Chapter 3: The Changes
"So is a jetpack even a possible invention?"
Izuku taps at his mouth with his pencil as he looks down at a new sketchbook, the question from one of the other kids in the children's ward making him pause. The sketchbook is already filled with new blueprint ideas, albeit ugly as all get out since he wasn't originally left handed.
Beside him on his right is a group of kids that liked watching him work and asking questions. Kyou, Yasu, and Shun had always been part of it until Yasu was released. Then it was Kyou and Shun who were always there. To his left sat one of the volunteers Izuku had grown accustomed to seeing, a man with a wide, toothy mouth, short hair, glasses, and prosthetic legs. He came in often to volunteer all over the hospital, wanting to show that you could succeed even with prosthetics and injuries, and had introduced himself as Kuroun.
Izuku liked him a lot. He was kind to all the kids and never treated them with pity. An added bonus was that he was apparent whiz at math and had taken an interest to Izuku when he'd begun trying to revisit his love for science and building. That, having an adult invested in it as much as all the other kids, who sat and could help him do calculations and offer logical suggestions, had made it all the easier to finally get back into his groove.
Now Izuku has crawled up into a hospital bed, which was comfier on his back for his extended visits to the children's ward, and Kuroun sat in a chair beside it to his left, one of Izuku's new notebooks and a pencil in his hand, smiling fondly. This wasn't uncommon. While Izuku scribbled and sketched, Kuroun would help and write down some of his ideas, and the other kids', no matter how ridiculous. He would add in his own thoughts on a few of them, maybe some possible solutions, and by this point the notebook was just as full with his handwriting as it was Izuku's.
"In the past, maybe not. We're talking a small device on your back capable of lifted a variety of weights with ease and propelling us around without the use of stabilizers or causing any kinds of damage. They had some where you had to jump out of a plane first, but that defeats the purpose and they were expensive," Izuku finally supplies then goes back to trying to sketch what appears to be some kind of robotic spine. It looks terrible, and the notes he's written coming off of it are ugly and really aren't as scientific as he'd like, but he figures he could start high and work down.
"But what about nooooow??" Kyou whines, leaning forward to look directly into Izuku's eye, drawing his attention away from his blueprints. Izuku pouts and reaches up to push him away.
Two months he had been in the hospital. Two months of recovering and visiting the children's ward. He had learned the best way to deal with a lot of the kids still here. He had been able to offer his own comfort when a new child came in. He had been able to recover and nourish his love for invention and had already filled five new notebooks with ideas, some a little too ambitious. He had begun some physical therapy and had been fitted for a prosthetic, which he should get in soon. He was doing better. A Lot better.
He still wasn't entirely okay, though. He had his bad days more often than not. He'd wake from nightmares wailing and crying, either his mother or nurse Sunny soon rushing to his side to calm him down. He would feel horrible screams of pain some days that left him in bed, motionless and wallowing. He felt sometimes the ache of an arm that wasn't there anymore.
Some days he woke up and the world just felt grey and bland and his energy would be sapped and gone. Those days he wasn't entirely aware of everything around him, but for the most part he was left alone, with someone always in the room, until he was ready to talk. Usually it was his mother, but on an occasion or two he ended up confiding in Sunny or Dr. Kenta.
"Well, now there are quirks that utilize abilities we could not previously comprehend or make or anything!" Izuku says a bit hopefully as he gets back to sketching. Today was a good day, however, and he was full of energy and ideas.
Today was the day he finally got to leave the hospital and go home. It was a little bittersweet, because despite how much he wanted to leave and get back into the groove of normal life, he also was going to miss all the doctors, nurses, volunteers, and kids here at the hospital. They had been such a huge help for him in handling the changes in his life and had been nothing but inspiring and encouraging.
"But… we don't have quirks?" says Shun sheepishly, hands curling in his lap as he says it and the majority of the kids present take on an uncertain expression. It was true, the majority of the kids here were also quirkless, mostly present due to a lack of protective abilities or, in the few and awful cases, hurt purely because of the confines of their birth.
Izuku hesitates in his own sketching, staring at the blueprint for a long while, before looking up at Shun, his eye intense. "Yes, but don't you think we should be able to work side by side with those with quirks to create the most successful solutions?" Izuku had had plenty of time in his silent moments to think about his quirklessness. It had been devastating when he was four and the doctor had said he was just physically incapable of having a quirk. Sometimes it still felt that way, but over time, as he read and built and researched, he had begun to realize something. A fatal flaw with quirks.
"When you don't have a quirk, you don't have as many expectations. Some people just stop, think that this means that they have no future, but I think that just means that our future is all the more open to our molding," Izuku nods to himself, certain of what he's saying, then looks around at the confused expressions around him, smiling big and toothy. "When you have a quirk people assume what you'll be because of it, right? If you don't become aware of that what you can become a slave to those expectations, thusly limiting your imagination. You don't have that issue if you don't have a quirk." Somehow Izuku's grin grows even bigger. He doesn't seem to notice the baffled looks of the children and volunteers and nurses around him, too wrapped up in his own excited explanation. "When you're quirkless the possibilities are endless!!" Izuku throws out his arm, pencil going flying by mistake.
