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Midoriya Izuku had never known his father. For as long as he could remember, it had just been him and his mother in their Musutafu apartment. His mom was a nurse and worked busy hours at the hospital, covering extra shifts when she could, living frugally and impressing the same budgeting skills on Izuku as he grew older and started taking up more responsibilities at home.
But it wasn’t until he was older that Izuku realized just how… large their apartment was.
Izuku’s mother made good money, don’t get him wrong, but their apartment was larger than he and his mother truly needed, and to be entirely honest, probably was more expensive than he and his mother could really afford even living as frugally as they habitually did. The apartment boasted two bedrooms, an office, two bathrooms, and an open plan living room that flowed into the kitchen. One of the bedrooms was Izuku’s, the other was Inko’s, and the office…
Well, Izuku doesn’t think he’d ever been inside the office. Which was weird , right?
Midoriya Inko had impressed upon Izuku at a young age that the office was off-limits to him, and that the door should remain closed and locked at all times. Even when Izuku began taking over the bulk of cleaning duties, his mother insisted that Izuku leave that room alone, that she would be responsible for cleaning it and its upkeep.
Izuku hadn’t really thought about it before, but taking it into consideration with the fact that the apartment was large and most likely outside their means…well, what was inside?
Was his mother a Hero? Did she take missions after Izuku went to sleep and moonlight as an Underground Hero? Was she on an extended undercover mission at the hospital? Did she keep stacks of money there from a sordid past as a Yakuza princess, or as an informant? Did it house the remaining memories she had of his father and she just didn’t want Izuku to potentially break or disturb them?
While the most likely solution was the final one (relics of Izuku’s father and he and his mother’s relationship), that didn’t stop Izuku’s imagination from running wild at the possibilities. His mother was so close-lipped about the office, only ever reminding Izuku that he didn’t need to clean it when he would start asking questions, that he just knew there must be more to it; he knew a conspiracy when he smelled one. And his online presence as MightyBoiQ , the amateur analyst and cold case researcher, proved that when Izuku set his mind to figuring out a case he wouldn’t stop until he had figured out everything there was to figure out.
So Izuku set his mind to the question of the locked office in their (too large, too expensive ) apartment, and MightyBoiQ was on the case, unofficially of course.
First was trying the door himself. Inko often worked late shifts, sometimes even double shifts, so Izuku would have plenty of time once he outran Kacchan and his band of followers to check the door and snoop around if it were unlocked.
On Monday afternoon (Izuku had gotten home earlier than normal - Kacchan hadn’t seemed too interested in chasing him today), Izuku had actually managed to get home before Inko had to head to work. Inko gave Izuku a delighted smile and a fond pat on the cheek when she saw him, bustling around the apartment and grabbing her purse, keys, phone, and tying her hair in a knot on the back of her head. Izuku watched her like a hawk, smiling at his mother’s scatterbrained tendencies as she collected her necessities from where they had ended up all around the apartment. But just when Izuku had thought she wouldn’t remember, that she was running too late and wouldn’t remember, Inko doubled back one final time and inserted the small golden key on her ring into the office’s door, turned until the lock clicked, and then made her way out the door to work.
But Izuku was determined, so each day when he got home from school he would check the office door, gripping it in a sweaty palm and jiggling the handle with bated breath. And each day it was locked tight; the handle wouldn’t even budge.
This went on for nearly two weeks. Each afternoon Izuku would try the door handle and each time it would never budge. By the end of the first week, Izuku even took to setting alarms at various times of night to check the office door, as if there would be more of a chance of it being open at 3:39am, or 5:15am, or 12:02am than in the early afternoon.
And Izuku was frustrated . He had been so sure that the door wouldn’t actually be locked, that he would be able to turn the handle and waltz in when his mother wasn’t home one day and figure out what exactly his mom was hiding.
