All Inko wanted was for her son to grow up into a strong independent man and achieve his dreams. She used her own time to help him reach the goals that he has set for himself in this large and dangerous world. She'll continue to do until he meets them, or she'll die trying.
Maybe that sounds a little extreme, but she means it.
Inko was proud of Izuku from the very first day they met each other's eyes. Ever since then, he's amazed time and time again. Her little boy made great strives with each confident step he made. He did things Inko knew that she would never be capable of.
From day one of learning what a hero was, that had been his #1 goal; to use his quirk that Inko has heard so many people call 'strange' or 'weird' or even 'freaky' and show how great he can become.
However.
It was difficult sometimes.
Inko loved her son unconditionally and that will never change. She sees his true intentions for kindness and selflessness. His yearning to help and aid others whenever they cannot do it for themselves.
If only Izuku's quirk had the same mindset.
Inko hated this part of herself. The part that is fearful of what she saw that night 10 years ago. The small green dots that reappeared in Izuku's eyes were not her son's. Even if they seemed to display dead emotions, Inko knew that they only desired chaos.
An unnatural creature of calamity got its first taste of destruction that night and ever since has been crying for more.
It was by some miracle that it didn't last long. It was also a miracle that her car even worked after that experience. The smashed parts, dents, deep gashes all littered the poor vehicle as it was pathetically driven back to her home with an unconscious Izuku in her lap.
Inko didn't know exactly what had caused it to suddenly stop, but she was glad it did.
Her son does not remember a thing from his manifestation. To him, I was all but a forgotten dream. But not to Inko.
In this world, she is the only person to know just what a monster that his quirk is.
She is the only one to know this kind of fear.
That is the part that Inko hates where she cannot help. It's impossible not to notice his uncontrollable twitches, the sudden jerks of his body that has more or less caused him to break something once or twice.
It was a constant battle for control in the small Midoriya's body.
One that Izuku's been winning for the past 10 years.
And for that past time, there wasn't a day that Inko searched her son's eyes for whatever that lay beneath to burst out.
But as always, she only finds the comforting look of the boy that she's been raising for 14 years. A boy that is gentle yet strong. He was smarter than what he let on. A lot more analytical that he realized.
Again, Inko was proud of her child.
The only problem was that he lied.
The green-haired mother had her narrow eyes trained on the damaged uniform in her hands. She inspected the fine details of the school clothes of her son. The black cloth that lay in her hold was wrinkled. The right sleeve was gone and replaced by rips and tears close to the shoulder. Around the neck and shoulders, there were the tiniest hints of ash and singe marks.
Izuku wouldn't have noticed it with the marks being right under his nose. For whatever reason, the back of his shirt, his backpack, and most of his pants were soaking wet.
The last two items were currently being cleaned. The noise of the washing machine was paired with the sound of the shower running where Izuku had retreated to after explaining what had happened to him.
"A dog attack, huh?" Inko echoed the summary of what had caused Izuku to be late getting home. She didn't want to doubt her son, but she also didn't want him to lie to her.
Inko brought the shirt up to her face and stopped it just an inch from her nose. Taking a small sniff, she wasn't surprised to catch the smell of smoke… again.
..............................…
"The hell happened to you!?" Bakugo flinched under the commanding voice of his mother. It was expected that he wouldn't be able to hide his state from his parents but the fact that Mitsuki was on him the moment he came through the door was one hell of a surprise that he didn't enjoy.
Bakugo stood in doorway with his conditions being no better than what he left the school ally way in. His ruffled uniform barely hid his sore body full of bruises that came from his crash when Izuku kicked him over at least 20 feet away.
There were also the short cuts along his chest when the other teen had backhanded him against the wall. His uniform took most of the sharp punishment but Bakugo still felt the full force of the attack.
His stomach still hurt most of all with the feeling of puking his lunch following him the entire way home. Bakugo didn't even bother to check his neck that most definitely have marks from the greenette's weird ass bone hands.
His mother would most likely think that he got into a fight again.
"Are those hickeys!?" Mitsuki's sudden outburst threw Bakugo for a loop at the fact that the blond woman assumed that he was doing rather… inappropriate actions.
"W-what!? Fuck no they aren't god damn hickey's, you hag!" The smaller of the two challenged the other in the inevitable shouting contest that has become a custom in the house.
