Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

☆☆☆ 

If you ride your horse south, you’ll reach the end of the world.

And if you’re brave enough to keep on going – if you make it past the golems and the trolls and the swamp-beast that guards the bridge – you’ll find a fishing town on the bay. Delightfully plucked out of time, barely held together by sticks and old damp mortar.

Or so Shouto was told.

For a crazy old shopkeeper on the edge of the desert, her advice was shockingly accurate. When his horse ran where the maps don’t go – when he bested the golems and the trolls and the beast, he found Baytown right where she said it was; snuggled between the mountains, grey and dreary and rocking with the rain.

“Knock your boots!” calls the bartender. Shouto does so, under the eyes of every patron in the tavern. He kicks the plank in the floor, and all things considered, does very little in the grand (and wet) scheme of things, but the bartender settles for a little less mud on the floor, and turns to scrub tankards.

It’s muggy in here. The air smells like alcohol and sweat and cigar smoke, and Shouto notices a clientele of mostly humans (as small as that is). But there are two dwarves seated at the grey window, and a lizardfolk sipping ale.

Shouto sits at the barstool, and the barkeeper barely spares him a glance.

“You’re new.”

“And you’re off the map,” Shouto says right back, wringing the water from his coat. The bartender turns fully, and raises an eyebrow.

He doesn’t look approachable by any means. Tattoos peeking over his collar, piercings in his ears, and a gaze that could damn near set you on fire. He’s relatively young looking – maybe no older than Shouto. You certainly don’t see blonde hair like that back in the center kingdom. He doesn’t quite look like a Baytown local, either.

“The people here prefer it that way,” the bartender grunts. “Buy a drink or state your business.”

“I’ll do both.” Shouto doesn’t lower his hood, and is careful to keep his gaze low. “Rum is fine.”

The bartender gives him a deadpan look, “It’s a commodity here. You won’t find any city prices.”

“I’ll pay it.”

When the bartender makes no motion to move, Shouto sighs and digs a handful of shillings out of his pocket. Once they clatter against the bar, the bartender turns to prep a glass. His voice comes out gruff and short.

“Who you chasing?”

Shouto is almost caught off guard by the question. It’s accusatory – like there’s no other reason to ride out this far.

“I’m looking for a wizard that fought as a paladin in the war. Goes by the name of All Might.”

Everything pauses, at that. The chatter previously filling the tavern hushes momentarily, and the bartender freezes mid pour. A scowl falls on his face, and he bangs the bar with his fist. The chatter resumes naturally, and Shouto’s hackles raise.

“Hey newbie. Watch your fuckin’ mouth around this place. This ain’t your momma’s house.”

The bar creaks with the storm outside. The planks under their feet are only a mere few feet above the bay, and you can hear the water slosh through the logs.

Shouto scowls back, “I was told he was taking refuge here.”

“You wanna’ talk any louder? Or would you like to parade around with a big fat target on your back?”

The bartender is tall and wide, but Shouto is equally so, and cannot be intimidated.

“Cut him a break, Bakugou,” a patron raises his glass. He’s dressed like a fisherman; old, short, and scruffy with a white beard. “He’s only a lad.”

“Tch. No older than me.”

Bakugou. He wipes his hands off on a towel and sneers – and by reaction alone, Shouto can assume he must know something about his target. Shouto pulls another coin from his pouch, and slips it on the counter.

“I’m not a bounty hunter.”

Bakugou looks between the coin, and Shouto’s shaded eyes.

“The wizard doesn’t live here. He only passes through during the full moon.”

Shit.

Shouto rubs at the bridge of his nose and sighs. The full moon was three days ago.

“It was a five-month ride by horseback.”

“Hmm. You’re far from the castle, princess. I wouldn’t even bother with the hood if I were you.”  

Shouto’s head snaps up. He lowers the hood slowly, and squints in his own defense.  

“Excuse me?”

“Word travels fast in a small town, your highness.” The fisherman nods his head. He swings back his mug, and taps it roughly at the counter. “You don’t see Icelandic horses anywhere but up in the north.”

Damn it all. Shouto tied his horse a quarter mile down the river, and they still saw.

“No kidding,” Shouto mutters. He looks once around the bar, and sees a few curious eyes peering his way. “Any lodging here?”

“Yes, but we’re full,” the fisherman says. “Lost a house to uh…an incident, the other day. It’s full of families.”

“Your best bet is to turn around the way you came,” Bakugou points. “If you made it past the trolls once, you can make it again.”

Shouto takes a long sip from his glass. He sets it down smoothly, and without clatter.

“Yeah, I won’t be doing that. I’ll camp out in the woods. Seems it’s all I’m good for, these days.”

The fisherman and the bartender share a look.

“Hell, I ain’t gonna’ tell ‘em,” Bakugou huffs. He turns his back and scrubs glass in a bucket, and the fisherman rubs his eyes tiredly. The windows shake from a particularly hard blow of the wind.

“Listen closely lad, because I’ll only say it once,” the fisherman mutters. “Baytown closes when the sun hits that peak over there. You’ll find a clock on every wall. When it chimes seven times, you best near run for shelter.”

Shouto straightens, and thumbs over the knife at his hip.

“Why? Is it bandits?”

“No, it’s worse, and I don’t dare speak the name.”

“Yeah, and your little toothpick ain’t gonna’ do shit for it,” Bakugou grunts. Shouto takes his hand off his hip and puffs through his nose. Keen eyes, this one.

“Demons?”

“No. Baytown is…” the fisherman lowers his voice. “It’s a battleground for spirits. If you don’t want to get caught in the crossfire, you best stay indoors.”

Shouto clenches the fingers of his left hand. It aches, as it always does.

“I can clean up your ghost problem for you.”

“Aww, he’s noble,” Bakugou mocks. Shouto glares at the back of his wide shoulders.

“I wouldn’t do that either, kid. The locals worship these spirits like gods.”

“Yup. If you keep your head down and your nose outta’ their business, you’ll live another day.”

“No one’s ever looked ‘em in the eye and lived.” The fisherman picks his teeth with his pinky nail, and spits in his empty glass. “Best not upset the balance.”

This doesn’t feel right.

Interest piqued, Shouto tips his head to look out the storming window. The lanterns sway left and right.

“I don’t fear ghosts.”

“That’s because you’re a city boy, your highness,” the fisherman grins. “Go down to the edge of the dock and speak with the man named Aizawa. He’ll shelter your horse for a bit of manual labor. Maybe let you sleep in the empty stall, if he’s got one.”

“Ugh, come on Torino, quit helpin’ him.”

“He’s a prince.”

“Well, his highness can starve for all I care.”

Shouto rubs across his eyebrows. Great – half a year’s journey, and he’s now stuck here – in a pathetic fishing village, months past any signs of real civilization.

He wants to go home, but he can’t. Best make do.

“I can pay for my horse’s stable,” Shouto offers.

“Inheritance won’t do you much good here. It’s about what you can do with your hands, not your wallet.”

“And I would quit parading around your daddy’s money, if I were you,” Bakugou snips. “Little princess won’t fare so well with a dozen bandits up her ass.”

Shouto feels his eye twitch. Okay, this guy’s an asshole.

He turns to the fisherman, and bows politely.

“Thank you for your help, sir.”

“I ain’t helped you nothing. Here, you can only help yourself.”

Shouto slides off the bar and ignores the scowl from the bartender completely. He props up his hood, and walks away from the mumbling behind him.

“Ten silver he doesn’t make it through the night.”

“Midoriya won’t like you betting.”

“Tch, like I give a fuck what he thinks. You on or what?”

“I’ll bet you thirty.”

Shouto slams the door none too nicely.

☆☆☆ 

When he leads his horse down to the edge of the southern dock, he sees a man dressed in black, winding fishing twill by hand.

