Midoriya Inko was a nice, normal, good...well, average mother. Or so she told herself. Truthfully, she still wasn't sure whether she ever would forgive herself for crying on her son's shoulder, that one fateful day he was four and begging her to tell him 'yes' instead of 'no' like the rest of the world. But years have passed since then, years, since he used to crawl home from school with a set of hunched shoulders and a smile that didn't quite cover up the look in his eyes. Years, since the only noise in his room was the scratch of his pen, rather than the chatter of friends, the way it once was, before her genetics failed him, skipped over him completely, and left his toe-bone un-fused.

...and now the months following on since then, when Izuku was gone, living away from her, and her better judgement, inside a dorm she still couldn't quite trust to keep him safe. And she was even more conflicted than before. Because UA had failed Izuku several times – she would never forget that, and the overwhelming silence from the one room in the house that she cleaned for nobody but herself, All Might lampshade and all, was a constant reminder.

But Izuku smiled now, since attending UA, in a way he didn't used to. He walked with a little more confidence to his step. And he still made time for her, every week, coming round for dinner whenever he wasn't hooked up in the drama of studying.

'What are you fretting over this time?' She had asked him once, her voice caught in a near laugh as he created a mountain of rice within his bowl, chopsticks skittering over its sides nervously instead of picking it apart.

'H-how to evade a bomb blast,' he muttered, eyes averted from her own. '...while carrying citizens to safety!' he added seconds later, as though that made it all better and her heart hadn't given a painful twinge. She didn't know what sort of expression she was making, but whatever it was caused him to keep on chattering nervously. 'No, no, it's really interesting, it's all about which vital spots are the most important to cover if you run out of time, and which position is the best way to hold them so you don't add any unnecessary pressure on the spine, so really, it's all about ensuring safety!' He had looked at her eagerly for approval.

She swallowed. 'That's...good,' she forced herself to say. 'And if it helps you save lives, I can understand why you're so eager to learn it! But, maybe you should finish up your rice first,' she added with a smile, 'before it gets cold? I imagine it won't be much fun studying after digesting that.'

He had blushed and hastily taken a large bite that he had almost choked on. And Inko had resolved to herself to be more tactful with her questions. Or at least more cautious.

But all that, of course, flew right out the window, the day her son came in and announced that he was dating Bakugo Katsuki and if it was okay to bring him round for dinner next week, please.

Inko dropped the dusting cloth she had been holding. It landed on the carpet with barely a sound, making more of a soft muffling flop; but Izuku tensed as though she had cracked a load of china across the floor.

'What?' she found herself asking shrilly. And turned to look him straight in the face. He flinched. 'Um...can you repeat that, sweetie?' she asked in a much gentler tone. 'I-I think I misheard you and jumped to conclusions.'

Izuku took a breath. Squared his shoulders. And looked her full in the eye. And all that confidence he had recently been building? Was suddenly a little scary, when it was focused solely on her.

'Mom,' he said. 'I don't think you misheard me. I said I'm in a relationship with Bakugo Katsuki-'

- No, thought Inko wildly, you said you were 'dating Kacchan,' I heard you the first time, why are you suddenly getting all formal with me now, stop it, it's scary, you're my little Izuku –

-'and I'd like it, I mean we would both appreciate, if you wouldn't mind having us both round for dinner next Wednesday.' He stumbled over that last sentence a little and grinned wryly afterwards at her. She was reminded suddenly of the way he used to smile up at her shyly, eyes bashfully staring up from between his fringe when he had dropped his beaker as a little boy. He had a similar look on him now, only he was much closer to her eye level. Above it, even. It was strange.

'I...' Her throat worked loosely for a couple of seconds. She bent down to pick up the dusting cloth to give her time to think. '...What sort of food does he like?' she found herself asking.

Izuku blanched. 'Err...spicy things...really spicy.' He paused. 'You know what? Just make what you usually do,' he said slowly, the thought emerging from him ponderously. 'He'll still eat it.'

There was a sort of 'he'll just have to tolerate it' bite to Izuku's voice that Inko firmly approved of.

'I,' she paused. Then, like she didn't want to startle a rabbit, she approached Izuku and ruffled her hand through his hair. 'I'm going to be blunt, Izuku,' she said. 'And I'm sorry if what I'm saying sounds ignorant but...you always seemed to get nervous around girls and stammer quite a lot so I assumed...' she paused again, noticing the nervousness in his eyes. 'Are you gay?' she asked quietly. 'Or bisexual? Or –' and there she swallowed. 'Is it just Katsuki?'

Why Katsuki? She wanted to ask. Why, why, why him? Why not any other boy on the planet, a nice one, who didn't leave you in tears when you were five, who didn't scorch the shoulder of your middle school uniform...you think I didn't notice, but I did, Izuku, I did.