As the two started to get into it, Masaru; Bakugo's dad looked on with the hope that his assistance wouldn't be necessary to break them apart.
..............................…
Despite the single event that took place in the ally, things resumed as if nothing had happened.
The days of school were all the same with work, studying, and activities. The days all together combined into weeks that would finish with relaxing weekends before returning back on Monday. Those soon became months that blurred together into a cycle of repetition.
All along the way, Izuku and Bakugo would avoid each other. Nobody seemed to notice it at first. However, the times that it came for the class to make fun of the weak 'Deku', they found that the explosive blond took no part.
Not even turning his gaze away from his desk where he now remained most of the time.
Izuku both liked and disliked this.
It was nice to finally not have Bakugo shouting profanities and demeaning insults down his neck for a majority of the day. But it was also a bad thing Because Izuku knew that the red-eyed teen was either thinking or waiting.
Sure, he must have questions.
Many questions.
And Izuku wasn't going to answer a single one of them. That was why he didn't like it. Bakugo was sure to come back for him one day to spill anything and everything.
The greenette just hoped that he's able to keep his cool this time.
It was about 4 months after their fight behind the school. Just like everyday for those past 4 months, Izuku left the buildings without any distractions from Bakugo or anyone else.
Sporting a brand-new uniform that the school provided for him, Izuku walked his merry way back home. Learning from his previous mistakes, he kept to the more populated areas. It was more to keep his mom from having a heart attack rather than actually keeping himself safe.
These days, Izuku wasn't too worried about his safety.
The walk was silent and short.
The travel that consisted of making his way down the sidewalk along with tons of other people was a newfound routine for the green-haired boy. The sun that was just starting to enter its setting faze emitted just a hint of warm orange with the calming blue in the sky. Almost no clouds were present to better portray the refreshing sense of the summer air.
All around him, people moved with motives in mind; just as he did. The chorus of their footsteps blended into the surrounding sounds of the city.
It was peaceful.
Well, about as peaceful as it can get for Izuku. The random twitches around his body made it apparent that peace was never an option. No use in complaining, however.
It came to a point where Izuku entered the more urban area of Musutafu where his house gave everything he needed. The noises of the busy city soon faded away and was replaced by the more subtle sounds of the passing vehicle of the chirps of birds. His footsteps were no longer accompanied by the dozens of others as he was now alone on the thinner sidewalk.
The home that has sheltered him for his entire life came into view as he turned onto another short sidewalk that took him to the tall apartment building. He headed up the few flights of stairs and walked down the open aisle that guided him straight to the front door. Upon opening it and entering, he voiced his arrival.
"I'm home!" Izuku gently shouted into the small apartment.
"Welcome home, sweetie! Are you hungry!?" Inko relayed her usual response and question just a moment later. During which Izuku dropped his bag by the door and headed to the kitchen where he found Inko.
"Yeah. Watcha making?" Izuku asked curiously as he peeked over Inko's shoulder. He wasn't able to process it quite yet before the smell of it made his mouth water.
"I made Katsudon for you since you aced your test yesterday." Inko replied with a proud and cheerful smile. Izuku returned a small smile before gaining a look of confused thought.
"But… I pass all my tests. Does this mean I get Katsudon for each one now?" Izuku gave an uncommon show of humor in his question as he and Inko lightly chuckled.
"I guess you could say that. This is for all of it." Inko turned back to the pot before and Izuku set his eyes on his mother with a raised eyebrow. "Izuku, I can't possibly tell you how proud I am in the human vocabulary. I was worried about you, to be honest. But look at you now." Inko looked back up to share their gaze with green eyes. "You're becoming such a fine young man. And I don't have a doubt in my mind you will become a fantastic hero."
Izuku really couldn't keep himself from smiling under his mother's loving words. It didn't matter if he's heard them many times before, it will always make him feel warm.
The boy wrapped his arms around Inko into a sideways hug. Inko easily embraced her son as she curled an arm around to hold his shoulder. For a few seconds, they stayed like that. It wasn't too often anymore that they hugged like this with the both of them being as busy as they were.
"Heh. You know, I can't tell you how thankful I am in the human vocabulary." Izuku said after a short period of silence. Inko huffed amusingly and tilted her head back to look at him with disbelief and a smirk.
