Unedited.

INHALE, DON'T SOB

I stumble and fall

But I am a threat, for fuck's sake

Yes, I am weary

But I am not glass

And I was not born to break

I'll stand through it all

And for better or worse

Stubbornness is in my wake

I've been used

But I'm not trash

And I refuse to ache

I am flesh and I am brittle

But I will spit at fate

Yes, I said I am brittle,

But I am not glass,

And I am not doomed to break!

For the three days that followed, Izuku sat in his dorms, informing the lecturers for his Monday to Wednesday courses that he wouldn't be able to make it to classes via email.

He had also asked Kaminari, and by extension Shinsou, to share their notes with him over pictures and messages. Either one (or both) of them tended to be in most of Izuku's literature courses, so it only made sense.

Soon, it was nearing the weekend yet again.

"So, the festival's coming up."

Izuku sighed, switching his cellphone from one ear to the next. He was currently on the phone with Ochako, who now called him at least once per day.

Izuku felt extremely thankful for his friends persistently checking up on him as promised, even if they couldn't meet him face to face as often as they'd like to. He adjusted his arm bandages and grabbed a pair of dress shoes from his suitcase.

"Yeah, it is. Not sure if I'm still up for going though," he replied, stuffing his folded clothes into his large backpack.

Ochako hummed in understanding. "I totally get you. I wanted to propose an idea though."

Izuku cocked an eyebrow. "Okay, shoot."

"Well, there's gonna be an arts section for the event, as you'd probably imagine," she said. "There's gonna be a painting competition. I heard it from a friend in that department."

Izuku froze; shoes still in hand. "Painting competition, huh?"

Ochako's voice was as cheery as ever. "Yup! I don't know what the theme or prize is, but you can check the art department's website. The deadline to enter is next week Saturday."

Her voice softened. "Izuku, I honestly think you have a huge shot at winning. You'd totally knock everyone out the park!"

Izuku chuckled nervously. "You're overestimating me, Chako."

Ochako shook her head, forgetting her friend couldn't see her. "No way. I think... I think this something that could be great for you. You've been so stressed lately, so setting a goal for something you love doing could take your mind away from other stuff. Even if you somehow don't win, you could definitely attract customers for commissions, or some other opportunities. It's a triple win."

Izuku sighed, a small smile on his face. Uraraka knew him too well; she totally made it sound appealing.

"I'll think about it when I get back."

Ochako grinned. "Cool."

Izuku neatly packed the last of his stuff into his backpack, standing up.

"Are you leaving out now?"

"Yeah," he sighed. He pursed his lips.

"I wish we could come with you." Ochako's voice was small, filled with compassion. "If you need to talk at any point during the day, call me or Tenya. Okay?"

Izuku flung his backpack unto his back, heading for the door.

"Don't worry about it, I'll be fine. It's just a funeral for a guy I barely know," he chuckled.

"I guess," Ochako sighed. "Talk to you later?"

"Yeah. I'll call you."

The conversation ended and Izuku headed out, making sure to lock the door behind him.

Izuku didn't know what to feel. He couldn't understand his mother's intentions for suggesting he attend his father's funeral, even though she'd told him.

That man was on every level of awful and vile. It didn't matter if he'd changed after leaving, Izuku thought of him as Satan himself, and he would continue to.

Who the fuck cared if he died? It's about time he did.

As he neared the bus stop, Izuku checked the time, huffing in slight annoyance. He was a tad too early in leaving.

Hisashi had two children after leaving, their ages being six and three years old.

His wife, a woman named Tenata, had reached out to Inko, hoping to connect with her late husband's son. She seemed like a fairly nice woman, not that Izuku cared.

A honk invaded Izuku's thoughts, jerking his attention to the expensive vehicle before him. The window slid down smoothly, revealing a pretty face and a bright smile.

"Hey! You're Inko's son, aren't you?"

Izuku nodded once, tucking his bottom lip in. He was already anxious.

"I'm Tenata Midoriya," the woman replied sweetly, gesturing for Izuku to hop in the car. Izuku gingerly obeyed, opting for the backseat.

The car eased out of the area, making its way into the main road.