Maybe some of this internal screaming was reflected in her eyes. Because Izuku smiled like some knowing adult, and took her hand, bringing it down from his fringe. 'Just Kacchan,' he said simply. 'It's always been just Kacchan for a lot of things.' Then he blushed. 'Sorry, that sounds weird and I'm not sure I'm answering your question properly...'

He stared at her firmly. 'But UA has been good for Kacchan. He's...changed. He's still rude and you don't have to like him, Mom.' But then he gave her a beseeching look, the kind she had never been able to say 'no' to. 'But I want you to try.'

Izuku, it turned out, was not the only Midoriya who could not turn away from such an obvious plea for help. So Inko smiled and patted his hand, and said she would be glad to have them both over.

Inko spend the next few days in a haze. A haze consisting of her constantly dropping things and shaking and shivering at every step she took across the kitchen. Just entering the room reminded her of the countdown to Wednesday, where she would expected to cook food for the boy that had...that had...

With a surge of despair, she jerked out of her haze, fumbled her way to the nearest chair and put her head in her hands. Perhaps it was naive of her, but she had always expected Izuku to come home one day with a nice girl, someone from his hero course maybe, who would be all too happy to chat with him for hours about all the dangerous aspects of their work that Inko liked to pretend didn't exist whenever she got to spend any amount of quality time with her son.

She tried to picture Katsuki chattering excitedly with her Izuku about such things, or even talking to Izuku without a sneer on his face...and couldn't do it. She growled, a very un-Inko like thing to do, and clenched at the creases in her skirt, before ironing them out with a soft set of firm palms.

'Right,' she said, and looked over to the table where they ate. She could remember Izuku there, throughout the years, and the range of expressions he had made when eating her food. The joy when she made him katsudon, and the usual gerbil-like stuffing of his cheeks whenever he was upset and didn't want her to worry, not to mention the stiff sort of polite dismay he wore when she had tried her hand at some of the spicier curries that one of the cooking shows she liked had demonstrated making.

Then she pictured Katsuki sitting there. And that was harder. She hadn't really seen him at all really, for years. The closest she had gotten was during the sports festival, and then that awful period when he had been captured by the villains, and the news reports kept pumping out pictures of his face (which seemed incapable of giving the photographer a decent smile, the darker part of her pointed out sourly). And even then...at the festival he had been, well, stunning, she supposed, in his physical prowess, and she could imagine some of what Izuku saw in him regarding that...but his facial expressions. Twisted, maniacal, and only gleeful when someone was giving him a decent fight. Well, she supposed there had been a moment when he had shot a grin off to the side, when Izuku was yelling at that poor Todoroki boy to win...but why would he have been happy about the fact that Izuku, who was now his boyfriend, apparently, was cheering on another boy?

Inko knew she was incapable of understanding Katsuki. She also knew that it wasn't her job to do so; that was Izuku's. But she had been in love once, with a man who now barely, if ever, saw her or their son. She knew what it was like to be blinkered when it came to another person, dazzled by the aspects of them you loved the most, and willing to overlook the parts that nobody else in the world would be able to so easily turn aside. And she remembered Izuku's hero worship of Katsuki when he was four.

Izuku bit her lip. Remembered again, Izuku's smiling, exuberant face at her kitchen table. And began to smile a little herself, as something occurred to her.

It was Wednesday. The night of the event. She had cleaned and cooked, cut and mixed, sprinkled breadcrumbs and measured out all the leftover pork she had been saving since yesterday. And ended up very pleased with herself. She had taken every precaution, used double the amount of mixing bowls as she usually did, and even set aside plenty of water for when she had chopped the onions (she still felt rather annoyed that it was her tear ducts, rather than her quirk, that she had managed to pass onto Izuku).

In short, she had fully prepared herself for battle.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door, before the familiar clink of Izuku's keys turned the lock. Inko found herself smiling at his polite warning, before her smile abruptly faded at the next set of words that tore through the room.

'Seriously? You knocked? What the hell was the point of that?'

'Just letting her know it's me,' said Izuku breezily, sounding...remarkably un-phased. Like this was an everyday occurrence.

It shouldn't be, Inko told herself tartly. She heard the clunk of shoes being set aside against the mat, followed by Katsuki's snort.

'Dumbass thing to do. What, you think she seriously can't work out it's you by the fact you were unlocking the door?'

Inko took a breath and stepped out to greet them. 'Izuku!' She stepped forward to give him a hug, ignoring his embarrassed laugh and the way he scrunched into her as she bundled her arms over his broad shoulders. It made her sad, not only at how hard they felt, but also how stiff he felt, as though he was anxious about something. She threw...not a glare at Katsuki, but a hard, level look all the same.

If he was surprised, he didn't show it. In fact, despite the gruff tone of his voice, his face looked pretty blank.