"Hey, that's my original work. Get your own." Inko laughed during the statement as she lightly started pinching the boy with the arm she had around him. The target of these relentless pinches giggled while breaking free from the hold and jumping away towards the hallway. "Now go get ready for dinner." She commanded between laughs as he disappeared behind the corner.
The mother continued to chuckle to herself for a few more seconds as she resumed her cooking.
Meanwhile, Izuku had sent himself to his room. A decent space with all of his possessions along with a decent amount of hero themed items met him as he started with the progress of readying himself.
A smile could still be seen on his lips during the time. It was impossible to keep his neutral expression around his mother. She was simply too sweet and kind for this world. He couldn't imagine what a better mother would be.
It was his mission to become strong enough to protect her; from anything and anyone.
Strangely, Izuku's neck jerked aggressively downwards; causing his head to nearly tap his chest with his chin. It would have looked like he was nodding at something if her didn't jerk back up with a grimace on his face.
A hiss of pain came with the action of sticking is tongue out to show that he had accidentally bitten it.
The rest of the night went without a hitch.
It was a relaxing dinner where the two Midoriya's ate their food and summoned small talk. Another normal day went on that ended on a normal evening that drifted into a dark sky that signaled the beginning of night.
Once greenette bid the other goodnight as well as vise versa.
And so, the daily cycle was complete.
Almost.
..............................…
On a concrete sidewalk that was only illuminated by the streetlights above, a single occupant roamed its provided path. The bottom of their rough shoes repetitively met the hard ground where their destination would soon come into view.
The exterior of their dark clothes bathed in the pale orange glow from the lights above. Their figure cast a shadow on the ground before them that mimicked their every step towards their goal. His light footsteps were the only sound that tapped against the dead silence that the night brought.
The thickness of his apparel kept the growing cold from bothering him as his easy breaths let out the smallest puff of his hot breath in the chilly air. His hands were dug deep into his pockets even though he wore thick protective gloves. In the tight hold of his right hand, he held the second object that he brought with him other than the clothes he wore.
Streetlight after streetlight, he kept moving. His light brown eyes scanned the area around him. Each passing house was quickly thrown into the back of his mind as he looked to the next in search of the one he was looking for.
Soon enough, one particular building came into view. He came to the conclusion that it'll have to do.
For a decent amount of time, he traversed up and down the aisles; inspecting the several doors that he passed by before moving up a floor. There, he would repeat the process; letting his quirk feed him information on what came from the inside.
So far, nothing greatly interested him. He wasn't too picky, but this was ridiculous.
There.
The man stopped at once in front of one door that matched very single other door on the building. Nothing about was special in any way other than the few number address on it. No, it was what was behind the door that interested him.
A small smile came upon his face. While it was one satisfaction, there was also contemplation. After all, he couldn't be careless in his profession.
Coming to a final decision, he removed his left hand from his pocket to reveal the tools of a lockpick. That was because it was indeed a lockpick as he knelt down to work silently with the door handle. Practiced technique and finesse controlled the pick and pin that danced in the mechanism of the lock.
One after another, the locked pins were set into place. With a faint click, the door was unlocked.
After putting away his tools back into his pocket, he grabbed the handle and twisted. His expectations were met when the doorknob opened without resistance and the door unlatched from its frame.
And just like that, the abode before him was presented.
He closed the door behind himself with silence that came with his experience. Unlike before where he did not fear for anyone to notice his presence out in the world, he completely hid away his existence. His breathes was a series of shallow controlled intakes of air. His steps were nothing more than of a mouse's. The slow heartbeat in his chest was in a state of ultimate calm.
With just a thought, his quirk brought the dark apartment to life.
Numbers appeared above every item that lay out in the open; all of which had dollar signs in front of them. The numbers all varied. Some were closer to others while some had much higher numbers. Those items were usually the larger more expensive equipment like the refrigerator or washing machine and such.
The things with single digit numbers were usually the food items such as the little basket of apples on the kitchen counter.
The objects that he couldn't see directly were summed up to gathered numbers. The cabinets showed him that collective total of what was behind but not what was there. The TV in the living room was tempting, but he would rather go for smaller things as he didn't want any attention and since he didn't have any way to carry it other than to risk being seen running down the street with a fucking TV in his hands.
