The Flap of a Butterfly's Wings

When The Heart Gives Out

Inko tried her best. At what, she didn't know. The days were blurring together and it was getting harder to tell left from right. She tried her best to get out of bed, and sometimes that was all she could do. There were days were she couldn't even do that, but Inko couldn't find it in herself to care. She hasn't taken a shower in a week and couldn't even remember when her last full meal was.

She was trying so hard at surviving each and every day. Inko had stopped living such a long time ago that she forgot what it felt like. Inko had worse bags under eyes than her son did. They just never seemed to go away no matter how much she slept the day away. She was always exhausted and Inko was getting so tired of it.

Inko wondered what her son looked like now. It had been a little over half a year since his kidnapping (had it really only been half a year? It felt like an eternity). She refused the thought that her son might be dead; decomposing into the ground with his skeleton being the only remains of him. That was impossible, because Inko knew her son, and she knew that Izuku was one who could spit death in the face without an ounce of fear in his tiny body.

So, no. Her son was not dead. And to help her with this belief (no, fact) she imagined what he might look like. Could he be a tad bit taller? Maybe longer hair? Inko wondered if her son would like his hair to be longer. Probably not; it would get in the way and distract him, and Izuku wasn't a big fan of distractions.

Did Izuku think of her as often as she thought him? Again, probably not. She knew that her Izu was probably also thinking of a way to get out of wherever he was.

   Was he all alone? A sick part of Inko hoped not. Hoped that there was someone else who fell into the same fate. She hoped that Izuku had someone to talk to, someone who could understand what he was going through.

   She never knew that you could miss someone so much that it caused a physical ache, and by they way she was looking more and more sick everyday, Inko doubted she would last much longer. She was way too thin. Thin enough where her hair would fall out in clumps like tangled up ribbons. Her body felt weaker and she no longer had an appetite; not that she even had any food on her fridge. The money for the investigation had took up most of her savings.

   Inko wondered what her son, her baby, would think of her now. He would probably be so worried and tell her to take better care of herself, but how can she do that when her whole life was ripped away from her?!

   Inko lasted nine months without her son. She thought she could've lasted longer than that. Longer to finally see her son again, but life wasn't having it.

   Inko had a heart of attack because of the lack of care towards her body. By the time the paramedics got there, it was already too late. Inko was dead and nothing could change that. For a mother's heart is always stronger when the love of her life is by her side.

   Her funeral was a week later. The clouds along with the Bakugou's (the only ones who truly knew her) had cried for her that day. They wished they could've been there for her more, but they can't bring back the dead. No one can.

   They promised her that they would take care of her son once he returns. That was the least they could do. A part of them (all of them) needed to do this. Not just for Inko, but for Izuku as well. Izuku is a part of his mother, as was Izuku a part of Inko. Izuku was the last remanent of Mirodyia Inko. The Bakugou's needed Inko's memorie to stay alive. They couldn't loose him no matter what.

   Inko was swallowed up by sadness and never found an escape, but the Bakugou's hoped that they could help Izuku escape that fate.

   For a heart can only beat so long in the sound of sorrow before it gives out.