He looks up with a scowl (why is everyone such a grouch in this town?), and he rolls his eyes deeply. They’re bloodshot and sunken, and his face is stubbly and red from the cold.

Shouto doesn’t even have to speak. Aizawa takes one flat glance at his clothing, and rises to his feet with a groan.

“You’ll shuck bales and nothing less. Stalls mucked by morning, and if I find you gone in the night, I’m setting your horse free.”

Shouto doesn’t have any idea why this town is so paranoid about nightfall, but for his horse’s sake, he nods.

Baytown is built like a disease. Homes that spread outwards, adapted off the grey lake, and up the mountains. Aizawa leads him over the wooden bridges and up to the muddy hills, where a stable is hidden in the trees.

The paint is chipped red, and the walls have patched holes; mismatching wood in odd places, like something, or someone, barreled straight through.

Aizawa lights a lantern, and leads him to a spare stall in the back of the barn. Shouto’s horse spooks at the sound of other animals, and he shushes her quietly, until she’s locked in her pen.

“Fresh hay is there,” Aizawa jerks his thumb. “You ever cleaned stalls before?”

Shouto is a little embarrassed to say,

“No.”

Aizawa is looking at the insignia on his cloak when he mutters, “Right. Well.” He points, “Shit goes in that wheelbarrow. Wheelbarrow goes outside. Fresh hay goes on the ground. No education necessary.”

The wind blows on the old barn walls. Shouto tucks his hands into his pockets, and nods.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Whatever. That stall over there is empty. You can crash when the work is done.” He starts out on his way of the barn, patting a horse on the nose and hanging his lantern up on the hook. The barn fills with orange light – and Aizawa stops before exiting the stable. “I’m serious, kid. No matter what you hear – don’t go into town until morning.”

The door slams shut, and rocks back open from the force of the wind. Shouto’s horse nudges against his shoulder.

He sighs deeply, and pets through her forelock.

“Sorry, Cyrus. We’ll be here for a while.”

☆☆☆ 

The barn holds horses, and a few goats that bleat with every rattle of the wind. The stalls are a right mess, and some of the horses aren’t too keen on a stranger in their pen, so the work takes time.

When he dumps the wheelbarrow out in the gutter, he looks out to the edge of town, sitting on the lake. He can’t see a damned thing in the dark – and even if he could, the town is showed in night fog. He can only hear a low croon of the wind, and a wolf’s howl.

Maybe this town is crazy, Shouto thinks, slamming the barn door shut once more.  It wouldn’t be the first.

When the stalls are clean, Shouto nabs some extra hay and piles it in the corner. He’s sore as he sits, and it’s cold without a fire.

Shouto looks to his left hand, and examines the digits. All five are there – if only a little calloused from his sword, and the mucking shovel. Otherwise, they’re undamaged.

The urge to light a fire is strong, but he resists. He doesn’t fall asleep easily; only when the goats stop bleating, and the wind settles down, and that wolf stops its howl. Then, does he drift off against the barn wall.

☆☆☆

The sound of his father’s voice thundering through the castle hall has been a constant in his life. Listening to bickering through iron chamber doors is equally familiar.   

“Is there nothing you can do?!”

“I’m sorry, your majesty. We – we don’t know what’s wrong.”

“For all your self-proclaimed glory, you’re nothing but a hack. Shouto is a child.”

“But – we’ve never seen anything like it. It’s –”

“Get out.”

Shouto is gone before the doors open. Snuck through the hole in the wall, and back to his room.

☆☆☆ 

Shouto wakes suddenly. It’s so abrupt, that his heart beats up into his mouth, shrouded with adrenaline as his hand flies right for his knife.

The barn is silent, but Shouto sees a figure standing in the stall mouth, blocking some of the light beaming between the cracks in the stable walls.

“Hm. Good reflexes, you.” Aizawa kicks a bucket across the floor, and Shouto catches it quickly, still clutching his knife. “And good work on the stalls. There’s a – would you put that away already? God. There’s a trough out back if you want to bathe. Actually, I’m not giving you a choice. Have at it.”

Shouto slowly pockets his knife, and stands stiffly from the hay pile.

“Um. Thank you sir.”

Aizawa raises an eyebrow at him, and blinks tiredly. He’s dressed in all black once more, but Shouto can see more of his features now that it’s day. The man looks like he didn’t sleep a wink.

“You don’t have to be so polite, your highness. You won’t always get the same treatment in return.”

“Call me Shouto,” he says, kicking the bucket with his toes and catching it into his hands. “And I’m aware, sir.”

Aizawa gazes at his knapsack kicked up against the wall, then to his weapons half-hidden in the hay.

“You’re a soldier, aren’t you?”

Shouto gazes into the pit of the bucket, and can only answer honestly.

“I used to be.”

☆☆☆ 

Shouto takes what is considerably the coldest bath he’s ever had in his life.

He was tempted last night, but oh, the gods truly test him today. His left-hand aches already as a warning, so Shouto resists.

Cold water aside, it’s nice to scrub clean and wash his traveling clothes. His spare clothing is less gaudy, and don’t reek of royalty just as much. Err…hopefully.

The river water is muddy, but his bathwater is crystal clear; or rather, enough that he can see his reflection. It’s been a gamble from town to town – some recognize him, while others do not – and to be truthful, Shouto doesn’t blame either. If his two-toned hair wasn’t recognizable, then the scar across his face certainly is.

After choring for the keep, he’s free to walk the town as he pleases. Shouto spent the night on a stomach of rum alone, so his first priority is predictably; food.

As he makes his descent down the hill, he notes a lack of clouds today. It’s sunny, and the lake is motionless, bringing in boats off the river.

Shouto finds a bakery on the edge of the village, and pays for a loaf of bread. It’s cold, albeit edible, and Shouto gnaws on the end of it as he prods further into town.

He looks for any sights of a bulletin board; a wanted list, or maybe a call for bounty hunters; but the town has no such thing. All he sees are houses (some sporting a few more holes than he remembers), and a gathering of people near the center square.

Shouto taps a woman by the elbow, and bows his head in apology.

“Excuse me, ma’am. What’s happening here?”

The elderly woman turns on her heel, and takes in his appearance with skepticism. When she doesn’t recognize Shouto, she takes pity on him for the outsider he is.

“Oh. We’re giving thanks to the spirits for protecting our village last night.”

Shouto looks up at some of the men climbing the rooftops, patching holes in the shillings. He mutters, “Is that what they did?”

“The wolf and the hare spare our lives,” the woman says defensively. “In their honor, we give thanks.”

Shouto peers over her shoulder. As the crowd shifts, he can catch glimpses of a shrine erected in the square. It’s…homemade. Or rather, humble in it’s standing. It’s not made of gold or fine jewels, but sculpted from the hands of a carpenter, and bits and pieces of ceramic pots. It’s as if these people gave all they had, even their cookware.

Incense burns at the foot of the statue, and as Shouto peers further, he sees the shape of a rabbit and a wolf, each standing on two legs, like a man.

“Has anyone ever seen them?” Shouto asks.

“Only in shadow,” the woman says. “I know you’re new here, son. But if you ever have the misfortune of crossing paths with these ghosts, don’t look them in the eye.”

Shouto doesn’t fear ghosts, nor does he fear demons. But something about this is odd. The woman fights her way through the crowd to make her offering to the alter, and Shouto chews on the corner of his cold bread.

☆☆☆ 

The village is small in comparison to the home Shouto knows.

He finds an owl shop tucked away behind an alley of houses, and by pretty penny, he’s able to fly a message back to his father.

I’ll be a while longer, he writes. I am still alive.

He can never find the right words when speaking to his father, and it’s best not to be too sentimental, anyways.

