Chapter Text
Late summer hit Musutafu hard. For hours, Inko and Izuku have been walking through the inner city in this sweltering heat with an increasing number of shopping bags to carry. And while Inko was glad to have finally crossed the last item off the list that UA had sent to prepare Izuku for his first year of school, she felt well-cooked and about ready for serving by the time the two of them were on their way back home.
Toshinori fared a little better in this weather, but he wasn't with them today. Now that Izuku was no longer in acute danger of getting kidnapped, Inko didn't want him to lose any more valuable working hours by accompanying them on every little errand. Toshinori provided literally everything for them, and while Inko very much wasn't a fan of his workaholic tendencies, she felt guilty for keeping him from earning money while she and Izuku caused a whole lot of extra expenses. Already, she had begun to look for a new part-time job with working hours that aligned with Izuku's school hours, but she hadn't had much luck so far. Her résumé wasn't the best, either.
Inko cursed her past self for choosing the three-quarter pants over her summer dress this morning. She could almost hear her brain melting out of her ears and dripping on the sidewalk. Actually … No, wait. That was just the ice cream in the hand of the person who had walked past her.
As she looked after them, Inko noticed with a start that Izuku was no longer by her side. Thankfully, he had merely stopped walking and fallen a few steps behind. He stood there with the school book clutched to his chest that he had insisted to carry earlier and was staring longingly at the ice cream parlor nearby, the people sitting in the shade of the parasols and the queue in front of the counter. He turned to Inko, slowly, with big and pleading eyes. “Mom?”
Under other circumstances, Inko might've hesitated to give in, but the colorful selection of flavors on display looked tempting, as did the shade, and they were both exhausted from the temperatures and the walking. “You know what, Izuku? I think we've earned ourselves some ice cream.”
As far as she could see, all but one of the tables beneath the parasols were occupied, and given how many people had lined up for ice cream, chances were that the parlor would be out of seats again quickly. Spending another minute out under the hot sun was out of the question. Inko nodded towards the empty table. “Izuku, quick!”
He ran ahead and Inko hurriedly followed him with their purchases. At the prospect of ice cream, she found that there was more strength left in both of them than she had expected. By hopping onto a chair and placing his school book on the table, Izuku claimed the empty spot. “Got it!” he called out and raised his hands triumphantly.
Inko leaned the shopping bags against the legs of the table and glanced around. “Looks like I'll have to wait in line. Which flavor would you like?”
“Macha,” Izuku replied.
“Wait here, and if someone asks …”
“I'll tell them that the table is ours,” Izuku completed for her and nodded. “And if they need something, I'll point them to you.”
Her heart swelled with pride at how well-behaved her son was, and Inko couldn't help but plant a quick kiss into his hair before she left. “I'll be right over there, so just shout if something's wrong.”
“Okay.”
The end of the queue wasn't far off, so she could keep an eye on Izuku and vice versa while she waited. As soon as her thoughts began to wander, a quiet, nagging worry in the back of her mind resurfaced. Maybe the police hadn't captured all of Hisashi's henchmen and maybe walking away from Izuku would turn out to be a mistake. However, the more rational part of Inko knew this worry was unfounded, and thus, she pushed it from her mind and forced herself to focus on the price table of the ice cream parlor instead.
The price per scoop had gone up again. She knew Toshinori didn't mind if she spent his money, but that didn't make her feel any less guilty about wasting it on things they could technically do without. She'd vowed to herself to treat her expenses like a loan, but she wasn't sure she'd ever be able to pay it back unless she found a job soon, and one that paid well, too.
“So the price money's two million yen, huh? That's hefty.”
“And knowing the junior boss, I guess that's not all. He'll probably put a little extra with the trophy.”
The voices that reached Inko's ears belonged to two young men sitting at the table nearest to where she stood. One of them wore a medical face mask over his mouth, the other around his neck.
“You gonna join?”
“Huh? No. Never been any good at tennis. My quirk's useless for that, too. Can you imagine me going up against a guy like Rappa?”
“No, but I don't think he's interested in tennis, either.”
“This whole tournament's just a PR gag, if you ask me. Why else would the boss allow anyone to join, even outsiders? I bet he just wants to get some attention.”