The clatter of his writing utensil hitting the floor seems to jar him out of his spiel and he startles, shrinking in and eye widening in surprise at himself. He looks around at the gawking faces of children. Behind them are a few nurses and volunteers, mostly surprised as well, but he can see a few sad, sympathetic expressions in the crowd. Those shoot a pang of something nasty through his heart and he shrinks even more, ducking his head.
The silence is deafening. He had been so excited, so eager to share his thoughts with people that were in a similar place to him, he hadn't even thought to control himself. He had never really been good at reading the room, but this was a new low.
That is until Kyou calls, "I don't know what you said half of the time… but I liked it!" And like that the room erupts into excited laughter and yells of, "I can do anything!" and "My world is limitless!" and things to that affect. Izuku looks up and around as the other kids run around the room, laughing and loud and full of energy. He's surprised by the response but doesn't have a moment to fully comprehend the meaning behind it all when his pencil appears in his view. He takes it carefully and looks up to a pleasantly smiling Kuroun.
"That's a nice way of looking at things. The world would do better if more people thought like that," he says, his voice having a tiny bit of a hiss on the edges. Suddenly Izuku feels defensive instead of relieved, however.
"It isn't just a way of thinking. It is a scientific theory based on professional and personal observation and facts," he says as firmly as a six-year-old can, thinking Kuroun's being pitying towards him, but Kuroun just keeps smiling.
"I understand, but that does not mean people think that way, even if it is scientifically sound. People are complex. Society is complex," the volunteer agrees, nodding, and Izuku's raised hackles shrink and he wipes at the frustrated tears that had begun to form in his eye, now his full, excited attention on the man with the two prosthetic legs.
"But… you know what I mean, right?" he asks eagerly, beginning to bounce up and down.
Kuroun looks down and rubs at his chin, thoughtful. "I believe so. You are saying if someone were born, say, with a super strength quirk society would tell them they are best fit for hero work, therefore influencing their desires, while someone who is quirkless will not have those influences and can therefore make their own, entirely personal decision on their futures. Correct?"
Izuku nods vigorously and he's so happy sharp head movements don't hurt his face anymore, but then he pauses. The way Kuroun worded it was so much better than Izuku's, but in turn it also brought up one issue in his theory. "But we do have influencers…" he mumbles, looking down at his hand. People, mostly kids, always told him he was worthless and couldn't amount to anything. Even the adults, in their pitying and disgusted gazes, said it. Quirkless kids did have influencers, just not positive ones.
"Society is complex," Kuroun repeats, now sounding solemn, "and sometimes society is wrong."
Before the two can talk much more about philosophy and the state of the world in accordance to quirks and quirkless – because what else could be more normal than a grown man and a six-year-old doing that? – Sunny appears in the doorway and catches his eye. She looks apologetic for her as she enters and comes over, hands on her hips.
"It's time to go," she says simply and suddenly a wave of emotion overtakes Izuku. This was the last time he would get to be here in the children's ward and his time was now up. He had been having so much fun, high on excitement at being around them all, and now it was time to say good-bye once and for all.
Some of the nearby kids hear and spread the news like a wave and soon the room has quieted down and everyone is rushing back towards Izuku. For a while they just stare up at him, lost and sad, Izuku staring back with a similar expression, until Kyou calls out, "We're gonna miss you, Midoriya!!" The other kids take that as cue to begin calling out as well, wishing him luck and good-bye.
Izuku tries to remember how upset he and everyone had been when they wished Yasu, or any of their friends, away and he tries to stay strong for them, but it doesn't last and soon he's a crying mess along with them, tears streaking down the one side of his face.
At some point Sunny has to intervene to get them moving, being gentle with the kids despite her grouchy expression, and gently helps Izuku down and into his wheelchair. He was a lot better at standing for a bit now, but it helped to have someone nearby to help.
He calls back good-byes of his own as he's wheeled out and is still crying when he sees his mother down the hall, who comes rushing over immediately. She wraps him in a hug instantly, telling him how good he is and just trying to calm him down until Sunny reaches over and lays a hand on Inko's shoulder. They make eye contact and Sunny smirks.
"He's fine, just missing his new friends already," she explains and Inko nods but still doesn't let go of Izuku until he's just sniffling a little.
"You going to be okay sweetie?" Inko whispers and Izuku nods. He takes a shaking breath and nods a second time, a bit more certain.
"Yes ma'am, I just… I'm ready to go home now."
Inko smiles down at him in understanding. "I am too, Izuku. I am too."
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The first time Katsuki saw Izuku after the incident had been while he was still unconscious in the hospital bed, wrapped up like a mummy, missing and entire limb. Missing a few things, but the limb was what Katsuki had zeroed in on.
His parents had tried to deny him from coming along, but he had refused to be held back. He was going to see that nerd Deku and understand what on earth was going on.
He had fallen deathly silent when he and his parents had finally been allowed into the room. He knows his Aunt Inko had been there, of course she had been, but he doesn't remember what she looked like. Doesn't remember what anyone said. Just remembers a white noise in his ears as he stares at his childhood friend, unconscious, broken, never to be the same again.