She stepped back, gave Izuku a smile and a 'welcome home!' and then gave Katsuki a nod and felt a smaller, much thinner smile take up its place on her face. 'Katsuki-kun, it's been...a long time.'

'Try eleven years,' he muttered, sweeping past her and letting his eyes take in the living room, and the small kitchen, slotted off to the side of it. Unimpressive, his gaze seemed to say, and Inko felt herself bristle.

She gave a tight laugh. 'Yes. I imagine this all looks a lot smaller, now that you've grown.' She tilted her head to the side. 'Though I hope you've grown enough to know not to scribble with orange crayons on the side of my walls anymore?'

His head whirled round, and the expression on his face, while not displaying the same sort of anger she had seen at the sports festival, still looked pretty angry. It was just...lesser, in comparison.

'Do I look like I still go around playing with crayons?' he grit out from between his teeth. 'Besides I washed that shit out, I know I did. That wall had never looked so pristine by the time I was done with it, it fucking gleamed.'

And now so did his teeth, as they took up the inside of the new crazed smile he gave Inko. And suddenly he looked a lot more like that boy who had spammed multiple explosions from his palms at the sports festival.

Izuku broke in with a laugh. 'Come on,' he said, his hand reaching out to tug at Katsuki's jacketed sleeve. 'We don't want my Mom's food to get cold.'

The smile vanished from Katsuki's face, his expression reverting back to that blank one as he stared down at Izuku. Izuku for his part, smiled timidly and pushed his hand up, sliding his fingers round Katsuki's upper arm as though they were nothing more than a cutesy couple. 'Right, Kacchan?'

Katsuki snorted, but didn't reply. Instead he turned his head away from both Midoriyas' to stare moodily at the wall opposite.

Izuku must have read something in that though, because he turned to his mom as though Katsuki had barked out an enthusiastic 'alright.'

'Well, Mom? What are we having tonight?'

'Katsudon,' she replied, feeling a familiar sense of accomplishment well up inside her as Izuku's expression flowered into one of delight. And it only grew, curdled and stewed, as Katsuki let out a contemptuous 'tch.'

But for all Katsuki's appalling manners, he didn't sneer at his food when it was laid out before them. In fact, he had helped with the laying out. Much to Inko's surprise, as soon as he came into the kitchen and saw that she hadn't had time to fully set up the table, he sighed and turned straight to the cutlery cabinet.

'You don't have any stuff in here that you only pull out for special occasions, right?' he asked, spearing her with a sharp look.

'N-no,' she found herself stammering. 'I-I me-eean only on the very top self,' she corrected hastily as Katsuki, without stopping to inspect the utensils he could see through the glass panels in the doors, swung them wide open and reached for three sets of chopsticks and some glasses. He seemed to snort as his fingers brushed against some All Might ones she had given to Izuku one year, but he dutifully bypassed them to get a plainer set. And he didn't even thump them down too harshly when placing them in front of the right bowls either.

'Here,' he said brusquely, pressing a set of green chopsticks into Izuku's chest. 'Now we have a matching set.'

He grinned as Izuku gave him an annoyed look; it wasn't quite as bad as his crazed battle-grin of moments before but it was, in Inko's humble opinion, still pretty bad.

She clapped her hands together. 'Why don't we eat?'

She pushed the right bowls in front of each boy, drawing back one for herself. A mound of rice dyed yellow by the fusion of eggs and dashi, topped off with a pork cutlet and the scattering of green onion pieces greeted her. She smiled and waited.

'Thanks for the food,' she heard both boys chorus, not a heartbeat out of sync...apart from the fact that Katsuki 's sounded a little gruffer than Izuku and nowhere near as friendly. She pushed her annoyance to one side and dug in. And waited.

After a few seconds, she heard a muffled sort of choking.

'Kacchan?' A worried-looking Izuku immediately pushed a glass of water over to his boyfriend, who looked slightly blue in the face; the veins in his eyes were practically bulging and Inko felt worry seize her. That...wasn't a normal reaction, was it?

Izuku meanwhile was now standing over Katsuki, hands hovering over the other's boy's shoulders. He looked as though he was seriously thinking of applying the heimlich maneuver any second. And as though he could read Izuku's mind, Katsuki's head whipped round, just enough to deliver a glare that promised death straight into the eyes of his worried boyfriend.

'Try - it – and!' he coughed out. And then swallowed. '...Die,' he finished off weakly.

Die? repeated Inko inside her head weakly. But even so, she still forced herself to take a sip of water to soothe her nerves, her free hand coming up to clutch at her wrist as it trembled, causing the water in her glass to slosh up against her nose.

'Mum? It's fine, no need to panic; I guess it just went down the wrong way, huh, Kacchan?'