For a fishing village, it is surprisingly busy. Men and women bustling about and working quickly, as if they’re soon to run out of time. A large clock sits on the town hall, and it chimes at every hour. Like a constant reminder of the time they’re losing.

They sure do like their clocks here. They hang in store windows, alley walls and on lightposts. But that clocktower is strange most of all; tall, and impressive, embellished with a large opal amid the center. It’s all very strange.

Shouto continues to look for a town board – or any kind of bounty work, really – but as he walks along the planks, he bumps into someone hustling along the way.

“Oh!” The person yips. Books fly everywhere, and Shouto catches one before it slips off the dock and into the river.

“I’m sorry,” Shouto blurts. He watches the individual bend over to scramble for their papers, and when they stand upright, Shouto is met with one of the most beautiful men he’s ever seen.

“No no no, it’s totally my fault.” The man looks at the book in Shouto’s hands, and smiles, “Nice reflexes, by the way.”

Shouto hands it to him quickly.

“Thanks.”

The man looks up at him. He is short, maybe a head smaller than Shouto – and his eyes get big. Well, his eyes are already large to begin with; bright green to match dark unruly hair, and freckles straight across his nose. He’s so utterly sweet looking, that Shouto is at a loss for words.

“Oh – my gods. You’re the prince everyone is talking about – and the crown prince at that! I really thought they were rumors. Kacchan was making such a fuss, I really – wow! I’m so sorry, your highness, forgive my clumsiness.”

Shouto blinks once. He tries to come up with a proper response, but all he says is,

“Shouto. Um, my name. You can call me that.”

The man looks at him owlishly, and then jerks, shoving the books in his shoulder bag.

“I’m Izuku! It’s an honor to meet you, your highness – I uh, I mean, Shouto.”

Shouto shakes his hand. It’s strong, and equally calloused, with even more scars than Shouto.

“The pleasure is mine.”

“Here, walk with me,” Izuku beckons. He closes the button on his leather bag and gestures with his shoulder. “You’re awfully far from the kingdom gates. What brings you all the way here?”

Shouto pockets his hands, and catches up to Izuku in two long strides. The dock creeks under their boots, and Shouto follows him to the east side of the bay.

“I’m looking for Toshinori, the paladin.”

Izuku faulters in his step. He stares forwards in surprise, and Shouto feels guilty for staring down the front of his shirt. The V is just so deep –

“The…the wizard?” Izuku asks.

“Erm, yes. I was told he won’t return until the full moon.”

Izuku blinks quickly, and stammers, “Yes! I mean – I wouldn’t know, I’ve uh, I’ve never met him – but I’m a big fan! The paladin that leveled an army – magic swords and all that. It’s kind of, well, it’s all very fascinating to me. Oh jeez, you aren’t uh…looking to…”

“I only want to speak with him,” Shouto assures. “I can pick my battles. I know I wouldn’t win that one.”

Izuku laughs, and it’s sweet, and melodic. He’s like a breath of fresh air in this dreary place.

“Yes, but you carry your own legends. We might be off the beaten path, but I’ve heard stories from the fishermen.”

Shouto raises his eyebrows, and steps around a child that comes rushing across the planks.

“What do they say?”

“That you are kind,” Izuku says. “And strong, although a bit quiet – but anyone that can take down a whole nest of arachnids sure won’t be questioned for their disposition, now will they?” Izuku looks up at him, and his eyelashes are so long. They’re black, and shimmer in the sun. “The women say you’re handsome. I think you fit the bill.”

Shouto can’t find the words. His left-hand aches, and he squeezes his fingers together to numb the pain.

“Right now, I’m just a traveler.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Izuku grins. He steps off a bridge and towards a large lumber pile, and Shouto follows. “We don’t get many, here.”

“Will All Might really not return until the full moon?”

The smile on Izuku’s face slides off. Shouto feels bad immediately.

“Um…well, I really wouldn’t know. Nothing is ever set-in stone. And with the war – you know. The roads are very unpredictable.”

Shouto sighs, and looks off towards the mouth of the bay, where the mountains nearly meet. Somewhere, out here, his soldiers are fighting on the lines. And he’s here, where the maps don’t go.

“I know.”

“Sorry! I – your father is the king – duh, god, I’m such a – ”

“Thank you for your help,” Shouto interrupts, before he can ramble any further. “Really, you’ve been kind.”

Izuku looks up at him with such large eyes; Shouto can feel his heart physically squeeze. Izuku tries for a smile, and it’s warm all the same.

“I wish I could help more. I’m sorry to say this, but…you might want to just…go home. This place – there are bad things here.”

Not you too.

“I have to complete my mission,” Shouto says. “I cannot leave until I see the wizard.”

Izuku reaches forwards to squeeze his arm, and it burns in a wonderful way.

“I…I understand. Just be careful, please. And don’t go out at night. The people here are grouchy, but kind. They don’t want to find you dead, either.”

Shouto nods, and Izuku lets go with a smile. And then to Shouto’s utter surprise, he squats down at the woodpile, and instead of taking a handful of logs like any other would, he grabs an entire trunk and hauls it on his shoulder. The raw strength of this man almost sends Shouto into shock.

“It was a pleasure to meet you!” Izuku waves. “If you ever need anything, I live just over that hill.”

Shouto can barely manage a wave. He watches Izuku adjust the log on his shoulder, and make his way back up the hill.

Okay. Wow.

☆☆☆ 

“Well shit,” the bartender curses, throwing down his towel. “Look who survived the night.”

Shouto scowls as he kicks his boots against the wood planks, rolling his coat from his shoulders.

“You owe the old man some money.”

Bakugou’s face twists into a sneer. He’s in a high collar and a waistcoat, and his clothes are much nicer than his ugly personality.

“You better be fuckin’ buying.”

“I have questions.”

“Then take them somewhere else, princess.”

Shouto sits at the bar, and Bakugou puffs breath out of his nose, like a bull.

“I’m looking for bounty work.”

“Tch, bored already?”

“It passes time.”

“Well tough shit, ‘cause we don’t have any.”

Shouto raises his eyebrows. The bartender slams down a rum with too much force. It’s not the best customer service Shouto has had.

“Now I find that hard to believe. Everyone in this town is scared shitless to open a door at night – but there are no bounty lists?”

Bakugou gives him a nasty glare. He crosses his arms, and the lines of his tattoos are visible though the thin, wet sleeves of his shirt.

“Whoever stirs up trouble gets taken care of by those spirit-whatevers. It’s why you shouldn’t go around sticking your nose where it don’t belong.”

Hm. Shouto flicks his thumb against the handle of his tankard, tracing the splinters there.

“You don’t appear to be bowing at their feet like the rest.”

“I don’t worship anyone. I just know when to stop asking questions.”

Shouto gets the hint, but doesn’t care.

“This town is bizarre.”

“Then leave.”

“I can’t,” Shouto says, hunkering down. “So you might as well get used to my face, Bakugou sir.”

He chuffs unhappily, and turns to swipe an empty cup from the bar.

“Where’d you hear my name?”

“I have good ears.”

“Ugh,” the bartender briskly turns his back. “At least call me Katsuki. Bakugou makes me sound like my father…”

Shouto secretly ices over the side of his drink, and makes a mental note.

☆☆☆ 

Baytown is strange. Strange people, strange houses.

The Inn never opens, because as one house is fixed, another mysteriously bears holes the next morning. Shouto is terribly curious to do some snooping on these ‘spirits’, but none of the townsfolk are willing to talk of them, and Aizawa continues to reiterate the terms of their contract.

No leaving the stables at night.

Cyrus is happy here, at least. She gets to walk the field with the other horses in the day, and has a dry spot to sleep at night. Shouto wishes he could say the same. But water leaks through the planks and the hay gets stale, and he’s begun to wonder if the cold rocky ground was better than this.