The first thought to come to him was something along the lines of "Of course someone as worthless as him would end up like this. At least now he can't keep taunting me." His second thought isn't really a thought but more of a body crushing nausea at the fact he had even had the first thought to begin with.
He hated Deku, he thought, hated how such a worthless, quirkless kid could ever think he could amount to what Katsuki strove to be. Hated how Izuku seemed to challenge him with his very existence as they both aimed for the pro hero leagues. Hated Izuku's boundless intellect and determination and refusal to just accept he would never be a hero.
Hated how despite all this he still ended up enjoying working with Izuku on his stupid experiments. Hated how he liked the idea of Izuku building him things. Hated that he enjoyed brainstorming crazy ideas only two six-year-olds could compose with Izuku.
Katsuki was supposed to be above Izuku, everyone told him so. All of the facts told him so. It made sense. Yet no matter what happened, when Izuku actually got involved, Katsuki didn't feel so high and mighty, whether through his challenges or through his intellect, Katsuki felt like he was struggling and he HATED IT.
He had hated that moment, standing, looking at Izuku's broken body, so much more. He felt weak and useless and cruel and he couldn't yell at Izuku. Couldn't blame him. He wasn't heartless, he was just a six-year-old molded by a broken society, and while he didn't realize that fully, in that moment that was just what he felt like. Like he had no control and he wanted his childhood friend to wake up, bring him a new experiment, challenge him even, but mostly to just not be broken anymore.
He had left crying tears he hadn't realized he'd been crying, his father finally just picking him up and holding him close as they walked back out to the car, letting Katsuki shake and quietly sob.
The next time he saw Izuku was nearly three weeks later. Mitsuki had been offering Inko a lot of support, but now it was time for Katsuki to do the same for Izuku. At least, that's what his mom said he was doing. So he came over carrying folders and books from school. Make up work that he knew Izuku would be a nerd about and actually be excited to do.
That's what should have happened, anyway, but instead when Katsuki had dropped it all in Izuku's lap, forcing himself to look up at him, the green-haired boy had just stared at it numbly with his only eye. He hadn't looked excited or angry or sad. He just stared at it, and that was worse.
Katsuki kept staring at Izuku, however, until the boy finally picked up a pencil and quietly tried to work, both of their parents watching a bit behind them. Katsuki had no intention of leaving until Izuku was done, which he knew he could do quickly, even when it was multiple days work. It was work for normal elementary school kids after all and Izuku was reading stuff for high school and college. He should have no trouble.
It takes him nearly two hours and Katsuki has had to sit down by now, still watching and waiting for some kind of response, but only gets Izuku gathering up the work and then falling back against his pillows, looking exhausted instead of invigorated. The explosive boy wants to scream at him, tell him to stop acting weird. It was bad enough he was all broken and beaten up, Katsuki didn't want him acting weird too.
No words come out. Instead Masaru gathers up the schoolwork and his son and they leave. Katsuki feels angrier and sicker than ever before, but he does not cry. He refuses to cry.
He doesn't visit Izuku in the hospital again. Too upsetting, his father determined, and Katsuki didn't agree with the reason, but he didn't fight with the solution. Not this time. Because he didn't like seeing Izuku like he was. Like he… wasn't Izuku. He was still kept in the loop, however, which is why he knows to be prepared for Izuku when he comes over to his house a few days after his release from the hospital.
Katsuki stands by his father, refuses to hide behind his leg, and watches as his mother helps Inko push Izuku's wheelchair into the house. Katsuki's eye catches on the empty space on Izuku's right and the black eye patch that covers half his face.
Masaru taps the back of his hand to the side of Katsuki's head and hisses down to him, "Don't stare." He was a lot gentler than Mitsuki, but when he gave an order, which was rare, Katsuki would do good to listen to him.
So he huffs and crosses his arms and looks down, mumbling, "Whatever." He didn't want to do this, but his parents had said they had to. That a lot was changing in the Midoriyas' lives and the least they could do was to offer to look after Izuku while his mother was at her new job, and wasn't that an odd thought. All his life Katsuki knew Inko to always be at her home, always available and present, and the thought of her going off to work just felt wrong.
"Katsuki, go grab Izuku and you a snack," Mitsuki orders once Izuku is fully in the house and being wheeled over towards the living room. Katsuki refuses to look over at him and turns quickly to rush to the kitchen, for once not putting up a fuss just so he can get out of there for a moment.
He takes his time when he gets to the kitchen, standing there in silence as he stares at the fridge. He doesn't want this. He doesn't want that quirkless Deku here, especially while he's being wheeled around like an invalid, broken and not complete anymore. He doesn't want to see that and he doesn't want to deal with the terrible silent treatment he'd gotten last time.
Katsuki grabs some apple slices, biting his lip hard as he takes a deep breath. What was he doing, acting like a scared baby? If Izuku wanted to wallow than that wasn't his problem. He could just deal. So he marches back out, glare intense and stubborn, and freezes at the entrance to the living room.
