After successfully dodging all the media outlets positioned outside the stadium, Izuku rides off on his bike.
Thankfully, when he gets home it's just high noon.
He notices that Kaina hasn't woken up yet. Deciding to let her rest, he walks off to take a shower, wanting to wash away the sweat and grime from the previous event.
After getting out the shower, he puts on a black sweatpant and a plain white t-shirt. He makes his way into the kitchen.
Today was a day he'd probably celebrate, with his mother's signature pork-cutlet over rice.
He reaches into the bottom cabinet and measures out two cups of rice. He'd probably make something to eat with rice in the evening anyway.
After washing the rice, he places it into the rice cooker and sets it to cook.
He gets some onions sliced and ready, and cracks 4 eggs into the bowl, since he was cooking for Kaina as well.
He gets the porkchop's ready, seasoning them with salt and pepper, and moves on to the breading station.
With the flour, egg and panko ready, he decides to get a large skillet out.
He zones out as he hears the pork sizzle into the oil.
The simple recipe his mother had left behind was probably not even that great. Countless other chefs had probably made better recipes.
However, none of those could remind him of the days he could never get back. The memories of her that always haunted him in his nightmares plagued him even now.
He feels empty now, a crippling void in place of what she was to him. Who she'd been to him.
'She said she was a mother first, anything else, later right?'
What a beautiful lie that was. She probably could've escaped easily, yet on that destined day, she chose to fight.
...But wasn't Izuku to blame as well?
Did he not suggest that his mother "get back in the groove" and do what she wanted to?
Did he not play his part in her death?
As the sound of the pork sizzling changes along with its smell, he snaps from his thoughts and rubs his cheeks.
______________________________________
He sets the table and already has two bowls ready. It's already quarter to one and she still isn't out of bed.
He decides to check on her.
He knocks once, no answer. He knocks twice, with no answer.
"Tsutsumi-san?" He calls.
Still no answer.
How late could she have slept? To still be in bed at almost One pm?
He didn't wish to invade her privacy, but lunch was ready. We can't exactly have the cutlets get soggy.
"I'm coming in." He says, opening the door.
She's still wrapped in a blanket, sleeping away without a care.
As he gets closer, he notices faint tear marks on her cheeks. A tinge of regret passes through his heart. Was this the best choice? To keep her locked in his home? Not allowing her to leave without a bodyguard?
No, it probably wasn't. It was, however, their only choice.
Maybe Izuku could speed up the plans somehow. Maybe snowball the case in some way? He'd need to think about that.
YOU ARE READING
Midoriya of the Dragon's Blood
Fanfiction"Oh shinobi, open your eyes." These are the words a small child named Izuku remembers from his extremely vivid dream. He was wounded and hungry, which shouldn't be possible since it was just a dream, right? Follow this story as a child finds his spo...
