"Let's see... what else is here that I forgot to check?" Inko muttered to herself as she walked through the now emptied apartment.
The echoes of her footsteps bounced off the bare walls, the once cozy and cluttered space now reduced to a skeleton of its former self. She was performing one last sweep, making sure nothing had been left behind.
They were leaving the urban city and heading to live with her in-laws in the countryside. This move, significant as it was, meant a fresh start for her and her two children.
The decision had been a collective one, made after a lengthy discussion that spanned the entire night. Inko, along with her in-laws, had weighed the pros and cons of relocating.
The primary concern had always been the well-being of Izuku and Chisa, and how best they could grow up in a nurturing environment. After thoroughly examining their options, they had come to the conclusion that the countryside's farming village, where her in-laws farmed land, would be the best place for their family.
Initially, Inko had been hesitant. Not because she was afraid of living in the countryside, mind you. She wouldn't mind working as a farmer as long as the job was fulfilling. But... she had been hesitating because of the fear that she would become a burden to her in-laws.
However, her in-laws had been adamant, insisting that not only would she and her children not be a burden, but that they wanted to be close to their grandchildren.
The desire of grandparents to spoil their grandchildren was something of a universal wish, and Inko couldn't deny them that joy. It was this insistence and their unwavering support that had convinced her to agree to the move.
She had also heard and read about the benefits of living in the countryside, and there were quite a lot to be said.
There was the obvious advantage of cleaner air and a healthier environment, free from the pollution and noise of the city. The pace of life in the countryside was slower, less stressful, allowing for a more relaxed and peaceful existence. There was a sense of community, where neighbors looked out for each other, and the bonds of friendship were stronger and more genuine.
For children especially, this meant a safer environment to grow up in, with plenty of open spaces to explore and play, fostering a sense of adventure and connection with nature for them.
For Izuku... the move held special significance. In the urban city, being quirkless made him a minority, often leading to feelings of isolation and inadequacy. The city's competitive atmosphere, where quirks were sometimes highly valued and often enough a measure of one's worth, would have been harsh on Izuku...
However, in the countryside, the dynamics were different. Somehow... quirkless individuals were more common, and the emphasis was less on what abilities or quirks one possessed, and more on the person themselves. Izuku would find himself in an environment where he wouldn't be judged for his lack of a quirk, but rather accepted for who he was. To the three adults, this change was crucial for his emotional well-being and personal development.
As for Chisa... her situation was different yet equally considered. Chisa was remarkably intelligent for her age, showing a keen mind and curiosity that set her apart. In the countryside, she would still fare relatively well, given the supportive and close-knit community environment.
Her quirk, similar to Inko's telekinetic ability to pull objects like a poltergeist, was not intrusive, dangerous, nor grotesque. It was a normal, "everyday quirk" that wouldn't draw undue attention or fear. Chisa would be able to use her abilities without the pressure of standing out too much, allowing her to integrate well with everyone else and continue to develop her talents in a nurturing environment.
Inko walked into the small, now-empty bedroom that had been Izuku's. The room had once been filled with All Might posters and hero memorabilia, but now... it stood barren, the walls showing faint outlines where the posters had once been. She sighed, the weight of their situation settling in her chest again.
This move was for the best... she had to keep reminding herself that.
Then she moved on to Chisa's room. Her room was barren as well, but Inko had to wonder at how normal Chisa had been compared to her older brother's (most likely now former) fixation with heroic stuff. She pondered whether Chisa would even develop any specific interests... but then again, she was still a child. It was not uncommon for children her age to not have a specific passion yet.
Finally, Inko checked on her bedroom... her and Hisashi's bedroom.
Again, it was now barren, empty with nothing in it. Yet... she still felt a lingering attachment to this room. Even if Hisashi had spent most of his last year overseas working, she cherished the times whenever he was back. The comfort he had always given her whenever he was home.
But now...
She shook her head, not wanting to dwell on it too much. She needed to move on.
But she still checked for anything that might have been missed... just one last time.
She checked the built-in wardrobe to see if there was anything she had forgotten... and there was. In the corner of the wardrobe, a small box sat in the dark, as if hiding from everyone's sight. The box was labeled with a marker, 'Tokusatsu.' She wondered why this box was so well hidden.
Inko tried her best to pull the box out of the corner of the wardrobe. It was quite far from reach, so she had to resort to using her telekinetic quirk. She could feel that it had a bit of heft to it despite its small size. The box slowly floated over to her, and she grabbed a firm hold of it.
It was heavier than it looked, but manageable. She checked the inside and found a bunch of portable flash drives and a few external hard drives. They all had different labels such as... 'Kamen Rider,' 'Super Sentai,' 'Ultraman,' and many more.
She wondered what all these memory drives were for... but then she remembered something.
"Hisashi...!" A flashback went through her mind... a memory of her late husband once telling her about his little obsession. He had mentioned how he used to watch vintage superhero live-action shows from almost a century ago, called 'Tokusatsu,' which featured normal humans using gadgets and power-up items to transform into superheroes.
Remembering this brought tears to her eyes.
Just like father and son, both Izuku and Hisashi had the same kind of obsession with superheroes. Though for Izuku's case... it most likely was a former obsession now for Izuku, given the circumstances that had led to their move to the countryside.
Inko stared at the box full of memory drives, most likely recordings of the shows. She wondered what she should do with it. Should she hide it away for keepsake? Or...
Should she show it to Izuku?
Maybe, just maybe, he would appreciate having this memento of his father.
As she pondered, she could almost hear Hisashi's voice in her mind, filled with enthusiasm as he described the episodes he loved. She remembered how his eyes lit up... the same way Izuku's did when he talked about heroes.
The thought made her heart ache, but it also gave her a sense of warmth. This box represented a connection between father and son, one that transcended time and space... life and death.
Taking a deep breath, Inko made a decision. She would show it to Izuku. He needed something to remind him of his father, something that could perhaps rekindle a spark of hope and joy in his heart. She carefully placed the box aside, making a mental note to give it to Izuku later.
Inko stood up, looking around the room one last time. The laughter, the tears, the struggles, and the small victories. She smiled wistfully, knowing that this chapter of their lives was ending, but hopeful for the new one beginning.
With a final glance, she turned and walked out of the room, ready to face the future... with her children by her side.