The yellow backpack that sat innocently by the door of which he came also caught his eye. But seeing as the number was rather low, he moved on. All throughout his inspection, he held tightly onto the object in his right pocket.
The tighter he squeezed it, the wider his grin became.
He moved on from the main service rooms and found himself at the start of a hallway. Just like the rest of the house, it was pitch-black. Thankfully, his quirk allowed him much better vision that most as the doors that were placed in it was all given their labels.
Again, the numbers in front of the doors varied. The one that he was closest to had the highest number, so it was pretty easy to decide which door to choose from.
He came upon the normal frame of the woodwork that separated himself and the room on the other side. The handle came into his grasp and twisted without a sound. The door opened in a slow and anticipating fashion.
Just as he did, the number on the door disappeared and the revealed room before him lit up with numbers and dollar signs.
The grin on his face stretched to sadistic levels.
He entered into the room but did not close the door behind him. If things went south, then he needed a clean escape route. Everything he saw indicated the space to be occupied by a singular person. The medium sized bed up against the wall in the middle had only one figure laying beneath the covers.
Seeing as they were asleep, they quickly checked the area around them. Normal items along with normal possessions. Things that indicated to that of an adult female. He stepped towards the dresser as that was where most of the higher digit numbers resided.
He quickly looked over the objects that presented themselves out in the open. Although it was ridiculously low priced, the first thing that caught his eye was a poorly made clay statue of what looked to be All Might. The dulled-out colors and cracks on it were a sign of age. The thing wasn't even worth a whole dollar.
Looking some more resulted in the finding of hard money and some cheap jewelry. He didn't take it quite yet and instead remembered their locations. He wanted only the most mobile and expensive of items. This was merely picking out the finest for later.
Doing another quick scan of the room, he spotted something that he didn't realize before. The bed that the person was sleeping had way to high of a price. He's seen better quality beds with much lower values. That was when he realized another thing.
There was something underneath.
He mentally chuckled and got down on his knees on the left side. The small bed cover flap that hung over the edge of the bed was lifted to give away the hidden contents below. The male was disappointed to be met with objects of small value. Confusion crossed his mind for a short minute before his eyes widened at the find of a small box near the foot of the bed.
Soundless shuffles came from his small movement to scoot down the frame and reach for the object that gained his hungry attention. The thick rubber tips on the ends of his glove held onto the top of the box as he pulled it towards him.
With it now sitting in his lap, the man looked it over. It was maybe a bit bigger than his head and looked to be some sort of medical container. The thick layer of undisturbed dust atop of it indicated that it had not been touched in several years. He wasn't entirely sure about this one but the multiple numbers that his quirk showed him make him not care. His anticipation grew as did his grin when the object came into sight.
Confusion came back into his expression as he identified the very few items within. The first to catch his eyes was an unused needle. Next to it were a couple bottles that were full of liquid; none of which have even been punctured as the thin plastic lids were pristine.
The needle itself wasn't so valuable but rather the small bottles. His curiosity getting the best of him, he picked one up gently and held it close. Even with his quirk it was difficult for him to make out the tiny words that were on the side of it.
Once he finally was able to figure it out…
Quirk suppressants.
The man furrowed his eyes at the small bottle in his hand. No wonder this apartment had an apparent larger price than the others. Quirk suppressants were not cheap by any means. It was also piquing his interest even further as to why this person would even need this.
A thought popped into the back of his head that caused his to turn back to the dresser. Just like many other things that he skipped over, there were an assortment of photos. Among some were of two women; one with dark green hair and the other had sandy blond.
However, most of which consisted of a young boy with similar green hair.
Taking a deep look at one of the more close-up pictures of the child showed his black eyes. The little specks that were in the center showed as his glowing green irises. He was smiling so innocently. His eyes were so full of excitement and joy as he looked to something off-camera.
The man shivered at the sight. And he thought that he was good at putting on masks. That bright smile may be genuine, but the darkness of his blackened eyes gave it away.
The sound of a shuffle nearly caused the man to drop the box as he jerked back to the bed in front of him. The woman that he knew to be sound asleep was shifting around in place; eventually turning to where she was facing the man. After a satisfying deep breath and exhale through her nose, she resumed her motionless state.
He could now see her face. It matched the lady with the green hair in the photo.
The grin returned to his face.
