AN: To those who have just discovered me, welcome. My name is Outliner and this is my contribution to the BNHA fandom.

To those of you already familiar with me and my work, I'm sorry. I know I said I wouldn't do this, but I'm starting a new story. I do promise that I'll try to keep my focus on my RWBY story though. I hope you enjoy it.

So this is my new story. I got the idea for it while playing Far Cry 3, so you're going to notice a few similarities between this and the game, but it is not a crossover. Izuku will have both a quirk and a harem.

Warning, this story will be AU. Inko will play a big part in this story and is majorly OOC, and as a result, so will Izuku. Also, like my other story, this one starts a significant time before canon, and will take its time getting there.

Anyway, here's the first chapter.

My Mother's Child

The doctor realized he had made a mistake as soon as the words left his mouth. The air seemed to cool, and he felt a distinct sense of danger, his previously relaxed posture stiffening slightly.

"Excuse me?" the woman across from him asked, her soft voice carrying a threatening undertone. Her unnerving green glare seemed to pierce right through his head, pinning him in place.

Some small, primal part of Dr. Shojima Narohi's subconscious was telling him he sat before a predator, and that if he didn't want to become prey he better start showing some underbelly.

Straightening up in his chair, the bald man quickly amended his previous statement.

"Er- What I meant to say is that the likelyhood of your son developing a quirk is... very low... and that pursuing a career as a hero would be inadvisable...Ma'am." He hastily added the last part when he saw the woman's glare intensify.

Despite lounging in a comfortable leather armchair while her and her son sat on small wheeled stools, it was as if she owned the room. She may as well have been sitting in a damn throne for all the respect her presence demanded. She had a fierce and exotic look about her; her tanned skin skin and unusual, braided green hair worked in tandem with her svelte, curving figure to give her a stunning beauty that drove many men to approach her.

Those same men were sent packing seconds later; a single warning glare was enough to discourage them.

For a few seconds there was silence in the room, in which Shojima shifted uncomfortably. He took a glance at the subject of this appointment, a young boy; the son of the woman who was still burning a hole in his head.

Izuku Midoriya. Just seconds ago he had advised him to give up on being a hero, an action he was now regretting. The boy had frozen stock still upon hearing his words, and had yet to move since then. He just sat there, staring vacantly into the distance with a frozen smile on his face. His hand was curled around empty air, having been clutching a small plastic figurine of All Might which had since fallen to the floor.

"And just what evidence are you basing this conclusion on?"

She possessed a slightly tropical sounding accent. Each word was very deliberately pronounced and laden with a potent amount of frostiness. Shojima gulped slightly and gestured to an X-ray that was clipped to the wall.

"His pinky toe," he said.

Inko Midoriya's eyes narrowed dangerously, and the doctor suddenly realized how ridiculous that must have sounded to someone who didn't have a PhD in medicine.

"His... pinky toe." Her tone suggested he better start explaining quickly or there would be violence. Shojima hastened to comply with the unspoken cammand.

"There have been many studies conducted around quirks over the years. A few decades ago, when the ratio of quirkless to quirk-possessing people was more even, a geneticist found that there was a link between a person's quirk status and the bones in their foot, specifically their pinky toe. Those who had a quirk only had one joint in it, whereas those who didn't possessed two." He got up and pointed to the pinky toe in the X-ray. "Much like your son," he muttered.

He took her silence as permission to continue.

"He found that, contained in the quirk meta-gene, there was a small section of DNA responsible for this reduction. He theorized that it was an inconsequential, but noticeable step of human evolution; our bodies' way of becoming more streamlined. The theory has proved accurate, and it's one of the first things we look at if someone thinks their child is quirkless. If they have that extra joint, it's encredibly unlikely for them to develop a quirk."

"But not definite, correct?" She asked.

Shojima sighed. He had a feeling she would grab onto the small amount of rope that he was professionally obligated to dangle.

