Chapter Text
It was cold. That was the only way Inko knew to describe the feeling of emptiness that came with All for One being suppressed.
It was like she was naked, for lack of a better word. Vacant, no— broken.
For as long as she could remember it had always been her and All for One, that warm, comforting quirk that whispered in her ear, reassuring her that what she was doing was right.
Inko had a lot of time to think in Tartarus. One of the things she had wondered was how much of her actions were her, and how much was simply her quirk making itself known. She wasn’t sure. She didn’t think she wanted to know.
“You have a visitor,” the gruff voice was piped through the intercom that sat above the glass window.
She knew that, of course. The system had been activated in preparation several minutes ago, guns pulling out of crevices on the walls, ready to shoot her in the off chance that she had some quirk that would allow her to break from her confines. It was all for nothing though, Inko had lost access to all of her quirks as the suppressors kept All for One from her.
He walked in slowly, looking into her eyes with a blank expression the whole time.
She was glad he hadn’t brought All Might, she didn’t want to have this conversation with that man around, even if she was certain Izuku would just relay anything she said to him regardless.
The two of them were both silent for a moment, each simply taking in the presence of the other. Inko, noting the way Izuku seemed to carry himself, sitting a little straighter, Izuku, she was sure, observing the oddness of seeing his mother restrained behind a wall of glass.
His expression remained blank as he finally spoke. “Why?” he asked, his voice sounding almost impassive.
Inko didn’t answer right away, instead breaking eye contact and looking at the floor of the cell.
“I think I have a right to know,” he continued, “after everything.”
“Of course,” Inko said. “Of course you do.”
“You never wanted me to be a hero, this is why, isn’t it?”
“I’d seen it first hand, Izuku. I know just how merciless villains can be because I’ve been there. It’s selfish, I know, but I never wanted that for you.”
“So it was to protect me?”
“Yes,” Inko said, smiling sadly. “That’s all it ever was, to protect you.”
For the first time, Izuku’s face changed, twisting into an expression of disgust. “I never asked for your protection,” he spat.
“What kind of mother would I be if I didn’t try regardless?”
Izuku stood up suddenly. “What kind of mother are you?” He ran his hand through his hair. “You took away everything from me. My quirk, my dreams, my mentor: all under the guise of protecting me.”
Inko was quiet for a moment. “How is he? All Might?”
Izuku sighed and looked at the ground. “He’s recovering. One for All is gone but, no thanks to you, he’s still alive.”
“And you?”
“Fine,” Izuku said curtly. Then, as if reconsidering, he continued. “I’m staying with All Might for now. The heroes decided that would be the safest. Some of them didn’t want me to but All Might insisted. It worked out though, and he doesn’t judge me for anything that happened.” Izuku looked up. “Did you know that some people would? Did you have any idea that people would blame me for what you’ve done? That some would think I deserve to be punished for your sins?”
“No one was ever supposed to know.”
“Well they do,” Izuku said bitterly. “And you have no idea what that’s done for me. You wanted to protect me but I bet you never thought about how I’d have to weather the stares and whispers from my classmates because they all have to stomach the fact that the kid who has All Might’s fucking quirk is the same son of the worlds greatest villain. And how can they? How can they come to terms with the fact that my mother is a mass murderer, a villain of monumental proportions, when I can’t even deal with it myself?”
“I’ve made mistakes, Izuku. I know I have. But—”
“But what?!” Izuku swiped his hand angrily under his eyes. “You— you were all I had. When it felt like the whole world was against me just because I was quirkless, you were always there. Except you weren’t, were you? It— it was always a lie. An act.”
“I love you, Izuku. I always have.”
“Really? Or do you just love the thought of me? Do you love me because when you look at me you can see Dad?”
“Izuku! Why would you say—”
“Tell me I’m wrong. How many times have you said it? ‘So much like your father’,” Izuku said, mockingly. “But I’m not. I’m not him. He’s gone, Mom. Dead, and it’s all your fault.”
Inko recoiled.
Izuku closed his eyes and tried to regain control of his breath. As he did he sat back down and his face returned back to a blank mask.
“I came here for answers,” he said. “I didn’t mean to lose control like that.”
“Your reaction is perfectly understandable.”
“No! I don’t—” Izuku took a deep breath. “I don’t want to hear you say that. Everyone is treating me like I’m fragile. Either they act like I’ll blow up and go on a killing spree at any moment or they treat me like a little kid who can’t possibly understand what’s happening. I don’t need you to tell me that my emotions are justified. I just need an explanation.”
Inko sighed. “And If I don’t have what you want to hear?”