Shouto doesn’t see anything strange (besides the skittish townsfolk) but he does…hear things, at night. A wolf's howl, and a terrible crooning sound. Deep sobbing, like something is crying. But it’s too deep to be human, and too feint to be a troll, and the sound keeps him up at night.

For a couple days, he hopes to run into Izuku again. He does see him, once, but he’s a busy little thing, and as soon as Shouto musters up the courage to say hello, he’s already bouncing back out of town and over the hill.

Shouto never had the time for romance. Never thought he’d live long enough to experience it – not with friendships, and all that. But Izuku would be a nice friend. Maybe in another life, if he wasn’t a prince on a fool's errand.

“I’m sorry we’re stuck here,” Shouto mumbles, petting into his horse’s mane. He brushes out the knots with his fingers, and allows Cryus to nudge her nose into his pocket. No treats, unfortunately. “It’s going to be a long month.”

All of this is hanging from a hope and a prayer. A terrible noose around his neck. A maybe, an I hope so –

Cyrus mouths along his side. Shouto lets her nibble at her hand.

“I’ve never been homesick,” Shouto says, under his breath. “I used to dream about running away. Remember?”

Cyrus does not answer.

“Yeah.” Shouto pats her shoulder. “But I wonder if I am, now.”

☆☆☆ 

“Good morning, Shouto!”

He refuses to be flustered. Even with Izuku holding so many flowers, as cute as that is.

“Hello, Izuku.”

“My, it looks like Torino got you, huh?” Izuku laughs. Shouto has the sudden realization that he probably smells like fish. Oh, god.

“Yes. Torino said he needed a spare hand on the boat today.”

“Keep being useful, and this town will never let you go,” Izuku laughs. “You ever been boat fishing?”

“Not before today.”

“It’s hard work. Pro tip, you can get the fishy smell out of your clothes with lavender.”

The waves lap up on the planks, pushing and pulling with the boats that return from a long day. Izuku has weeds in his hair, dirt all over his clothes and sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, and it’s endearing.

Shouto’s voice goes soft for him, “Is that so?”

“Yes! I think I might actually have some in here…”

“I couldn’t possibly –”

“No, no, please take them! Put it in your bath tonight, it’ll help.”

Shouto takes the flowers. He can feel his face walling off from embarrassment, but he hopes to relay his thanks.

“What are you doing with all those?”

Izuku shuffles the random assortment of flowers in his arms.

“Oh, just selling some stuff from my garden. It makes an extra shilling, now and then.” Izuku looks up at the clocktower and frowns. “Although, I’m running out of time…”

Say something, his brain provides. Say anything.

“Do you need help?” That works.

“Oh, aren’t you sweet – but it’s just this handful really – and you look awfully tired. Let me know how that lavender works out!”

Shouto watches him scurry off. He rolls the flowers between his fingers, and smells it once.

“Ah…I will.”

Damn.

☆☆☆ 

“Can you just fuck off already?”

“You know, I don’t think customer service is the job for you,” Shouto says, hanging his coat. A few patrons in the tavern laugh. Katsuki narrows his eyes, utterly fuming.

“I’m plenty nice. Just not to the likes of you.”

“Why?” Shouto prods honestly. He sits at his same barstool he’s sat in all week, and tosses his coins to the counter. “Because I’m from the inner kingdom?”

“I have no respect for silver spoon soldiers,” Katsuki says honestly. He slides Shouto’s drink across the bar, and Shouto catches it one hand. “Lying, cheating little money peddlers. And full offense, but your daddy has made some shit decisions regarding the war we’re stuck in.”

Shouto sighs, and ices over the side of his drink out of habit.

“You know, I can’t even argue against that.”

Katsuki squints at him. He’s a rough looking guy – not friendly in the slightest – but when he isn’t frowning like the world depends on it, he’s somewhat attractive. However, Shouto can’t imagine a single lady that would have the courage to approach this kind of emotional disaster.

“Hey,” Katsuki snaps. He lowers his voice, grabbing Shouto’s attention. “Watch what you’re casting. Magic is still taboo this far off the border. Could get you arrested if you’re not careful.”

Huh? Shouto looks at him in genuine confusion, and then jerks to follow Katsuki’s gaze, right at his drink. Shouto lets go quickly, the ice magic dissipating into the humid air.

“Oh,” Shouto blurts.

Katsuki grumbles low, “Magic might be okay where you’re from, but for us it’s nothing but trouble. You never know if it’s a friendly caster, or a liberation army here to slaughter innocent families.”

Shouto squeezes his left hand. The ache is there, always. Haunting him now and forever (or hopefully, not). His right hand is cool to the touch from his magic, and he warms it against his thigh.

“I didn’t know. Not until I left the palace, did I see how the war was affecting the rest of the kingdom.”

Katsuki looks at him again. His eyes are red, near animalistic, and predatory in his gaze.

“Finally, left your bubble, huh?”

Shouto looks into the swirling rum in his cup.

“You could say that.”

☆☆☆ 

Shouto doesn’t understand how horses can make such a mess in eight hours. When and if he goes home, he’s going to fight for a dramatic increase in their stable-hand’s wages.

It’s another night of mucking stalls. Wolves out in the trees, odd rumblings echoing from the river, and the wind that threatens to bend and break the barn doors. Shouto has grown used to the rattling of the iron lanterns.

A scream rings out across the valley. Shouto drops the shovel and slams open the door on an instinct –

But when he sees nothing but dark trees and the fog down on the Baytown, he hesitates. No sound follows. There’s not even a single breeze.

Now I’m going crazy, Shouto thinks, closing the barn door. It must be something in the water.

A second scream rings out louder than the first – and rules be damned, Shouto grabs his sword, swings a lantern off the wall, and goes running off the mountain.

The road is dark and uneven under his feet. His boots kick rocks and snap twigs along the way.

As he approaches the town, he sees that heavy fog coating the river. It fills the air, the houses, the mouth of the bay – enough that you can barely see the lanterns that hang off the store windows.

It’s so quiet, you can hear the clocks tick.

“Hello?” Shouto calls. “Is someone hurt?”

He’s not answered by voice, but that low crooning noise. It’s the one that keeps him up at night, but now loud beyond comprehension. It vibrates inside of him. Shakes up his organs and sets him on edge.

Ooooooooohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

Shouto lifts the lantern higher, as he can barely see a foot in front of his face. There’s nothing here but croaking frogs, and fireflies lost on the river.

The planks sound loud under his feet. They creak, and the river moans.

Is it fae? Shouto has seen them upset over less – but he’s never heard such a sound from them. The wind, maybe?

And then, Shouto sees it.

Something black and sickly crawls out of the river between the planks. First a hand, then an arm. It takes the form of – of something. A body, maybe; bald and skeletal, and dripping in black.

Okay. Yep. That is certainly…something.

Shouto raises his lantern for a better look, but the spirit is suddenly gone. It’s fast, crawling up the planks and crying a low groaning noise as it scales one of the buildings, and digs its claws into the roofing. A family lives there; the old woman, and her daughters.

“Hey!” Shouto starts to call. He runs across the planks, careful of his footing in the fog. “Hey! Over –”

He can’t even finish his sentence. In a crack of green light, a second figure bounces across the rooftop, and destroys the creature. It explodes into a thousand pieces, and is gone.

The lightning reflects off the fog. Shouto shields his eyes, and blinks to fight off the blinding dizziness. The wood bridges creak with footsteps, and Shouto ices over his arm in warning.

“Who’s there?” Shouto stills his breath, listening for footsteps. He forces himself to be calm. “I’ll only fight you if I must.”