"Well no, but it may as well be. It's a quick, cost free and reliable method of determining if a child is quirkless or not. There are tests that are one hundred percent accurate, but-"

"I want one of those done," she interjected, her tone determined.

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "You want to pay fifteen million yen for a test that will clear up the doubt on the zero point seven percent chance that your son has a quirk?" He asked.

For the first time since their arrival, Inko's glare wavered and was replaced by a grimace. That was almost as much as Hisashi's life insurance. She couldn't pay that.

Shojima sensed her discomfort and gave another sigh.

"Look Mrs. Midoriya, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but Izuku simply doesn't have a quirk. It's not his fault, or your's or your husband's for that matter, it's just how things are and there's nothing that can be done to change it. I'm sorry."

Inko's mouth set into a thin line. With a stony expression she gently grabbed her son's hand, picked up his toy and led the still vacant boy to the door. Just before stepping out, she paused and turned back to Shojima.

"Your bedside manner needs improving, Doctor."

With that, she left the building.

XXX

Izuku was barely aware of the trip from the doctors office to the car. He allowed his mother to lead him by the hand, trying to comprehend what he'd just been told. Something had yet to click in his head, like the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle that he was carefully turning, trying to find where it slotted into place.

He kept turning the piece as Inko strapped him into the back seat of their car and drove off; over and over he spun it in his mind, trying to find a position that completed the puzzle, but it continued to elude him. He just kept smiling with a dead look in his eyes.

As they stopped at a red light, Izuku caught movement from the car next to them in his peripheral vision. Turning his head, he saw a family; a woman behind the wheel, patiently waiting for the light to turn green, a man in the passenger seat and a small newborn strapped to a baby carrier in the back. The man had turned around in his seat to make funny faces at his child's unamused one. Seeing he wasn't having much success, the man changed tactics and pursed his lips like he was whistling; instead of sound, a large bubble formed, growing in size until it was the size of miniature soccer ball. It then left his lips and floated over to the baby, who waggled it's tiny arms in the air, trying to grab onto the floating sphere.

The piece clicked into place with soul-crushing force.

He couldn't be a hero. That thing he'd always wanted to do, those people that he'd always wanted to be - not possible. He had looked forward to the day when he would receive his quirk since he'd been able to understand the concept. He had watched on as his classmates all received their gifts; abilities that made them unique. He had congratulated them with a sincere smile on his face, placating himself with the knowledge that one day, he'd get his as well. Before today, his biggest fear was that his quirk wouldn't be good enough to make him a hero. Before today, his greatest hope had been that it would be as cool and powerful as his best friend's.

Today, he learned that something as mundane as blowing bubbles was more than he'd ever have.

In that moment, Izuku Midoriya knew dispair.

It was not something any four-year-old should know. His entire future flashed before his eyes, and he found himself looking at a long, difficult, and overwhelmingly unbearable life that stretched out before him.

He was at a complete loss for what to do to avoid it.

His young mind saw his friends and peers rejecting him, laughing at him, telling him he was worthless and leaving him lonely and desperate for companionship. He saw the same thing happening again and again as he grew older. Middle school, high school and beyond. Alone.

Tears welled up in his eyes. They pooled at the bottom of his eyelids, and it took a tremendous amount of effort to keep them from falling. A massive sob welled up inside his chest, but he fought it down with all his might. Despite his sudden and terrible premonition, there was still a part of him that rose in defiance of it.

He didn't want to cry in front of his mother; she never cried. Even when they had to say goodbye to Daddy, she let the tears run silently, not once uttering a sound. He had thought she was so strong at the time, he still did. Right now, he needed all the strength he could get.

Inko watched in the rearview mirror as her son's eyes watered, helpless. There was nothing she could say that would make this any easier for him; the only thing she could do was hold him and be there for him. She watched as the tears built up, waiting for the first to fall. She was surprised when it didn't.

"Are you okay, Abanti?" She asked softly.

