Chapter Text
What if life froze like a stilled picture?
What if each still picture told a story that you didn’t know about?
A picture can tell a thousand words, but it’s up to the viewer to decipher the story behind the lens. And the beauty of that is that everyone will have a different interpretation. For example, take a sunset. Sunsets can be intimate, but also sad. Some sunsets can be beautiful, casting an array of warm-toned colors, but then some can be dull with only a singular color and a blinding sun. It can be the start of the day for one person, but then the end of the day for the next.
And that’s why he fell in love with it.
Photography had a way to calm the nerves, a sense of tranquility. He could forever get lost in the beauty of nature. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
In the distance, gray clouds spidered with lightning plagued the sky, while behind him, sunshine was displayed. Contradicting if you asked him, but he wouldn’t trade the view for any other. He raised the black Canon camera and took a shot of the unfolding scene. A smile graced his lips as he snapped a few more, kneeling to one knee to get a different viewpoint.
He shifted to a position so he could capture both scenes unfolding. A mesmerizing catastrophe in the making, and he was in the eye of the storm. But those kinds of scenarios called for the best captures. It was an unnecessary risk that he was willing to take as long as he protected his camera; that was all that mattered.
“Izuku?”
He jumped slightly and turned to the call of his name. He smiled when he saw her. He let the camera drop to his side and opened his arms as she came running up the hill.
“Eri!” She barreled into him with a crashing hug. “What are you doing here?” he asked, squeezing her tightly. He swung them in a circle as he held her close.
“Dad wanted to surprise you!” she said, her hands gripping his shoulders. “And find you. You didn’t come home. But I knew this was one of your favorite spots, so it was a hunch.” She winked at him.
He pulled back and looked over as Shouta, his adopted father, leaned against a tree with his hands tucked into his pants pockets. He had a small smile on his lips and gave a short nod in greeting.
Izuku still thought about his mom and how everything just happened in just the blink of an eye. Hiashi was written off dead years ago. The man known as his biological father. Izuku didn’t know him, had never met the man, nor did the man ever think Izuku was enough to make an effort. Inko did everything she could until she couldn’t. There was an accident, one that was so sudden and unpredictable. A year ago.
He remembered that day so clearly. He was in his first year at U.A, a few months into the semester. The class was rowdy, gossiping among the women. The guys rough-played; one had Kaminiari in a headlock while another gave him a noogie. Izuku had his head bent down, sketching in one of his notebooks. He used to write, but then writing turned into doodles, and then doodles turned into scenic drawings.
He remembered how his tongue darted out at the corner of his mouth, his focus solely on the shading. And then the door opened, Mr. Mic standing at the doorway, motioning for Mr. Aiwaza, their first-year teacher. They whispered so that no one could make out the words, and then they both turned to look at him.
“Midoriya,” Mr. Aizawa called, his voice strained.
He jerked his head up as Mr. Aizawa motioned for him to get up. He dropped his pencil, rubbed his palms on his thighs, and got up timidly. Being called up wasn’t always a good thing. Being called up meant you were in trouble. But Izuku didn’t know what he could have possibly done wrong. He was a quiet person who mumbled to himself a lot, but he wasn’t distracting, well, to most people. His rambles usually annoyed Kacchan–Katsuki Bakugo, in other words. Izuku just got used to referring to him as Kacchan that the boy's real name felt awkward on his tongue. Kacchan didn’t enjoy that Izuku still called him that, but he didn’t tell Izuku to stop, so he didn’t.
The class quieted, curiosity written on their faces. He heard someone comment about how ‘oooh looks like Mido is in trrrroooouble’. Then Mr. Aizawa shot them dirty looks. Izuku stopped beside Mr. Aizawa in the doorway. He tried to read the emotional look on Mr. Mic’s face, the other instructor opening and closing his mouth like a fish. No words are coming out. Speechless.
Mr. Aizawa cleared his throat and quietly said, “I’m sorry, Midoriya, but there was an accident.”
His body froze. “W-what? What do you mean by that?” he asked, scrunching his eyebrows together as he tried to process the word accident. “W-who was in an accident?”
