Inko holds her son for the first time the afternoon of a horribly hot July day.
The air conditioning in the hospital buzzes in the background, desperately struggling to cool the building.
She made it to the hospital sweating and miserable and alone.
She’s exhausted and she still hurts but she takes him from the nurse's arms and remembers the instructions from the classes about how to hold him right.
He’s wrinkly and bright red.
He’s taking his first breaths of air with what she can only describe as disgruntled confusion.
He’s the most beautiful baby she’s ever seen.
He’s perfect.
She never thought that newborns were particularly cute before, so wrinkly and new. This one is. He’s wonderful and he’s hers.
For a wonderful moment nothing else matters.
It doesn’t matter that his father didn’t bother showing up.
It doesn’t matter that it’s sticky and miserable outside.
Her baby is healthy and safe in her arms.
She shifts a hand to gently stroke the little wisps of green hair.
He scrunches his face and blinks his eyes open and she lets out a little gasp.
His eyes are green.
She can’t help but giggle a little at that.
A tiny little Midoriya.
He fits it so well.
She’s had a name all picked out for weeks.
She didn’t tell anyone, she wanted to see if it would fit him first.
It’s not like his father deserves a say in it anyway.
He’s going to worry her so much.
She can tell.
She’s going to worry and fret because that’s who she is and he’s going to be amazing.
She doesn’t have any siblings, doesn’t know how to be a mother really. Everyone tells her it comes with time, maybe it does.
No matter what she’s going to love him.
This wrinkly little newborn who’s going to grow up into a much less wrinkly little boy and someday, maybe, a confident young man.
Inko is going to watch him grow and she’s not going to be perfect, she knows that, but she’s going to try.
She’s going to try so hard.
She hopes that it’s enough.
Predictably, she starts to cry, looking into those tired green eyes that blink up at her with so much trust.
Perhaps even more predictably, her little one follows. His face scrunching up and turning to wailing sobs.
It makes her giggle a little desperately.
Oh, he’s already gotten something from her.
She sniffles and tries to dry her tears, rocking him slowly back and forth.
“There, there, it’s alright Izuku. We’re going to be alright.”