He didn't answer for a few seconds. Just when Inko was wandering if he would, he muttered something too softly for her to hear.

"What?"

He was silent a few moments longer, before repeating himself.

"Kacchan was right, I'm useless. Deku."

Inko's gaze snapped to the mirror, suddenly as hard and sharp as a razor. It seemed she would have to have some words with Mitsuki about her brat.

'Another time,' she told herself. Right now she needed to make one thing very clear to her son.

"You're not useless Izuku. The only people who are useless are those who give up, and even they can pull themselves back. No one is ever truly useless, especially not you."

He didn't respond after that, and the rest of the drive home was spent in silence. Inko periodically glanced at him in the mirror, making sure he was okay. When she glanced again, she found that he had wiped the tears from his eyes and was staring out the window. That brought a smile to her face.

Without a doubt, he was his mother's son.

XXX

They didn't talk for the rest of the day. As soon as they arrived home, Izuku went to his room and quietly closed the door. His mother let him go, watching with a sad gaze.

She sighed and turned to look at the shelf that hung beside the TV. There were many framed photo's that it supported, but they had all been shifted to either side to make room for a larger one. The picture showed a tall, dark haired man grinning at the camera. Light glinted off unnaturally white teeth, a side effect of the flames that he could spew forth like a dragon. His black hair curled and flowed around his head in a tangled mess; when they had first met, he had had to ward off many of her attempts to braid or tie it up.

This picture immediately drew attention. The surrounding frames had been tilted slightly inward so they were facing it and left a decent gap on either side, as if leaving it a respectful distance. Two bottles of incense flanked it, and at its base lay a decorative steel dagger, patterns and pictures of water, trees and animals engraved along its blade. It had been her wedding gift to him.

Inko gave the photo fond smile.

"How would you feel about this, Ha' alukah? You never wanted him to inherit the Ta'taoh; you never wanted him to leave." She let out a small, bitter chuckle. "But I don't think you would have wanted this. Not for our son."

Izuku stayed in his room until dinner. When he emerged and padded over to his seat, he did so without uttering a sound. Some small part of Inko had hoped that making his favorite food would cheer him up slightly, but he just ate a few bites and pushed the rest of his spiced beef around on his plate until it grew cold. She didn't say anything.

She was surprised when half an hour later he tugged at her sleeve and led her to the room where their computer was located; with the way he'd been acting, she hadn't thought he'd be up for it this evening. Nevertheless, she booted up the desktop and loaded the video he wanted as he clambered up onto the office chair. Pressing play, the monitor sprang to life and the speakers emitted the crackling, roaring sound of fire. Smoke filled the screen and showed the hazy forms of people silhouetted against a burning urban backdrop.

"I can't believe it! He must have saved a hundred people already, and it hasn't even been ten minutes! This-this is crazy!"

She stood beside the chair as the video played, one hand on the backrest. She watched as a booming laugh sounded out and a hulking figure appeared, carrying multiple people on his back. She watched as he walked over the top of a wrecked bus, easily lifting what must have been at least five people over his shoulders, all the while laughing.

The camera zoomed in on the hero's face.

"Fear not citizens, hope has arrived. For I am here!"

The frame suddenly froze and the speakers stopped emitting sound. Inko turned her surprised gaze down to her left, where Izuku had one hand on the mouse. Why had he paused it?

"Izuku?" She asked.

He lifted his hand from the mouse and pointed at the still image of the hero's face, which was shrouded in shadow and sported a massive, confident grin.

"He's always smiling mom," he said quietly. He lifted his head to look up at her, and Inko's heart clenched. His eyes were dry, but he looked so vulnerable and fragile at that moment that she was afraid one wrong move would break him.

His big green eyes stared up at her, full of desperation. His mouth twitched a few times as he tried to imitate the hero's smile, before giving up and letting it fall.

He looked back to the screen.

"Do you think the doctor could be wrong?" He asked.