'Yeah...' said Katsuki's voice slowly.

Inko stiffened. She had been expecting an explosion of noise, a yell, an accusation along the lines of 'your mom's cooking tastes like shit!' Not that quiet agreement. From what she remembered of Katsuki as a child, he had been unable to accept he could be in the wrong about anything, much less capable of making a mistake, even if it was an involuntary one.

But then, Katsuki wasn't a child anymore, was he? She raised her eyes to his and was met with a confirmation of that when the grin he offered her was calm, knowing and downright predatory. 'Yeah,' he said, his tone full of menace. 'Just a stupid mistake.'

Izuku looked a bit unnerved. 'Are you alright, Kacchan?'

Katsuki cast him a look of deep annoyance. 'Stop yammering on and eat your food. You were the one worrying about letting it go cold. All that last-minute panicking and nail-biting before we got here, about how you didn't want your Mom's cooking to go to waste, just because we missed an earlier train? Pathetic, since you're apparently all too keen to let it go to waste now.'

Izuku blushed; but also sat up straight, a taunt sort of anger taking hold of his face as he stared Katsuki down. 'That's not fair! You were the one who insisted we finish up our homework during our lunch-break so we wouldn't be late.'

Katsuki glowered. 'Shut up,' he said. But he rather determinedly sawed through a piece of the pork cutlet with a chopstick and held it up to the light.

Izuku's face screwed up in confusion. 'Kacchan? What are you-oh!' The confusion on his face grew even more and Inko hurriedly stuffed her mouth with a piece of her own pork cutlet. 'Oh, that's weird. There's a lot more...I mean, the layer of breadcrumbs is quite thick, isn't it?'

Katsuki looked less than impressed by Izuku's dazzling description. And as one, they turned to look at Inko, who giggled nervously and slid her cheek into her hand.

'Oh my, that is strange. How foolish of me, I must have not been paying that much attention when I was slicing up the meat for Katsuki-kun's portion!'

Izuku was staring at her, a strange expression on his face. It bothered Inko, so she turned to peer at the strip of katsudon Katsuki had unveiled to the light, and yes, just as she knew it would be, the thick brown layer of panko crumbs housed only the tiniest streak of pink pork inside, no thicker than a sheet of paper. Okay, so that was a fanciful exaggeration on her part, but still, Inko was quite proud of how thinly she had managed to cut up the pork, she had then practically doused in breadcrumbs for Katsuki's portion. As well as how she had managed to cook it, without a hint of a burn to it.

Her katsudon and Izuku's, were normal of course. She had made sure to add plenty of the dashi, sake and mirin for seasoning as well. Not so much so for Katsuki's bowl however. She imagined his bowl tasted a bit...bland. Still not enough to justify his violent choking beforehand though.

Feeling a little braver, she turned her eyes back to Katsuki, who was now regarding her with...an air of amusement? It was hard to tell, since his face was still pretty blank. Except for his eyes. Those now housed signs of a screaming 'really? Really, woman?' that she had seen on her husband's face multiple times whenever she had given him the silent treatment.

She wasn't sure how she felt about seeing signs of that on Katsuki. And he still wasn't looking away from her either. Instead, he dunked the feeble strip of what could barely be called a 'pork cutlet' inside his mouth. Chewed. And swallowed. And then almost blurring, his chopsticks set to work, Katsuki practically inhaling the food, all without scattering a single grain of rice. It was quite a talent, Inko had to admit, especially since he was chewing through her unappetising dish as though he was ravenous for it. And all the while, his eyes never flinched away from hers.

Izuku ate at much slower pace, a thoughtful expression on his face. His eyes kept wavering between her and Katsuki as though he was contemplating saying something. But at the end of it, he simply said thank you again, tutted when he looked at his phone, and said he was really sorry, but that they needed to be off – a last-minute surprise pop-quiz someone named Sero had overhead a teacher muttering about, was apparently going to be given tomorrow.

Inko blinked. The excuse sounded hurried, rattled, as though Izuku was making it up. His head was carefully buried from her view as he said it, nothing but hair to meet her line of sight as he dabbled over the buttons on his phone. And Katsuki, she noticed, was looking really smug. And amused. And just intolerable in general.

He even gave a low laugh and Izuku's head shot up, immediately giving him a fierce look. It didn't seem to subdue Katsuki, but then again, it didn't seem to aggravate him either. And he certainly made his way to the door with minimum fuss when Izuku gave him a push to the shoulder.

Inko felt a bit lost as her son flashed her a final smile and shoved Katsuki out the door. It occurred to her, that it was, strangely enough the quietest dinner she had ever had in his presence. He had barely exchanged thirty words with her.

Inko was not sure what that meant.

On Thursday, Inko received an IM from her son.