A whispered groan comes from the lake. With horror, Shouto realizes that the sound is under his feet. He jumps backwards just as another figure crawls out between the planks, hissing and groaning and spewing poison from its mouth.

Shouto swings with his sword, but it bites it in two.

Guuuuuuoooohhhhhhhhhh

Shouto has fought spirits with that sword. Demons, fae, ghosts. They always fall ill to the silver, and never before has one bitten it in half.

Crap, and that was his good sword, too.

“Not a spirit,” Shouto mutters, jumping back between the planks as it scurries towards him. “Shit! Not a spirit!”

It jumps, and Shouto summons his magic all at once. He freezes the creature to the bridge, a claw extended and its mouth stuck wide open.

Shouto takes a breath. More groaning comes from the bay. He inches forwards, hoping to identify the creature – but he jumps swiftly when the creature melts the ice, and spews it back at him.

Okay, you can count that as new.

Shouto does his best to block, but all he has is his ice magic. Another flash echoes off on the north dock – this one a blinding yellow and orange, like fire. The lantern gets knocked out of his left hand, and it clunks into the river. He throws up one ice wall after another, but more of the creatures crawl from the planks, and Shouto starts to lose his footing on the bridge.

Sprawled on the ground, propped up by his right hand, he only has his left to defend himself. A black tarish creature jumps right for him.

He shields himself with fire, and cries out from the pain.

Shouto can feel heat ripping up his arm. It’s self-inflicted, though better than whatever these demons had in store for him – and they fall back and hiss at the sight of fire.

Fuck. Just his luck.

Shouto raises his hand and prepares himself for another wave of pain – but the creatures disappear in a flash of magic. It sounds like an explosion right in his ears; a loud bang that gets lost in the fog.

He slowly sits upright, blinking away the stars again – and when he looks forwards, he sees the figure of a wolf standing in front of him.

It’s…large. Larger than any wolf Shouto has seen – and it stands on two feet, like a man. The head is a beast, but the chest is furred and human-like, clothed only in a fur cloak, and teeth beads. Shouto feels his heart drop as the wolf looks him right in the eyes.

He would think it a mask, but the beast is snarling. Drool pools down to the planks below them, and Shouto does not look away, as he should. His brain runs through a plethora of monsters, through all the books he’s studied, but he comes to an utter loss.

What are you?

“Um,” Shouto blurts. “Thank you.”

The beast jumps forwards. Shouto throws out a hand to bend his magic, but his wrist is grabbed tightly, and the wolf snarls right in his face. Its breath is hot, and rancid. And, maybe for the first time, Shouto considers that he might experience a different death than planned.

He’s fought many beasts. But this one emanates a power that Shouto has never felt before. Or maybe – he has, and he just can’t remember where.

The voice is hoarse and deep, and it stands all his hair on end.

“Go. Away.” It snarls.

A final light flashes, and as Shouto lays amid the fog, he realizes that the low groaning has ceased.

A second shadow stands at the end of the dock. It is a man-sized hare, now watching intently, with hollowed eyes. Shouto waits for an end that doesn’t come. The rabbit impatiently kicks its foot against the dock, Shouto closes his eyes, and the wolf lets go of Shouto’s arm with a final snarl.

Then, the beasts are gone.

☆☆☆ 

When Shouto drags his sorry ass all the way back to the stables, he sits on his hay pile, and shoves up the left sleeve on his shirt.

The curse is already fading, but it burns like hell.

His fingertips are still a dark black color. Symbols wrap all the way up to his elbow, where they fade into non-existence at his bicep.

There’s nothing Shouto can do to dress it, so he just lays with his arm propped against his chest, and stares at the far wall for the rest of the night.

☆☆☆ 

Shouto is feeding the horses when Aizawa jingles open the barn door. He’s holding an old toolbox; one that he uses to prop the door open.

He still doesn’t know very much about the man; other than that he lives in the one-bedroom house across the way, and fishes for a hobby, not a day job.

“I have work for you, if you’re willing,” Aizawa says. “One of the horses broke a fence while rubbing up against the gate. I’ll cover your hay for a few days.”

Shouto blinks, and makes an affirming noise. It takes him too long to really process what he’s said.

“Ah. Yeah, okay. I’ll take care of it.”

Aizawa crosses his arms. His hair is tied high on his head, like he’s already been choring early.

“You alright kid? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

Shouto sets the pitchfork against the support beam, and dusts off his hands.

“Not a ghost sir. Not a ghost.”

The man gives him a strange look, and Shouto gets to work on that fence.

☆☆☆ 

“We’re closed.”

“I know.”

“Then get the hell out,” barks Baytown’s lovely, charismatic bartender.

The tavern is quiet, and void of people. Most of the lanterns are dimmed, save for a few on the tables.

Shouto doesn’t kick the dirt from his boots, or shrug off his coat. He stomps across the bar, and watches Katsuki grow more and more irritated. He’s wiping down tables, and it’s odd to see him out from behind the counter.

“We need to talk.”

“Are you looking for a fight?” Katsuki hisses through his teeth, “Because god forbid, I will give you one.”

“I saw the spirits.”

Katsuki’s eyes go wide. He turns quickly, picking up a spare stool and flipping it onto a wooden table.

“Then you’re a dead man.”

“They’re not ghosts. I stabbed one with my sword – holy silver blessed by a priest –”

“For someone with a fancy royal education, you sure are a moron –”

“—it broke it in half, Katsuki. Ghosts are vulnerable to ice, but it spat my magic out like nothing.”

Katsuki turns suddenly, causing Shouto to go on the defense.

“Everyone in town told you to mind your fucking business!” Katsuki snaps. He jabs his finger in Shouto’s chest, but he doesn’t recoil. “You might be a prince, but that doesn’t mean you can come fixing every town you stumble on like it’s your god given right!”

“These people live in fear,” Shouto growls. “Something is wrong. The mayor won’t let me help, and you’re the only one around here that isn’t bowing at that statue.”

Katsuki backs off, though his eyes are wild.

“Not the only one.”

“Then point me in their direction, and I’ll ask them too.” Shouto relaxes when he sees that Katsuki isn’t about to start swinging. Shouto can fight, but would rather not. “I saw the wolf demon. I looked him in the eyes. These are no spirits you have here.”

Katsuki curses, and rubs across his eyebrows.

“Then you should take this as a sign, and leave with your life.”

Shouto exhales an icy breath. Katsuki narrows his eyes in challenge, and the heavy tension breaks with the swing of the door.

“We’re closed,” Katsuki clips.

“I know!” Sings a voice.

Shouto whips around to see Izuku flipping the lock on the door, and smiling wide.

“Izuku,” greets Shouto, in surprise.

He’s wearing a coat, now that the sun is reaching the mountain, and his hair is grainy with sawdust. Izuku looks like he’s been working hard – at whatever it is he does.

Katsuki looks over, and sighs with recognition.

“Get outta’ here, Deku.”

“I just came to see what the holdup was.” Izuku waves, “Hi Shouto! What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” monotones Shouto.

“Sir royal jackass is poking his nose into spirit business again,” Katsuki jabs. Shouto glares back over his shoulder, but Izuku makes a surprised sound.

“What? Are you okay, Shouto?”

His hand is still stained black, but remains hidden under his glove. The flame’s curse will fade in a few hours.

“Fine,” Shouto assures. “Lost my sword was all.”

Izuku makes a face, but tucks his hands back into his cozy pockets.

“Well, I see you’ve become acquainted with my roommate. Sorry if he’s given you any trouble.”

Roommate? Shouto thinks, in distaste. With this guy?

“He’s the one bothering me!” Katsuki barks. 

“You’re bothered by everything, Kacchan.”

Great, they even have cute names for each other. Shouto sighs.

