The bastard manipulating Overhaul was finally dealt with. Weeks of careful planning, intelligence gathering, and a whole lot of headaches culminated in Shigaraki, Dabi, and Kurogiri dragging a pathetic, sniveling mess of a man into my office. Apparently, a manipulation quirk was the tool of his trade, twisting Overhaul into his puppet. I'd left it to Shinso to unravel the damage, and thankfully, Overhaul came out of it with no memory of being controlled. One less problem.
But this week had been a goddamn nightmare. On top of the Overhaul fiasco, I was wading deeper into the human trafficking underworld, trying to dismantle it piece by piece. I rubbed my temples, the familiar ache blooming behind my eyes. And then there was him.
Katsuki Bakugo. That explosive, over-achieving pain in my ass had been sniffing around, trying to dig up dirt on my past, my present, whatever he could find. He was relentless, his hero gaze unwavering. Shinso had been a lifesaver, somehow managing to distract Bakugo for the past two weeks, but I knew I was skating on thin ice. I owed Shinso big time.
Finally, I decided to strike out on a few solo missions, needing some distance and a chance to think. I targeted smaller cells, rescuing girls from cramped cages and squalid conditions. It was brutal, ugly work but someone had to do it. Then, one night, everything changed.
The screams led me to a dilapidated warehouse on the docks. Inside, the air was thick with the stench of fear and decay. I breached the door, gun raised, adrenaline coursing through my veins. There was a girl cowering in a cage, sobbing uncontrollably. Next to her, slumped against the bars, was a woman, unconscious. My blood ran cold.
It wasn't just any woman. It was my mother.
Inko Midoriya, the same woman who had vanished from my life when I was only fifteen. The air left my lungs. The world swam for a moment. I nearly shattered. Years of carefully constructed control teetered on the edge of oblivion.
Somehow, I managed to hold it together. I got them out of there, both of them. I didn't even bother going back to the base. I drove straight to my mansion, my mind a whirlwind of disbelief and fear.
I called Anna and Mya, two of the best healers I trusted. They got to work immediately, tending to their injuries and stabilizing them. By the time the sun rose, both were resting, but the weight on my chest was heavier than ever before.
A few days later, my mother woke up. She was disoriented, her body covered in bruises and scars, but she was alive. I couldn't stop the tears from coming. Eri, the young girl, was physically okay, but the terror in her eyes haunted me.
I got them both into therapy, determined to help them heal. I lied about my work; I told them I was a CEO. My mother believed it, her relief palpable. I couldn't bear to burden her with the truth. Not yet.