Inside Izuku had been brought over to the couch, but he isn't in his wheelchair. Inko is hovering nearby, looking frantic and worried, but not touching Izuku as he stands there, legs quaking miserably, and wobbling towards the couch himself. His one arm is out for balance or to catch himself if he falls and when he finally reaches his destination he forces himself to slowly get onto the cushions instead of just flopping down. Izuku is breathing heavy as he tries to compose himself but once he finally relaxes he offers up a bright smile to his mother.
Katsuki remembered his parents telling him Izuku would be able to walk again, if not as well as other people, so he was not too surprised to see his childhood friend moving around at least a little. What gets him had been the determined look on his face and the bright, proud smile when he had completed his task. Those looks were familiar and he had not been close to using them last time Katsuki had seen him.
Slowly the blond boy steps closer, peering around the parents at Izuku, trying to get a new read on him. He didn't look like he was wallowing. He looked near normal in his seat as Inko takes a few books and notebooks out from a pouch on the wheelchair and sets them in her son's lap. Wait… books and notebooks? Those didn't look like schoolwork.
Katsuki hates the sudden bloom of excitement in his chest, the one he always got when he was given a new build or experiment. He would never admit the feeling to anyone, ever. It was his secret and his alone, and by all that is holy in the world had he missed it these last two months.
"Kacchan!" Izuku calls loudly and Katsuki hasn't heard him that loud in a while, even before the accident. "I had SO many ideas in the hospital! I need you to look over some of them and tell me what you think!" And wasn't that the best way to get to Katsuki? Tell him his help was needed.
Slowly, like it hasn't been on his face in a while, Katsuki smirks and scoffs. "Of course you do, Deku! You're smart to not try anything else without MY opinion," he says smugly, ignoring the happy feeling in his chest that grows and grows as he saunters over, not noticing their parents' smiles, and hops onto the couch, setting the apple slices between them, takes the notebook Izuku offers him, and begins brainstorming.
----------
Izuku was distracting himself. He knew he was. The moment he had access to his workbench and Katsuki again he had completely filled his time with builds. He was back in school again, still in his own grade thanks to his ability to keep up with schoolwork with ease and his general intellect that the school didn't want to give up.
Izuku also once fixed their air conditioning, which had been on the fritz for years, in the span of two days, so maybe they liked having him around for stuff like that too.
Nonetheless, Izuku was distracting himself. He even tried to distract himself with his physical therapy, which was painful and awful and stressful, but it was work and the way his physicians and his mother always looked so proud afterwards made him feel accomplished. He was given exercises for home he did constantly, especially when he hit a roadblock with his builds.
Still, despite it all being good for him or made him happy, it was all just to keep him from thinking about the changes that didn't feel that big but felt like so much more.
His mother had a job, now. She described it as being something like a secretary for an immediate care medical facility, which apparently Dr. Kenta had let her know about the opening, and she was gone every single weekday from nine to six, and occasionally on Sundays as well. Izuku, in turn, unless Inko was allowed to leave early or something happened, went to the Bakugou house after school, and any Sunday Inko had to work, she would bring him to the Bakugous again.
He knew why it had to be done. His mother had explained it as gently as she could and he understood, but it still felt like his world was turning. Not the fact he was terrible at writing with one hand, not that he couldn't tell how far away things were anymore, not that he had to be wheeled around in a wheelchair – not motorized yet – most of the time, but that his mother was no longer a stay at home mom.
He knew he should feel bad for her, that she was giving up her comfy life for him, but a selfish part of him took hold. When he got out of the hospital life was supposed to go back to normal. Yeah, things would be different, and he would have to grow accustomed to so many changes with himself on a physical level, but he had just wanted things to be normal somewhere. His mother was supposed to be the consistent factor, and he knew logically that was ridiculous. She was doing everything in her power to make sure he got what he needed. But it hurt. It hurt more than he realized it would and he didn't like that it hurt. It made him feel like a bad person.
He just wanted things to be normal, though, and for some reason this didn't feel final. It felt like just one of many more things to come.
----------
Izuku got his prosthetic arm in the middle of October. He had seen all kinds of advanced versions that moved just like an actually arm and hand with only a few limiting factors, but those were expensive and difficult to craft, especially when he was still a young, growing boy.
What Izuku got was an arm-shaped, skin-colored device that had straps over his chest to hold it in place, the elbow having limited motion, and a metal, rounded hook at the end with a wrist that moved just slightly.
Izuku had been doing well in his physical therapy visits and exercises and now they would be adding practice with his new arm to the mix. With how walking was progressing and getting just a bit easier over time the arm felt like it was exponentially harder and a few times he had grown so frustrated he had taken the arm off and threw it onto a table.
Which is why he was glaring daggers at his removed prosthetic while sitting on the Bakugou's living room couch, Katsuki beside him, glaring at it too. He never thought he would be in a place where he and Katsuki would actually be angry over the same thing, if maybe for different reasons.
"It's so ugly," Katsuki comments. Izuku had been in the middle of doing a few exercises with the arm while he had been there after school, homework laid around the two boys, when he had finally just grunted in frustration and tossed it onto the coffee table.
"I hate it," Izuku grumbles back, sinking into the couch and pouting.
