Inko hurried into the entryway, a bento box clutched in her hands. Her green hair was slightly mussed, her smile warm but anxious.

Toshinori’s voice came from the hallway, followed by the man himself. He was in his skeletal form, dressed in a simple tan suit, his blond bangs falling over sunken blue eyes. He leaned against the doorframe, a fond, amused look on his gaunt face.

Izuku took the bento box, his fingers brushing his mother’s.

She squeezed his hand briefly before letting go.

He stepped outside into the quiet, upscale neighborhood. A nondescript sedan was parked in the driveway.