'Mom, sorry about last night! It must have felt a bit abrupt, us leaving last night. It didn't really go how I thought it would but Katsuki kept giggling about it, so I don't think you need to worry about offending him!'

'Why on earth would I be worried about offending him?' wondered Inko. Her poor Izuku. He was far too sweet-natured for his own good.

'Anyway,' continued her son. 'I figured we such have a do-over. Or give it another go? We didn't really talk much last night. So I figured, we'd give you a break from cooking! I've talked it over with my homeroom teacher and UA's security team and they're gonna arrange a security pass for you for this Saturday! You can come to our dorm's kitchen and I'll cook you something, for once!'

Inko stared down at her computer. Her hands were trembling over the keyboard and suddenly her palms felt awfully sweaty. Izuku had certainly used a lot more exclamation points than usual.

Oh, she thought, oh no.

'That sounds wonderful, sweetie. What time?'

'I'll let you know,' came the reply.

Inko tried not to panic. Obviously her son expected her to hold an actual conversation with Bakugo Katsuki and in all honesty, she didn't know what to say. Thank you for wanting to kiss my son instead of bully him, didn't seem appropriate. And yet, it was something she needed to discuss.

Unfortunately, it was something, she knew with a sinking heart, that Izuku wouldn't be receptive to. She spent the next thirty minutes busying herself with some left-over paperwork from work. Only to be interrupted by a buzz from her skirt pocket.

She smiled when she saw the text was from Izuku and then frowned as she read the words that had been sent to her.

'Your son is a lying shithead.'

She pursued her lips. There was another buzz.

'I didn't giggle. I cackled. It was pretty fucking funny you trying to poison me.'

'Katsuki-kun?' she typed back.

The reply was swift, instantaneous, and cutting.

'You know anyone else who came to dinner last night? Who else would it be? Unless you regularly poison other people.'

Inko frowned. And spent the next few minutes dutifully fumbling over the tiny keypad on her cheap phone.

'I didn't poison you,' she stamped out. 'You would never have been able to finish your bowl if I had. I don't know what you're thinking Katsuki-kun but if you truly want to discuss this properly then text me from your own phone instead of stealing Izuku's. He tells me you're third in the class academically,which means you're more than smart enough to remember my number, if you're busy scrolling through Izuku's contacts, instead of doing your schoolwork.'

Her heart was racing as she finished typing out that text, but she didn't hesitate to send it. The reply, when she got it, came from an unknown number, rather than Izuku's.

'He really does get from you, damn. Alright, let's level; you pulled some shit, no denying it. I usually hate sneaky stuff like that, but this time I'll let it slide, 'cos I get it. You can't come out and say you hate me because that'll send Deku bawling, and nobody wants to fucking deal with that. So, well done, you're pretty gutsy.'

Inko felt like she had stepped into some bizarre dimension. Was Katsuki trying to compliment her? She wasn't sure. She wasn't Izuku who seemed adept at translating Katsuki's stormy silences and strange expressions and well, unique word choices.

'Don't call him that.' She sent to the other boy, her fingers stinging with how fast she tapped the screen to send it. 'That horrible terrible name. How can he still be Deku to you if you're dating?'

Silence. Then:

'He'll always be Deku, now that he's made it his hero name. How are you going to cope when everybody out there starts calling him that too?'

Inko blinked. That actually sounded reasonable. She hadn't expected Katsuki to make a point like that.

'But it's different when you call him Deku. Don't pretend,' she typed.

'Lots of things are different with Deku' came his blunt reply. 'I'm the only one out there who can kiss Deku and have him want to do it back. He's also the only one who can get away with calling me cutesy shit like Kacchan. I'd deck anyone else who tried.'

Inko tried to picture Katsuki's expression, on the other side of the city, typing this all out. And couldn't. She couldn't picture him pensive, or with that softened look of affection. All she could see, was a scowl, harsh and angry, his teeth gritted as he typed out whatever he thought would appease her.

'How could I ever trust you with him?' she finally asked.

Kastuki's reply was instant, as though he didn't even have to think about it.

'You don't,' he stated. 'You trust Deku to not be a baby and deal with it himself.'

Inko trembled, the name rising up to slap her in the face. And firmly switched off her phone.

On Saturday Inko left her house hours before the 'event' was due to start. She contemplated going to see Bakugo's mother, to ask what sort of things she and her son talked about. But ruled it out, on account of the fact that the other woman would definitely be curious about why Inko was asking. And honestly, she had no idea if either she or her husband knew about the status of their son's relationship with Izuku. She didn't like Katsuki, but she certainly wasn't going to expose a secret of that nature to his parents. Well, not unless he physically hurt Izuku outside of combat training. Then all bets were off.

She wandered the streets, wondering if she should purchase a small peace offering, like a small keychain with a tiny bomb on it. From what little she knew of Katsuki, that seemed like his style.

