Everyone wears some kind of mask. Heros to protect their secret identity, villains to hide their own. Even regular people, living their regular, ordinary lives wear masks. Whether it's to hide our dissatisfaction, our fears, or even our joys, there are just some things we don’t want to show the world, or ourselves. Inko’s no exception though she’s bad at it. She’s always been an honest, heart on your sleeve kind of person. She feels too much and she can’t seem to control herself when something breaks her heart and she needs to cry. Her mother once said she’s the kind of person who feels everything at once. It’s occurred to her that her life might be a bit easier if she didn’t feel so much. But expressing those emotions was better than bottling them up. But sometimes honesty wasn’t the best policy. Inko sometimes wonders if she should have said what Izuku wanted to hear that day instead of telling him the truth, what she thought was the truth. Would his life have been a little bit easier? Would he have been happier?

       That particular thought haunted her.

       She could see how her son wore a mask, to protect himself from disappointment, hiding the true depths of his pain. Inko hates seeing him be so miserable and pretends that everything was fine. She can’t mask her worry, fretting over his well being which seemed to make Izuku draw further into himself, pushing away from her. One afternoon they have an argument about him wanting to apply to UA. She’s terrified of what could happen to him and tries to gently dissuade him. Instead, he just marches off to his room, his little safe haven. Covered wall to wall with posters of All Might. The one person Izuku would be willing to listen to.

       “I’m here.” She whispers. But she isn’t enough.

       When Izuku’s quirk finally develops she can’t fathom how powerful it is and how radically different it is from anything on either side of their family. Inko’s always been trusting. It never occurred to her that she should be suspicious of how her son developed such a power. Inko really starts to wear a mask when she’s around All Might. She doesn’t want to admit it but she’s terribly jealous of him. She envies his easy relationship with Izuku, the close bond they share. Inko can guess why. Hizashi has been out of their lives for so long, he’d turned to All Might as a father figure. Now he was physically here, being a father to Izuku and Inko can’t help but feel...unwanted.

       But she can’t ignore the injuries Izuku’s garnered. Then there were the villain attacks, first at the school then the training camp and after watching Kamino Ward something in Inko snaps. Even if it means taking her son away from UA, away from All Might, if it keeps him safe she’ll do it. Even if Izuku ends up hating her for it. Then he comes in, so frail and broken, this thin reedy man whose still so larger than life and intimidating to her. She stands her ground, doesn’t hold back. She expresses her thanks for defeating that villain. Grateful as she is for what he’s done, there are things as a mother she can’t ignore. Inko's shaking, near tears from grief and outrage, at how her son has suffered and continues to suffer, at this man's negligence. Then All Might gets on his knees and bows down in front of her, he apologizes for not having done any of it right. But he believes in Izuku, believes in his whole being that her son is the right choice to be his successor and....what can she say to that? All she can do is ask him to live, to raise Izuku, and be there for him because her son needs All Might more than anyone.

       Inko doesn’t expect to meet him again so soon. The holidays are drawing near and Inko wants to do something special for Izuku. It’s been a hard year for everyone. It suddenly occurs to her that maybe she should extend an invitation for All Might to join them for dinner. She’s pleasantly surprised to see that he accepted. It's a small dinner, just the three of them and Izuku’s never looked happier. Then she realizes she’s forgotten the carrots. Izuku offers to run down and get some, while the corner store is still open. In the quiet of the house, Toshinori Yagi, as he prefers to be called now, is drinking a hot cup of tea. The table is set, the apartment is warm and the company is nice. She offers to refill his cup. Toshinori looks up at her, his smile is different. Genuine.

       “I envy you.” He said after a moment.

       That takes her by surprise. “Envy?”

       “You have a beautiful home and a family to spend the holidays with.”

       It suddenly occurs to her that Mr. Yagi doesn’t have a family. All Might was someone who threw himself into saving the world. He was the symbol of peace, an ideal for heroes everywhere to look up to. It probably didn’t leave much for a personal life. Now here he was, a single guest in her home and alone.

       “We’re a small family. One might say even broken.” She pauses for a moment. “My ex makes sure to provide for Izuku, he does care but usually at a distance. For all of my frustrations with you this past year I’m grateful to you for being the father figure my son needs in his life.”

       “Heh, I haven’t exactly been the best mentor.” He says.

       “Yet you're here, you try and you care. That’s more than enough.”

       She looks at him the same way she did the day they met only this time she's smiling instead of crying. It reminds him so much of his beloved mentor he’s a little awestruck by her. That quiet strength that Nana carried herself with, the exact opposite of how he approached life, he found familiar and comforting with Inko. How often did he smile to mask his fear, his pain? Even now, with the truth of his appearance exposed to the world, how often did he try to pretend that things would be fine? With Ms. Midoriya, there wasn't as strong a need to hide his own feelings.

       “I appreciate that, Ms. Midoriya. Izuku is…” like the son I never had. “An outstanding pupil.”

       Inko nods in understanding. “You're like a father to him.”

       He’s always surprised when he talks with her. He feels comfortable enough to let his mask slip, just a little bit more.

       “How have you been, since...you retired?” Inko ventures to ask. It is a very personal question to ask someone she barely knows. Yet something in the back of her mind feels like she should ask.

       “...I have good days and...bad days.”

       “Is this a good day or not?”

       “I’d say I am having a pretty good day. The company helps.” He says, his smile a little bit bigger.