“You’re needed at Central Hospital,” he said quietly, tightening his grip on Izuku’s shoulder. “It’s your mother.”
“What do you mean, there was an accident? What are you talking about?” Izuku asked, puzzled, raising his voice, which caught the attention of the entire class. “Mr. Aizawa?” His mom should be at work, right? His eyes flicked to the wall clock, which confirmed he was right; his mother should be at work.
“I’m sorry,” Mr. Aizawa quietly said again.
The way Mr. Aizawa looked at him made his stomach drop as he turned slightly, casting a look in Kacchan's direction, who was watching, concerned etched on his features. It wasn’t like they were close anymore. They barely talked, but Kacchan was like family to his mother and knew, despite their differences, that Kacchan would be just as wrecked. But he had no words. And the next thing Izuku knew, he shoved Mic out of the way–hearing a frantic Deku and Midoriya behind him as he rushed down the hall. He flew down the stairs, skipping steps as he went. The whole endeavor to the hospital passed in a blur. He didn’t know how his feet carried him. He didn’t know how his lungs didn’t give out. He was on autopilot.
By the time he got to the hospital, he was a heaving, sweaty mess. The fact that he managed to make it all the way to the hospital only made him more impressed. It was a few miles from the school, but adrenaline was a powerful emotion. It made anything possible.
“Inko… Midoriya,” he told the lady at the desk between breaths. “I’m Izuku… Midoriya, her… son.”
The woman paused, and then the pity cast over her eyes as she stared at him. She placed the phone back on the receiver. Izuku hated that look, but he tried to plaster a weak smile because that’s all he knew how to do. He didn’t have–didn’t know the facts about the situation. He was trying really hard not to assume the worst. But the way Mr. Aizawa was speaking, and the looks he received didn’t bode him high hopes.
“Right this way,” she said as she stood.
When they entered, he froze in the doorway. He could feel the urge to panic wrap around his lungs and heart like a vice, squeezing harder and harder until breathing became almost impossible. He swallowed hard, bringing tears to his eyes. He had to be dreaming... no, stuck in a nightmare. Because that's what he was staring at. His one, worst nightmare.
“I’m sorry, son. We did everything we could,” the doctor in starch white said. He was an older man, late fifties if Izuku had to peg. “I’m Dr. Sorahiko. Your mother was in a car accident. She wasn’t at fault. Another vehicle was speeding and sped through a traffic light while your mother had the right-of-way. There was severe trauma to her head and chest.”
Izuku licked his lips as he took a hesitant step forward and stopped. Head injuries were never good. Head injuries meant bad things.
“What does that all mean?” he asked, his voice cracking.
“I’m sorry. But there is no brain activity. She is essentially what we refer to as brain dead,” Dr. Sorahiko informed, his face grim.
Izuku stared at his mother’s chest as it rose and sank, the beeps to the machines ringing in his ears.
“You are the only family listed, but we also have Mitsuki Bakugo listed as a non-relative in case of emergencies,” he added.
“She’s… she’s my mom’s best friend,” he said, in shock.
How could he not be in shock? His entire world just became a fucking nightmare, and Izuku wasn’t one for cursing, but right now, he wanted to scream every word in the book. He couldn’t feel his legs as they became jelly and every step became heavier, like walking through quicksand. Not that he had ever experienced that before, but he could only imagine. He stopped beside the bed, his hands shaking as he touched the guard rail.
“We also need to talk placement for you,” Dr. Sorahiko mentioned, glancing at Izuku. “CPS will have to be involved since you’re still a minor.”
“CPS?” he repeated, the words tasting bitter on his tongue. “I’m not going to a foster home.” The realization hit him so hard. He could feel it whelming in his chest. He was going to suffocate as his hand moved from the rail to his chest. “I can’t–no, I won’t.” What was happening? Why was this happening to him? What the hell did he ever do to deserve this? Was he being punished?
“Mr. Midoriya,” Dr. Sorahiko said.
Izuku shook his head and backed up. He couldn’t breathe. He began sweating as his fingers clawed into his chest. He had to be stuck in a nightmare. There was no way he was living this in reality. Why him? Why her? Why did it have to be his mother? The most selfless, loving person he’d ever known. Why did bad have to come to someone so good? It just didn’t make any damn sense to him.