"We should just go ahead and upgrade it," Katsuki snaps, looking to Izuku like it was the most obvious thing on earth, not believing they hadn't already done that yet. Izuku had had the arm for nearly two weeks now, why hadn't they done anything?
"Can't," Izuku shakes his head and finally his glare falls. He could never stay truly angry for too long. Plus, crinkling his brows like that began to give him a headache over time. He wasn't sure how Katsuki managed it. "I have to get used to it first. Learn the mechanics and become familiar with them so then I can alter them and adjust them the way I want. For now I'm stuck with this thing."
Katsuki looks back at the arm, grumbles something highly inappropriate, and then sinks back into the couch as well. "It's still stupid looking."
"Yeah…" Izuku agrees dejectedly, looking at the thing. It really wasn't that bad looking. All things considered it was amazing that such a device existed, helping so many people in situations like Izuku's, but with everything going on Izuku just found everything about the prosthetic to be frustrating. Katsuki evidently wasn't far behind, but he could get angry at just about anything if given enough time.
"We should paint it."
It takes Izuku a moment to realize Katsuki said something, then another moment to put together what he said and what he means. Slowly Izuku turns his head to look at him, expression not changing as he says, deadly serious, "That is the best idea I have ever heard, ever."
Katsuki smirks widely, a dangerous and superior look in his eye. "Fuck yeah it is!"
"Please stop swearing."
"Fuck you."
----------
Inko had been feeling like her stomach was doing somersaults the last few days. She stood in the train on her way to pick up her Izuku after work, the trip long and exhausting, but she had always said it was worth it. It was worth getting the necessary finances for her baby. However, things were not turning out the way they were supposed to.
She had begun to worry around the end of September, but when Izuku had begun making leaps and bounds in his walking, and he had gone ahead and just built a motorized wheelchair himself, things had gotten a little easier. One less thing to worry about. One less thing to buy.
It hadn't lasted.
Now it was the end of October and that fear was rearing its ugly head again. In a quiet moment at her work – which really was a lovely place with wonderful coworkers, a bit of a silly boss, and the only main thing to worry about rude, impatient customers – Inko had looked over her finances and the necessary money they would need to make ends meet and… and it wasn't enough. She tried to do some math in her head and had taken a page out of her son's book and began writing down notes on some receipt paper she pulled out of the machine.
All medical finances needed to be paid and she could not give them up. Hisashi's money was helping with that now, which meant Inko had to focus more on the finances at home. Bills, groceries, that kind of thing. Perhaps she could cut down on the cable? She knew Izuku would have a cow, though, if he couldn't get to the news, the science channels, or the hero channels, but he may just have to accept that.
Inko deflated, hand curling a little tighter on the grip in the train. She didn't want to take anything else away from Izuku, though. Maybe internet? He mostly relied on books for his research, and Inko hardly used it, so that could help, but it still wasn't enough. Groceries couldn't be changed, but maybe there was a cheaper place to go?
Inko chews on her lip to keep from crying in the middle of a public space, but a few tears do flow loose. She didn't want to say it, didn't want to think it, but even if she cut back on a lot of things it wouldn't help in the long run. The biggest thing Hisashi's money had been covering, which he couldn't cover now that he was focusing mostly on medical, was what was putting Inko into a bind.
They didn't live in a fancy neighborhood, but it was by no means run down or poor. Inko swallows, tears flowing at what this meant.
There was no way they would be able to afford living where they were for much longer.
----------
When Inko showed up to the Bakugou's she was surprised to have Mitsuki answer the door looking disheveled, a little manic, and with… was that paint smears on her clothes? Oh dear.
"What happened??" Inko asked, concerned, hands coming up to cover her mouth in surprise, and Mitsuki begins to laugh something that really didn't sound sane.
"Our boys decided that it was a good idea to get paint just about everywhere in the living room, is what happened!" the tall woman says, a very obvious forced cheerfulness in her voice.
"I suggested we go outside!" Inko hears her son's voice call immediately followed by what sounds like a crash and Katsuki screeching.
"The hell, Deku?? You did not! What the fuck are you doing??"
Misuki turns around, giving Inko space to step in, if a bit nervously, and screeches back, "Bakugou Katsuki! You watch your fucking language!!"
"Whatever, old hag!"
Inko quietly closes the door behind her as Mitsuki goes marching towards the living room, a fire in her eyes. This felt so normal that it lets Inko forget the terrible realization she had had on her way over, if only for a bit. It's enough, and soon she's smiling fondly as she also makes her way to the living room.
Her smile fades as she sees the mess. The coffee table is just about covered with splatters of paint. It looks cheap, and then she sees the small paint tubes on the floor that would belong in a child's art stash. Which means it must be washable. Thank god.
Paint has dripped onto the rug beneath the table and at least it isn't on the couch, but it's close. Mitsuki is standing by the table, holding her son's ear, berating him with a raised voice that he matches. Inko had never been sure how she felt about how Mitsuki disciplined her child, but with the way he snapped back and they went back and forth it didn't feel as bad as it probably looked.
Then she sees her son, standing up on wobbly, but much steadier legs, his prosthetic strapped on, but over his shirt now. He must have taken it off and put it back on at some point. He limps as best he can over to his mother and Inko is blown away by the shear power of his smile. He hadn't smiled like that in so long. Certainly he smiled, but since the incident it just hadn't been this bright.