“I’ll be a few more minutes,” Katsuki tells Izuku. He turns to Shouto and waves his hand, “Scram, go back to your hay pile. And quit bringing up spirit business.”

“Thanks for nothing,” Shouto shoots back nicely.  

“Wait, wait,” Izuku interrupts. “Back to your what?”

Katsuki freezes mid step, like he’s made a grave mistake. Shouto only answers honestly.

“The inn is full, so I’ve been sleeping in Aizawa’s barn.”

Izuku looks utterly horrified. He covers his mouth in one hand, and looks at Shouto with big green eyes. Shouto has just enough time to think that he’s rather cute, before he looks at Katsuki with a look that could kill.

“Kacchan! You knew, and you didn’t tell me!”

“We can’t take in every stray off the street!” Katsuki barks back.

Izuku waves dramatically in Shouto’s direction.

“He’s the crown prince!”

“Yeah! And he could do with a slice of humble pie!”

Izuku steams furiously, and then turns to Shouto with a softer expression.

“I’m so sorry about this – we have an extra room in our attic – a bed and everything. Please, let us host you there.”

“You…you don’t have to do that,” Shouto says gently. “I’m okay, really.”

“Well, you heard him,” Katsuki throws down his towel and stomps across the room to grab his bag. “We should pick up a duck on the way home and I’ll –”

“Come on.” Izuku grabs Shouto by the wrist, and yanks him towards the doorway. “We can grab your things from the stable, and you can tell me all about your experience with the spirits.”  

Shouto looks over his shoulder, where Katsuki looks damn near ready to kill someone.

“Are you sure? I don’t think your roommate is very keen on the idea.”

“He’s very keen,” Izuku says sweetly. He looks back at Katsuki as well. “Right, Kacchan?”

Katsuki stands there, shoulders squared and steaming in anger. He grinds his teeth together, and forces out a gritty,

“Yes.”

“Great! Come now, Shouto. Your back will thank you for sleeping on a real bed, tonight.”

☆☆☆ 

Katsuki walks ten paces behind them. Shouto is tempted to look over his shoulder, but resists out of self-preservation.

“Tangible, you say?” Izuku adjusts Shouto’s bag on his shoulder, again, to Shouto’s complaint. “The spirit touched you?”

The path is getting darker as they walk. Wherever they’re going, it’s a good distance away from the center of town.

“The wolf was made of flesh and bone,” Shouto says. He speaks low as they cross through the clearing. “It grabbed me.”

Izuku frowns. He tips his head to look at Shouto from the corner of his eye, and his peripheral glows with the lantern he holds.

“I know you’re used to fighting wars and slaying demons, your highness – but please be careful. If you’re here on a mission, I would see to that first.”

His words are essentially the same as the lovely Katsuki’s, but said much, much nicer. Shouto sighs, and switches his weapon bag to his other arm.

“I’m sorry. I only wanted to help.”

“I know. I just don’t want to see you hurt.”

“We’re coming up on the house,” Katsuki says, now right behind him. Shouto nearly jumps out of his skin. “Give Deku a second for the wards.”

The wards?

Shouto tenses as Izuku incants under his breath, and several symbols glow in the yard. They go dim just as quickly, but the momentary light gives him a good view of the house. It’s a cottage with a pointed roof, and a deep, fenced yard. The style doesn’t match Baytown’s lake houses at all.

“You’re a wizard,” Shouto blurts.

Katsuki grips his shoulder tightly, and Shouto whips his head around to see him snarling in his face, teeth bared like a dog.

“You’ve got nothin’ smart to say about it, do you, son of Endeavor?”

Shouto replies monotone, “I won’t tell the town, if that’s what you’re hinting at.”

“I’m only a novice,” Izuku assures. He takes a step forward, but spins to walk backwards, “Wait, do you have magic?”

“Only hereditary power. I can’t cast spells.”

Izuku smiles, and turns back around to open the house door. It’s a light wood, with dark trim and cut in two, Dutch style. It matches the exterior.

“To be honest, I’m barely there myself. Kacchan is very patient with me.”

“Really?” Shouto stresses, in disbelief. Katsuki makes an annoyed sound behind him.

Izuku lights candles in the house with a short spell, and the room glows yellow. It’s cozy in here; well-lived in, with books and cups and pillows thrown around the floor for sitting. There are many houseplants here, some non-native to the area, and Shouto analyzes it all into the back of his mind.

“It’s no palace,” Izuku gestures. “But it’s home.”

“I really can’t thank you enough.”

“Oh, you will,” Katsuki grunts. He waves an arm towards a staircase at the end of the hall. “C’mon princess, this way.”

Shouto’s attention is drawn to Katsuki’s rolled up sleeves. He can see dark geometric tattoos; the markings of a barbarian tribe. That’ll explain the attitude, but it doesn’t excuse it.

Katsuki shoulders past him on the stairs. He might be broader, but Shouto is a hair taller, and it’s nice to have something, at least.

His appointed room is in the loft of the cottage; flat floors, with a vaulted ceiling. It looks perfectly untouched. A bed, a small table and a candle for light. It smells like mothballs and spice up here, which is worlds better than horse shit and goat fur.

Izuku helps him set his bags on his bed, and quickly dusts off a few cabinets in a rush.

“Ah, jeez – I’m sorry, I really would’ve cleaned had I known…”

“It’s not a barn,” Shouto says lightly. “Don’t worry.”

Katsuki props his shoulder up in the doorway, and crosses his arms. Shouto wonders if his face is cursed into a permanent scowl, or if he truly looks like this all the time.

“Before you get too settled. There’s a few ground rules.”

Shouto slides his weapon bag to the foot of the bed.

“Sure.”

“First, you help Deku with whatever the fuck he needs help with. I dunno’, pickin’ flowers and shit.”

Izuku rolls his eyes, and wipes down the dusty mirror with his shirt sleeve.

“Is that what you think I do all day?”

“Whatever he needs,” Shouto agrees. He still has to chore for Aizawa to keep his horse sheltered, but it should be fine for the rest of the month, at least. Also, Izuku isn’t a bother to be around.

“Second, if you make a mess, I’ll know about it.”

Shouto resists the urge to make a face, but nods.

“Mm.”

“Third.” Katsuki raises his last three fingers. They’re pink and agitated from working all day – likely bar rot. “You don’t leave this room at night.”

Shouto raises his eyebrows, “Really? You too?”

“I ain’t fucking around with you,” Katsuki snaps. “My house my rules.”

Shouto looks to Izuku – but he’s looking away. His silence is loud and clear; he agrees with his roommate.

Well, be it here or the barn, the rules are the same. It feels like he’s back home again, shut in a palace room, forced to see one healer after another.

Shouto makes his choice.

“Fine. I’ll be back by night.”

“Oh, you’re going to like it so much better here!” Izuku exclaims. He tugs on Shouto’s sleeve, urging him back down the stairs. “We have a heated bath! You can wash your clothes, too – I make our soap by hand. You’re welcome to the towels.”

“Are you saying I smell?”

“No! Well, yes, but so does everyone around here. Do you like to read?”

“I, um, yes –”

“I have to show you the library! Oh it’s been so long since I’ve had a guest – follow me, please.”

Shouto follows, but feels uneasy, like he’s being watched. He looks over his shoulder, and Katsuki is still at the top of the stairs, staring intently, like a guard dog. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Shouto will have to be careful around that one.

Chapter Text

☆☆☆

Shouto wakes up warm and comfortable. The bedspread is soft and quilted, and the sun is shining into his room, and Shouto feels like he’s home.

And then he remembers he is not.

Shouto jerks upright. He whips his head to look out the window, and knows from the placement of the sun alone that he’s well past choring time. Shit.