“Wake me up,” he said, short on breath. “Wake me the fuck up, NOW!” he cried as he crashed to the floor.
“Nurse,” Dr. Sorahiko yelled, kneeling beside Izuku.
In that instant, his entire world shattered.
He didn’t know what happened next. He blacked out and woke up on the couch bed in his mother's room with a thin sheet over him. He assumed he had a panic attack and fainted. He snorted, disappointed in himself. The door opened, and in came Mitsuki, Kacchan’s mom, juggling a coffee and with her cell phone pressed between her ear and shoulder. He rubbed his face and sat up, throwing his legs over the side as he leaned forward on his elbows–digging deep into his thighs.
“I have to go. Izuku just woke up,” Mitsuki said, hanging up the line. “Izuku, honey.” She sat down beside him, her hand automatically reaching out to rub his back. “I’m sorry. I got here as soon as I could. You shouldn’t have been alone for this…” she said, trailing off.
He shook his head. “I…she… how?” was all he could get out.
He felt his face get hot all over again as the tears brimmed and started streaming down his face. He didn’t feel the same sort of panic when he initially got there, but he felt empty. Hollow on the inside. An empty shell.
“Masaru and Katsuki will be here in a little while. We also need to talk about arrangements,” she said, her hand stilling on his back.
“No,” Izuku said, standing up to break that contact.
“Izuku,” Mitsuki said, rolling her lips as her eyes turned glossy.
“I can’t. I won’t. I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head. “I-I need air.”
With that, he turned around without another word and left.
He wandered the hospital grounds and then found himself perched on a stone bench overlooking a garden with a large water fountain and a statue. The statue was that of an angel as water cascaded from the halo down into the reservoir just to repeat the action. Recycling.
He slumped down and leaned his head back onto the bench, glaring at the bright blue sky. Birds flew, chirping and singing. Clouds moved at a leisurely pace; every once in a while, one would slither in front of the sun, creating a little shade. He closed his eyes, and he focused on the crashing water.
If someone had told Izuku Midoriya that today, his mother would be dead, he would have given them an incredulous look, telling them they weren’t funny and move on with his day. Maybe a warning would have prepared him better.
But no one can prepare for death.
Not even when it’s already acknowledged that it was to come.
Death also brings forth a lot of what-ifs and guilt. Blame. Grief. Cloudy judgment. Bitterness. Self-hatred. The list goes on. It should bring strength. It should bring happiness to be a part of that light that once shone. It should bring all the good memories to the forefront to retell.
It should.
But doesn’t always mean that it will happen.
“Hey, problem child,” Mr. Aizawa said.
Izuku opened his eyes as a shadow loomed over him and stared up into dark, bleak eyes. They were pensive but also full of sorrow. It took him a moment to process his teacher standing before him. It was really a confusing moment for him because it seemed that the so called thing as life loved to play mind tricks with him. Loved to set him up for grief.
“Mr. Aizawa?” he said, his voice cracking. “What are you doing here?”
“You took off before I could get anything else. I was going to take you here, but apparently, everyone underestimated just how fast you can run,” he said. “Can I sit?”
Izuku sat straight and moved to make room so Mr. Aizawa could sit beside him. No words were exchanged for a few minutes as they watched the fountain. Every so often, a breeze would come through and spray them with a light mist.
“I heard Bakugo’s parents are trying to get you placed with them,” Mr. Aizawa said, breaking the silence.
“Not happening,” Izuku bit out bitterly. He didn't mean to sound so harsh, but it was hard not to with the way he was feeling. The feelings were so... foreign.
Mr. Aizawa arched an eyebrow. “Do you want to tell me why? It’s listed that there is no other family for you to stay with.”
Izuku curled his fingers into fists on his thighs. It’s not that he didn’t like Mitsuki or Masaru. He didn’t dislike Kacchan. It’s the fact that Kacchan put a barrier up between them. It was already intense, their relationship–friendship, whatever people wanted to call it. Izuku didn’t even know what to call it. They weren’t enemies. But not quite friends, so maybe acquaintances?
