The downpour raged without mercy, transforming the streets into violent rivers. Cars, tossed like discarded toys, lay overturned on the broken asphalt, their metal frames groaning under the weight of the storm.
The road itself had fractured, jagged fissures splitting the earth as if the world could no longer hold itself together. In the distance, sirens wailed, fire trucks, ambulances, and police; their piercing cries cutting through the chaos, too late to change what had already been broken.
Amid the wreckage, a small figure knelt, trembling. Izuku Midoriya, his green hair plastered to his skin by the relentless rain, clutched his mother's lifeless body. Inko Midoriya's once-warm features were now pale, her matching green hair tangled with rain and blood.
A brutal wound marred her stomach, the cruel work of a villain's rampage. His small hands, slick with crimson, shook as he held her tighter, as if sheer desperation could undo the inevitable.
His sobs dissolved into the storm, unheard.
"Why did we go out…?"
The words tore from his throat, raw and broken, swallowed by the downpour.
"This is all my fault."
Tears blended with the rain, streaking down his face, each drop a silent accusation.
"If I had a Quirk… this wouldn't have happened."
His fingers twisted into her drenched clothes, his entire body wracked with tremors.
"I'm sorry, Mom… I'm so sorry…"
He pressed her against his chest, as if he could shield her from the world that had already stolen her away.
Then a shadow fell over them.
Izuku looked up, his vision blurred by tears and rain. Towering above him stood Edgeshot, the ninja hero, his usually composed features twisted with guilt.
The man's spiky gray hair clung to his forehead, his dark gray eyes heavy with remorse. His blue robe, usually a symbol of hope, was now soaked through, the red shinobi gear beneath splattered with mud and rain.
"I'm sorry, kid," Edgeshot said, his voice rough. "I couldn't stop the villain in time."
For a long moment, Izuku simply stared. Then, quietly, he whispered:
"It's fine."
Edgeshot stiffened. He had expected anger, blame the usual outburst of grief. But the boy's voice held no accusation, only hollow resignation.
And that, somehow, was worse.
"Is there anything I can do?" Edgeshot asked, though the moment the words left his mouth, he braced himself. Grief made people ask for the impossible.
Izuku's head snapped up, eyes burning. "A burial," he said, voice cracking. "Not a temple plot. Not fire. I want her in the ground."
Edgeshot's jaw tightened. "Kid, you know Japan hasn't allowed that in decades. Even if I wanted to—"
"I don't care about the laws!" Izuku's fists shook. "She deserved more than than a numbered box in some corporate ossuary. So either help me or don't waste my time!"
The air between them went sharp. Heroes upheld order; that was the pact. But the boy in front of him wasn't a villain just a son, stripped raw.
Edgeshot exhaled through his teeth. "Two days. Give me two days,"
. . . .
The key was stiff in his hand, its grooves crusted with dried blood. With a shaky breath, Izuku turned it in the lock, pushing open the door to the empty house.
For a fleeting moment, he saw her, his mother, standing in the doorway, her smile warm and familiar. "Welcome back," she said, her voice echoing in his mind. But the vision dissolved as quickly as it came, leaving only silence.
Izuku's throat tightened. He stepped inside, shutting the door behind him with a hollow click. Flicking on the light, he scanned the living room everything was still in place, untouched. As if she might walk in at any second.
His fists clenched, nails biting into his palms.
"Mom… I'm sorry." His knees hit the floor, his body folding under the weight of guilt. A choked sob tore from his lips as he slammed his fist against the ground. "This is all my fault!"
'Why did I ask her to go out with me?'
'Why did I think I could have this a second chance, a happy life with her?'
The cruel irony of it burned through him. One choice, one moment, and everything had unraveled.
"Muscular…" His voice was raw, trembling with fury. "Wait for me. I'll make you regret it."
Gritting his teeth, Izuku forced himself up, his body trembling with barely contained rage. He stumbled toward the shower, the water scalding as it sluiced over his skin, washing away the blood, hers, his, he didn't even know anymore.
Memories flashed behind his closed eyelids.
"Mom, get out! I can wash myself!"
"Honey, are you embarrassed?" Her laughter, light and teasing. "I'm your mother." That smile, so full of love it made his chest ache.
A tear mixed with the stream of water.
Clean clothes did little to ease the weight pressing down on him. As he stepped out of his room, the shrill ring of the house phone cut through the silence.
Izuku hesitated before lifting the receiver.
"Who is this?" he asked, voice hollow.
"Son… is that you?" His father's voice, strained with worry.
"Yeah."
"Are you… alone?"
Izuku exhaled, gripping the phone tighter. "It's fine, Otou-san."
"It's not fine." Hisashi's voice cracked. "I'll be there tomorrow, okay? I'm coming home."
A faint, bitter smile tugged at Izuku's lips. "Are we… moving to the U.S.?"
"Yes. Unless… you don't want to?"
He swallowed hard. "Just… give me two more days."
A pause. Then, softly: "Alright."
. . . .
Two Days Later
The air atop Mount Kamui was thin and cold, biting at Izuku's skin as he knelt before the freshly packed earth of his mother's grave. The stone marker stood stark against the gray sky, her name carved into it with cruel finality.
'This is my fault.'
Tears burned tracks down his cheeks, but he didn't wipe them away. His fingers dug into the dirt, as if he could somehow reach her.
"Mom… I'm sorry." His voice cracked. "If I hadn't begged you"
Kamihara Shinya (Edgeshot) stood silently beside him, his usual composed demeanor softened by grief. The boy's words struck him like a blade. 'So that's why he never blamed me.'
'Kid…' His chest tightened.
Midoriya Hisashi watched his son, his own sorrow a crushing weight. His wife was gone. But right now, his son was breaking before his eyes, and that was a pain he couldn't bear. He forced his voice steady.
"Thank you… for honoring my son's request." He bowed deeply, gratitude and grief warring in the motion.
Shinya shook his head. "Don't. I should've been faster. I failed her."
"No." Hisashi's voice was firm, eyes flickering to Izuku's hunched form. "The only one at fault is the villain who took her."
A quiet exhale. Then, lower, just for Shinya: "I'm taking him to the States."
"Did he refuse?"
"No. He's willing."
But Izuku wasn't listening. His gaze remained locked on the grave, his fists clenched so tightly his nails drew blood.
'Muscular.' The name seared into his mind like a brand. 'Wait for me.'
Izuku rose slowly, his knees damp from the earth. With a final swipe of his sleeve across his eyes, he steadied his voice. "I'm ready."
Hisashi knelt beside the fresh mound of earth, his broad shoulders trembling as his fingers traced the cold soil. "Your smile," he whispered, "could light up my darkest days." A choked sob escaped him. "I'm sorry I wasn't there when you needed me most." He pressed his lips to the ground in a lingering kiss, the taste of earth and grief mingling on his tongue. "Our son... I'll protect him now. I swear it on my life." His tears fell freely, watering the grave as he made his silent vow. "Goodbye for now, my love."
With deliberate care, Hisashi wiped his face and stood, the weight of fatherhood settling on his shoulders. "Let's go," he said, his voice thick but resolute.
The three figures walked away from the secluded gravesite, their shadows stretching long behind them. Life, relentless in its forward march, carried them toward an uncertain future.