He wouldn't make the same mistake last time. He made the error of attempting to take the most valuable items before… 'pacifying' the person. That was what had caused him to be nearly caught when the person suddenly woke up and screams bloody murder which alerted the neighbors.
No… this time he was going to make sure that he got a good haul.
The bottle in his hand was gently placed back in the box before it was closed and slid under the bed just out of sight. He was going to play this the safest way possible. He left no tracks, no clues, no signs to be traced back to him. That meant ridding of any possible way for the person to catch him off guard and fuck up his night.
Standing back up, his hand once more reached into his right pocket. He felt the familiar feeling of smooth metal and a defined drip match the details of his hand. Pulling both back out revealed the small pocketknife.
It wasn't much or anything fancy.
But it sure did get the job done.
He pressed his thumb onto the button that released the blade out into the open with a soft click.
The man found it pleasuring to sneak into places where no one can see him coming. He felt joy to steal and take from others as it was just too easy and simple. His quirk allowed him to see the value of anything inorganic in the form of prices. He knew where to look or go. He knew how to take it for himself.
However.
The feeling of plunging his seemingly pathetic little knife sap the life straight out of someone made him feel ever more alive.
Even as the weapon inched closer and closer to the woman's neck, his state did not change. He was still quite and his breathes were just as slow as his heartbeat.
His lanky physique leaned over the bed. Pale brown eyes were even wider with excitement. His grin was on the verge of making him look insane if you ignored the knife in his hand and that he was peering down at the unsuspecting woman.
The blade was only a foot away now.
It was closing in on 10 inches.
Only 7 inches.
A mere 5 inches remained from the metal and soft skin.
Only 2 inches from death.
1 inch before a single thrust was all it took for one life to vanish.
1 inch.
1 inch.
1 inch.
1 inch.
…
…
…
The knife that needed so little effort to meet its target held tightly within his grasp.
It began to shake.
No.
His hand began to shake.
All of him began to shake. He level and controlled breaths transitioned into greedy gasps for air. The beat in his chest could be heard with his own ears as it began to thump faster and faster. The grin that he expressed flattened out into a grimace. Sweat had rushed out of nowhere from his pores and down his body.
Any feelings of delight or exhilaration was crushed by an overwhelming sense of dread.
He hadn't the faintest clue where this sudden terror came from, but it kept him from going any further.
Because if he did, then he will die.
The only thing that he felt he could try was flee. Whatever this was didn't want him here and it wasn't shy to tell him that.
If he didn't escape, his life could end right here. The base instincts of survival were kicking heavily into his mind. All of his willpower was out into just turning around and running far far away. Even his greatest attempts to do just that was met with actually painful resistance. It felt as if his body had been still for years and was just now moving for the first time. All his joints were stiff yet weak.
After much effort being put into a single action, he was rewarded with finally being able to face the door.
His escape.
An escape that was blocked.
The man very well wanted to scream.
To beg for forgiveness and a second chance.
Pray to god and rid of his sins.
Wish to see another day where he can be better.
The green eyes that pierced his soul promised none of that.
The eyes that looked so dead but gave an aura of beastly vigor gazed lifelessly at the man. The young male that looked to be a fresh teen looked void of any emotions as did the blackness around his glowing green irises.
The small amount of light they casted painted the face of the boy in a radioactive hue. It perfectly defined the long cracks that leaked from around his eyes and over his face. For as long as they stared at one another, the boy did not move.
He didn't even blink.
The man felt his attention being drawn towards the mishappen hands that hung at his sides.
His level of fear jumped even higher at what was definitely not normal; even in this quirk filled society.
It was only his shoulders that were visible from the plain blue tank top. After then on, skin, muscle, and flesh were nonexistent to show the spotless bones. They were much too deformed to be that of a human. The bones were thicker and even longer. His hands reached just past his knees. The tips of said skeletal hands were pointed. Each finger was elongated and morphed to take the shape of vertical blades.
None looked any less lethal than the other.
While the man shivered like a leaf in the wind, the boy stood like a statue.
This statue took a step.
The man felt actual tears break the surface of his horrified eyes. His vision was beginning to blur from his rapid breathes causing him to hyperventilate. It was a mystery how he was still standing on his weak knees as they shook without stop.
The thing that disguised itself as a human took another step.