He jerks on his boots and his shirt and hobbles down the stairs half asleep. He’s met with the crackling of a cooking fire, and the smell of oatmeal.

The house looks different in the day. Larger, but homey.

Shouto sees Izuku at their eating table, stirring a spoon in a bowl and reading a book with intent. His expression is focused, and he mutters senselessly under his breath. Shouto feels bad when his boot squeaks on the last step, drawing his attention.

 Izuku’s head whips up, and Shouto pauses.

“Ah! You’re awake.”

Shouto doesn’t even know where to begin.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know why I…”

Izuku waves him off, standing to fetch a bowl.

“No worries. Kacchan wanted to wake you, but I knew you were tired – could see it in your face last night. I had Kacchan tell Mr. Aizawa that you’ll be by later, anyways.”

Shouto sighs, and sits at the table when encouraged.

“You really saved my ass.”

“This life can be a culture shock.” Izuku sets a bowl at the table, and Shouto thanks him endlessly. “Different from royalty, anyways.”

“You – you don’t have to feed me. I can find breakfast in town.”

Izuku sneaks a grin at him, and sits back in his chair.

“We always make too much anyways.”

Izuku is dressed down in working clothes. He doesn’t look much like a wizard – or any of the wizards he’s met, for that matter. They’re always much older, much stingier. But Izuku looks no older than he; tan and freckled from working out in the sun, but still young in the face.

Shouto can’t consider romance. Never had the time, and never will – but chest tightens anyways, at the sight of him.

Shouto blows cold air over his spoonful, and it’s good. Izuku flips a page in his book, and the quiet intimacy of it makes his heart beat in his ears.

“We’ll do some work in the garden today, if you don’t mind,” says Izuku. “It should leave you enough time to see Mr. Aizawa. Have you ever plucked weeds?”

“No.”

Izuku hums, “Yes, I guess not, huh. It’s okay, it’s easy work.”

“Whatever you need.”

Izuku eye-smiles at him, and takes his own empty bowl towards the small kitchen. Pots hang from the ceiling, along with shelves of food and bread baskets mounted on the wall.

“You’re very well mannered. I think it annoys Kacchan that he can’t get under your skin.”

Oh, he certainly does. Shouto hums, and watches his host dunk the bowl in a soapy bucket. The hair on the back of his neck is damp and curled from sweat, as if he’d been laboring early.

“No offense…but you two don’t seem like the kind to be friends.”

Izuku outright laughs; it sounds magical, in this place.

“I’ve known him a long, long time.”

Shouto looks up at the walls. The bookshelves, the ivy, the mounted elk skull on their fireplace, and the jars of various ingredients.

“You’re not from here, are you?”

Izuku pauses. He glances up and through the window, where the green yard lays behind the fence. His eyelashes are long, very long. He would be popular in the city.

“How did you know?”

Shouto eats slowly, and waits for Izuku to look at him again.

“Many things. But you look out of place here, most of all.”

Izuku looks down at himself and curses lightly.

“I do?”

“No different than me, or your friend.”

Izuku sighs. He kicks out the cooking fire with some dirt, and uses a cloth to lift the cast iron off the hook (one handed, mind you, which is awfully impressive).

“Kacchan and I…grew up in neighboring villages, far from here. We weren’t always friends. And we…well. It’s been a long time coming, where we are now. I can’t say much more than that.”

“I won’t pry,” Shouto says. “Why do you stay?”

“Baytown is good for growing herbs. Good soil, good rain, and a small population. Most don’t care what I’m up to out here. I can hide my magic easily.”

Guilt rots in his stomach. Even when this war is over, it will be a long time for the stigma over magic to fade.

“Is your garden for potions?”

“Sort of,” Izuku smiles. “I’m not really a potion master. Some are for spellcasting practice. Most I just sell in town. To be honest, I make my living cutting trees for the other villagers, uh, you know, with all the houses always under construction. Um, you might get bored following me around. Sorry.”

Izuku’s rambling is endearing. Shouto stands, and carries his empty bowl to Izuku’s soap bucket.

“I won’t,” Shouto says. “It’ll pass the month faster, anyways.”

Izuku gives him a strange look. Being under his undivided attention gives him butterflies, and it’s a feeling he’s very unaccustomed to.

“You’re serious about meeting that wizard, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Shouto dries the washed bowl with a towel, and sets it right where he saw Izuku grab it from. “But I’ll be out of your hair as quick as I can, I promise.”

Izuku chews on the side of his cheek, and rolls the hem of his collar between his fingers, like a nervous tick. He blinks away and nods his head towards the door.

“Ah, well – the sun is out now. Let’s learn how to weed!”

☆☆☆ 

Izuku is quick with his words, but gentle in his teaching.

He grows a large variety of plants, fruits and vegetables. He keeps a few apple trees, and a small pen of chickens out in the shade of the house. It sprinkles a couple times throughout the day, but nothing so bad that they have to go inside.

Izuku doesn’t use spells liberally. They’re small, quick things; short casts that Shouto doesn’t notice unless he’s really looking. Like growing a few extra leaves on a plant, or tossing a fruit that lands a little too conveniently in the picking basket. The spells are refined and careful, and it makes Shouto curious.

“Nice shot,” Shouto mumbles. Izuku dusts his hands off on his pants and laughs.

“Sorry. I get a little lazy.”

“Hm, I’d say not. Are you an apprentice?”

Izuku tenses. He swallows thickly, and crouches down by a tomato plant.

“Erm…I was. I – I lost my master, long ago.”

Oops. Sometimes, he wishes his people skills went beyond royal pleasantries, and how to waltz with a princess.

Shouto plucks a weed and tosses it in his basket.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’m finding my own way.”

His tone sounds sad. Shouto speaks without thinking. “If All Might passes through here on his journeys, why haven’t you asked to be his apprentice instead?”

Izuku won’t turn to look at him. A long enough time passes that Shouto regrets putting his foot in his mouth.

Izuku speaks eventually, and his tone is light.

“That man is the greatest wizard of all time. You’re funny, Shouto. You must meet all kinds, in the central kingdom.”

The sun beats down on them from above. It’s approaching the mountains, soon to be dark in a few hours. Shouto wipes his forehead, and decides to cool himself with magic. Ice evaporates in the sun, and some snows off and sparkles in the wind. Izuku watches him with a smile.

“Well…yes.”

“For all the years that Kacchan hated me, he supports me now,” Izuku says. “I’ll master my magic, teacher or not.”

Shouto frowns at the mention of Katsuki. To be honest, he’s glad that the bastard spends his days in the tavern, and not here, with Izuku. This month would be insufferable otherwise.

“I understand. Sorry for prying.”

“No, no, I enjoy speaking with you,” Izuku says honestly, tearing a hole into Shouto’s chest. He dusts off his hands again, and gives a big smile. “I’d say this is good enough for today! We can pull a few vegetables for dinner, and chop some wood for the fire.”

Shouto looks up at the mountain peak, and shields his eyes.

“I’d better get to the stable. I can buy dinner in town.”

Izuku’s face falls. Muddy and smudged in dirt, it makes Shouto feel terrible.

“We – we have more than enough food, Shouto.”

“But I’m sure your roommate would enjoy his dinner much better without me.”

Izuku folds his arms and frowns, even as Shouto continues to pull a few extra weeds.

“Now that’s just silly. You’re our guest.”

“He hates me, Izuku.”

Izuku wrinkles his nose.

“Kacchan doesn’t – well. Kacchan is different. He expresses emotion in such a loud way…but he always means differently underneath.” Izuku nods, as if convincing himself, and Shouto raises an eyebrow at him. “What! It’s true! Kacchan cares a lot for people. You just have to understand where he’s coming from.”

“I think I’d rather just stay out of his way.”