She found herself rather determinedly walked past the self-help section in the store, eyes developing a glaze as they registered the words 'anger management.' Perhaps it was best that she do something else.

That something else ended up being pacing up and down in front of UA's gates like a news-reporter. She must have looked a sight, hands worrying at her handbag, muttering to herself like someone who had no one else in her life to talk too. Which, worryingly enough, was sort of true.

She was knocked out of it by a voice.

'Mrs Midoriya?'

She turned to see Izuku's scruffy homeroom teacher. He looked like he had spent the last few hours crawling under a bush – and judging by his expression, longed to crawl back under it.

'You're early,' he noted. 'Good. You might as well come in.'

'Oh, I, well, they're not expecting me yet,' she managed, clutching her hand bag even tighter.

Aizawa's expression didn't change. 'I'm sure Midoriya wouldn't want his mother to feel uncomfortable. Or particularly stressed. Which you look well on your way to being,' he said. 'Besides the clouds overhead look like they might let out a little rain later on; it would irrational to let you get soaked out here when you could be inside.'

And that was how Midoriya Inko found herself being escorted by her son's homeroom teacher to his dorm; she barely even had to flash her security pass to the wandering droids. Still. Perhaps luck was on her side.

'You teach Bakugo Katsuki as well as my son, right?' she asked, the gravel path letting out a skittling rattle as the tiny stones encountered her shoes. 'Pardon my asking, but what do you think of him? I d-don't mean that in a rude way and I don't want to get you in trouble, but I know that his and Izuku's relationship is...fraught. And that has always made me nervous.'

She did not look at Aizawa, not even to see if he was giving her the side-eye.

'Fraught is putting it lightly,' Aizawa said bluntly. His tone didn't shift but Inko felt a chill run over the back her neck as he continued to speak. 'Bakugo, as I'm sure you're aware, is childish, has difficulty controlling his temper, but also has enough talent to know that there are plenty of people in this world who will excuse him for it.'

Inko's hold on her handbag tightened so much that she felt her blood circulation cut off.

'But he has improved. He's learnt enough to see that there are circumstances and people who won't back down from his talent, and that that same talent won't grant him permission for everything he wants to do.'

'That won't stop him from hurting my son,' Inko said in a near-whisper. And dared to look at Aizawa.

He didn't look particularly sympathetic. But then again, he didn't look angry or dismissive of her either. 'No,' he said. 'But trust me; your son is more than willing to send a punch back if Bakugo throws one his way.'

Inko let out a bitter laugh. 'Sometimes I think it was a mistake to let Izuku keep coming here,' she confessed. 'Not just because of the latest villain attacks; but because the teachers would force him to keep interacting with Bakugo, no matter what he did. You may not have failed Izuku the way a lot of his teachers growing up did; but taking that neutral stance of yours proves to me that perhaps I should have transferred Izuku to a different school after all.'

She turned to Aizawa, and was pleased to register the faint shock in his eyes.

'I expect you to do your best in regard to both of those boys; but I now know that if Bakugo does step out of bounds and hurts Izuku, that somehow, Izuku will be expected to deal with it himself, the way he has always done.'

She turned away, marched up to the dorm entrance. She knew the teacher would probably discount her words, maybe because she was a civilian and he and Izuku trod in different worlds from hers, where hitting someone was something you could simply write off in their line of work. But she was still stuck in her world, one that revolved around Izuku, even as he was willing to step outside her orbit. And she could no more look away from the many collisions he would encounter, than she could step out and follow the gravitational pull of his chosen life.

Inko had arrived early. Early enough for that person with the shadowy bird head to give her a startled look as he rounded the corner.

'So that's why there's chaos in the kitchen,' he muttered to himself, before giving Inko a nod in acknowledgement and passing along, his shadow creeping around the outskirts of her own. Physically creeping and not just gliding.

Chaos? Wondered Inko. But as she approached the kitchen she heard the clatter of spoons meeting pans, of water being sieved through colanders, and of Katsuki yelling at Izuku.

'No, no! You want it to taste like trash? Get the water out, re-heat it in the pan with melted butter, stir and then serve! How is that hard?'

'But Kacchan, I'll mis-time it because, well, there isn't a proper time limit you can use here and it'll burn and make my Mom sick!'

'She'd be sick if she could see just how bad you are at trusting your damn senses! You have a nose and a set of eyes don't cha? Then use them! It's pretty easy to tell when something's about to burn!'

'I-'

But what Izuku was, no one would ever find out. Because Inko had decided to step into the kitchen, just in time to witness the cute, flustered sight of her son in an apron, hurriedly spooning spaghetti out onto a plate. As well as the less cute sight of Katsuki in another apron, red, with some sort of screeching slogan involving the word 'bomb' scrawled across it. He was busy stirring some murky, scarlet mixture that did, Inko could admit, smell incredibly nice, bursting with the steamed smell of melted, goopy vegetables and rich spice.

