{~Deku one-shots with angst~}

The Warriors Stained with Blood (The Kids Smeared From Strawberries)

A/N: And another chapter is here! Not going to lie, I wrote this when I was supposed to be studying for my upcoming exams, but it's alright this is my treat; this fic is inspired by the amazing @artskai on tiktok! Go check them out right now!!

Without further ado, let's start!

AU: Izuku and Katsuki go to the war. Inko doesn't want to see them leave. Mitsuki knows that isn't a choice they can make.

--------

The war seems to have spread further than the battlefield.

Indeed, the ensnaring claws of war seemed to bleed into the tears of Japan, into the cracks of the sky, into every miserably forlorn particle that they all breathed. Wars raged in front of their eyes, tsunamis swept in their minds, storms brewed in their hearts.

The walls of UA have lost the golden glow that used to be lined in its bricks- or perhaps, the sparkle in the eyes that observed them, have been faded and dulled away. A class of children- an army of soldiers- murmur in the entrance. The drone of their voices reek with underlying fear, reek with monstrous determination.

It is almost reminiscient of their first day at UA high. Back when they could afford to see the world through hope-coloured lenses, could manage to survive and taste the thrill of victory instead of the burn of defeat.

"Izuku." Inko whispers, her voice heavy with fondness, as she puts a warm, calloused hand to her boy. Tears fill her doeful eyes, not for the first nor last time, but it feels so, so different now. It feels like it will be the last time she can get herself to cry so earnestly, the last time she will be able to acknowledge this pain, because if she doesn't face t now, then when will she ever? "Do you really have to go?"

But she knows the answer, oh, she knows. She has known since her dear son was a little boy, when he barely knew the concept of a hero. She had known when her son had spared his snacks to little strays on the street. She had known when her son would almost beg to be able to help with even the most mundane tasks. When he had broken himself for others. When he had stretched himself far and thin to anyone close to reach. When he had traded the light in his eyes just to spread even the smallest refraction of light to others.

Her son- who would die for the sake of others- but does no one else see how painful that is? How under that muscle and that smile and the leafy locks caked in dirt and blood, Inko still sees the bright, gleeful little hero? With smooth, butter-like skin instead of calloused, youthful flesh? With hope and passion and determination seeping through those orbs, without the desperation of survival and the underlying panic- the doubt of whether he will live in his next battle.

"You're still just a kid." Inko sobs, and she tried- she's tried so hard to be understanding of her dear hero but- she doesn't know if this will be the last time she seems him again. The miso soup she makes in the morning might end up being just for her, cold and bitter. The melon pan she buys might end up laying on the table, after she forgets that the sole consumer isn't here anymore. The warmth that has filled her heart and soared and flourished might disappear, if her son dies.

Mitsuki swallowed heavily, tears building up in her own tired, crimson eyes. Inko can't remember the last time her best friend had cried from emotion.

The fleeting warmth from her son's hug (will it be the last?) embraces her, and Inko can only desperately pray that she will remember the touch of Izuku's hand, the very shade of his eyes, the alignment of delicate freckles on his face. Inko hopes that her son comes back in all his gorgeous pieces, beautiful like porcelain yet durable as metal.

"I love you Mum. But I want to do this...I need to do this. I will fight for the safety of Japan and I'm going to- I'm going to fight for you, Mum. So that we can go home every day without worrying for our lives, and eat all our favorite meals and watch All Might movies and-" Izuku declares, voice slightly thick with tears but Inko couldn't avoid the blinding determination and passion and desire, emanating from his very embers. "I'll see you when I come back again."

When. Not if. If Inko had the power to summon right now, if only she could nibble the budding doubt...she could believe her son and be assured that he will come back.

But it's not like that. It doesn't work like that. It's a war; her grandfather had told her about the horrors of his grandfather's war, how you will never know if you survive that day, if just one unlucky bullet will strike through you and streak the ground with your blood, except there's already been hundreds of other shades of blood on the ground, now mixing with yours. A distorted image of a sunset, the image of hopelessness.

Inko can't fathom it without bile dangerously rising up her throat, threatening to dispel.

She watches, as her boy and Katsuki go shoulder to shoulder, sauntering their way to the rest of their friends, decked out in their hero gear; savouring the moment of the last bit of normalcy. Maturity and strength oozes from their manner, and smiles grace their lips, as they playfully hit each other on the arm. Two warriors, ready to place their lives on the line, matching to the starting line. Two kids, giggling their whole way through, ready to spend another day playing in the summer sun.

"You're wrong...they stopped being kids when they signed up for the war." Mitsuki mutters, but the words are clearer than her tears.

Mitsuki is right of course, as she always is. Izuku and his friends...oh, will they ever feel the luxury of a simple bento not tainted with mud and dirt? Will they ever know what it feels like to go and get ice cream with friends and simply exist with each other?

Why is it that society has pressured these teenagers to speed through their youthful years? Why is it that their days of living happily has been taken away, and that they are now thrown into a war instead? But Inko knows; knows that these are the thoughts of the parent and families just like her, in this building, watching their children for possibly the last time.

She knows, that the children themselves are ready to embrace the dangers of being a hero, like a new challenge to be defeated. But you can't defeat death. Eternal sleep. Unresolved hopes. The children realise that this will be the last normalcy they'll get, and they accept that, as long as they get to save a human life.

That's the twisted ideology of a hero.

And so Inko watches, just like the crowd of families around her, ready to imprint the last image of their kids into their minds, for as long as it takes. Will they have to get used to this? Have to be prepared that their child will die at any sudden time, a lot sooner than any child should die? The group of 24 soldiers, prodigies, blessings, heroes, look back and smile. Katsuku and Izuku are at the head of the group, as they each raise a fisted hand up, side by side.

She hears the Bakugous gasp beside her, and she feels that she does the same.

"Plusss Ultra!" Izuku and Katsuki scream, fist up in the air beside eachother, their blanket capes much too large for their small little body. Their grins are toothy and large, filling up the whole room with the joy of them. "Team Katsuzuku the number one hero duo!"

Deku and Dynamight. The number one hero duo.

Inko prays; she hopes she can see the two live on and become the heroes they have always dreamed to be.

Ah, but they are already, are they nor?

The war is still thrashing, the grief and pain thrashing all inside her, strangling and throttling, but in the midst, a single seed blooms in the dark.

Hope.

——-
A/N: AYY, we're done! I loved loved writing this chapter, I loved the prompt and it was just- ahh I loved it! Thank you so much for artskai for the beautiful art for my inspo. Hope you enjoyed reading and till next time! Have a Plus Ultra day/night~!