Inko grimaced. At first, she had; she had always thought that her son would inherit hers or Hisashi's quirk. She had hoped it would be hers. Not once had the thought that he might be quirkless entered her mind. She had been in outright denial when the doctor had given his diagnosis, and a part of her still was.

But now she wasn't sure. She knew of children from Koa families who hadn't inherited the Ta'taoh, but they were rare. It wasn't something she ever thought would concern her. Yet here she stood, trying to think of the right thing to say. She finally settled for the truth; she wouldn't lie to him.

"I don't know, Abanti."

He was silent for a few more moments, and then...

"Do you... do you think I can still be a hero?"

His voice was unbearably small, his head bowed and his shoulders slumped; nothing like his normally bright self. Inko knew, without a doubt, that the wrong response to that question would shatter his spirit. Luckily for her, answering it was the easiest thing in the world.

Turning the chair to face her, she crouched down before it. Gently cupping his chin, she lifted his head and leant forward so their foreheads were touching and she was looking into his vibrant green orbs.

"Yes, you can be a hero Izuku. You'll need to work hard, harder than anyone else, and you probably won't be among the best, but you can do it."

Izuku stared into her eyes, his own wide. He had been so scared that she would say no, that he couldn't be a hero; but she hadn't. There were two people in this world he admired above all others, and one of them had just told him that she believed he could be a hero, whether he was quirkless or not.

That was enough for him.

A large smile appeared on his face and he gently pulled his mother into a hug. Things weren't quite alright, but he now saw a path that didn't include life-long ridicule and loneliness, and that made things better.

"Thanks mom," he whispered into the crook of her neck. "I'm going to be a hero."

Inko smiled as she hugged him back. She had meant every word; if he made the effort, he would achieve his dream.

Especially if she helped him.

XXX

When Izuku woke the next day to the sound of his All Might themed alarm clock, he was a changed person. Not in a big way, nor a noticeable one, but a change was there. Yesterday he had found out that the world was unfair, regardless of age and innocence. The experience left him a little bit older, a little bit wiser.

Still half asleep, he rolled over to shut the alarm off, rolled too far and fell to the ground with a startled yelp.

...He was still only four years old though.

He remained a groaning heap on the floor for a few seconds longer before forcing himself to his feet and stumbling out of his room.

Izuku had a routine. Each morning, he would wake up, stumble into the kitchen and eat the breakfast that sat waiting for him at the table (Inko was always up before him). After that he'd do his ablutions, get dressed and then kill whatever time he had left before he had to leave for school. Izuku thought it was a rather good routine, and didn't see any reason that a change was warranted.

Boy, was he in for a rough day.

His mom was leaning against the kitchen island, sipping at a cup of coffee and scrolling through her phone.

"Morning mom," he said blearily.

"Good morning Izuku," she responded without looking up from her phone.

Stumbling zombie-like over to the dining room table, he clambered up onto his usual seat and reached for the spoon that sat in his cereal bowl. A spoon that, after waving his hand around in the air looking for it, he found was not present. Upon further inspection, neither was the bowl. This anomaly warranted a significant increase in awake-ness.

Izuku looked around the rest of the table with a confused expression, but it was nowhere to be seen. He craned his head to see into the kitchen, but it wasn't there either. After a few seconds of puzzled searching, he turned towards Inko.

"Uh... mom?"

"Yes, Abanti?" She said, still not looking up.

"Where's my cereal?"

"Top shelf of the fridge."

He glanced at the fridge before turning back to her with a perplexed look on his face. "Why?"

"To keep it cold, of course."

If Izuku were a couple years older and more familiar with internet culture, he would have said his mother was trolling him. As it was, he tilted his head and squinted at her for a few moments before getting off the chair and walking over to the fridge, shooting her a weird look every few steps. Opening the silver door, his eyes immediately locked onto the hollowed out head of All Might which contained his breakfast, sitting on the top shelf.

At roughly twice his height.

