Minutes felt like an eternity, days stretched into endless weeks, and every moment without Izuku was a searing torment for Inko. Her heart twisted in fear as her son.
Every night she laid in bed, the unrelenting fear and anxiety crept over her like a heavy shadow. She could feel her chest constricting, making it hard to breathe. Her thoughts spiraled, taking away any glimmer of hope she had left.
The silence in the apartment was deafening, broken only by Inko's muffled sobs that escaped her trembling lips. She paced familiar rooms, her eyes scanning every corner, as if expecting Izuku to come from the hollow shadows. The once vibrant and lively space now felt like an empty shell, devoid of the boundless happiness her son once filled it with.
Inko's feet dragged across the worn hardwood floors as she paced around. She peered into every corner, running her hands along the surfaces, hoping to find some sign of her son. But the walls felt empty, echoing the hollowness inside her.
"Please," she wailed into the emptiness. "Please just give me back my son."
Izuku's bedroom remained untouched, a shrine to his passions. Inko would sometimes find herself in his room, her fingers tracing the edges of his hero analysis notebooks, the pages filled with detailed sketches and thorough observations. The walls were adorned with posters of pro heroes, proof of her son's dream. But now, these symbols of hope only served to amplify the anguish that consumed her.
Every night, Inko would sit on her creaky wooden chair by the window, her gaze fixed on the dark and empty street below. Hoping for even a glimpse of Izuku, but all she saw were shadows dancing in the moonlight. The relentless ticking of the clock echoed through the silent room, taunting her with each passing second that Izuku was not home.
Inko stood in front of the police station, her hands trembling as she reached for the doorknob. Her heart raced as she stepped inside, the harsh glare of lights making her feel exposed and vulnerable. She approached the desk, her eyes pleading with the tired officer sitting behind it. With a shaky voice, she recounted the details of her son's sudden disappearance, gripping onto the rough edges of the worn wooden desk for support.
As Detective Naomasa Tsukauchi listened to Inko's words, his piercing gaze never wavered from her face. The lines on his forehead deepened with each passing moment as he absorbed the gravity of the situation. His Quirk Truth allowed him to see through lies and deception, but this time, it was no use. He could tell that Inko was telling the truth, and the weight of the missing person case settled heavily upon his shoulders. Years of experience in law enforcement had taught him how to remain composed, but this time, even he couldn't ignore the nagging feeling that there was more to this than a simple runaway scenario.
Tsukauchi's jaw tightened as he saw the desperation in Inko's eyes. He made a solemn promise to her that he would not rest until her son, Izuku, was found. Determination fueled his every step as he gathered a team of seasoned detectives and assigned them specific tasks. They divided up the neighborhood, questioning friends and acquaintances and carefully examining every inch for any clue that could lead to Izuku's whereabouts. The hunt for answers had begun, and they were leaving no stone unturned.
The detective talked to each of Izuku's classmates and uncovered the harsh truth. Izuku had been bullied relentlessly, and it was taking a toll on him. Their stories painted a bleak picture of his suffering - ignored pleas for help, cruel taunts, and endless torment. It's heartbreaking to think about.
Looking through old pictures and notes, Tsukauchi saw how much pain Izuku was in. His worry lines and forced smiles couldn't hide the fear and despair in his eyes. And watching videos of people laughing at his suffering made his blood boil.
As he listened to each story, he could feel the pain of Izuku. There was a sickly sweet smell that made him feel nauseous, a constant reminder of the routine humiliations that are hidden under the guise of 'school'. It's time we speak up and make a change.
He could taste the fears, those hate-filled words leaving behind a bitter aftertaste when spoken aloud. It was like his taste buds carried the frustration for others.
In the dimly lit living room, Tsukauchi faced Katsuki Bakugo and his parents. The tension was palpable as he pushed for the truth. Bakugo's body language betrayed him, his once-defiant facade crumbling to reveal guilt and vulnerability. It was a side of him that Tsukauchi had never seen before, as if all his buried insecurities were now exposed.
