddenly, a black sedan pulled up to the cemetery entrance. Mitsuki paused, looking at it curiously.
Moments later, the sedan's door opened, revealing an ash-haired man with a disheveled appearance. He opened an umbrella and helped a brown-haired woman in glasses out of the car, shielding her from the rain.
The woman surveyed her surroundings, her gaze settling on Mitsuki and Izuku. Approaching with regal composure, she adjusted her glasses and inquired, "Might you be Mitsuki Bakugo?"
"I am," Mitsuki confirmed.
"I am Inko's colleague," the woman said, her voice firm. "We spoke a few days ago."
"Miss Fumio, I presume?" Mitsuki recognized, bowing slightly in respect. "Your attendance is greatly appreciated."
"Inko was a beacon of kindness," Fumio stated, her voice heavy with loss. "A soul of pure grace. The world mourns the loss of such a treasure." Her gaze shifted to Izuku, who stood silently, his eyes downcast. "This must be Izuku Midoriya. Inko's pride in him was boundless. The agony he endures is immeasurable."
"Indeed," Mitsuki replied, her voice laced with sorrow. "His words have grown few since..." She trailed off.
"Understandable," Fumio commented, nodding sympathetically. "Shall we proceed?"
"Certainly," Mitsuki agreed, leading the way into the cemetery with Fumio following closely behind.
The ceremony unfolded with a somber elegance. Inko's body, draped in a traditional black kimono, lay peacefully within the wooden casket. The gathering was intimate, with only a handful of mourners present. Izuku stood close to Mitsuki, sheltered beneath her umbrella, while Katsuki stayed near his father under another. Some of Mitsuki's and Inko's college friends were there, a testament to enduring bonds. Fumio and her companion stood on the opposite side. Following the heartfelt eulogies, the casket was lowered into its final resting place.
Here Lies
INKO MIDORIYA
A Loving Mother, A Caring Friend, A Kind Companion
You will be Remembered
Rest In Peace
4th July, 21XX - 5th August, 21XX
Izuku stood before his mother's grave, his gaze fixed on the headstone, expression empty. Mitsuki, eyes welling with tears, stood beside him, offering the shelter of her umbrella. Fumio approached, holding her own umbrella. "Mrs. Bakugo, might I have a word with Izuku?"
Mitsuki looked at her curiously, a hint of caution in her eyes. "May I ask why?"
"I held Inko in high regard," Fumio said, her voice steady. "Though our acquaintance was brief, she shared wisdom that I now wish to pass on to Izuku."
After a moment's hesitation, Mitsuki nodded. She let Fumio take over with her umbrella and stepped back, keeping a watchful eye from a distance.
Ensuring their conversation remained private, Fumio addressed Izuku quietly. "You know who I am, don't you?"
Izuku nodded faintly, still silent.
"Your quirk is remarkable," Fumio, or the President of HPSC, commented. "My deepest sympathies for your loss."
Izuku remained quiet.
"This world is cursed," the President lamented, her gaze sweeping over the graves. "A tragic truth lies here—many have fallen because heroes failed and villains triumphed. Society as we know it is decaying. Villains are growing stronger and more malicious, while heroes falter not just in strength, but in spirit as well. We need a beacon of hope to pierce this darkness. The public is unaware of the horrors, but the truth will come to light eventually. When it does, chaos will ensue."
"What about All Might?" Izuku asked, his voice hollow. "He will protect us."
"Yes, he will," the President agreed, nodding. "But what happens when he retires or... dies? His strength is legendary, but he is neither invincible nor eternal. His departure is inevitable. What then?"
"You think I can replace him?" Izuku questioned, his voice lacking emotion. "How could I possibly do that? No one can be All Might. He is the Symbol of Peace."
"That's where you're wrong, Izuku," the President countered confidently. "Your quirk places you among the elite. With proper training, you could rival even the second-best. To surpass All Might, all you need is a noble heart and mastery of your quirk."
"And you plan to guide me?" Izuku asked.
"Exactly," the President affirmed with a smile. "We aim for a brighter future, don't we?"
Izuku fell silent, deep in thought.
"You have my contact information," the President said. "Feel free to call anytime. I'll be waiting. Have a good day." She glanced at Mitsuki, signaling for her to return. As the blonde woman approached, the President nodded to Mitsuki and departed, leaving them alone.
Mitsuki turned to Izuku, her voice soft. "Are you ready to go, dear?"
Izuku nodded quietly. Mitsuki took his hand, guiding him toward the police vehicle, when suddenly, a shout echoed from where her son stood with his father.
"IZUKU!"
Mitsuki and Izuku stopped in their tracks. Izuku turned slowly to face Katsuki, whose eyes were swimming with tears.