The room was small enough that it would only require a few more steps before they would be within arm's reach.
The distance shortened with another step.
No matter how much he tried to regain a part of himself to hold any kind of control over his paralyzed body, nothing worked in the slightest for the man to try and escape.
If only he could move just enough to point the knife in his hand back towards the woman. Maybe then he could try a hostage situation. From the pictures on the dresser, this should be the woman's son. He could get the boy to back up if his mother was in danger.
If only he could fucking move.
Move.
Another step.
Move damnit!
Another step.
Here they were.
They stood directly in each other's presence.
The man had no time to think of anything else in his racing mind that was having a breakdown. His eyes were trained on the boy's left hand that began to rise. It came painfully slow. As if the boy knew that he had all the time in the world while the man suffered throughout the process.
It kept coming closer.
Just like how he did with his knife, the boy's clawed hand approached inch by inch. Where they first seemed to be coming for his face, the man now saw their true destination as they neared his throat. The same throat that was straining to release any kind of noise of scream to alert someone.
He couldn't give a shit anymore about being caught, it was better than what was going to happen if this hell spawn had the night all to himself.
A first tear rolled down his cheek just as he felt the first sensation of cold bone on his neck. He doubled his efforts to do possibly anything to help himself.
His attempts were wasted.
A full skeletal hand could be felt wrapped entirely around his fragile neck. The pointed ends rested every so gently on his skin that broken upon contact of the sharp claws.
It was almost too subtle to notice at first. But now, he was certain.
The hand was tightening. It continued to grow tighter with pressure until his adam's apple was restricted from the grip. Shallow chokes came with the desperate gasps for air. His sounds were too muffled and weak to even be heard by the woman who slept peacefully next to him.
Stinging pain came from the five points that penetrated into his flesh. He could feel blood drip down his neck and into his clothes.
It was unexpected when the grip took a new route. Suddenly, the man is no longer touching the ground as his feet hovered above the carpet. His chokes became harsher and more consistent. Oxygen was starting to get scarce in his brain.
In the last great urge of the fight for life or death, the man regained his senses and shot his right hand forward. The pocketknife he held sank straight into the boy's gut. A quick sound of tearing cloth and tearing flesh registered in his ears before it was gone.
However, the boy's stare and his grip were still there.
He looked down to the knife that had certainly just been stabbed 4 inches into his abdomen. Yet, there was no change. The boy's hold was still strong and suffocating.
So… he stabbed again.
Another sound of the blade sinking into his stomach but there was no reaction.
He stabbed again.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing!
Again!
Again! Again! Again!
Several times, the metal blade impaled into the boy effortlessly. His knife was just as soaked with blood as was the greenette's blur shirt that was turning purple from that added crimson. The man could feel himself on the brink of losing conscious from the lack of oxygen. His legs were beginning to flail wildly, and his other arm beat at the hand that held him.
But for the life of him, he still could not scream.
As a final attempt to survive, he took one last shot.
He switched his knife to his left and arched his arm back far. With all the strength he could muster, he swung his arm as if his life depended on it. Well, except that it really did depend on it.
The man's aim was true and landed square in the side of the boy's head. The tip of his blade brushed through his green hair and straight for his temple. He felt it jab inside effortlessly; almost like a hot knife through butter.
Actually, it was more like air.
There was no sound of the blade sinking inside the boy's skull. Only the barely audible thud of a rather blunt connection. It didn't feel right. It didn't look right.
Nothing had changed. He was sure that his strike would have been an instant death for the black-eyed monster. Yet, here he stood.
Unaffected.
Unfazed.
Untouched.
Even with his mind racing a mile a minute, he was able to learn of something. His hand still shook freely. If the knife was 4 inches deep into bone, flesh, and even brain matter, then his hold should be solid with the support of the handle he held.
So, why was it that his hand still shook?
The man slowly took away his weapon. The majority of it was blocked by the messy green hair but soon came into view. Just as it went in, there was nothing holding it back or keeping it in place.
That was because there was no blade.
All the man had in his hand was a handle with no metal point to label it as a weapon. There was the very edge of metal peeking out from the grip that showed just exactly where the knife had broken. His only means of survival had not been able to kill his target.
With his only response to look down, he saw the small object placed at the boy's feet that was all a blur. The blade of his knife had fallen silently onto the soft carpet.