Izuku bit his lip, peering over at the woman behind the wheel as discreetly as he could.

She seemed fairly young– younger than his mother at least– with shoulder-length, inky hair that was pin straight, yet full of body. Her eyes were large and ocean blue, and her skin was pale and free of blemishes.

Izuku was willing to admit that she was a very beautiful woman.

Was that why? Why his father chose another woman over his own wife and son? Because she was younger and "prettier"?

"So," Tenata spoke up, interrupting Izuku's thoughts, "Inko told me a little about you, but I'm kind of curious. I hope you don't mind me asking, but what're you studying at Yuuei?"

Izuku resisted the urge to sigh.

"I major in French, minor in Literature."

"Ah!" Tenata's eyes narrowed in curiosity and fascination. "That's pretty interesting. I wanted to study literature too at some point. I ended up doing psychology instead, though."

Psychology, huh?

"So what career path are you planning on taking?"

"I want to be a translator and writer," Izuku replied, staring at his fingers. "I'm also interested in French literature and art."

"So you're a creative, I see?" Tenata hummed in understanding. "And you're still in your first year, right?"

Izuku nodded, which Tenata caught thanks to her peering in the rearview mirror.

"You said you took on psychology," Izuku said, his curiosity getting the better of him. "Are you a psychiatrist then?"

Tenata hummed in confirmation. "I am. I used to do therapy specifically, but for the last two or so years, I've been working with children in particular and helping their teachers and parents with navigating their future. Atypical children, that is."

The drive dragged on as forty minutes passed, and Izuku found himself getting used to Tenata. She seemed like a genuinely kind person with interesting experiences.

Soon enough, the vehicle pulled up into the parking lot of a large house, and Izuku stared out of the window in curiosity.

"We're here!" Tenata exclaimed, unbuckling her seatbelt and getting out of the car. Izuku followed suit.

"You'll be getting ready with the rest of us. Don't worry, it's only my kids and parents here."

Izuku silently followed as Tenata stepped inside of the abode, his eyes tracing over the elegant details the home entailed.

Huge halls and seemingly infinite space. Squeaky clean tiles that sparkled. Beautifully coordinated decor. Trimmed rose bushes nearing the front of the yard. Attention to detail.

Izuku felt small and insignificant amongst it all.

"Tenata?"

An old woman approached; her gait somewhat stiff. Her greying hair only highlighted her well-aged features, and Izuku resisted the urge to shrink back when her cobalt eyes raked over him curiously.

She turned to her daughter, speaking a foreign language that Izuku couldn't understand. English? No... Izuku would've recognized the enunciation. Spanish, then?

"You're back. Is this the young man?"

"Aye," Tenata spoke, "he is."

"Why are his arms wrapped up in bandages?"

Tenata scratched her neck nervously. "I'd rather not ask him. Respect his privacy."

The old woman sighed. "Whatever. Anyhow, he looks so much like him, don't you think?"

Tenata folded her lips; her expression unreadable. "He does."

It was then Izuku noticed something. The old woman was Caucasian; a foreigner. Surely that meant that Tenata was mixed.

The woman turned to Izuku, speaking Japanese again. "Forgive my rudeness. I'm Sofia Yukushoku. You're Hisahi's son, yes?"

"Right," Izuku replied, his nerves licking at his neck. "Nice to...meet you."

"Nice to meet you too," Sofia said. She moved into the kitchen, prompting Izuku and Tenata to follow. "I've been curious for some time now, but has Hisashi ever reached out to you before his passing?"

Izuku chuckled a little, earning a tense look from Tenata. "I haven't heard from him in years."

"Mother," Tenata warned.

"I see," Sofia said, ignoring her daughter. "Well, he passed away from a stroke. He's been having heart problems for quite some time."

She sent Izuku a knowing look. "He spoke of you, you know. That's how Tenata was able to dig up a way to contact you."

"He spoke of me?" Izuku tried his best not to make his confusion visible. "He spoke of me, but never bothered to try reaching out to me?"

Sofia shot Tenata a look. A look that was almost reminiscent of I told you so.

"Anyway," Tenata cut in, glaring discreetly at her mother as she gently held on to Izuku's shoulder, "I think I should be showing him his room now."