"You idiot! Just hold on, you hear me!" Katsuki shouted, his voice thick with emotion. "I'll make amends, faster than you can imagine—within a year, at most! And then! Then you'll come live with us, got it, you idiot! I won't let you drift away! You'll stay with us, and I'll be the friend you deserve! We'll enroll at U.A. together, you hear me! We'll become the best, you understand!"
Izuku looked at Katsuki, surprise giving way to a faint smile. He lifted his left hand, thumb extended upward, signaling his clear understanding.
The childhood friends parted ways—Izuku Midoriya along one path, Katsuki Bakugo along another. Uncertain of when their paths would cross again, they clung to the hope that both would rise to greatness.
Will this aspiration become reality, or will it remain a dream? Only time will tell.
A month later...
The President sifted through files of villains lurking in the shadows, but her thoughts were elsewhere, besieged by worries.
First, there was the doctor who had administered Izuku's quirk test. She couldn't be sure whether the doctor had disclosed Izuku's quirk to anyone, for that seemed the only plausible explanation for the attack on the Midoriyas and the attempted abduction of Izuku.
Moreover, the assailant appeared to know about the HPSC's involvement, as shown by the slain agent in the alley and the disappearance of the bait criminal on that fateful day.
If only the doctor were alive, she could have extracted the identity of the informant. Alas, that would have simplified everything.
Then there was her greatest concern: Izuku Midoriya.
A month had passed since Inko Midoriya's funeral, and she had expected a response from Izuku by now. She had imparted impactful words, aiming to resonate with his heroic spirit. Yet, perhaps she had erred. Maybe Izuku was too shell-shocked to comprehend her message, or he had chosen to disregard it altogether.
Such an outcome was unacceptable. Izuku Midoriya was, at present, the world's most invaluable asset, and she preferred him under her guidance rather than another's—a potential catastrophe in the making. She could not allow another to claim Izuku before her very eyes.
To draw Izuku to her side, she contemplated resorting to a more nefarious tactic, one that would invite universal disdain. Yet, the creed of sacrificing the few for the many's greater good was one she embraced with conviction.
She would go to any lengths to secure Izuku, even if it necessitated the annihilation of an entire city.
Suddenly, the telephone on her desk rang. She regarded it with a scowl. 'Who could it be?' she wondered. The number of individuals privy to her direct line was scant; even the Prime Minister lacked such access. A moment later, her eyes widened in realization, and she snatched up the receiver.
"Hello. Who is this?" inquired the President.
"H-Hello," a timid voice emerged from the other end. "I-Is this the HPSC President?"
Realization dawned on the President, igniting a surge of elation within her. A smile graced her lips. She might have just secured a treasure trove beneath everyone's gaze.
"Yes, Izuku. How may I assist you?" she inquired, her tone gentle.
"Regarding the training... Uh... I hope I'm not too late, but is it... still available?"
"Are you certain about this, Izuku?" the President probed, her skepticism palpable. "I trust you've deliberated thoroughly. Accepting my proposal will only escalate the challenges ahead."
"Y-Yes, I've... A-And I aspire to contribute to a better world," Izuku stammered.
"Very well, Izuku. I shall dispatch Yukimiru to retrieve you tomorrow. Is that agreeable?"
"O-Okay. Goodbye."
"Wishing you a pleasant day." With that, the President terminated the call. After a brief interlude, she erupted into unrestrained laughter, a cacophony tinged with madness and hubris. At last, her machinations were unfolding as intended, and her joy knew no bounds.
Resting her hand upon her face, she peered through the gaps between her fingers. It appeared that contingency plan B was superfluous. Fortuitously, a city's fate was spared—though such concerns were trivial to her.
The prospect of molding Izuku into her ideal soldier, under the guise of heroism, thrilled her. She would exploit his malleable nature, steering him towards her vision of a true hero. Izuku was, after all, a child—impressionable and eager. All she needed was to appeal to his innate heroism, and in time, she would wield the world's most formidable force within her grasp.
This was the epitome of perfection.
Precisely as she desired.
Next Chapter: Izuku in the HPSC...
Author's Post-Chapter comments
So, that happened.
I would like to apologize beforehand. I am neither Christian nor am I Japanese, so I don't exactly have much real life idea about how funerals are held by either of them. My knowledge is limited to the few Animes and Movies that I have watched.
I do not have any words of wisdom to share in this chapter. So, I will just leave like this.
Hopefully, you guys liked the chapter. Feel Free to leave a review to let me know.
See you in the next chapter of 'Beyond Limits – Izuku's Cursed Odyssey'.
Until then, bye bye.