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“Izu, can you grab the panko? It’s on the top shelf.”
The ghostie’s translucent curls bounced as he nodded his head and floated up to reach the top cupboard. It was warm in the kitchen as the two prepared to make dinner.
Present Mic and Eraserhead had been very active in the hero community this week. There had been a surplus of petty crimes in the day and robberies in the night. Both heroes had been coming home extra tired this week, but today was Friday, meaning they would have tonight and tomorrow free.
As a surprise, Hitoshi and Izuku decided they’d make dinner for their dad’s! Well… Hitoshi was doing most of the cooking, seeing as 1. Hitoshi was the one who had the skills to make edible food and 2. Izuku was a ghost which often made it hard to constantly interact with objects. The ghost could hold things for maybe a minute now before it became difficult and he dropped it. He’d gotten much better at energy manipulation and thus wasted less energy doing different tasks.
After much debate (read as not that much thanks to Izuku’s killer puppy eyes) it had been decided that the boys would make Katsudon for dinner as it was both tasty and relatively easy to make.
The pork cutlets were already pounded thin, so now Hitoshi just needed the panko crumbs and an egg wash before he could fry them into crunchy goodness. Hitoshi made quick work of taking a cutlet, dipping it into the egg-wash, then coating it with the panko.
Izuku watched with excitement as the dish slowly came together.
“Can you leave the onions out?”
Hitoshi, who had just washed his hands, tilted his head in confusion. “But the onions add flavor?”
Izuku bit his lip. “Please?” Hitoshi saw an emotion in Izuku’s eyes that he couldn’t quite decipher, but decided against arguing with his brother.
“Alright,” Izuku beamed with a smile. “But then you’re explaining to the grumps why the dish is missing ingredients.”
Izuku scoffed dramatically and stuck his tongue out in mock offense. Hitoshi chuckled and tossed the towel he’d dried his hands with at the ghost. It went through the ghostie obviously but made him shiver at the feeling of something passing through his body.
The ghost flapped his hands as he silently squealed from the feeling. “Hitoshi!”
“ UUuughhhhh are we home yet?”
“Hizashi. If you ask me that
one more time
, I will throw
all
of your hairspray in the trash.”
Present Mic, AKA Hizashi Yamada, gasped and brought a gloved hand up to his chest. He was hurt! Wounded! “Shou! How could you?!”
“Quite easily,” grumbled back the tired underground hero. Shouta was equally as tired, but you didn’t hear him complaining every five seconds.
“Stop being so grumpy Shou! We wouldn’t want the kiddies to be contaminated by your grumpiness now would we~”
A piece of capture weapon quickly lashed out, cuffing the back of Hizashi’s neck and making the blonde yelp as he stumbled a bit. By the time he corrected himself, which honestly was only a quick moment, his traitorous husband was already a fair bit ahead of him.
“Shou! Don’t leave meeeee!”
It took a few more minutes before the duo finally reached their home. Hizashi nearly dropped his key as he fumbled in the excitement of greeting his boys. “Hitoshi! Izuku! We’re home!!~”
Shouta quickly flared his quick to cut off his husband’s piercing scream as Izuku popped out through a wall, scaring the loud blonde.
“Izu! You know I scare easy! Why are you so mean to me?~” Hizashi did an exaggerated pout, letting his ghost child know he was just teasing.
Izuku giggled silently. “Because it’s funny Papa!”
Hizashi’s pout only deepened before he jumped as Shouta came up to poke his side. “Where’s your brother, Izuku?” He asked.
Izuku didn’t sign an answer-back, instead just waving for the duo to follow him into the dining room. The two were met with a table of already plated food and drinks.
“Surprise,” Hitoshi said as he made mock jazz hands alongside Izuku.
“We made dinner! It’s Katsudon!!”
Hizashi squealed and bounced in place before running over to scoop Hitoshi up into a bear hug. “You kiddos are so sweet!!”
Shouta was also very touched that his sons had decided to surprise them with dinner, but hid his smile in his capture weapon. Once Hitoshi finally managed to escape the trap of his pop’s hugs, the family all moved to sit down in their seats so they could eat together.
Hizashi was chatting with Izuku while Shouta surveyed the meal, his eyebrow quirking up as he noticed a small little detail.
“I didn’t take you like someone to forget ingredients, Hitoshi,” Shouta said in a teasing matter but he was also curious.
Hitoshi mumbled something under his breath before answering his dad. “Don’t blame me. Ask Izu.” Tired black eyes shifted to his other son in question.
Once more, Izuku bit his lip and shifted nervously. Instead of answering right away, Izuku instead turned back to Hitoshi. “Can I?”
Hitoshi nodded and Izuku floated over to his brother. Reaching out a hand to each other, Izuku made contact with a warm hand before his figure faded away. Hitoshi’s eyes closed briefly, before opening to reveal the usual purple irises, only now they had a small, nearly unnoticeable white ring around the pupils.
