Please, Hold On My Love!

Finding her baby

Inko rushed through the front door, bags of shopping in her hands. Her sweet Izuku should have been home by this time, yet the house was quiet, not a sound to be heard.

She crept down the hallway, calling out his name. Bustling past the bathroom, she burst into his room, hoping he was just sleeping on his bed. He had been acting so down recently, so she had decided to buy him his favourite cake. It wasn't the same as making it, but she assumed he would rather eat it than wait any longer. Inko had wanted to have a movie night in, maybe even keep Izuku off school for a little while until she figured out what was wrong. 

Now, Midoriya Inko was not stupid. She preferred not to be called it, but sometimes she could be oblivious. But even she knew that Bakugou was the sole cause of Izuku's problems.

She wished she had explained it better when he was younger, or said something besides 'I'm sorry'. Her shame at herself at that moment was always lurking in the back of her mind. When Bakugou had stopped coming over, she had been worried for Izuku, because at the start, Bakugou had accepted him for what he was. Quirkless. But a few months later, that had changed. There were no sleepovers, no birthday party invites, no play dates outside of school. Inko had gone almost grey with worry, ringing up Mitsuki, wondering what the hell was going on. The other mother didn't know what was going on, only believing they had grown apart. Inko accepted that for a bit… until the bruises started.

The Midoriya's were not rich, barely scraping by. They couldn't move, since the price of apartments had gone up in recent years, and a public school close by was the only option for Izuku's education. As soon as Inko had noticed them, she tried to get Izuku to confess to her that Bakugou was doing it. She could tell by the crackled and burnt skin on her boy that it was his fault. Ringing Mitsuki had proved futile, only worsening Katsuki's behaviour the next day.

Izuku had begun to have panic attacks a few months later when they would have to go over to the Bakugou's house for dinner dates. Inko stopped them. For him, she would do anything. She never told Izuku she had been the one to refuse to go, instead saying Mitsuki was too busy to do them because of her designing business. 

She had thought it had gotten better over the next few years, always trying to check him for marks left on his skin. But he had only become better at hiding them. And that hurt her. 

She couldn't even help him.

Shaking her head, Inko pulled the covers off of Izuku's bed. It was empty and she sighed, leaving the room. She sprinted down the hallway, almost missing the note taped to the bathroom door. 

Ripping it off, her breath caught in her throat as she skimmed over the words, small teardrops escaping her. Sobs burst forth, her hand grasping the handle and swinging the door open for her eyes to view the damage she knew would be waiting inside.

A scream ripped itself from her throat, sobs shakin her body, weakening her bones. She slid to the floor, absently hearing knocking against the door, banging, a voice begging her to open it.

Inko hoisted herself up slightly, slipping on the wet floor as she crawled towards the bath, red water sloshing over the top.

Her Izuku lay there, coated in red, surrounded by it. Her lungs wouldn't take anything in, her breathing erratic. He sat in the bathtub, only his head and shoulders visible. Even his face was coated in the sickening red painted on him.

Tears streamed from her eyes, her fingers grasping his limp body. The note had been stuffed into her pocket, her focus on lifting Izuku from the water. 

He was so small, so young and fragile. 

Why had she not done something? Anything?

Her baby had been hurting and yet she had done nothing to help.