She ushered him down an opposing hall, showing him the nearest bathroom in the process, before opening a door with a sigh.

"This is our guest room. We'll be getting ready in an hour or so, so if you need anything just let me know."

Izuku stepped inside of the room, jade eyes sweeping over the roomy expanse of the space. He turned to Tenata, nodding silently.

"Okay! Make yourself at home," she said, closing the door behind her and leaving Izuku.

____

An hour had passed since then.

Izuku spent the entirety of that time staring at the sparkly ceiling, drowning in his own mind. At some point, he dozed off that way.

The persisting sound of a baby's wails got Izuku to sit up, groaning as he wiped at his eyes in confusion.

After a moment or two, a knock sounded at the door.

"Izuku?"

Izuku dragged himself out of the bed, opening the door. Unsurprisingly, Tenata was standing before him, her breathing laboured. She was wearing a knee-length coal-black dress that brightened her eyes and contrasted nicely with her skin; she was clearly in the process of getting dressed.

"Sorry to interrupt your sleep. I wanted to give you as much time to rest as possible," she huffed, "but I'm getting the kids ready. I think it's best if you did that too."

Izuku nodded, his eyes catching the toddler in the woman's arms. The child had been doing their utmost best to break free from their mother's stronghold, squealing in misery.

One side of the baby's hair was completely tangled. That explained everything, really.

Tenata noticed that Izuku had been staring, and she let out a light chuckle.

"Hirata gets like that when I try to tame his stubborn hair," she hummed, relatively calm even as her six year old kicked wildly.

So it's a boy, Izuku thought in passing.

"If you need to iron your clothes, just head downstairs towards the back. That's where the laundry room is, okay?"

"Okay. Thank you," Izuku said, backing into the room once again once she'd left.

He gathered his clothing and reached for a towel in the nearby closet, his steps less than lively as he padded down the hallway, turning to the bathroom.

The house bustled with commotion as everyone got ready to leave, and Izuku reluctantly sat around the kitchen counter as Sofia served him breakfast.

"Are you the kid?"

Izuku looked to his right. An elder that seemed two sizes too small possessed an expression that Izuku couldn't read. Tenata's father.

Izuku blinked. "I'm not a-"

"You look just like that old man of yours," Tenata's father carried on, "Exact fucking replica."

Sofia scowled. "Language, Toromu!"

Izuku flinched, before smiling a little, albeit nervously. "But... I think I look more like my mother. People have always said that. She has the same shade of hair and-"

"Well, I've seen your father, kid. And you took everything from him. The hair, especially. Even the freckles."

The freckles?

"I think your best trait has got to be your freckles."

Katsuki had been inspecting his face, tracing his fingers over every area as if he'd been committing it all to memory. "Your eyes come in close second though. And then... I think it's your hair."

Izuku blinked, spitting out a lie at the speed of light. "My mother has freckles, too. I got them from her."

Tenata frowned. She'd seen Inko once; the woman had no such thing.

"Hey," Sofia said, presenting a bowl of rice before Izuku, "I don't know what all this fuss is, but it's not the end of the world to look like him, kid. He was a handsome lad, you know?"

Izuku lowered his head, his eyes wide with disbelief.

"I mean, we're all here to celebrate his life. While you're here, learning a bit about him wouldn't be a bad idea, don't you think?"

There's nothing to fucking learn! Where the fuck do you get off telling me shit like that?

Izuku raised his head. A wire loosened.

"Okay."

Tenata pursed her lips.

________

Izuku was thankful that he'd thought ahead and brought alcohol.

The chattering was loud, the people were plenty, and there were way too many people who directly tied Izuku's appearance to his father's.

There were too many people crying as they looked at the body in the casket. There were too many people recalling memories of Hisashi; of that time he monitored that one charity event, or that one time he drove Mrs. Yatsuka to the hospital mid-labour.

It all made Izuku sick.

Izuku didn't expect everyone to know how he felt about that fucker. He didn't know what he expected.

Maybe, he just expected to be proven right. Maybe he wanted everyone to hate his father as much as he did.