He looked back at his mom with as much incredulousness as his four-year-old self could muster. He tried a few half-hearted jumps to grab it, but knew it was well out of his reach.

"Could you please get it down for me?" He asked, a little bit of irritation seeping in.

"I can, but it's going to cost you."

Izuku blinked a few times, not sure if he had heard correctly. "What?"

"It's going to cost you," she repeated, still not looking up. She tapped once on the screen of her phone and the sound of candy wrappers crinkling sounded out, followed by a deep, rumbling 'Delicious'.

Was she playing Candy Crush!?

He floundered for a few moments, his mouth opening and closing as he tried to think of something to say.

"Why!?" He eventually settled on.

"It's called business, or equivalent exchange. One party provides a good or service for another party and is compensated according to the value of said good or service."

Izuku understood approximately zero percent of that sentence, and so just repeated his previous question.

"Why!?"

Unseen to him, Inko rolled her eyes. "I put work into making that breakfast for you, and I expect something in return."

"But you've never wanted anything before!"

"Well now I do."

"But-but... other kid's moms don't do this to them!" Izuku cried in a bid to end this poppycock.

"I'm not some other kids mom though, am I Abanti?" For the first time, she lifted her head, one slender eyebrow arched in question.

"But...but..." Izuku tried arguing one last time, before deciding he was too hungry to be stubborn and took the path of least resistance. Shoulders slumping slightly, he gave in.

"What do you want then?"

"Push-ups," came the immediate reply.

Aaannnd he was back to being confused.

"...Push-ups?"

She nodded. "Five of them, on the floor, now. Go."

'Go' he did not. "Why push-ups?" He sounded bewildered.

"Because you're skinny. Now do them or you aren't getting breakfast." She said with a serious expression on her face. Izuku stared at her incredulously, searching for any sign that she was joking. He found none, just cold impassivity.

Wordlessly, he bent down and braced both hands against the floor while straightening out his legs, all the while waiting for his mom to start laughing and telling him she was joking. She didn't.

He bent his arms and started doing the push-ups. His arms started burning at three, and began shaking at five. With a grunt he let his knees drop to the floor to support him, before looking up at Inko for approval. Nodding once, she moved over to the fridge, grabbed the bowl and placed it on the dining room table.

'Finally,' thought Izuku.

Rushing over to the table, he began shoveling the yellow puffs of All Might brand cereal into his mouth, completely missing the devious smirk spreading across his mothers face.

"By the way Abanti, the ride to school is going to cost you twenty sit-ups, so unless you want to walk you might want to make some time for that before we leave," she said.

Milk and soggy yellow cereal fell out of Izuku's open mouth and back into the bowl as he turned to gape at her. With a slight tremor in his voice, he spoke.

"What?"

XXX

The Midoriya's dull red Toyota pulled up outside Shōgakkō Elementary School about half an hour later, containing one not-so-discreetly smirking Inko and her disgruntled son. Before said disgruntled son could exit the car, said smirking mother stopped him.

"About the ride home..." she began, trying not to laugh at the crestfallen look that appeared on his face.

Izuku, who had been half-expecting and completely dreading something like this, gave in without a fight. Trying to get out of the sit-ups had gotten him nowhere, and trying to negotiate the amount of sit-ups he had to do resulted in her adding another five. It had taken him a minute or two to recover from them.

"What do you want me to do?" He grumbled in a defeated tone.

Inko grinned. "Fifteen sit-ups and and five pushups. If you don't do them or only do some of them then I'll know, so don't even think about lying to me, m'kay Abanti?"

'Drat.'

"Yes mom," he sighed out loud.

"Good," she nodded. "Have a nice day." She let him get out of the car before closing the door and driving off. Izuku watched the car as it went, wondering what on earth had gotten into his mother. He shrugged before smiling; at least he was safe from the craziness here.

"Oi, Deku! My mom told me you don't have a quirk! Are you actually more useless than I already thought!?"