Two million yen. That amount of money wouldn't make Inko a rich woman, but it'd be plenty to pay Toshinori back and keep herself afloat until she'd found a job. In middle school, she'd played in a tennis club, which was, of course, ages ago. Still, she remembered bits and pieces and her quirk had always been rather useful for the sport. Even back then, she'd sometimes cheated by pulling the ball into her direction so she didn't have to run around the court as much. And now that her quirk was more than ten times stronger than it originally was, playing tennis should be even easier.
On a whim, Inko took a step towards the two men. “Excuse me, but I just overheard you talking about a tennis tournament.”
They cast surprised and skeptical glances at her.
“Did I get that right that quirk use will be allowed and that anyone can join? Absolutely anyone?” She was being foolish, she knew. So many years had passed since she had last played a match, and there were bound to be people at the tournament with more experience and quirks far more suited than hers. Her chances of winning were very slim.
“Technically, yes,” one of the men replied. “It's held on private grounds, so anything goes.”
“Yeah, but trust me, lady; You're not the type for this kind of tournament,” the other said with an amused smirk. “Save yourself the pain and forget what you just heard.”
Inko was well aware she wasn't the athletic type, but that was no reason to get rude like this. With an angry huff, Inko returned to her spot in the queue.
After another minute or so of waiting, she paid for two waffle cups, one with a scoop of macha for Izuku and another with one scoop of vanilla and one scoop of strawberry for herself, and returned to the table where Izuku had been waiting for her, unharmed and undisturbed.
“Here you go,” she said as she handed Izuku the ice cream.
“Thanks, mom.”
Just as she had sat down, Inko noticed a child standing on the sidewalk, in a similar spot where Izuku had stood minutes before. The girl's brown hair was cut at chin length and she was wearing a light pink summer dress with daisies printed all over it. As if in a heat-induced trance, her hazy eyes were locked onto the ice cream parlor. She seemed to be but a second away from drooling at the different flavors on display.
Inko cast a concerned look around for the girl's parents when a woman not much younger than herself hurried to the girl's side. The shopping bags she carried looked much like Inko's, and were probably stuffed with the same school books and writing utensils for the upcoming school year.
Izuku, too, was watching the girl and her mother instead of starting on his ice cream.
“Ochako.” the woman addressed the child. The resemblance between mother and daughter was obvious, and sadly, so were the heavy bags under the mother's eyes – the trademark expression of someone who was working too much and sleeping too little. “I'm sorry. I know it's hot, but you can't have ice cream today. Come on, let's not be late for the bus.” With an audible sigh, the woman took her daughter's hand and dragged her with her.
Little Ochako gasped, and for a split second, her and Izuku's eyes met before Ochako's wrist slipped from her mother's grasp. Instead of catching up to her parent, she balled her little hands into fists and looked down at the pavement. “Why?” she asked, barely loud enough for Inko to hear. Despite of how heartbroken the girl looked, she seemed to be fighting for composure. “Why is it always Not today? You promised I could have ice cream if I made it to UA, so why do you keep saying that? I don't understand.”
Her mother knelt down next to her. “I'll keep my promise, Ochako. It's just that …” Again, she sighed heavily.
The woman glanced at the price table hanging above the counter of the ice cream parlor as if it were a blackboard with a mathematical equation that needed solving, and suddenly, Inko understood. The girl's family must've fallen on hard times.
Inko remembered well what it was like, trying to make ends meet when Hisashi had stopped sending money for a month or two, or didn't send enough in the first place. In hindsight, she'd come to understand that he'd never sent alimony, but hush money. Just about enough to discourage her from taking legal actions against him or their marriage. Relying on his financial support had been a massive mistake in the first place, and one Inko had vowed never to repeat, which was also part of the reason why she wanted to be financially independent from Toshinori's income, no matter how much he insisted on helping her out.
“Mom?”
Her son's voice snapped her out of her thoughts.
Izuku glanced from his waffle cup to Inko, to the girl and back to Inko again. “Do you think she'd like to have macha ice cream, too?”
Inko knew her boy well enough to tell when he wanted to help and gave him a soft smile. “Why don't you ask her?”
His face lit up at her suggestion. Izuku slid off his chair and walked up to mother and daughter on the sidewalk, taking his ice cream with him. “Uhm, h-hi?” he addressed them nervously, and held the waffle cup out to the girl in the pink dress. “I-I was wondering if you'd like macha ice cream.”
The girl's mother looked around, puzzled, and Inko wiggled her fingers at her to let her know that Izuku wasn't out on the streets by himself, offering ice cream to strangers without supervision. The other woman visibly relaxed when their eyes met.