But as Izuku took a peek at the open casket with his father inside, a dead weight dropped on his shoulders.

The same curly hair, except black. The same round face. Even the freckles.

Izuku felt sick.

And as the service carried on, he snuck himself more and more of that clear liquor he haphazardly threw into his water bottle earlier, chugging it like it was water.

The haze helped him to bear the majority of the freakshow these people called a funeral.

That is, until a voice pierced through the silence yet again as the pastor read off of the programme.

"As the offering is being collected, I'm offering the podium to anyone who would like to recall their memories of Hisashi."

Silence spread throughout the church as the seconds ticked by.

The pastor cleared his throat, taking a look at the list of family members on the back of the printed programme.

"How about Izuku Midoriya? First son?"

Izuku froze, ice trickling up his spine in an unnerving realization.

Why was he being called up? Didn't they know who he was? What he represented?

He represented a version of Hisashi no one in that church knew about. He represented his father's sins.

Of course, he doesn't know that. No one does. Don't be ridiculous.

Tenata sent Izuku an encouraging look, and he could feel his emotions reeling. What the fuck?

Izuku swallowed down his anxiety and tipsiness, shaking his head at the pastor in hopes that the man would understand the gesture.

"Young man?" The pastor insisted, and Izuku suppressed the urge to shoot him a glare. What a stubborn mule.

Izuku obliged reluctantly, taking slow, steady-ish steps up to the pulpit.

With a sharp intake of air, Izuku peered down, below the literal and metaphorical stage he'd been placed on. His gaze caught Tenata's. His gaze caught her two children.

Izuku's eyes soaked in every face he could find in the congregation. Everyone was comforting someone else or being comforted in turn. Everyone was so emotional. So broken.

Over Hisashi.

Izuku leaned into the mic, slowly. His head felt a little light, thanks to the buzz. "Hey."

Tenata tensed.

"I was his only child for a while. Hisashi, I mean." His expression was unreadable.

"I've learned so many things about my father today. Learned what he liked. Learned what kind of man he turned out to be. Things I'd never learned on my own." Izuku blinked. "When I was little, all I wanted was to be enough for him. I wanted my mother to be enough for him. But we never were, right until the end."

"My mother is really religious. She always speaks highly of forgiveness and loving your enemy," Izuku said, basking in the relative silence. "She says she's forgiven my father a long time ago for all that he's done to her. To us."

A couple of people in the congregation exchanged looks of uneasiness.

"She said that if he'd become a better man after leaving us, then she could find it in her heart to put her pain past her."

The pastor laughed nervously. "Hey–"

Izuku sneered. "But I am not my mother. I am still angry. I still hate him. He planted insecurities in me that stills eats away at my well-being to this very fucking day. He made my mum cry as often as he made her terrified. And then he abandoned us, sending divorce papers in the fucking mail ten years later."

A stark silence fell in the church, tension thickening rapidly in the air.

Izuku leaned forward, into the mic. "I have no fucking clue what you people are asking of me. You dragged me up here without a second thought, mindlessly assuming that I'd just love the man we're talking about today. Well, I have news for you."

"Just because he's dead doesn't mean he was loved."

"That's enough!" Tenata yelled, her face reddening with prime anger.

"I'll let you in on something," Izuku said, even though the pastor was getting up to approach him. "My mother had to get her shit together. After all she went through, she didn't have time to be properly heartbroken. She didn't have a second to be weak. Because she still had to raise me. Cook. Pay bills. Work extra shifts. The whole goddamn nine yards, you hear me? And she was the best at it," He hissed. "You think I give a fuck about Hisashi? He was an abuser who never paid for his sins, and I'm happy that I can finally have some fucking closure!"

The pastor yanked the mic away, furiously pointing towards the door. "Leave! Don't you dare bring that anger and language into the house of God!"

"Oh no, woe is me. Eat dirt," Izuku spat, making his way down the aisle.

There was only a haunting silence that replaced the previous racket. Everyone seated in the church was shocked beyond belief. Tenata stood up abruptly and rushed after Izuku, who'd now left the building.

"You!" She yelled. Her cheeks were red and she wiped at her teary eyes. Izuku turned around.