“Humor me.”
She got a far-off look in her eyes as she considered how to start. “The beginning then,” she said softly and took a deep breath.
-
“It’s going to be okay,” Inko whispered. She ran her hand through Yoichi’s hair, cradling his head in her lap.
He spasmed once more and looked up at her. “Inko…” he said. His voice sounded so frail, so broken.
Inko bit her lip, trying and failing to keep her tears at bay. “Please let me do this.”
He sat up, unsteadily moving away from her as he shook his head. “No,” he said sounding more sure than she thought was possible while he was in this state. “What happens, happens. We can’t play with nature.”
Inko pursed her lips.
Was that what it was? Her quirk?
Inko knew of nature, both innate and artificial. She knew that quirks affected a person because she’d been there many times. With every quirk she added to her arsenal, and with every quirk given away, she changed. All for One allowed her a fluidity unexperienced by anyone else, and unlike anyone else she was fully aware of the effect of each quirk, the way they altered you, creating new urges that felt more like instinct than anything. Just like all biological instincts, they were resistible temptations, powerful as they were, and Inko considered herself to be quite apt at ignoring the drives of the lesser quirks.
Only one consistently held power over her.
All for One.
The need to give and take quirks, wildly, recklessly, was overpowering. But Inko knew this and only used her power in situations where it couldn’t possibly harm her.
Regardless of if it was unnatural or not, this was one of those times when it was not her quirk that compelled her, but her heart.
“You’re only getting worse, Yoichi,” she said.
“Quirks can’t solve every power.”
“But they can save this one!” Inko pleaded. “I have one that would be perfect, a longevity quirk. If you have it then we could live forever, just you and me. Wouldn’t that be nice? You’d never have to deal with this illness ever again. We could be safe.”
Yoichi shivered, from her words or his sickness she didn’t know. “People aren’t meant to live forever, Inko.”
“So not that one then,” Inko said. “A different one. I— I have a stockpile quirk. It should help—”
“It’s unnatural.”
“Please let me do this,” whispered Inko. “I was given this gift for a reason. What’s the point if I can’t even use it to save you?”
“Don’t do this to me, Inko.”
Inko’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t do this to you? What about me? How do you think I feel having to watch my little brother die right here in front of me, knowing I can save you but you won’t let me?”
“Inko—”
“Do you have any idea how selfish you’re being right now?!”
“I don’t want a quirk.”
Inko laughed a short, hysterical, laugh.
“Who said you had a choice?”
-
“I regret it,” Inko said, not meeting Izuku’s eyes. “If I had known how much harm that decision would do I never would have given him that quirk.”
“But you did,” Izuku said, interrupting for the first time since Inko began to speak. “And then you did it again to me, except that time you took my quirk instead of giving me one.”
“I returned it,” Inko said.
Izuku hesitated. “I know,” he finally said. “Five of the six quirks me and All Might could trace back to previous holders, but one was unfamiliar.” He laughed, bitterly. “Or I guess it was familiar. For an entirely different reason.”
“It’s as much as an apology as I could give you at this point.”
“You know it’s not enough.”
“I do.”
Izuku looked to the side. “It’s the same as dad’s, huh? I think part of me always knew that it would be. I—” Izuku brought his hand absentmindedly to his neck. “Sometimes I could almost taste the smoke like you had left some part of it behind.”
“It was a part of you. Your body remembers it.” Inko’s face screwed up in pain. “It was a part of you and I took it.”
“What I don’t understand,” Izuku said, “is how you could make the same mistake twice. Didn’t you learn your lesson after your brother?”
“You’d think I would have, wouldn’t you?” Inko looked down. “I panicked. I saw what you were becoming and it scared me.”
Izuku sighed. “So that’s all it was. All the adversity I’ve faced leading up to this point has been artificially created by you in hopes of you somehow keeping me safe for a little longer.”
“You have to understand, you were all I had left.” Tears began to form in the corner of Inko’s eyes. “You are the remainder of my brother, my husband, and my son. Everyone I’ve ever loved in you.”
Izuku looked sad. “I know,” he said. “But that was all you could ever see me as. Them, not myself.” He stood up. “I— I don’t know if this is what I wanted to hear, but thank you for telling me anyways.”
“I’m sorry,” Inko said quietly.
“You know I can’t forgive you, right?”
Inko softly shook her head. “I don’t expect you to. But I need you to know that I am sorry.”
Izuku didn’t respond. He looked away as he made to leave.
“Wait!”
Izuku turned.
“You’re going to be a wonderful hero, okay?”
“I know,” said Izuku, and then he left.