Chapter Text
Katsuki struggled to hold back tears when he told his mother the news over the phone. His beautiful wife, Inko, who was seven months pregnant with their second child, had succumbed to the illness that was sweeping across the States. His voice cracked when he admitted to Mitsuki in a soft voice, “How am I supposed to tell ‘Zuku, Ma? How can I tell my boy his Mama and sibling died?” He continued, “Ma, how am I supposed to take care of him alone? Inko had the boy wrapped around her finger... I barely know the kid- My work schedule’s so fucked up I never see him ‘cept on Sundays...”
Mitsuki looked over her shoulder at her grandson. He was practicing writing his letters with his Papa Masaru in the living room. His green hair seemed to glow in the light of the fireplace. “We’ll keep him here for a few more days. I’ll explain it to him- Well, I’ll have your father explain it to him. He’ll be alright. Take a few days to mourn. Then come get your son. He’s going to need you. You’re not alone, though, Katsuki. Your father and I are here too. ‘Sides, Izuku’s a good boy. Could be worse- you could be stuck raising a kid like you on your own.”
Katsuki was quiet for a minute. “Ma, I’ll be there in the morning. Izuku oughta have the chance to attend his mother’s funeral.” With that, he hung up.
Masaru and Mitsuki told their eight-year-old grandson what happened; his pregnant mother had passed away from the flu. He cried hard for hours. He eventually wore himself out and fell asleep in Papa Masaru’s lap while they rocked in the rocking chair.
When Katsuki arrived in the morning, he barely had a foot in the door before he had an armful of his sobbing son. He heard his child ask, “Is it true, Daddy? Is Mama really gone?”
And for the first time in his life, Katsuki Bakugou allowed himself to cry as he answered, “Yes, she is.” Father and son held onto each other tightly, still thoroughly rocked by the harsh reminder of the impermanence of their lives.
-------------------------------------------------------------------
The next few years were difficult for the Bakugou family. The loss of Inko and the unborn child left a gaping a hole in their lives. Learning to be a supportive caretaker for his son was a steep learning curve for Katsuki too. He quickly figured out that treating Izuku the way his own mother treated him was not going to work. Izuku was far more sensitive and responded to encouragement much better than shouting.
As Izuku grew up, he seemed to look more like his mother his every day. Katsuki knew his son had always favored his wife, with her green hair and eyes and slender frame. But as he grew, Izuku seemed to retain the baby fat on his cheeks, giving him the same round face as Inko. Katsuki was frequently caught off guard by how much his son sounded like Inko. That’s not to say Izuku sounded like a twenty-six-year-old woman; it’s just the way he mumbled when he was lost in thought was just like her. He smiled like her. He frowned like her. He laughed like her. It was going to be the ruin of Katsuki Bakugou.
The summer of Izuku’s eleventh birthday was unusually hot and humid. That’s saying something too, as all summers in Alabama were hot and humid. It was so hot one week in mid-July that they’d been forced to close the steel mill the blond worked at because men were getting heatstroke and dying on the job. Katsuki couldn’t decide if he was pissed or pleased.
On the one hand, he needed to be at work so he could get paid. If he wasn’t getting paid, he and Izuku couldn’t eat as well as they were used to. Izuku was a growing boy. He needed to eat, or he’d never catch up with the other boys his age. On the other hand, Katsuki hadn’t had a day off in nearly three years. He was exhausted, and it gave him the chance to spend time with his son.
He was listening to the radio one evening that week when Izuku got home. Izuku looked like he was trying to hide his face. On top of that, he was silent. That meant something was seriously wrong; Izuku Bakugou was never silent. Katsuki turned off the radio and called “Izuku? Did you go down to the creek with the rest of the boys today?”
Izuku kept his back to his father as he answered, “Y-Yeah, they’re still down there, though. I’m pretty tired, so I’m gonna lie down. I’ll talk to you later.” He started to walk toward his bedroom, but Katsuki wasn’t ready to let him go.
“Did y’all have fun? The water moccasins are usually out this time of year. Did you see any?”
Izuku paused, “Daddy, I don’t really wanna talk about it.” That shocked Katsuki enough to give Izuku the chance to slip into his room before Katsuki could inquire further.