Chapter Text
Izuku Midoriya was born a healthy and normal looking baby. A little underweight but otherwise as strong as could be. Inko Midoriya could not have asked for anything more. Except maybe for her husband to be beside her.
He’d gone missing less than a year ago. They’d done everything they could to search for him, but there was no trace of him to be found. Inko always found it strange. How could a 6’5 man with a strong fire quirk disappear off the face of the planet?
The police never outright said it but she heard the whispers between officers from the corner of the station. They all chalked it up to running away, perhaps with an affair partner. Inko never believed them. She chose to believe the Hisashi she fell in love with wasn’t the kind of man to do that.
There was some comfort to be found in her son. She sees her husband in Izuku’s hair, the way it’s wild and sticks up in all directions, and his big eyes emphasized by the freckles on his cheeks. In every other aspect her baby boy is the spitting image of her.
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Not long after taking baby Izuku home, Inko started to notice something was strange. She wasn’t sure if he was simply the perfect baby or if there was something wrong. Izuku never cried. He cried when he was born, but he's been silent ever since.
2 months go by and still not a peep to be heard. Izuku is her only child, but her best friend said babies are supposed to cry a lot. Her weekly doctor appointments also yield no information.
The doctor always tries to appease her. “Izuku is growing as he should. Don’t worry about crying, some babies are just late developers.”
Inko still can’t shake the feeling that her baby isn’t normal.
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Mitsuki Bakugo comes by Inko’s apartment with her baby boy, Katsuki, a few months later. Like her own son, Katsuki is the spitting image of his mother too. He’s adorable despite being incessantly fussy. Katsuki seems to be on the opposite extreme than Izuku in that regard. He cried till he was red in the face merely because Mitsuki kissed Inko hello and didn’t give him a kiss as well.
Through the duration of their hangout Izuku still didn’t make a sound.
Mitsuki, the ever blunt and observant woman she is, took notice. “Izuku is just the calmest baby I’ve ever seen. Too bad Katsuki isn’t like that.” Inko didn’t comment on that.
After the nicest dinner they could have as two new moms, Inko decided she should take Izuku to a specialist. How could her baby not cry at all? or even babble with another baby?
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A month later, Inko has an appointment set up with a doctor who specializes in pediatric disorders. The doctor, a nice young woman, quickly agreed Izuku wasn’t developing normally. Inko was ecstatic that someone finally believed her.
Unfortunately, her joy was swiftly put to rest. “It’s too early to say if he has some kind of learning disability. We normally don’t diagnose before they enter school.”
Those were not the words Inko was hoping to hear. I just have to wait? It’s already a struggle, what if he never starts speaking? or even walking?
Her thoughts must have shown on her face because the doctor continued.
“He's showing early signs of a learning disability though, so I can print up some handouts for you to look over, and hopefully you get some helpful tricks or insight.”
Isn’t that a relief? It may not be the exact diagnosis and treatment she was hoping for, but it’s a start.
-
Inko started spending extra time speaking to Izuku. Giving him stimulating puzzles and activities in hopes something would change. The extra attention must’ve worked, because at the age of almost three, Izuku started making noises. Finally some progress! He’s grunting and humming at the things he enjoys!
But that’s not the only change Inko noticed. Sometimes, Inko thinks she sees something out of the corner of her eyes. Nothing scary but perhaps unsettling.
The first time it happened Izuku made a sound like the one he makes when he notices something. A quick glance in the direction he was looking showed nothing but their apartment. As she turned back to Izuku she saw, briefly, a large object almost like a huge piece of wood randomly standing upright in the living room.
She wrote it off as exhaustion after being up with Izuku for almost 20 hours straight. Then it kept happening, day or night, when she had gotten rest and when she hadn’t. She figured it was purely a delusion from all the stress. After several months of this on and off hallucination it just stopped happening. She didn’t even think about it much because Izuku started walking a couple months ago, and even speaking words.
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As Izuku grew older, Inko still found him to be a bit strange. He doesn’t speak unless spoken to, and stares a borderline uncomfortable amount. But that’s her unique baby.
When Izuku turned four, Inko had completely forgotten the specialist doctor. He had hit all the milestones, simply later than normal. But in the time following his birthday, her hallucination came back. No way I’m seeing this thing again.
It started appearing a bit clearer to her now, but still disappeared when her eyes caught it. It’s a door? What a weird thing to see. It’s so out of place it doesn’t even make any sense.
So it was left at that. A trick of the eyes, because there’s no way a door would appear out of nowhere. Right? It’s more frustrating than anything. Inko doesn’t want to be the crazy single mom, so she shuts it out.
-
Every now and then, Inko catches her son staring at nothing. He’s always mumbling something too. It drove her mad.
One day, after a long shift at the hospital she worked at, she came home to Izuku. He was–once again–sitting on the living room floor, staring at nothing down the hall. It was honestly really starting to freak her out. She was tired, hungry, and not in the mood to be around her off-putting son.
Coming further into the apartment, her gaze remained on his still figure. “What do you want for dinner Izuku? It has to be something easy though, I am exhausted.”
She could see his mouth move but couldn’t hear what he said. “What was that baby?”
Remaining still and never breaking eye contact with the hallway he muttered out “Door.”
huh? Did he just say door?
Sure enough, she followed his eye line and there was a door. All white with a frame and everything. It wasn’t connected to any of the walls, standing upright in the middle of the hallway. Out of place in their wood colored apartment.
Well there we go. I’ve finally lost it. A harsh blink and eye rub later, it’s gone. What the actual fuck. Choosing to be blissfully ignorant, Inko walked to the kitchen and started making some instant ramen.