Disclaimer: I don't own BNHA.

Author's Notes:

Shadow: I did not put this under the crossover category since Sakura would mostly be a non-presence of sorts, instead of an active character. She does influence Izuku at a point, but she won't really be making an appearance.

Inko worried for Izuku.

Sometimes, she'd find him staring at pictures of Hisashi with an unreadable expression. Other times, she'd find herself tongue-tied and grief hanging over her chest whenever Izuku asked about his father. A lot of those times, Inko felt horrible, that she could barely tell Izuku anything. The small flashes of regret in her son's eyes made her feel twice as miserable.

During those times, she would also see something wistful and understanding, and Inko had no idea what could possibly make Izuku feel that way. Her son would just say something about a friend (someone other than Katsuki? Those two were nearly inseparable) and drop the matter. Inko didn't push.

"Mom?" Inko paused with what she was doing (tomatoes on miso was strange, but it was surprisingly good) and turned towards Izuku. He stood over their kitchen's threshold, shuffling nervously. He must have gotten home recently - she didn't even hear him get in.

"Yes, dear?" Inko smiled gently, made sure the knife was out of reach and that her all of her attention was on her son.

Izuku seemed to mull over his words, swallowing audibly before speaking. "Kaachan got hurt while we were playing - he fell between two… um...small cliffs? He broke his arm…."

"Oh my, did you get -"

"He's okay now!" Izuku cut in, looking up apologetically. "I… I made it better? Um, there's this green light and then it fixed his arm."

"Oh - your quirk! I -" Inko paused. Wait, didn't Izuku already find out what it was a week ago?

"Yeah, rather strange, ne?" In his eyes, Inko saw guilt and regret, and could not comprehend why. She remained silent, could see the words trapped beneath her son's tongue, but could not let it out. She had never felt so out of her depth in that moment.

Izuku was a sweet and cheery child, and in Inko's weaker moments, she was happy that he wasn't as explosive or as moody as Katsuki. He always seemed to know what he wanted, but he was strangely understanding and would not push if it was impossible. Barring his need to know and connect with his late father, Inko had thanked her gods that he was far mature than she expected him to be.

Even then, she would have done anything to keep him happy.

At times like these that she felt like she was floundering for an answer, unsure how to approach Izuku whenever he was in one of his more sombre moods. Should she push him to talk to her? Let him approach her? Remain supportive? The last was a given, but Izuku shouldn't be worried about things beyond his control and should simply enjoy life.

However, that doesn't mean Inko shouldn't try.

She knelt until she was at eye level with Izuku, placing a gentle hand around his shoulder. "Is everything alright?"

Izuku averted his eyes, shifting at his feet. "Yeah, everything's ok mom."

She tried not to let her disappointment show. Izuku needed support, not judgement. "It's ok if you don't want to talk about it now, but always know that I will always be there for you. Okay?"

"Okay," Izuku echoed, almost shyly. The guilt was still there and doubled, and Inko wanted to pull her son into a tight and never let go. She wished she knew and understood everything that went inside Izuku's head, and the days whenever she felt what she was doing was enough felt farther away.

"Oh, Izuku, what have I done to deserve you?" Izuku's breath hitched, and unbidden tears began to spring in his eyes. "Izuku, oh no, I'm so sorry I – "

"It's alright mom, I'm just so happy I have you, s'all."

She had no words, nothing to say to that, so she did what she knew she could do. She pulled Izuku in a tight embrace, trying to convey all her love and affection and support. She had no idea how to help Izuku, she didn't even know what it was all about.

They stayed like that for a while, and Inko didn't really want to let go. In that moment, she hoped that Izuku felt all her love and protection, that everything was going to be fine and that he will always be safe with her no matter what.

"Thanks, mom." Izuku was the first to pull away, sniffling and trying to wipe the tears and snot with the back of his hand. "I… thank you so much. You mean a lot to me and I love you."

"Oh, Izu-chan," her son looked embarrassed at his nickname, and Inko couldn't stop the amused giggle. "I love you too. Come help your mom make dinner."

Her son nodded, and most of his tears had stopped. He was beaming already, and the heaviness in Inko's chest lifted a little.

True, Izuku was a little strange compared to most boys his age.

There were times that he seemed easily bought to tears, and it pained Inko to see him suppressing tears whenever it happened. It couldn't be healthy bottling up all those emotions and trying to bury them under a brave face, and there was nothing wrong with crying at all.

She had a very good guess why her son almost always looked to be on the verge of tears, but Izuku was surprisingly tight lipped about the matter. She can only look at him helplessly whenever she tried to pry. She didn't want to raise her voice when Izuku's tone brokered no argument. He was just four, he shouldn't sound like his spine was tempered with steel.

Except there were times that she'd find Izuku looking so lost, like he couldn't believe the world around him. Couldn't believe himself, would stare for hours at mirrors, seemingly looking for a reflection that wasn't there. Sometimes, he thought Inko wasn't looking, and it was during those times that she can't do anything but watch in silence as she deliberated between talking to him or just letting him know she was there.

There were far too many times that Inko barely had a clue on what to do, but it was small steps like these that gave her the slightest bit of hope. She still had long ways to go, but in this moment, she hoped it was enough.