Meanwhile, her daughter approached Izuku. “You want to give me your ice cream?” She pointed at herself like she couldn't believe her luck.
He nodded eagerly. “It's super hot today, and I know getting into UA is real hard and I just … I thought …”
Izuku didn't even get to finish his explanation before Ochako's wariness dispersed completely. “Oh, that's so nice of you! Thanks!” she exclaimed, practically beaming with joy, and took the ice cream he'd offered. Immediately, she shoveled a spoonful into her mouth, and her expression changed into one of pure bliss.
Basking in her happiness, Izuku smiled brightly.
“Ochako, we really have to hurry to catch the bus.” It was again the voice of her mother that brought her back down to earth. The woman turned to Izuku. “Thank you for sharing your ice cream with Ochako, but we need to leave now.”
The girl waved at him as she turned and followed her mother. “Bye! And thanks again!”
After a moment's hesitation, Izuku ran a few steps after her to wave back.
Ochako seemed like a nice girl. In fact, all of the children Inko had met so far that were going to attend UA along with Izuku this year had seemed exceptionally kind. She'd love for Izuku to make lots of new friends at school, if only because, well, Katsuki wasn't the best influence on Izuku, to be honest.
Once Ochako and her mother had disappeared from sight, Izuku came walking back to Inko. He was still smiling proudly at his accomplishment and seemingly lost in his own thoughts. “I think she likes macha,” he concluded.
“And what about you? Didn't you want ice cream, too?” Inko asked playfully, and the smile fell from Izuku's face as he suddenly realized that he no longer had any ice cream of his own.
He looked up at her with an expression somewhere between apologetic and confused. He wasn't going to ask for a replacement, Inko knew.
She pushed her waffle cup into the middle of the table. “Don't worry, Izuku. We can share mine. Which do you like better? Strawberry or vanilla?”
“Vanilla,” he replied sheepishly, and Inko handed him a spoon.
Truth be told, Inko was proud of him. Even more than she usually was. Inko might've helped the girl and her mother by herself, but, if she were in their position, she wouldn't have wanted another adult to spend money for her. Then again, technically, she is in their position, because she's still spending Toshinori's money and not her own.
A quiet sigh escaped her lips.
Money couldn't buy happiness, that might be true, but it could put a worried parent's mind at ease. Inko's thoughts circled back to the two-million-yen prize money for the tournament. So maybe she didn't stand much of a chance at winning, but even if she lost, just watching the game should make for a nice family trip.
“I'll be right back,” Inko said to Izuku and stood up to look for the two men whose conversation she had overheard earlier. Thankfully, they were only just about to leave.
“Where do I sign up?” she asked them bluntly.
“Look, I told you before, this tournament is not for …,” the same rude guy began again, but this time, she cut him off.
“I don't care. You said it was open for anyone. So where do I sign up?”
This time, she walked away from them with a web address.
#-#-#
Later that day, Inko sat at the dining table with her laptop – one of the many things she had migrated from her old apartment to Toshinori's – and entered the web address for the tournament into the browser. It belonged to a site she had never heard of, and seemingly couldn't find by searching online, either.
There also wasn't much on it. A simple form that required very little personal data, and some information regarding the tournament's rules. It repeated what the two men had said: Quirks were free to use within the tennis court, the winner would receive two million yen in cash and a trophy, and anyone could enter – though only a limited number of participants would be accepted.
As she scrolled across the page, Inko couldn't help but find it a little strange that there was no information on the time and location of the tournament, only a small statement that all relevant details would be relayed to participants in due time. Something else that struck her as odd was that the rules spoke of being allowed to play in double, and even changing partners between matches was all right as long as the registered participant remained in the tournament, but for some reason, she hadn't found an option to apply for either single or double matches.
The one thing that made her the most uncomfortable, however, was the clause she had to virtually sign before she could even send off her application.
“Neither the promoter of the tennis tournament nor any affiliated parties can be held liable in case of grave injury or death.”
It left an uneasy feeling in the pit of her stomach to think that people might've gotten badly injured in a tennis match. It had to be a formality, Inko convinced herself. There were so many dangerous quirks out there, of course they needed her to sign such a clause if they were going to allow quirk use on private grounds. Surely, the participants would watch out not to hurt each other.
A few days later, Inko was more than a little surprised to find a confirmation mail in her inbox that her application for the tennis tournament had been accepted. Attached to the mail was a QR code she was meant to show at the entrance to the building where the tournament would be held.
