Touch of Chaos

Chapter 20

Inko wasn't a fit mother.

She cared deeply for her son. He meant the world to her. She would do anything to see his eyes light up with joy as they used to. She knew that she had messed up long before he was pronounced quirkless. Coming home late, after spending all night at the office. His early life was spent with Mitsuki on weekdays and his mother on weekends. That was no way to raise a child. Even now, after destroying any chance of her son living a regular life, she covered her guilt by staying away. On nights that she finished work early, she would go to cafes and, on occasion, bars. Covering her lies with the guise of overtime.

She had stood by while her son was being destroyed by the world around him. And when she decided to act, to make him 'better,' she pushed him off onto the next person she thought could solve her problems.

Inko spent the four years he was missing relaxing. It pained her to admit it now, but she loved the attention she got. People she hadn't seen in years rushing to her side, waiting on her hand and foot. She was cared for, and she was appreciated. Even the pro heroes consoled her, she was shown in the newspapers, and everyone thought she was brave. She reveled in it.

But then he came back. Inko was overjoyed her son was home, but when she looked at the small boy in front of her, she was repulsed. He had caused her so much pain over the years, then he left, and her life was the best it had ever been. Then he is dragged back, from some dump where he was hiding with a villain, to take it all away.

She knew there was no way Izuku could read her thoughts, but the way he looked at her made her believe it could be possible. His eyes held no emotion, she didn't know when it had happened, but he didn't look like her son anymore. He didn't look human. His body was covered in scars when he came back, and she failed to notice that more and more appeared every night. She didn't even realize that he was Chaos. What kind of mother was she? Could she even call herself his mother?

She hadn't spoken to Izuku for days. He stayed up in his room, only leaving when it was time to meet up with Aizawa. She had tried to talk to him a few times, only to be shut down with a door slamming or her own emotions stopping the words before they could leave her mouth.

Inko didn't know what she was thinking, but on the fourth night, without speaking to her son. She waited in her room until she heard the front door shut. She stood up from her bed and tiptoed out the door. She was the only person home, so there was no reason to sneak around, but the thought of what she was doing made her heart race and her hands shake with nerves. She crept down the short hallway and stopped in front of Izuku's door. She took a deep breath before opening it.

Inko remembered her son's room the way it was years ago. When he had gone missing, it had been turned into an All Might shrine, covered floor to ceiling in memorabilia. But, now, it was blank. The walls were bare, and his carpet was a mess. Parts of broken machinery laid around his floor like a minefield, papers were strewn across the ground. Some crumpled tightly into a ball, others left in piles. The room looked depressing and cold. There was no life in there, no personality. She looked around his room, trying not to move anything out of place, tiptoeing around the clutter, doing her best not to leave a trace of her presence.

She stepped carefully toward his closet. She didn't know why, but she felt like she was being pulled toward it like a magnet. She pulled the door open with shaky hands and peeked inside. She sighed in relief when she saw clothes. Finally, something normal.

She turned to move, leave, and go back to bed and pretend that none of this ever happened.

Then, her foot caught on an old belt.

And she fell backward into her son's wardrobe.