“It wouldn’t be a good idea,” he admitted. “Kacchan and I don’t exactly get along well, and he does everything to keep his distance from me.”
Mr. Aizawa hummed as he mulled over what Izuku said.
“I don’t think you know how much he actually cares,” Mr. Aizawa told him.
Izuku turned his head, giving a deadpan look. “This isn’t about me. It’s about my mom. If it were reversed, he wouldn’t even bat an eye.”
“Is that what you believe?” Mr. Aizawa asked, eyeing him back.
Izuku shrugged, looking down. “It’s what I know. In middle school, he made it very clear we weren’t friends, and he didn’t want anything to do with me.” He unclasped his right hand and laid it flush against his thigh. “I will figure it out.”
Mr. Aizawa sighed, rubbing the stubble on his jaw. “I may have another solution, but I have to make some calls to get approval. How would you feel about staying with me?”
Izuku jerked his head up so fast he almost gave himself whiplash. “What?”
“If you aren’t comfortable enough to stay with the Bakugos, you can come stay with me. With Hizashi and Eri,” he said with a wave of his hand. “Mr. Mic to you, but I’m sure we will get approval, considering we adopted Eri a few years ago with no issues. So, how about it, problem child?”
Izuku was too stunned to form words. What does he even say to a proposition like that? Yes? No? But he knew he didn’t have too many options. He had a random foster home that CPS could place him in, but he couldn’t see Mitsuki letting that slide, so his options would only be the Bakugos when it came down to it.
He pinched his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger as he fought the raging war in his head. He knew, regardless, Mitsuki would have her feelings hurt. She won’t understand the real reason why he doesn’t want to stay there, but Kacchan would. And honestly, if he stayed there, he would have to live with the fact of feeling suffocated day in and day out.
He couldn’t do that to himself or to that family.
“Yes,” Izuku finally said. “My answer is yes.”
Aizawa patted his leg and stood as he began making calls. Thereafter, everything passed by in a blur. There were so many officials that Izuku felt himself on the verge of another panic attack. Masaru and Kacchan showed up not long after Izuku returned to the room. Kacchan didn’t say much to him, but surprisingly, stuck by Izuku’s side.
They both stared at his mother in silence until Kacchan couldn’t anymore and excused himself.
He was told he needed to say his final goodbyes. They scheduled to unhook her from the ventilator, and once they shut it down, she would stop breathing. Right now, that machine was the only thing that was keeping her alive.
How does one say goodbye to the only person who mattered the most? How does one say goodbye to their mother, their only parent? The one who played both roles and worked her ass off to give Izuku the life he deserved?
You can’t. That’s why.
A sob left him as he leaned forward on the railing, shaking as another round of tears wrecked him. He took her hand, which was so cold and fragile, and cradled it in his large, warm hand. The temperature difference was striking and honestly sent a weird sensation through his body.
“I love you,” he said, through the tears. The sobs. The heartache. He leaned down and kissed her temple and then pressed his forehead against hers. “I will be okay.” He stayed there a moment, connected with his mother, before he leaned back. Kacchan was back by his side and took Izuku’s free hand into his with a squeeze. He gave Kacchan a wary look but then decided it wasn’t the time to question something as trivial as that. His attention moved to the doctor, and he nodded, saying, “Go ahead.”
As the ventilator was shut down, all the beeping turned into shrills that pierced his ears.
“Time of death, 4:13 pm on the 12th of June, 2025,” Dr. Shorahiko announced.
Izuku stared, and he stared. He watched as his mother took her final breath, which stole his. She was gone. And she wasn’t coming back.
“Deku,” Kacchan said, his voice tight and quiet.
Izuku shook his head as he pulled his hand from Kacchan’s. He turned and left without looking back.
He had anticipated Mitsuki being upset that he didn’t want to live there, but he also saw a flicker of relief in her eyes despite everything. What he didn’t expect was the flash of hurt and disappointment on Kacchan’s face. But Izuku had already made his choice, and as Mr. Aizawa had predicted, he was approved instantly.