So as the stakeout hadn’t worked, it was time for Izuku to turn to canvassing witnesses for potential leads. Unfortunately, the only witness that would have any insight into the contents of that office were his mother herself. And Inko was so staunch in her position that Izuku shouldn’t enter the office, that he had no need to be in there because Inko cleaned it and used it herself, that Izuku knew he had to be extremely careful with his questioning. The last thing Izuku wanted was for his mother to catch on to Izuku trying to figure out the mystery - he didn’t want her to warn him off entirely (or even worse, open the door for him and show him what was there. That would ruin all the fun!)
So, subtlety it was. Unfortunately, subtlety had never been one of Izuku’s strong suits.
The next time Inko had gotten offshift in time for dinner, Izuku let her get at least a few bites into her meal before asking, “Mom, can you tell me the story of how you and dad met again?”
Inko stilled midbite, looking at Izuku warily before setting down her chopsticks deliberately, lips quirking slightly at the edges. “Why do you ask, Izuku? Aren’t you tired of hearing the story yet?”
Izuku smiled brightly, falsely, trying to lull his mother into a false sense of security. “I’m never tired of hearing you tell it, Mom! Please?”
Inko still stared at Izuku semi-suspiciously, her wide green eyes slightly squinted at the corners. Izuku had to double down, and he knew just what would get her talking.
“I know you don’t like talking about him, but hearing how you met makes me feel closer to Dad,” Izuku said softly, ruthlessly. His mother’s eyes widened in shock and pity. Izuku pressed his advantage, tilting his head down toward the table and looking up at Inko through his eyelashes like he was embarrassed to say it. “Like I can get to know him through your stories, and like maybe if he had gotten to know me he would’ve liked me too.”
The stiffness that had been lingering around Inko’s shoulders drained out of her abruptly and she reached a soft hand to cover Izuku’s. “Oh Izuku, your father would’ve loved you if he had gotten the chance to meet you. You’re such a sweet boy, who wouldn’t love you?”
Izuku pushed down the guilt that sparked in his chest at the deceit - the mystery was more important, and his mother had fallen for his play hook, line, and sinker.
“Well, let’s see. I met Hisashi when I was just finishing high school. I was studying for my entrance exams, and I couldn’t study in peace at home so I started frequenting cafes and libraries to find quiet places to study as much as I needed to. It was in one of these cafes that I met your father…”
Izuku peered curiously at his mother as she trailed off wistfully. Inko’s green eyes were fogged with memory and a tiny smile played on her lips. Izuku’s heart clenched at the sadness he saw in her even after all this time.
“I managed to snag a table for myself that day. I had spread my books on one side of the table and was so completely absorbed in my studies that I hadn’t noticed the cafe fill up with the afterwork crowd. It wasn’t until your father tapped the center of my book that I even realized anyone else had been there at all. He was tall , Izuku, so tall and good-looking with a smile on his face and dark, piercing eyes. His hair was white, and curly just like yours,” Inko smiled, and Izuku reflexively smiled back.
“And he asked if he could share my table. There weren’t any free seats left in the cafe, and I couldn’t help but agree. We stayed in the cafe for hours that day, and it was never boring. We never ran out of things to talk about, and your father was so interested in me, in my studies…I fell in love with him that day. And it wasn’t all too much longer before I fell pregnant with you, and then Hisashi moved overseas for work, and…” Inko paused, swallowed, and brought a hand to her chest almost unconsciously. “I got an email from one of his colleagues a few months later that he had died suddenly, and I was inconsolable.” A tear slid down her cheek, and Izuku hated himself slightly for causing his mother pain.
“But I was lucky, you know why?” Inko asked, scrubbing a hand over her cheek. Izuku shook his head, smiling because he knew how this story always ended. Reaching out to ruffle his curly hair, Inko smiled as she simply stated, “I had you. You made me want to go on, and I’m so lucky to be your mom, Izuku.”
Izuku smiled and moved around the table to throw himself into his mother’s arms. He loved the ending of the story, loved hearing how much Inko loved him, but the part of Izuku that was MightyBoiQ couldn’t help but be disappointed. Her story had never changed, no matter how many times Izuku asked or how long it had been since she told it. So Izuku was back to square one.