Izuku froze. 'Mum! You're early!' he exclaimed.

Inko smiled gently. 'Surprise?' she offered.

Izuku and Katsuki glanced at each other.

'She should go watch some TV or something,' Katsuki said after minute. 'We'll be done in twenty, but it's still a while to wait without any shit to distract her.'

'Good idea,' Izuku said, fleeing to her side to take her into the common room and instruct her on how to operate their remote; even though it looked virtually the same as the one back home.

'Yes, but Mum, you always used to record over my hero specials,' he told her with the fond sort of exasperation that she didn't think was really warranted in this situation. 'And if you do the same thing to anyone here, there'll be fireworks. And they won't necessarily come from Kacchan.'

And then he left her to stare at an annoying documentary about frogs.

Twenty-three minutes later, Inko's eyes were wide and startled as she surveyed the feast before her, days later. Multiple plates of pasta, steaming with cream sauces and marinating with green sprigs of some herb she'd never seen before. Meat-balls, spread in some rich, red, tomato-thick gratin and what looked to be a extraordinarily large pizza base nearby, the dough smoothed out like a sponge-cakes, red and yellow patterns playing out over its surface.

'You always said you wanted to go to Italy,' Izuku said with a shy laugh. 'So I guess we decided to bring Italy to you!' he spread his arms out wide. There was flour on his cheek and a few dashes of red round his neck, shaped like fingerprints. Inko didn't even want to know how they had got there; all she could picture was Katsuki dipping his fingers into her son's hard work and cupping his neck with the same hand, aborting his taste-test for another sort, the kind appeased only with another human mouth.

Izuku grinned, unaware of her nightmare, the black apron hugging his chest for a precious second, as he fumbled with the strings. 'Ah! Bon appétit!' he managed, as Katsuki stared at him, strode over, brutally undid the knot at the back of Izuku's apron with a few quick tugs and muttered, 'it's Buon appetito, Deku.'

Izuku clapped his hands together as Katsuki pulled the apron off over his head, barely flinching, when the neckline brushed over and against his fringe with more force than Inko strictly thought was necessary. 'I hope it tastes good!'

'I'm grateful to receive it,' Inko murmured, twisting a fork into the nearest bowl. She delicately bit off a mouthful. And felt her eyes water.

'Mum?' Izuku leant forward with concern in his eyes. Before it softened in relief as Inko started sobbing out-loud.

'It's s-so good! I can't believe my b-b-baby grew up to be such a good cook!'

It was true. The pasta was soft, with just enough of a bite to it, to not be slimy and the creamy sauce melting into the surface like, well... like egg and dashi melted into the rice beneath the pork cutlet in a katsudon.

'Well, it was more like Kacchan throwing away the recipes I got from the internet and barking out orders at me, while I obeyed,' said Izuku sheepishly, fingering a curl at the back of his head. 'He's made food like this before; you wouldn't think so, but he's experimented with all sorts of stuff. He knew what would work and what didn't so...I trusted him.'

He leant forward, eyes turning hard as he stared Inko down.

'Mom...there's a lot of hard stuff here. A lot of baggage. But I promise you, I'm not letting Kacchan bully me. We're not...we're not who we used to be.'

Inko allowed her eyes to dart over to Katsuki. Who was looking both bored and annoyed.

'You don't let someone bully you, Deku,' he said and Inko couldn't read his tone, or his eyes or his posture at all. He looked like he didn't care one way or the other.

But Izuku was looking back at him with some fond sort of understanding and...nothing about him had been scorched or blackened or bruised. Not this time. There was still some sense of that fanatical awe in his eyes the way there had been when he had stared at Katsuki at four years of age, but...Inko couldn't put her finger on it, but it seemed, not as all-encompassing as before. What she was sure of, though, was that Izuku was looking at a version of Katsuki that only he could see. A version that she would probably always be blind to.

Izuku looked back at her, his tone turning apologetic. 'But I'm not going to force you to get along with him either. It was wrong of me to expect you to treat him like there wasn't any history there. So...let's just have some food for now. And see how it goes.'

Inko felt her eyes brim over with tears. What had she done to deserve a son as wonderful as her Izuku? She couldn't even muster up the strength to protest, even when Katsuki came at her with a snarl, thrusting a tissue at her as he shouted at her to not to get snot all over the pasta –Izuku was too busy trying to hug her without staining his clothes, to do it himself.

'You're both gross,' Katsuki growled at them both, tossing the now ruffled and snot-filled tissue into the waste basket with precise aim. It landed dead centre and Inko snorted.