His smile disappeared.

'Aw poo.'

XXX

Inko slowed the car to a standstill beside him a few hours later, wondering why he was glaring at the ground. Without uttering a word he pulled open the back door, and hopped into the seat, still glaring. She watched on curiously from the rearview mirror, but didn't say anything. Instead, she focused her attention inward on the ever-present, indistinct ball of warmth that overlapped the top half of her heart and, for the first time in months, brought out her quirk.

Her skin tingled as the sensation of crawling insects and falling leaves spread over her skin. Beneath her clothes, the shadows seemed to shift and move. Immediately her senses sharpened and strengthened, while her muscles tightened and condensed. The subtle wave of power that swept through her body caused her to shiver.

Eyes closed, she pulled energy from the small ball and directed it towards a small spot on her back. Her hearing suddenly grew a few times more sensitive, and all of it was focused on her son.

Ba-bum, Ba-bum, Ba-bum, Ba-bum.

Eyes still closed, she spoke. "Did you do the exercises Abanti?"

Ba-bum, Ba-bum, Ba-bum, Ba-bum.

"Yes," he said shortly.

Inko ignored the anger in his voice and continued to concentrate on his heartbeat.

Ba-bum, Ba-bum, Ba-bum, Ba-bum.

Perfectly steady.

Smiling, she opened her eyes and looked at Izuku in the rearview mirror, before carefully schooling her features into a blank expression. She hadn't noticed it when he'd first gotten into the car, but now, eyes several times stronger and glowing green with power, the angry red mark on his cheek shone like a polished ruby. Frowning, she cut off the flow of energy and directed it all back into the small ball sitting in her chest, shivering once again as her skin crawled and her quirk receded. Releasing the handbrake, she pulled away from the school gates.

They drove for several minutes in silence, Inko taking glances at Izuku's lowered face every now and again. Without the power of her quirk, the blemish was hardly remarkable; if anyone had noticed it at all, they would probably have dismissed it as a flush or a slight sunburn, but his demeanor and her earlier use of the Ta'taoh told her otherwise.

It was only after a while that she finally addressed the issue.

"What happened?" She asked.

If Izuku was surprised by the question he didn't show it. "Kacchan found out I don't have a quirk," he grumbled, still burning a hole in the carpeted floor.

That was all he needed to say for her to understand. Inko's grip tightened on the steering wheel and her lips thinned; a small indication of the anger she felt inside.

'Oh, for fucks sake Mitsuki!'

So it was a burn mark then. Little Bakugou currently didn't have the strength to do much more than imitate a firecracker, but a firecracker to the face would sting nonetheless. At least he was angry; while not exactly good, it was preferable to him being a meek and crying mess (Hisashi had been rather emotional). Reigning in her righteous maternal fury, she asked her next question, voice tighter than before.

"Did you fight back?"

His expression turned into an ashamed grimace. "No," he said. "I tried to, but I couldn't."

Her stony visage softened slightly. She lost herself in thought for a bit as they continued their journey home. Eventually she let a small smile play across her face. No child of hers would be bullied, mainly because that would mean her child lacked the strength to defend themselves. A lack of fighting spirit wasn't something she could work with, but a lack of fighting ability?

That was easily fixed.

XXX

No one had ever accused Izuku of being stupid. In fact, those that cared to pay attention to such things found him to be quite the intelligent four-year-old. That's why he was immediately put on guard when he walked into the dining room and noticed the unusual setup of the table. With as weird as his mom had been acting today, he had learned that any break from their regular routine was cause to be wary.

Place mats sat across from each other at either end of the table. While Inko normally did sit at the head of the table, Izuku always sat to her right, so already this was diverting from the norm. The most unusual thing about the situation were the eating utensils; instead of the lacquered chopsticks that they normally ate with, a fork and sharp, serrated steak knife sat at both placements. His mom was still in the kitchen scooping peas and other assorted vegetables on to two plates alongside strips of tender steak.

