13. I Did It For You

Izuku is a nervous wreck. Don't get him wrong, he's happy – excited, even – to finally be able to see his mom, but it's the very first time he steps foots inside a prison and it's incredibly intimidating. Aizawa-sensei takes the lead while Izuku follows him around like a lost puppy. They go through security clearance, where they have to leave their personal belongings for safekeeping.

And to restrict inmates from accessing anything they could use as a weapon. He knows they can't be worried about his mom doing anything remotely dangerous, but it still hurts him that she's put in the same bundle as violent prisoners just for what is possibly a mere misunderstanding. They try to take Aizawa-sensei's scarf too, but after flashing his hero license they relent and let him keep his capture weapon.

And then he meets his mother.

She's sitting at a simple, stainless-steel table. Alone. Seeing her all decked in washed out blue isn't all that much different from her nurse garbs for work, but the quirk-suppressing cuffs on her wrists is like a punch to the gut, reminding him that, yes, this is very real and they're really imprisoned his mother.

His breath hitches as he stares at her from where he's frozen in the doorway, then he lets out a single sob before his feet start moving on their own.

"Mom!" He barely takes two steps before a hand closes on his shoulder tightly, preventing him from running towards her.

"Easy," Aizawa-sensei soothes, but then he's gently nudging him until he hesitatingly sits on the chair bolted to the floor just in front of his mom, on the other side of the table. He wants to hug her so bad, but the guard who led them here had been strict concerning the rules. Besides, Aizawa-sensei was standing just behind him, a hand still clasped on his shoulder.

He tears up, because she's right there and he can't even hug her, but miraculously he doesn't cry. Her, on the other hand, already has tears running down her cheeks, eyes downcast to her hands gripping each other tightly.

"Mom?" She looks up at him, and then she smiles. Small, sweet, loving, the way she always smiles at him when he rambles continuously during diner, or when he offers to help with the chores, and even when he asks for her help for his homework. And it's just so familiar, comfortable. Already, a weight has been lifted off his heart, and he feels his own lips stretch in a smile as he wipes his almost-tears with the heel of a hand.

"Oh baby," she coos, and makes to reach out to him, but the cuffs around her wrists are bound to the table. It's absolutely painful to see her in this situation; he has to remind himself this is only temporary.

"Don't worry, mom," he says with as much conviction he can muster, "you'll be out of here in no time!" He doesn't have to work hard at all to add a good amount of cheer in his voice, not when he knows, after seeing his mom's smile again, that there's no way she's guilty. "I'm sure Aizawa-sensei and Detective Tsukauchi are already working on clearing up this misunderstanding!" He feels the hand on his shoulder tighten. He thinks, at first, that it's in a reassuring way, but as he watches his mother's face crumble at his words, he realizes Aizawa-sensei's show of support was actually a silent warning. His own breath stutters as his heart seizes painfully at the array of emotion that flickers on his mom's face. She always wore her heart on her sleeve, not unlike him, so he can easily see the sadness in the downturn of her lips, the despair in her eyes, and the regret in the way her shoulders curve inward.

He's very suddenly reminded of a faithful day, all those years ago. He remembers it well, because it was the first time someone shattered his dream of being a hero. She had that exact same expression when he asked her, with tear-filled eyes, if he could still become a hero even if he was quirkless. She hadn't answered, not directly, but her heartbroken apology had conveyed her opinion well enough.

He shakes his head in small, slow motions, because he refuses to believe it.

"Mom?" He asks in a small voice. He feels his own shoulders shake with repressed sobs. "Wha – What's wrong?" His chest feels overly tight, likely not breathing as he should, but in this moment it's the least of his worries. His mom whimpers, a high-pitched note let out through gritted teeth.

"Izuku, baby…" she sniffles and turns her head to dry a tear on her shoulder, even though it's quickly replaced by more fresh tears just as soon. "I'm so sorry!" Her voice breaks at the end with a hitched breath before she lets out more gut-wrenching sobs.

"Mom, no," he whispers. He screws his eyes shut, unable to continue looking at his mom in so much emotional pain. He doesn't want to cry, but he can't quite trap the tears behind his eyelids. "Why?" He asks meekly, but his mother just keeps on crying.

He's sure he himself would be a blabbering mess right now, possibly crying even harder than his mom, if it wasn't for the steady presence of Aizawa-sensei at his back and the grounding hand that hasn't left his shoulder from the start.

He's doing all he can to keep his composure through his mother's breakdown, taking deep breaths to stay calm. Aside from a few stray tears, he manages pretty well all things considered, and watches with a pinched face as his mom's finally slow to a stop. She's a snively mess, but she's coherent enough for Izuku to repeat his simple question, in the hopes of receiving a much-needed answer.

"Why?" His voice cuts through the tense silence like a knife, cold and hard. He's not angry, exactly, maybe a bit disappointed. Hurt, definitely. It's as if claws are gripping his heart tightly, squeezing to the point talons are making it bleed inside his chest.

He needs to know why his mom condemned him to the kind of childhood he's had. Friendless, bullied, disregarded. Why she even considered stripping him of his worth, let others deem him useless and a lost cause.

She sniffles, and then she brings her gaze back up, her eyes pleading, begging to understand her reasoning.

"I did it for you," she explains. Her voice is trembling, but she seems to start getting a hold of herself, like she's reminding herself that her intentions were pure all along.

"For me?" He repeats slowly. He wants to believe her, he really does. Yet he can't imagine any good reason to section him from a part of himself so deeply ingrained as the quirk he was supposedly born with.

"Yes sweetheart," she smiles softly. "Your quirk… it wasn't suited for you, baby. It would have ruined you," she adds in a whisper.

"But…" He can't quite wrap his mind around it. "Why? W-What made you think it was anything b-bad?" He knows how some quirks are seen as villainous by society, but it's only because people tend to focus on the bad things they could be used for, forgetting to look at all the good they can potentially do too. "Why d-did you…" He can't bring himself to finish the question, but it doesn't look like it's necessary.

His mom pinches her lips in a thin line and a hard glint appears in her eyes. It reminds Izuku of the times he deliberately went against her words as a child just to test the limits. To see how far he could take things before she got truly mad at him.

"You killed Hisashi," she states bluntly. But that can't be right, his father left for America all those years ago. He doesn't realize he's spoken his thoughts out loud until his mom tells him with a softer voice "No, Izuku." He knows he's shaking his head, in denial, but he stops when she mimics his movements, though much slower. "He never got to leave for America. You were so angry, that evening, much more than what was reasonable. It was your quirk, the doctor said, that had made you so mad, so furious. You lashed out at him, and you killed him."

"Stop," he whimpers, but either she doesn't hear him or she just can't stop now that the truth is finally spilling out, because she continues.

"Your quirk was so strong, so deadly… that first manifestation was so violent you passed out right after. And I…" Her face crunches up like she's in pain. Perhaps she truly is, even if it's no physical ailment. "I just couldn't bear it.

"Mom. Please stop," he begs.

Aizawa-sensei probably hears the whines he lets out when she continues to talk, because he cuts through her speech with a sharp "Enough!", but the damage is already done. Her last words he hears before his teacher ushers him up on shaking legs and out the door echoes in his head long after they leave her behind.

You killed us, Izuku.