“Toshinori!” she called out to the wonderful man she was living with – the same one who was standing in the kitchen at that moment and stirring a pot of soba a little too eagerly, simply because she'd asked him to watch them for a few minutes. “Would you and Izuku like to come and watch me play tennis on Sunday?”
He turned around to her, arching an eyebrow. “Tennis?”
#-#-#
Sunday arrived faster than expected, and they were already late for the tournament.
The reason for it being that the adress the promoter had sent to Inko didn't lead to a public tennis court at the edge of town, but to an unassuming residential building in the heart of the city. They had walked past the designated location three times or more before they'd chosen to just knock and ask, and that was when they discovered the entrance that led below the residential building. A man wearing a medical mask scanned the code that Inko had brought, cast a surprised look at Izuku walking between the adults and Toshinori carrying Inko's sports bag, and eventually pointed them down a staircase towards an underground tennis center.
Something about all of this made Toshinori's skin scrawl. His nerves were tense in the way they usually only were seconds before a villain hideout raid, except those seconds had long since begun to stretch into minutes and his mind was racing to figure out why. They were on a family trip, as Inko had called it. To a tennis tournament. Inko had said she'd played tennis in middle school, and she had looked so eager and happy to join the tournament. There couldn't be anything wrong with that, could it?
The underground hall was air-conditioned and well-lit, and the stands surrounding the court were already filled with spectators. Banners hung from the walls with some kind of symbol Toshinori had seen before. If only he could remember …
Inko spoke to one of the coordinators of the event and eventually came back to take her sports bag from Toshinori's hand. “We only just made it in time,” she explained. Her face was alight with a bright smile of excitement. “I'm going to get changed and then I'm already up for the next match.” She waved Toshinori and Izuku good-bye as she hurried towards the changing rooms. “Wish me luck!”
“Good luck, mom!” Izuku replied while Toshinori didn't say anything. That strange tension simply wouldn't let go of him.
He turned to Izuku. “Let's find a place to sit, all right?”
The stands weren't tightly packed, and thus they didn't have to walk very far. Toshinori and Izuku sat down at the end of a bench on the lowest level of the ranks, next to the hallway that led to the men's changing rooms. From there, they could see the entirety of the tennis court just fine. All that separated them from the actual playing field was a wire fence.
Toshinori tried hard to relax, he really did. For Inko's and Izuku's sake, he tried to convince himself that there wasn't anything wrong and his sixth sense for dangerous situations was just playing a mean trick on him, yet that feeling only kept building until it became too oppressive to ignore.
“We gotta cheer for mom!” Izuku said next to him, though Toshinori just nodded absent-mindedly in return, mumbling “Sure.”
“Dude, did she really bring her kid to this?” he heard someone behind him say in a hushed voice.
“The brat's gonna get traumatized for life,” another added.
These people, the spectators and the staff … Many of them wore face masks, some of them beak-shaped. A few were extraordinarily strong built, or possessed clearly dangerous mutation quirks. And the expressions they wore … Why was he getting vibes of bloodlust and violence from so many of them? Suddenly, it felt like the entire hall was closing in on him and Izuku. And then it dawned on Toshinori.
That symbol on the walls was the emblem of the Shie Hassaikai.
Yakuza. They were sitting in an underground tennis hall filled to the brim with Yakuza members.
Toshinori's lungs cramped up. Before he even knew it, he was on his feet, scanning the hall for Inko. Surely, she hadn't been aware what she'd gotten herself into. She couldn't have!
Blissfully unaware of where she was and what was going on, Inko entered the tennis court still smiling excitedly. She wore an all-white tennis outfit, complete with a skirt and a sweatband around her forehead, and briefly waved at the spectators on the stands in her usual, modest and innocent manner.
His blood ran cold. Toshinori ran up to the wire fence. “Inko!”
His voice was drowned out by the cheers for her opponent. From the other side of the hall, a man entered the tennis court. He was of average built with red arrows running down his arms like tattoos. Toshinori had been a little worried before when he'd heard that the tournament allowed the use of quirks, but now that he knew the Yakuza were hosting the event, he had no doubts that Inko's opponents wouldn't hesitate to hurt her just to achieve a cheap victory.
“Inko!” Toshinori dug his fingers into the wire fence.
She waved at him, smiling, as she got into position to receive her opponent's first serve.