Guilt: The Trial of Izuku Midoriya

Chapter Ten: Family (Original)

Izuku stared at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom. His eyes slowly traced a sight he had memorized years ago. Every line, every crack, every mark from a slightly uneven paint job. The sight filled him with nostalgia, although it was bittersweet. He had hundreds of memories of staring at this ceiling. Most of them were bad. They rushed through his head, faster than he could count. So many sleepless nights. So many lonely afternoons. However, not all of his memories were bad. All of my daydreams of being a hero... It was a play he had acted out time and time again. Countless stories of him discovering a previously unknown quirk, or him becoming the first quirkless pro hero using support items. Or even...

Izuku almost laughed at his memory. Almost. One of his favorite fantasies had been where he had secretly been All Might's son. And I inherited his quirk... Izuku didn't know why, but the sight of his bedroom ceiling had always been able to distract him from the problems in his life. Like a blank canvas, it offered possibilities. To be something else. Anything else. On days where Kacchan would beat him after school, days where he felt completely alone, his ceiling would offer a brief respite, a brief distraction. Right now, it offered neither.

It couldn't distract him from the sounds of his mother crying in the other room.

Izuku stared at the ceiling of his childhood bedroom as the soft sounds of his mother's tears drifted through the door. Every passing second, he hated himself more and more. Just get up. Just go to her. He still layed frozen on the bed. What's wrong with you? Mom's crying. Because of you. He didn't know why his body wouldn't move.

Or at least he was trying to convince himself he didn't. Izuku's teeth clenched as his inner thoughts thrust themselves to the forefront of his mind. You're scared. He could feel tears forming in his eyes. Coward. He stared at his ceiling in vain.

How am I supposed to talk to her about this?

Izuku looked down at his hands, now wrapped in clean, white gauze. They had scared his mom half to death when Ochako had frantically knocked on the apartment door, practically carrying Izuku. The damage to his hands had been more severe than he had realized, and all four of his limbs had stress fractures. After he collapsed in pain as she tried to hug him, his mother had called an ambulance almost instantly. The next several hours had blurred together as doctors and nurses filtered in and out of his world. In a few moments of lucidity, he had recognized one of the female doctors, but she had taken Ochako into the hall before he could say anything. After a few more confusing hours of sterile white hospital lights, he found himself in a car with his mother, heading home. Using Recovery Girl's healing as an excuse, he had pretended to sleep until they had arrived at the apartment, and he had gone straight to his room. He had probably said ten words to her the entire night.

How am I supposed to talk to her about this?

The sound of his mother's pain was maddening. He wanted to scream, cry, rage against the universe's sick sense of humor. I'm hurting her. I'm laying here on this fucking bed, and I'm hurting her. His hand whipped to the side, slamming into his bedroom wall. The jolt of pain flying up his arm quickly cleared his thoughts. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Finding some previously unknown resolve, he found his body moving towards the door, almost automatically. I need to be strong for her. Pushing his bedroom door open, Izuku stumbled out into the hallway. He paused momentarily at the hall's corner, taking one last steadying breath. Here we go.

Izuku rounded the corner, and made his way towards the couch. His chest strained as he saw his mother hunched over, head in her hands. All hesitation forgotten, he closed the distance as quickly as he could. Throwing himself into her, he wrapped his arms as round her trembling shoulders. Noticing the woman's breath catch, he gave her a small squeeze.