She still wasn't happy about this. But at least Izuku was willing to give her time to digest. For now, she decided, that would have to be enough.

'So, Katsuki,' she managed, after a while, pulling away from her son who was now surveying his tear-stained shirt with a hint of dismay. 'You told me on Wednesday that you don't like scribbling with crayons anymore; so tell me, what is it that you do like to do?'

Katsuki gave her a level look. Then pulled out a chair, sat in front of her, placed his elbows on the table and gave her, what to any other stranger might have been a glare; but to Inko seemed to be more of an assessing glance and said:

'Blowing stuff up. Killing it in class. Mountain-hiking. Camping. Your son, sometimes.'

Izuku having given up on his t-shirt, sent such a glare over to Katsuki that Inko was honestly impressed, and slammed both hands down on the table. 'Kacchan!' he hissed.

Katsuki shrugged. 'It would be more weird if I didn't mention it. Besides, your Mom's not nearly as stupid as you think she is.'

Izuku spluttered. And Inko didn't frown or startle. It was dawning on her that Katsuki, for all his horridness, was trying to be honest. And perhaps he had been trying for quite a while.

She sighed. 'Well, thank you for admitting you care about my son. I think.'

Katsuki's brows instantly scrunched up. 'The fuck? You think I'd mess around with Dek-Izuku, if I wasn't serious?'

There was a silence. Izuku let out a curiously high-pitched squeal and promptly tried to trap it behind his fingers. And then started mumbling about how he wished there was someone with a time-travelling quirk nearby so he would know to have his phone out to record this momentous event.

Katsuki twitched. Then one of their classmates stuck their head in, that nice Todoroki boy that Izuku liked to mention from time to time. 'Is Bakugo about to have a seizure?' he asked. 'You should probably lie him down on his side if so.'

Katsuki snapped. 'GET OUT OF HERE HALF-AND-HALF!'

'Alright,' said Todoroki. 'I just wanted to check if you were alright. I heard you say something that was quite unlike you.' Then his eyes slid over to Izuku. 'Ah. Perhaps Midoriya is the one you should lie on his side.' Then he gave a quiet nod to Inko. 'Nice to meet you.' And then slid his head back out.

Katsuki glared at the spot where his head had been. And then glared over to Izuku, who had now gone incredibly pink, like a slice of cooked salmon. 'Shut up.' Then he paused, slid his eyes slyly to the side and muttered, '...Izuku.'

Izuku buried his head in a nearby towel and squealed. It was stupidly, unbearably cute and Inko was half-tempted to snap a quick shot with her phone. She jumped as she heard the quick tell-tell click of a shutter and turned to see Katsuki quickly slide his phone out of view.

She stared. 'Did you-?'

'No,' Katsuki cut her off ruthlessly, arms firmly crossed.

'B-but I heard-'

'Nothing,' Katsuki enunciated, looking firmly away from her. 'You heard nothing.'

Izuku pulled the towel away from his face, and it was still a little pink, but it now housed an odd gleam in his eye that Inko wasn't used to seeing. 'I heard 'nothing' too, Kacchan,' he stated. 'Probably just as well. That would have made an awful picture.'

'Yeah,' Katsuki sneered, showing his chin into his hand as he leered at her son, all of him comprising of cocky angles. Which did nothing to hide the slight, very slight glancing of pink on his cheeks. 'You can't be hero if you get so embarrassed you have to hide your face. I'm embarrassed for you.'

Izuku frowned. And Inko was forced, with a small amount of horror, to realise that she and Bakugo Katsuki had at least one thing in common: they both found Izuku adorable.

'Send me that photo later and I'll tell you which editions of All Might: Legacy Izuku is missing,' she texted under the table. If Izuku wanted them to call a ceasefire, then she would, but with conditions.

'NO,' she got sent back a moment later and Inko was truly impressed at how he managed to drum that message out while barely looking at his phone. 'I'm not feeding into your strange mother-son complex.'

Inko hummed and ate another spoonful of spaghetti. It was the answer she had wanted. And as long at Katsuki kept proving that he liked her son enough to snap photos of him and not sell them out to anyone else, she would find a way to work it out.

'Hey.' Katsuki sent her a toothy grin. 'Wanna bet how long me and Deku will last? I'm thinking longer than you can wrap your head around.'

Inko hummed, just enough to drown out her son's wail of 'Kacchan, no.'

'Alright,' she said. 'Surprise me.'

And felt only a small twinge of guilt, at her son's look of outrage.

Notes: Inspired by a reddit post, where some poor parent was asking for advice, after their son revealed they were now dating someone who used to be a part of the group that bullied him. The guy was torn by (a) wanting to make their child happy and (b) by a deep dark grudge against their significant other and the urge to make petty remarks in their presence. I'm sure many other parents in similar circumstances have struggled the same way.