"I... I never meant for any of this to happen," Bakugo admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "Izuku was... he was my best friend, and I..." The boy's hands trembled as he struggled to find the right words, the guilt consuming him.
Tsukauchi leaned forward in his chair, his eyes never leaving Bakugo's face as he listened to the boy's confession. With each word, a clearer picture formed in the detective's mind - the volatile dynamic between two young boys, one driven by insecurity and the other pushed to succeed at all costs. As he pieced together the puzzle of their relationship, Tsukauchi felt his heart sink with each new revelation of Izuku's suffering and the desperation that drove him to extreme actions.
As the investigation progressed, Inko's heart raced with a mix of excitement and fear when Tsukauchi finally called. A cold shiver crept down Inko's spine as the detective's request for her DNA.
A few days later, Inko's phone rang, and she hesitantly answered the call from Detective Naomasa. He requested her presence at the police station, and when she arrived, he led her to a dimly lit room. Her eyes widened in horror as she saw the barely recognizable body lying on a metal table in front of her. She clutched a handkerchief tightly as her whole body trembled with shock and sorrow. With a trembling voice, she confirmed that it was her son's lifeless form before collapsing into a chair, sobbing uncontrollably. The sight of his battered body and the realization of his death were too much for any parent to bear.
Inko's heart stopped, and her body went numb. She blinked rapidly, trying to process what she had just heard. Her hand flew to her mouth as tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over. She staggered backward, knocking into a chair and collapsing onto the floor. A low moan escaped her lips as the reality of losing her son sunk in. She curled into a ball, clutching at her chest as sobs wracked through her body. The sound of her cries filled the empty apartment, a haunting melody of despair and devastation.
Grief, raw and unforgiving, engulfed Inko's being. Tears streamed down her face, cascading like a torrent of sorrow. She clutched Izuku's hero analysis notebooks to her chest, her fingers tracing the worn covers as if reaching out to him one last time. The pages were stained with her tears, the pencil markings blurry, the once meticulously detailed notes now obscured by her anguish.
In the days that followed, Inko made the necessary arrangements, her stoic façade a mask veiling the storm of emotions that raged within. The community came together for a funeral, sharing their sorrow over the loss of a life cut short.
Izuku's classmates, some with heads bowed in shame, others with eyes brimming with tears, paid their respects. Bakugo, his usual bravado replaced by a haunted expression, stood apart from the others, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Tsukauchi observed the boy, noting the subtle trembling of his frame, the weight of his guilt etched into every line of his face.
Inko stood at the front of the crowded room, surrounded by people dressed in black. Her posture was rigid, and her face contorted with sorrow. As she looked out into the sea of mourners, a fierce determination burned within her, fueled by a quiet desire for justice and closure. She thought of her son, taken too soon, and felt a deep ache in her heart.
As the ceremony commenced, a solitary figure stood apart from the jubilant crowd, his stance hesitant yet resolute. Katsuki Bakugo, once brimming with pride and arrogance, now faced the harsh reality of his actions. Memories of past taunts and cruel behavior flooded his mind, each one a dagger piercing his heart. Yet amidst the pain and regret, he couldn't help but notice Inko's sorrowful gaze, a mirror reflecting his own guilt and shame. The weight of his wrongdoings hung heavy on his shoulders as he stood in silence, surrounded by the sounds of joy and celebration that only served to further emphasize his inner turmoil.
Bakugo's steps faltered as he approached the grieving mother, his heart heavy with guilt and regret. His words were caught in a knot of emotions, tangled like a web that could not be unraveled. "Mrs. Midoriya," he began, his voice wavering like the flame of a candle in a breeze, "I... I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything." The weight of his apology hung heavy in the air, a fragile bridge between past hurt and a tentative hope for redemption. It was as if every word he spoke carried the weight of his remorse, a burden he could no longer bear alone. Mrs. Midoriya looked at him with tear-stained eyes, her pain mirrored in his own reflection. In that moment, they were connected by their shared sorrow and the possibility of healing together.