Black spots in the corner of his vision were beginning to obscure the already dark room. The only thing that stood out from all of it were the two green eyes that never left his gaze.
It was the last thing he saw…
Before the world went sideways…
The hastened crunches that resonated from within his own body that originated from his neck…
And his body succumbed under a wave of cold before going numb…
The arm that hovered near the greenette's head went limp and fell to the man's side; the handle of the knife barely being held by the grip that loosened.
His squirming legs halted all attempts to free himself as they lightly swung back and forth.
The right side of his head nearly rested on his shoulder. It most likely would have rolled backwards and hung like a sack if it weren't for the crushing grip that acted as a brace for his neck since his spinal cord was no longer useful.
Now, just like the green-eyed boy, the man's eyes stared lifelessly into nothing. His struggled chokes were no more and ceased along with his heartbeat all at once.
Back to as it was previously, there were only two living people in the apartment.
And both were sound asleep.
..............................…
Inko woke as she usually did when her alarm went off. Fluttering her eyes open, she reached over to press the button on the clock that brought silence to her room. Slowly but surely, she pulled herself out of bed and did a few easy stretches. Feeling satisfied, she got to her dresser where she changed into her work clothes and headed out into the hallway.
Her customary routine of preparing breakfast started as the kitchen slowly filled with the smell of food.
She could tell from the time on the clock that Izuku should be arriving out of his room in the next minute. Inko just finished the two morning meals and set them down on the table. The mother took a single bite out of her own dish before checking the time again.
It read 2 minutes past what Izuku usually came out of his room.
Strange.
Inko didn't pay it too much attention as she took a few more bites. She paid herself her own mind and got lost in thought in her morning haze. It had gotten to the point where she ran on autopilot for an unknown amount of time.
Just as easily as she did, Inko was back and fully aware that the clock read almost 5 minutes have passed.
The plate of food opposite of the table in front of her was untouched and has lost its steam trails indicating that it had also lost most of its warmth.
This was definitely out of the ordinary.
Inko stood from her seat and back to the hallway of the apartment. She passed her own door and to her son's which was just a little further down the hall. Izuku's room was still closed. Pressing the side of her gently against it, she could hear movement from inside.
That meant he was awake, right?
She leaned back from the door and raised a hand to knock on it. The knuckle of her pointer finger headed for its surface but never met.
The door swung open to show that Izuku was just on the other side and fully dressed. Both jumped slightly the moment they met each other's eyes meaning that they had accidentally spooked one another with their sudden appearance.
"Oh! Izuku. You startled me." She finished her explanation with some laughs from the encounter.
"Haha, sorry. Then again, you did the same for me. I had no idea you were there. Did you need something?" He displayed a similar reaction before asking his mother.
"Well, I just saw that you were rather late getting up this morning and I thought that maybe you had forgotten to set your alarm." The woman replied while backing up so that Izuku could exit the room.
"No, my alarm was set. It's just that I was looking for something." As they walked down the hall and towards the diner table, both adopted looked of confusion. "I can't seem to find my night shirt." Inko blinked as the sentence didn't make too much sense in her head.
"The blue tank top that you wore to bed last night?" She said questionably. "How you do lose something that you were wearing?" Izuku simply shrugged while looking defeated as he sat in his seat and took his first bite of food.
"I really couldn't tell ya. I wouldn't be surprised at this point if my quirk ate it something." While it was joke, Izuku said in an annoyed manner. Inko smiled with amusement but couldn't keep the small pang of concern fill her.
Other than the strange disappearance of a shirt, the morning went on like any other one. Both ate their food and further prepared for the oncoming day that required their attention and energy.
Inko drove herself to work while Izuku took his calming stroll to school.
The younger greenette walked along the same sidewalks and over the same cross walks to pass the streets.
The same stores and buildings came and went. Even the same dumb crowd of people that blocked one particular spot on the sidewalk. They were always gathered and watching the news TV positioned behind the glass wall.
Izuku never really bothered more than a glance as he passed through the crowd. Looked to be just the normal every-day stuff. Heroes and villains fought one another, a general update on society and politics, all that stuff.
The only things that actually seemed interesting was a murder victim that was brutally shredded and torn apart in some ally.
Just some guy with pale brown eyes.
Izuku didn't give it a second glance before moving on.