It was a day shortly before the end of his second year in Middle School where things finally came to a head. Checking the office door after his mom had left for the afternoon had become second nature, something Izuku hardly thought about at all anymore. Izuku would jiggle the handle, and it would be stuck fast. But today, an unremarkable Wednesday afternoon, Izuku tried the handle and it moved .
Not only did it move, but the office door swung open smoothly .
Izuku froze in the doorway, hardly daring to believe that the answer to his mystery was finally staring him straight in the face. Cautiously, he tiptoed his way into the newly opened room, eyes darting from one wall to the other in hungry appraisal.
The walls weren’t all that interesting - they were a cream color, the same as the rest of the apartment. There weren’t any maps, or photos, or even artwork up on the walls. They were unadorned, empty, and Izuku couldn’t help the disappointment that started to well up in him.
It was just a room. There was no bank of computers like he had always imagined would be there if his mother was actually an Underground Hero, no photos of a dangerous looking family that his mother resembled like if she had been a runaway Yakuza princess, and there were absolutely no pictures of Inko and his father. There was just a standard office desk with a desktop monitor, and a small bookshelf filled with a mixture of textbooks and notebooks. There was even a small futon rolled up in the corner, but there was nothing interesting about the room.
Izuku sighed heavily as he made his way over to the desk chair and plopped down into it. The mystery was so much less interesting than he had thought it to be. And Izuku hadn’t even learned anything new about his mother, or even his father. As Izkuku’s head slid to the desk with a thunk, he flinched back almost immediately as the monitor whirred to life.
The screen was unlocked, and Izuku’s breath stilled in his chest as he read the chat box that popped up there front and center.
TO MY SON, WHO HAS ENTERED THE OFFICE THOUGH HE SHOULD KNOW BETTER. HELLO
Izuku frowned, confused. How did the computer know? Surreptitiously, Izuku scanned the ceiling and walls again, searching for hidden cameras he had missed. A new message popped into being.
THERE ARE NO CAMERAS, IZUKU. AT LEAST, NONE THAT YOU WILL FIND
Izuku frowned harder, fear flashing through him at the prospect of being watched. Hands trembling, Izuku moved to close out of the chat and shut down the computer before two messages came in quick succession.
I WOULDN’T DO THAT IF I WERE YOU, IZUKU.
DON’T YOU WANT TO TALK TO YOUR FATHER?
Izuku paused. His father…? Cautiously, he typed: Did you know him?
The reply was nearly instantaneous. DID? I DO KNOW HIM, IZUKU. YOUR FATHER IS ALIVE. YOU’RE SPEAKING TO HIM RIGHT NOW
Izuku’s heart skipped a beat. You can’t be. My father’s dead
THAT’S WHAT YOUR MOTHER TOLD YOU, DIDN’T SHE? THAT YOUR FATHER HAD GONE TO WORK OVERSEAS AND DIED SUDDENLY AND MYSTERIOUSLY. THAT WAS A LIE MEANT TO MAKE YOU STOP ASKING QUESTIONS
What did you call a mixture of fear and hope? Izuku didn’t know, but he was choking on it.
Then prove it. If you’re my father, prove it
HOW WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO DO THAT, IZUKU? HOW CAN I DO THAT IN A WAY YOU WOULD BELIEVE?
Izuku stopped, thinking hard. What’s my Quirk, and when did it first manifest?
YOU’RE LEGALLY QUIRKLESS, BUT REALLY IT HASN’T MANIFESTED YET
Izuku scoffed. What a liar. Goodbye
WAIT, IZUKU. IT’S TRUE. BUT I CAN SEE THAT WASN’T THE BEST WAY TO PROVE MYSELF. LET ME TRY AGAIN
YOUR MOTHER IS MIDORIYA INKO, AND SHE’S A NURSE. YOU LIVE NEAR THE BAKUGOUS, AND YOU WERE ONCE BEST FRIENDS WITH THEIR SON. HOWEVER, NOW HE HUNTS YOU FOR SPORT BECAUSE HE SEES YOU AS A “QUIRKLESS NOBODY”
HE CALLS IT “DEKU HUNTING”
Izuku’s breath stopped in his chest. How did they know? It was common knowledge that he and Kacchan weren’t friends anymore, but “Deku Hunting”? Izuku hadn’t told his mother about it, that’s for sure, and no one would know unless they heard Kacchan say it.