"Mom! Look what Kacchan did!" Izuku says and Inko frowns in confusion. Usually those words proceeded the showing of a bruise or small burn with a steady stream of tears. This time Izuku is the happiest he's been in months, raising his prosthetic to show the fleshy colored, hard surfaces are now painted in one of the most intricate and well done All Might designs Inko has ever seen.
She kneels down in front of her son, staring in baffled amazement at the prosthetic. Izuku keeps grinning as she reaches out and takes the hook-hand gently in her palm, lifting it up, turning the forearm, and looking at it from every angle. Its bright reds, blues, yellows, and whites are so All Might, and by extension so Izuku's, she's amazed she hadn't thought to do something like this before. She looks up at her son. His legs are shaking a little but he doesn't seem to care. She smiles.
"It's perfect, Izuku," she says lovingly and feels her heart fill as her son smiles even brighter, chest puffing out.
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Dinner is strained that night. Inko, once she comes down from her high of seeing her son so happy, remembers her realization previously and begins to fret. As she gets cooking she munches on a bag of chips to her side, stress eating as she considers how to break it to her son. She still isn't sure what they are going to do, but she knows Izuku wouldn't appreciate being in the dark until the last minute. He would probably figure out there was an issue on his own in the meantime anyway.
She knows that the best way to address her son is with honesty and respect. That was what he needed, what he deserved, but Inko fretted over the best way to get the conversation started.
So dinner was mostly quiet as they ate, Izuku actually trying to maneuver his now All Might themed prosthetic with hardly any mumbled complaints. He still had some work to do figuring it out, but he was a persistent boy, if seeing how he had improved his walking so quickly said anything. Inko eats quickly, her nerves getting the best of her.
It turns out she need not worry about how to start the conversation because her son was one step ahead of her. "Mom? Is everything okay?" he mumbles and Inko looks up. She hadn't realized she'd ducked her head and now she sees her son's worried expression. He had probably been watching her for a while now. He wasn't the most observant of boys when it came to the atmosphere, no, but anyone could tell how distressed Inko was in that moment.
The small woman opens her mouth the say everything is fine on reflex, but quickly snaps it closed when she realizes she shouldn't do that. She instead takes a deep breath and raises a hand to rub at her eyes. She felt so exhausted all of a sudden.
"You don't have anything you need to worry about, sweetie, it's just…" Inko pauses, trying to think of the best way to put this. She had been thinking all day about her words, yet still it was a strain to pull the right ones out. "There are probably going to be a few more changes in our lives, soon, I'm afraid," she finally admits and she's proud at how steady her voice comes out, even if her very soul is shaking.
"W-what?" Izuku's eye turns panicked immediately, wide and fearful, and Inko hates herself for being the reason that expression is there and she is up and rushing over to her son in a blink, wrapping him up in a hug.
"No, sweetie, it's okay, it's nothing bad," she assures frantically, tears beginning to form in her eyes, "It'll just be… different."
"B-b-but…" Izuku says into her shirt and she can feel the tears soaking in there, can feel him shaking. What he says next, however, has her heart shattering. "Everything is already different!" He spits out the word "different" like it's a poison and she can't blame him. Not after everything. "E-e-everyone at school is e-either too nice or too mean. I can't write normal anymore. I h-have to get around in a w-wheelchair most of the time," he lists off in a blur of words, frantic and upset and his voice breaking. "And n-now you have to w-work b-b-because of me and I bet this will be b-because of me too!"
Inko freezes in shock, looking down at the top of her son's head, her own tears grinding to a halt. Slowly, carefully slowly, she pushes Izuku back by his shoulders then kneels down to now look up at him in his dining chair. "Izuku… You don't believe this is your fault, do you?" Izuku looks away, tears streaming down the right side of his face, lip quivering.
Inko stares at him, mouth slightly hanging open as if stuck on a word she hasn't said, then reaches up to lay her hand on her son's left cheek, the side that has the thick, black eye patch resting above it, covering up the healed, but empty, socket. Izuku flinches but Inko is stubborn now and keeps her hand there, gentle and loving, until Izuku looks down at her.
"Izuku, sweetie, none of this is your fault," Inko whispers into the fragile air and Izuku wheezes on a sob, closing his eye.
"Yes it is—"
"No. It isn't," Inko says sharply, her expression hard, and Izuku looks at her in surprise. "It was not your fault that someone else did those bad things, that there was a villain in a place you knew to be safe. You are not at fault for any of this." Inko looks over her son, at the eye patch, the prosthetic, his back and legs. "A bad thing happened to you, out of your control, and honestly… If you hadn't been there…" Inko hesitates, not sure if she should say this. "If you hadn't been there to help Hatsume-chan, she may not have made it out at all."
Inko looks her son in the eye, intense and sure of herself now. "You were a hero, Izuku."
Izuku hiccups and begins crying again, but now just to let everything out. He scoots out of his seat and joins his mother on the ground, where he hugs her tightly and weeps. She cries as well, holding her son tightly. Everything was going to be okay, even if it was different, because they had each other and nothing could take that away.