After the day that he'd had, Izuku wasn't interested in whatever tom-foolery his mother had planned. And so, glaring suspiciously at her, he pointed at the table.

"Why?" He demanded in his grumpy little four-year-old voice.

Unfazed by his cheek, Inko smiled innocently at him as she carried the plates over to the table and and sat them down at either end.

"After seeing your disgusting little display this morning," she began as she sat down at her end of the table, "I have decided that it's time you learned some proper table manners."

The incident she was referring to was when Izuku had let his cereal escape his mouth after she had told him about his 'transportation fee'. She hadn't been too delighted at the sight and had scolded him while he pouted, wondering what the big deal was; it would all be going back into his mouth anyway.

"So tonight we'll be eating like civilized people. I'm going to teach you how to properly behave, and if you don't listen then you'll lose your computer time for the next three days. Understand?" She asked, while fixing him with a stern look.

Her words immediately raised a red flag for Izuku, causing him to narrow his eyes. Every time she had pulled these stunts today she had said something similar. 'Push-ups or no breakfast', 'sit-ups or no ride to school', 'push-ups and sit-ups or no ride home'. Now it was 'Do as I say or you're grounded'; a fairly common ultimatum amongst parents, though in this context it held deeper implications.

While Izuku's thought process wasn't as complicated, he reached the same conclusion.

Squinting suspiciously at his mother's expectant expression, he waited for her to name the type and quantity of exercise he had to do before he could eat. His suspicions only grew when she remained silent. Slowly, he moved to take the seat opposite her, eyes not once leaving her form. The sight of a child barely out of his toddler years staring down an amused adult like she was the most dubious person on the planet was actually pretty funny.

It took a little bit of fumbling, but he managed to climb onto his chair without looking away from his mother. Once he was seated, Inko clasped both hands in front of her, an action which Izuku copied.

"Itadakimasu," they chanted in unison.

Inko picked up her knife and fork and promptly began eating, not giving Izuku a second glance. Much more slowly, he did the same, all the while trying to bore a hole in her head. He didn't trust her one bit.

"Not like that Abanti." She said, pointing toward his knife hand. "Like this." She showed him the proper grip for the knife and he corrected it, all the while waiting for her to spring whatever trap she had in place.

Nothing.

Things continued in a similar vein for the next two minutes. Izuku would observe his mother with all the suspicion in the world, while Inko would eat her food and make the occasional adjustment to his etiquette, innocent as a lamb.

In those two minutes Izuku had been wound as tight as a spring, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When it didn't he began looking for it, but his quick glances around the room revealed nothing. He even took a quick peak under the table to see if any skulduggery was afoot there, but the space was devoid of all but his mother's feet.

Izuku began to relax. It had been a while now; he couldn't see anything wrong, and his mom hadn't done anything either. Maybe he was just being paranoid?

He had yet to take more than a few spoonfuls of peas and he was quite hungry. Being on the lookout had lost its self-preservative appeal and all he really wanted to do was let his guard down and dig in. So he did.

Biggest mistake of the day; no sooner had he lowered his gaze than a florette of broccoli hit him between the eyes.

Izuku froze, staring uncomprehendingly at the offending vegetable lying next to his plate. He was struggling to come to terms with what had just happened.

'Did...did mom just throw a piece of broccoli at me?'

He lifted his head to ask that very question, but before he could speak, a slice of carrot shot past his lips and slammed into the back of his throat. His eyes widened and he choked briefly on the unexpected projectile. Banging a fist against his chest, he managed to dislodge the carrot piece. No sooner had he air in his lungs than it was immediately expelled in an indignant shout. Slamming his hands into the table top, he stood up in his chair.

"What was that-!"

"Now, now Izuku," his mother chided, a mock stern expression on her face. "We don't shout at the dinner table, it's extremely rude. Sit down and talk normally."