Days blurred together until they turned into weeks. He missed school the first week and attempted school the second week, but in the end, he couldn’t do it. He was still extremely overwhelmed. Heartbroken. He just wanted to curl in on himself and live in a dark hole. The light he held was almost extinguished, but it was saved.
Eri. Aizawa, well, Shouta now, and Hizashi.
He adjusted better than he anticipated. There was no badgering. No fretting. No pressure.
Shouta stayed with him the first week, having Hizashi take over for the class. The Bakugos were covering the funeral. Izuku tried to protest, but he got shot down so fast. Mitsuki guilted him because, after all, his mother, Inko, was her best friend since school, like family. A sister neither of them had but wished for.
That was probably why they fought tooth and nail for him and Kacchan to be best friends. Little did they know, Mitsuki’s son turned out to be a foul-mouthed spitfire. But damn, did Izuku idolize him growing up, and the fondness only intensified as they got older. Until one day, Kacchan had a change of heart and wanted nothing to do with Izuku. There was some bullying in middle school that Izuku could have lived without. And then he and Kacchan ended up at the same high school academy, in the same class, sitting next to each other.
It was like fate trying to keep them together.
Fate like it did their mothers.
“Earth to Zu’,” Eri called, waving her hand in Izuku’s face.
Izuku jumped, startled, and then chuckled, embarrassed. “Sorry, Eri. I must have gotten lost in my head.” Thunder rumbled, and then lightning flashed again. The storm was brewing more quickly than he anticipated, or maybe he was lost inside his head longer than he thought. “I think this is our cue to get out of here,” he said.
“Problem child,” Shouta said as he pushed from the tree and walked alongside them.
Eri kept her hand in Izuku’s, lacing their fingers. He was so head over heels for the little girl that he couldn’t have asked for a better sister. Sometimes the best things to happen to a person come from a tragedy.
“I got some good shots,” Izuku said, smiling as they stepped onto the trail between a shroud of trees.
“We’re going to run out of walls at this rate,” Shouta teased lightly.
“Or, you could hang them in the classroom,” Izuku shrugged. “Spruce up the dull, boring four walls in that prison.”
Shouta rolled his eyes, unimpressed. “We’ll come back to this conversation during office hours.”
“So, that’s not a no,” Eri said, beaming up at Izuku.
Izuku nodded. “Not a no.” He looked at Shouta, confirming.
Shouta returned the nod. “Not a no.”
They hit the parking lot as it started to sprinkle, and they all broke out in a run towards Shouta’s Toyota Highlander.
“Can’t believe you walked here when you have a perfectly good car,” Shouta grunted as he buckled his seat belt.
Izuku shook his hair like a dog shaking out its fur. His curls bounced with extra volume from the humidity in the air.
“Walking clears my mind. If I drove and my brain wanders like it does sometimes, you’d be buying me a lot of cars,” Izuku stated with a grin.
“That’s true,” Eri agreed. “He really does like going off in lala land.”
Izuku looked over his shoulder, sticking his tongue out at her. “You’re just jealous because you can’t go to my lala land with me.”
“I don’t know, Zu’. I think our ideas of lala lands are super different,” Eri said. “Oh! Kacchan came by again. He said you really need to start checking your phone.”
Izuku eyed Shouta. “Why did he come by?”
After his mom’s death, Kacchan had distanced himself more, or maybe it was Izuku who put the distance. But neither party tried to rein it in. Izuku had actually withdrawn himself from almost everyone.
Until he and Shinsou started talking.
Shinsou transferred in late, during the middle of his mother’s death, and while he was absent, if you wanted technical. He could see the hurt written over Ochako’s face, but she didn’t push or prod after the first time she tried, and he shut her down.
Grief comes in different ways.
And he grieved in a way he only knew how.
He would never be that same bright-eyed, smiling kid. No matter how hard he tried.
After months, Kacchan caved in and began trying to rekindle whatever was left. Not that there was any bad blood between them, but Izuku could see that Kacchan was trying. Maybe a little too hard. A little too smothering, which Izuku was not used to. He tried to wrack his brain on what changed. And he couldn’t find the answer, so he just ultimately decided to go with the flow. Rather than against the tide. Sometimes, prodding doesn’t always have the answers you want to hear.