----------
Meichine: that is really far away
AllRightAllMight01001001: I know.
Izuku sat in the computer room, staring sadly at the chatroom in front of him. He hadn't seen much of the Hatsumes since the incident, but he had at least managed to get Mei's contact information so they could chat when they had the chance. It was probably better this way, anyway. He knew they didn't mean to be rude, but whenever he saw them they were always staring and avoiding. It didn't make him feel any better, to say the least.
It was the middle of November and Inko had finally approached Izuku, eyes sad, with the information on their future apartment. It had taken a lot of research and planning, Izuku helping out a lot with the numbers, but they finally were able to narrow down their choices.
It wasn't ideal, and Izuku had cried along with his mother, but it would work. They weren't planning on moving out, either, until after Izuku finished this grade, so they had a little time. They would just be without cable – Izuku had nearly thrown his first ever temper tantrum when he found out about it but he had swallowed the desire down as best he could and just cried – and food would have to be a tiny bit more bland, but it would be okay.
AllRightAllMight01001001: I don't want to leave, but I have to.
AllRightAllMight01001001: We can't afford to stay where we are.
AllRightAllMight01001001: And didn't your mom say the scrapyard she uses is actually pretty close to it?
Meichine: so what that doesnt matter
Meichine: lemme sell some of my babies I bet I could get you more money
AllRightAllMight01001001: We both know you would never do that.
AllRightAllMight01001001: Who would ever sell their babies, anyway? So cruel.
AllRightAllMight01001001: You're a bad mother.
Meichine: you hush I need my rival to stay nearby so I can keep tabs on him
Meichine: why don't you sell some of your stuff then
Meichine: ???
Izuku looks away from the computer to look around the room. He had a few builds connected to the computer, helping it run better, and a few useless prototypes sitting on the shelf his mother had said were amazing and had wanted to show off.
He had thought about that, had thought of doing that long before the incident as well, thinking maybe to make money for other builds, but something about it felt wrong.
Not to take Mei's word, but these were his babies. They, he and Mei, built entirely different things, hers more crude and chunky, Izuku a bit more refined, but their builds meant so much to them, they couldn't just sell them. And it wasn't like they could get jobs building or fixing things, they were only six, and while the fantasy of providing money for his mother and helping her out sounded so good in his head, he knew he, and Mei, were in no place to do so. The plan was set and they would just have to deal.
AllRightAllMight01001001: I'm a good father. I would never sell MY babies.
Izuku smiles despite himself. He lowers his hand from typing. It takes him a while to type now with only one hand, but he is finally in the process of improving his cruddy prosthetic that, hopefully, he will be able to use it in more intricate tasks soon.
Nowadays his fake arm still has the same bicep and forearm pieces, painted with more permanent paint now to keep the All Might theme, but the hook is gone. Instead he has two finger-like extensions and a thumb. It still works off of how he flexes and moves his muscles, but he has begun to get a lot better using it. He can grip handles now, even utensils if he's really careful, and he has begun moving it a bit more like an arm like Kyou had done with his own back in the children's ward, but it has a long way to go until it gets to some of Izuku's more detailed arm plans.
The computer dings and Izuku looks up, but it isn't from Mei. He has another chatroom open as well. Another one he had sent a link to on his new apartment information.
KingKill: The hell???
AllRightAllMight01001001: That's where mom and me are going to go to after this school year is up.
There is a long pause. Katsuki was always terrible at chatrooms. Izuku and Mei sass each other back and forth while he waits, then goes back when he suddenly hears a long series of dings, one right after the other.
KingKill: F
KingKill: U
KingKill: C
KingKill: K
KingKill: N
KingKill: O
AllRightAllMight01001001: We don't have a choice, Kacchan.
KingKill: Don't care, it's stupid.
AllRightAllMight01001001: It's logical.
KingKill: HOW IS THAT LOGICAL??
KingKill: Who's gonna look after you when your mom is working??
AllRightAllMight01001001: With some of the money we're saving we will be able to hire someone from the doctors to basically play nanny.
KingKill: AND YOU WANT THAT???
AllRightAllMight01001001: Or course not!
AllRightAllMight01001001: It is the best we can do, though.
KingKill: BULLSHIT! Just ask my shitty parents! They'd bend over fucking backwards for you and your mom!
AllRightAllMight01001001: Do you really think my mother and I living at your house would actually work out? Really?
There is a long period where Katsuki doesn't answer, longer than usual, and Izuku knows that's a sign he's probably fuming about being faced with logic that beats his temper tantrum. Izuku and Mei sass back and forth again as he waits for Katsuki to come back and continue.
KingKill: Okay, FINE, then how do you intend to make it to school on time from there?? You can't walk from there! Stupid Deku!
Ah, there it was. The part Izuku had really been dreading. The new location was far away. A lot farther than they had really wanted, but it was a doable price, was two levels with the first level plenty easy to manage in a wheelchair, had room for two people, and was closer to Inko's work and Izuku's physical therapists as well. It was perfect for their situation, except they knew there would be things they would have to sacrifice.
AllRightAllMight01001001: I won't be going to the same school after I move.