Despite completely being in the right, no four-year-old argues with their parent when they take the tone Inko was currently using. Or at least Izuku didn't.

Plonking his butt back into the chair, he started speaking in a softer but no less annoyed tone.

"Why did you-"

With unnerving precision, Inko used her fork to flick a pea off her plate and directly into his eye.

"Ow!"

Another pea hit him on his left cheek.

"Hey-"

A small lump of mashed potatoes smacked him right in the middle of his forehead and stayed there. Izuku held up both hands to block any further attacks.

"Stop that!" He cried.

Instead of flicking more food at him, his mother responded with another correction of his table manners.

"We aren't monkeys Abanti, we don't eat with our hands. You have a knife and fork for a reason. If you touch your food with anything else then you're not getting your computer time."

"But-" he started incredulously.

"Knife and fork." She pronounced each word slowly and clearly, her stern gaze daring him to disobey her.

Throwing his hands up in defeat, Izuku picked up the indicated utensils. The second he did so he had to duck and swerve to avoid another florette of broccoli and dollop of potatoes that were thrown in quick succession.

"Squirming and fidgeting is also very bad table manners. I must say, I though raised you better than this Abanti."

By this time Izuku was fed up. Spearing a piece of carrot on his fork, he drew back his arm to fling it back, a look of childish rage on his face.

"Throw that at me and you won't see that computer for a week." Her voice stopped him dead in his tracks - it was cold and threatening and promised punishment. The few times she had spoken to him like that before was when he'd been on very thin ice.

He wisely lowered his arm.

"Good. Now sit still, use your knife and fork to cut the food and try not to get any on your clothes. Do you understand?" The last part was said with a look that wasn't a glare, but was still fiercely intense.

Something in her voice got through to him. He recognized it as the way she spoke when she was trying to tell him something without actually saying what it was.

For the first time that day, Izuku stopped and actually thought about why his mom was doing all these weird things. She never did anything without a good reason, so why was she doing this? What good reason could she possibly have for flinging food at him?

He didn't know, but what he did know was that his mother was much older and knew much more than him. There had to be a reason for this.

So he closed his mouth and banished his frown. He scraped the carrot off of his fork with the knife and looked back at her, waiting.

She nodded. "Remember Abanti, you can only use your knife and fork."

Hesitantly Izuku nodded. He thought he knew what she was trying to say, but-

A pea smacked him in the cheek. He flinched, but said nothing. Instead he focused all his attention on Inko, watching her like a hawk, the muscles in his arm tensed. Inko stared back placidly. Deliberately drawing attention to her fork, she positioned it behind a piece of broccoli on her plate. Once she was sure he had seen it, she sent it flying towards him.

He reacted. She had flicked it a little softer than the previous volleys so that he could track it, if only barely. Just before it hit him, he hastily brought up his knife and batted it to the side.

The movement was awkward and inelegant. He had hit the vegetable more out of instinct and luck than actual skill, and it was plainly obvious.

But it was what she was looking for.

Izuku looked nervously in her direction, not sure if he had done the right thing. He was relieved to see her give a small nod.

"Good."

That was the last word spoken during the meal. Inko would continue to sporadically fling items of food from her plate at him, and he would attempt to intercept them with his eating utensils. He would miss more often than not, but she was satisfied with his performance.

Anyone observing the bizarre family dinner would be quite confused. A loving mother seemed to be engaged in some strange food fight with her adorable son. They would be hard pressed to see the situation for what it was.

A seasoned warrior teaching history's greatest hero his first lesson.

AN: I hope it wasn't to boring, but I like to be thorough in my stories and setting everything up takes some time. A little shorter than my regular chapters, but still a decent length I think.

If you're wondering what the point of Inko's food flinging was, that will be clarified in the next chapter. As always, constructive criticism and corrections on things I got wrong in terms of the little details is welcome.

Reviews are wanted in abundance.

See you guys next chapter (hopefully). Cheers!