That doesn’t prove you’re who you say you are. That just proves that you’ve been stalking me
THE FIRST BABY PICTURE THAT YOUR MOTHER TOOK OF YOU HAS YOU IN AN ALL MIGHT ONESIE
I DIDN’T WANT TO BUY IT FOR HER, BUT SHE INSISTED EVEN THOUGH IT WOULD BE MONTHS UNTIL YOU WERE BORN AND EVEN LONGER UNTIL YOU COULD WEAR IT
WHEN SHE SENT ME THE PHOTO OF YOU, I CRIED. YOU LOOKED JUST LIKE THE PERFECT MIXTURE OF ME AND INKO - HER SMILE AND COLORING, BUT MY CURLY HAIR
A pause; the cursor blinked.
I’M SORRY I INFLICTED MY AWFUL HAIR ON YOU, BUT I’M SO GLAD YOU LOOK SO LIKE YOUR MOTHER. I MISSED HER. I MISS YOU
Izuku felt tears burn his eyes. Maybe, just maybe…
Why did Mom lie, then? Why did you never write me emails, or call me, or send me letters? Why have her tell me you’d died?
BECAUSE I COULDN’T FOR A VERY LONG TIME, IZUKU. I WAS HURT VERY BADLY IN A HERO BATTLE AND WAS BEDRIDDEN FOR MOST OF THE FIRST YEAR OF YOUR LIFE. I COULDN’T SPEAK FOR ANOTHER 6 MONTHS, AND IT WAS ONLY WHEN YOU WERE THREE YEARS OLD THAT I HAD REGAINED ENOUGH FINE MOTOR CONTROL TO WRITE OR TYPE WITH ANY MEASURE OF FLUENCY
Izuku swallowed convulsively, the tears that had been threatening finally spilling over his cheeks.
But I never got to know you. I missed so much time with you
I KNOW, IZUKU. I KNOW, AND I’M SORRY
Izuku sobbed, dropping his head into his hands. It was a few minutes before he could look back up at the messages that had populated while he was indisposed.
I’M SORRY I MISSED SO MUCH OF YOUR LIFE, BUT I WOULD LIKE TO MAKE IT UP TO YOU NOW
I WOULD LIKE TO TELL YOU WHO I AM, TELL YOU THE LEGACY YOU INHERIT, TRAIN YOU WITH YOUR QUIRK.
I KNOW IT SOUNDS LIKE A LIE, MAYBE LIKE A FANTASY, BUT YOU ARE NOT QUIRKLESS, IZUKU. YOU HAVE A QUIRK, HAVE MY QUIRK, AND IT IS THE MOST POWERFUL QUIRK IN EXISTENCE
IT IS POWERFUL, IT IS DANGEROUS, AND IT IS HUNTED. THIS QUIRK CAN BRING IMMEASURABLE POWER BUT ALSO IMMEASURABLE PAIN. I HAVE MASTERED IT THROUGH BLOOD AND TEARS AND WAR, AND NOW THAT YOU HAVE INHERITED IT YOU ARE LEFT WITH THE SPOILS OF A WAR THAT YOU DID NOT PARTAKE IN
FOR THAT I AM SORRY, BUT I AM NOT SORRY WE SHARE IT
WOULD YOU LIKE TO KNOW MORE?
This was everything Izuku could’ve ever wanted. The mystery of the office was so much more than he had ever even imagined it could be. It was his father, a Quirk, and a legacy. Izuku’s fingers shook.
Yes. Yes, please .