“He said you’re ignoring him again,” Shouta said as he turned onto the main stretch heading into town.
Izuku rolled his eyes and leaned his elbow against the door, resting his head in the palm of his hand. “I’m not.”
Shouta gave him that look. It was his signature look that says, 'cut the bullshit' but without saying it outloud.
“I don’t know what he wants from me,” Izuku said quietly.
“Maybe because the first anniversary is coming up?” Shouta suggested as he stopped at a red light. The blinker resonated in the silence as the news sank in. Rain pelted the car, waves crashing down as the wipers worked overtime to keep up.
“Has it really been a year?” Izuku asked quietly, averting his eyes.
Shouta nodded.
“Do you want us to go with you?” Eri asked, leaning forward in the middle. She reached out and lightly touched his arm.
“Eri, sit back. I don’t like driving in this weather. Sorry. Rather safe than sorry,” Shouta said, making the turn for their street.
It was a quaint house. It wasn’t small but wasn’t particularly large either. Three bedrooms, two bathrooms–two were on one side, while the master was on the other side of the house, with a large open floor plan. The basement was partially finished with a lounge room where they watched tv or played games. Izuku was ecstatic to learn just how much Shouta and Hizashi loved playing video games. He had to pinch himself to make sure it was real. And real it was, along with the gnarly bruise he gave himself.
Izuku’s car was parked on the street before the driveway. Shouta had bought him a nice black Camry for his birthday last year. Izuku tried to argue. At that time, he had only been in Shouta and Hizashi’s custody for a month. It took him a long time to accept the gift completely and go on with his life. He didn’t drive often and rode with Shouta to school unless one or the other had something afterwards. And then, after about six months of being with them, they began discussing adoption. And so the process began. It hadn’t been finalized yet, so he was still officially a Midoriya, but Shouta and Hizashi were like the fathers he never had. He went from none to two and gained a sister. He will always love his mother. That's a given, but he was very grateful for his newfound family. It made him feel... complete. Whole. Something he never felt before.
The garage opened, revealing Hizashi’s tan Xterra parked on his side of the shared garage. The garage door shut with a whining noise as they exited the car and headed inside. The inside smelled divine. Hizashi had the music on, singing along as he cooked with a wiggle in his steps. Izuku eyed Eri as they attempted to stifle their laughs.
“Zashi,” Shouta said flatly.
Hizashi started to shake his butt, and Izuku couldn’t hold it back anymore. He bellowed, holding his stomach as Eri joined in, giggling. Hizashi jumped, startled, turning to face them with a cheesing smile.
“Whoops, didn’t hear you guys come in,” Hizashi said, turning off the music. “Magic Mic’s stir fry is on the menu for tonight.” He clapped, rubbing his hands together as the combination sizzled in the wok.
“Please never refer to yourself as Magic Mic again,” Izuku groaned as Shouta shook his head.
Izuku headed for his room, pulling the strap over his head, and powered up his camera. He pulled his phone from his pocket. The very phone he liked to keep on silent for the majority of the time. He had two missed calls from Kacchan and six unread texts. He had one call from Shouta, two from Eri. Some texts from Shouto and Shinsou.
He opened Shinsou’s first. No words, just some dumb memes that made Izuku roll his eyes as he flopped down on his bed. Next was Shouto and his dry humor. I can’t stand Kleptomaniacs. They take things literally. He tapped his phone, took a deep breath as he tried coming up with something to say, and decided to come back to that one.
He opened Kacchan’s with a sigh.
Why are you ignoring me, nerd? Don’t think I didn’t fucking noticed. I want to go with you on Saturday.
Izuku stared at the message.
Saturday.
Yeah, that date. The first anniversary of his mother’s death. He wanted to go alone. He didn’t want to be with people. But he also knew it may not be wise to be alone. He knew Eri wanted to go, even Shouta and Mic. Shinsou offered to go with him, too, but Kacchan… that was another story.
He sighed. He texted him back and then tossed his phone beside him as he picked up his camera. He scrolled through some of the photos, stopping on one.
A beautiful storm was unfolding.