Using Hitoshi’s voice, Izuku answered his dad’s earlier question. “Katsudon is something my momma always made me, especially when I was sad, but I’ve never liked onions. It’s not the same as mommas but...” A hand came up to rub his- their - neck as they- Izuku - laughed a bit in remembrance. Shouta’s eyes softened at his ghost child. Izuku rarely talked about his mother and the few times he did, the picture painted was always that of a kind, loving mother.
Both he and Hizashi had wondered more than once if they should ask Izuku more about his life before becoming a ghost, but quickly decided it better to let Izuku talk to them at his own pace, even though it had now been quite a few months that the ghost had been with them.
Hizashi, always one to try and lighten a rough atmosphere, clapped his hands together. “Well! I for one am excited to enjoy a meal lovingly made by two of my favorite people!~”
Hitoshi- Izuku - smiled at their- his - pops enthusiasm. The small family all muttered thanks for the food provided and began to eat. Both adults laughed as their sons bounced in their seat upon their first bite.
It may not have been his mother’s Katsudon, but Izuku was still happy to be able to enjoy a familiar comfort. Hitoshi stayed passive in his mind and let Izuku eat in peace, occasionally pushing forward to contribute in conversation before becoming passive once more. Once half of their- Izuku’s - bowl was eaten, Izuku disconnected from Hitoshi and let his brother be in control again.
Having become accustomed to their strange routine of sometimes sharing a body, Hitoshi didn’t even falter as he continued to eat his meal, Izuku now floating happily beside him.
He would never be able to help Izuku the way the ghost had helped him, but being able to give his brother even the smallest bit of happiness just by helping him eat some Katsudon meant everything to Hitoshi.
Having two pro heroes as parents was difficult schedule-wise, but quiet moments like this, where they were able to simply spend time together and eat, meant everything to the small family.
Inko hummed as she spooned rice into two shallow bowls, hips swaying slightly as she moved on to add the pork cutlet. Her hands were warm as she carried the bowls over to a lovingly worn-out table, setting one bowl down in her spot and the other across from her. She smiled at the familiar sight.
The soft sound of a chair scraping against the floor sounded. Inko made herself comfortable in her seat before picking up her chopsticks and saying a soft thank you for the food. She ate in silence, sometimes sighing when she looked at the other bowl.
She ate half of her bowl before she set her chopsticks down and sat back, staring at the cooled bowl of food sitting across from her.
Today was the anniversary of her son’s death.
She had made great progress in healing from her loss, but she still felt the emptiness of her home. It lacked the warmth her baby had brought. She missed the storms of muttering when he wrote about quirks, the enthusiastic little bounce he’d do when she surprised him with Katsudon for dinner, even the hazard of needing to watch her step in fear of stepping on a fallen All Might figure.
She remembered cursing on numerous occasions from having stepped on a pointy action figure.
Mitsuki had insisted on coming over today, to help her get through the day, but Inko had stood strong and assured her friend that she would be okay. Inko would never fully heal from the loss of her only child, but the pain lessened each day. She knew Izuku wouldn’t have wanted her hurting forever. So, she made sure to try and continue living, not only for herself but also for Izuku.
Izuku lived on in her memories and retellings of embarrassing stories of things he did as a child. Her favorite was the picture she had of Izu in an All Might onesie. She chuckled at the thought, knowing that had Izuku been there he would have blushed and tried to hide the photo.
Was it slightly delusional to make dinner for someone long gone? Perhaps it was.
But Inko knew. She knew that she would end up wrapping the bowl up before putting it in the fridge as leftovers. She wasn’t delusional enough to think that by making the Katsudon, Izuku would somehow show up again. No, she made the Katsudon as a small tribute to her son.
She looked back to her half-eaten bowl and decided she was tired. She stood and carried the bowls back to her counter to put plastic wrap over them, clicking against the fridge’s shelf as she set them inside. She left the dishes in the sink for tomorrow as she made her way down the hall. As she made her way to her room, she paused in front of the only closed door in her apartment.
It was Izuku’s room. She kept it closed to keep it the way it had been when Izuku last left. Her hand came to rest on the door handle, debating whether to enter or not.
Her hand tightened as she made to open the door before it fell slack. Instead, leaving the handle and coming up to rest against the wood of the door as her forehead fell forward with a soft thud.
Opening the door meant opening old wounds. One day, she’d go into the room and move things into storage.
But for now, she’d keep it closed. She opened her eyes that she hadn’t even realized had been closed, smiling softly at the door.
“I miss you Izuku, and I hope that wherever you are, that you’re happy.”
And with that, Inko continued to her room. She was far from healed, but she knew she would be okay.
She would heal with time, if not for her own sake, then for her son’s.