The silence this time is painful and Izuku can't even find it in himself to play back and forth with Mei as he waits this time. He just stares at his and Katsuki's chat, waiting.
Finally a ding.
KingKill: What?
Izuku hated that he couldn't hear tone of voice through chat, so in his panic he does what he does best. He rambles.
AllRightAllMight01001001: The school district is different where I will be going.
AllRightAllMight01001001: And the school will also be cheaper, which helps out a lot.
AllRightAllMight01001001: But it would still be possible to travel between our homes on weekends. Our parents would probably have to come with us, though.
AllRightAllMight01001001: The new apartment has a bit of a courtyard, too. The building is a big circle and the balconies and porches go out to it.
AllRightAllMight01001001: So we can do a lot more experiments out there now.
AllRightAllMight01001001: We just won't see each other every weekday anymore.
AllRightAllMight01001001: But we can keep chatting like we are now.
Izuku is in the middle of typing the next line, eye wide and tears beginning to form, when there's a ding and he snaps his head up, looking for the message.
KingKill has gone offline.
----------
It's awkward at the Bakugou household for a while. Despite the strain now on the two young boys, Izuku still goes there for after school supervision. Katsuki won't talk to him, will hardly look at him, so Izuku dejectedly does his homework in silence and sometimes even alone. There are no experiments, but Izuku does at least sketch out a few new ideas and blueprints. A few times he finds himself in with his auntie or uncle, just trying to find company, but also mildly interested.
He and Mitsuki have become fervent fans of a soap opera she is always watching, both being quite vocal whenever something foolish or surprising happens. Izuku refuses to admit this to anyone but Mitsuki has no shame and immediately tells his mother. It's embarrassing.
He and Masaru don't do anything like that, nothing nearly as loud and vocal, Izuku just likes to watch him sketch out fashion ideas at his drawing table. He even gave Izuku some professional drawing paper at one point, with a sketched out model on it, and let him try to design anything he wanted, giving Izuku pointers whenever he asked. It had been fun, even though Izuku's All Might dress ended up looking positively dreadful.
It was hardly the same though. Certainly he had found he enjoyed being around the Bakugou parents, Katsuki was meant to be his friend in this. Or something like a friend. He still wasn't sure, even after all this. Katsuki was still distant and sometimes cruel to him at school, after all.
It wasn't until early December that they spoke again. There was no build up, no preparation or awkward beginnings, it was just Katsuki apparently deciding he was done with his silent treatment and approaching him, snapping, "So how big is this courtyard, anyway, huh?"
Izuku had grinned brightly, to which Katsuki had told him to stop since he was still grouchy and not happy but they were talking and that was what mattered.
The restart of their tedious friendship was also the beginning of the end of their parents' sanity. They had until March before Izuku would leave and their meet ups would very quickly dwindle. Four months. So they went into overdrive, planning, building, and experimenting with all of their might. Some of Izuku's builds were already scattered around the Bakugou household, but suddenly they just about littered the place as badly as they did Izuku's own home. Experiments, prototypes, failures, and a few successes covered the living room, the front porch, the backyard, and Katsuki's room.
Hatsume Āto had indeed told Izuku that his new apartment would be a lot closer to the scrapyard she went to – and that the woman who owned it had a daughter about his age, which she had added on with a wink and a loud cackle – but for now she was back to bringing Izuku a steady supply. Usually she dropped them off at his apartment or Inko would run out to grab it as quickly as she could on weekends.
Now Izuku brought the majority of the scrap metal here to the Bakugou's so he and Katsuki could build and immediately test and make necessary adjustments. When March finally comes around, and Izuku and Katsuki are forced to finally clean the house, they have successfully built a series of inventions.
Katsuki's Firework Flasher gauntlets get upgraded to hold more chemicals and resist more of his explosions.
Katsuki also suggested, and got, gloves that magnified his explosions and gave his wrists more support. He had realized very early on in his quirk usage that overuse made his hands and wrists hurt something fierce.
They built a little rover-like bot that would roll around and bring them tools or snacks, mostly just built for when they didn't want to get off the couch.
Izuku, when he got frustrated trying to get research since he had more difficulty getting to books now, went ahead and built himself a laptop. It wasn't the best, and he knew that, but he didn't need it to be. He just needed access to the internet more quickly.
Izuku made thank you gifts for the Bakugou parents too, Misuki getting a ring that had a holographic display along its length that she could use to set alerts and reminders, which she mostly used for her shows, and Masaru getting a mechanical pencil that, through chemical fusions and alterations in its grip, could change between red, blue, and grey, making his starting sketches easier.
The three biggest builds, however, were the ones that took up most of their time. Izuku had made all kinds of plans and blueprints while in the hospital, and while they did vary, his focus had been on something more hopeful. He hadn't told anyone yet, but he still intended to be a hero, which would be so much harder now with his handicaps on top of being quirkless. It wasn't going to stop him.
So when Izuku is taking his inventions back home from the Bakugou's one day in March, letting Katsuki at least keep the Firework Flashers – the gloves still needed a lot more work – the day of his departure on the horizon, in the largest of his bags sat prototypes of an arm, an eye, and a spine.