Izuku doesn’t look pleased with that answer. He pulls a handful of carrots from the ground, and tucks them in his apron pouch.

“He doesn’t hate you. I’ve seen Kacchan hate people. He would’ve kicked you right in the pants from day one, had he really.”

Shouto snorts. The pit in his stomach begins to ease, and he can’t explain why.

“He nearly did.”

“You know…” Izuku starts, drawing his attention again. “Of the few people to pass through this town, you’re the only one who’s ever wanted to help us, despite your own problems. Be it in vain, or not, I really – I think that means something.”

Shouto’s eyes widen. He can’t come up with a response, but Izuku picks vegetables for dinner, and regrows them in their place, and Shouto is left feeling strange for the rest of the evening.

☆☆☆ 

Katsuki is sat eating dinner when Shouto returns from the stable, so he quickly barrels past him and into the bath. He kind of hoped Katsuki would be gone by the time he’s finished bathing, but he’s only moved to the sitting couch, his head propped in his hand as he dozes.  

Wow. That man scowls even in his sleep.

He does look oddly peaceful. He’s always wearing earrings and rings and a bead or two around his neck – but he’s stripped down to a shirt and trousers, and black knitted socks. He looks human.

“The food is still warm!” Izuku calls, from somewhere in the house. Shouto peeks into the study room, and sees Izuku standing on his toes, peeling a book from a shelf.

The room is deep and circular, and is filled by a plethora of books. It smells like parchment and candle wax, reminiscent of his mother’s old study.

“Thanks.”

Izuku waves distractedly, “Help yourself.”

He's a one-track mind. Shouto chooses not to bother him, quietly padding to the kitchen, and serving a bowl of stew. It smells really good – even better than the food in the village. They serve fish, fish, and fish in that square; which is fine when you’re in survival mode, but eh when you’ve had it for months already.

Shouto pulls out a chair, and that’s what wakes up Katsuki.

He jerks his head up and towards Shouto at the table. It’s only surprising, because Shouto hadn’t made a single sound.

Shouto has keen instincts because he was trained into a soldier made to lead armies. What does that make a bartender?

Katsuki folds his arms, and watches Shouto like a hawk.

“Survived a day with Deku, huh?”

Shouto treads carefully, keeping his voice flat.

“I did.”

“Bet he talked your ear off.”

“He’s more pleasant to be around than most in this town.”

Katsuki huffs defensively, and curses at him under his breath.

“Such a dick. I hate spoiled brats like you.”

He doesn’t hate you, Izuku said. Yeah, okay.

“Your hatred means nothing to me,” Shouto says, taking another sip. “Many have hated me, and will continue to. It’s in the title.”

Katsuki makes a surprised face. He sits up on the couch, and rolls his shoulder, as if it’s sore. It seems a bit dramatic, just for bussing tables.

“What, an occupational hazard?”

“I can’t control what I was born into. It’s something I’m still coming to terms with.”

Katsuki hums. His blonde hair is messy, and the buttons on his shirt are undone near to the end, and Shouto can see more tattoos on firm, working muscle. Surprising, and also not.

They’re all nothing but strangers. Shouto would do well to remember that.

“You’re pretty damn weird, for a prince.”

“You are not the first person that’s said that to me.”

To his utter surprise, Katsuki barks a laugh. It’s rough and hoarse, and sounds abrupt, like a sneeze. He rises sorely to his feet and cracks his neck, crossing towards the hall.

“Deku’s always taking in the fuckin’ weirdos. Three legged cats and sick chickens. His highness is a first.”

“At least I come with a pedigree,” Shouto says, and is met with a sharp door slam. Izuku laughs from the study, so there’s that.

☆☆☆ 

He stays in his room at night.

You can still hear the wind, and the howling, and the sick croons from the river. Shouto’s curiosity burns him alive, but he stays put out of respect.

The bed is comfortable enough to lull him to sleep.

☆☆☆ 

He falls into a strange routine at this cottage.

Feeding the horses at dawn, trekking back across town and over the mountain to smell breakfast cooking in the cast iron. Katsuki cooks more times than not, which was an interesting revelation.

The bar doesn’t open until midday, so he does see him in the mornings. They don’t exactly get along, but the word coexist might be better. So long as Shouto doesn’t bring up spirits or wizards or hybrid-like wolves (though he still really wants to), they don’t bicker too much.

He dreams of that hare, and that wolf. The shadows of them in his window, sitting on rooftops, or the edge of his bed. Sometimes, at night, he thinks he sees something moving in the trees. Knowing this town, it’s probably more than his imagination.

But he doesn’t leave the room.

“Ah, you – you’ve got the right idea,” Izuku says, jogging towards him with an axe over his shoulder. “But the tree is going to fall sideways. See here?” He runs his finger along the line Shouto indented into the bark. “A clean cut pays more.”

Shouto breathes out of his nose, and says good naturedly, “So now I don’t even know how to chop a tree?”

“Oh, you certainly do!” Izuku chirps. “Just not correctly.”

Shouto nearly laughs, but does not.

“Right. Show me then.”

“You want to line up your hips. Um. Here.” Izuku prods him into place very gently, and Shouto feels his throat get tight. “Turn just…yeah, just like that.”

Izuku scurries to the side, and Shouto swings his axe. It hooks into the tree much easier, and this time it’s parallel to the ground.

“Ah,” Shouto says smartly.

Izuku grins at him, and bends down to haul one of the fallen trees over his shoulder.

“See! You’ve got it.”

Shouto will never be over the sight of Izuku lifting something so heavy. He watches in awe as he hauls it across the clearing, and towards the pile.

“Tell me you’re using magic.”

“Well – of course not! I can’t use magic to lift something this big. However, I am working on a spell that can make items float. I acquired the incantation from an old friend – though she’s had much more practice with it. Seems to make me sick every time. Odd, huh?”

Shouto only follows behind, nodding along to the sweet sound of his rambling.

“Yes. This one next?”

“Please and thank you!”

☆☆☆ 

Shouto kicks his muddy boots against the floor, and Katsuki doesn’t even look up.

“Don’t I see enough of you as it is?”

“Unfortunately, you’re still the only one in town that sells booze,” Shouto says. He sits at his usual seat (god, has he been here long enough to be known as usual?) and he notices that it’s cozier at the bar.

The tavern is bustling. There are faces that Shouto doesn’t recognize – a variety of races, too. Many more gnomes and dwarves, all dressed in their sailor colors. Katsuki looks annoyed, but when does he not.

“What’s going on?” Shouto asks him. Katsuki serves him a drink, although a bit rushed.

“Port day,” he huffs. “They all sail in at the same time, drop their shipments, fuck up my bar and leave before nightfall. I usually hire help ‘cause I hate the rush, but they were delayed from the damn storm. Fucked the whole schedule up.”

“Oh yer complaining!” A sailor barks. “We was three feet deep’n seawater – half to fuck outta’ grog and three sheets to the wind, all for a fuckin’ ghost town.”

Shouto blinks dully, but Katsuki slams a refilled tankard on the counter and swipes his coin off the bar.

“Oh shut it, you old geezer. You’re a foot in the locker and halfway to hell anyways.”

To Shouto’s surprise, the sailor raises his drink and laughs. He swigs it back and stumbles off the stool and back to his friends, and Shouto makes a face.

“You fit right in.”

“Say that again and you’ll wake up with my foot down your throat,” Katsuki grumbles.

Shouto knocks back his beer, and he can tell it’s a fresh bottle from the taste alone. He watches Katsuki bartend; despite his gruffness, he’s efficient in the way he works. No wasted drink, no unnecessary movement, quick and practiced and good with his reflexes, especially when a patron tosses a bottle halfway across the tavern.

Katsuki catches it in one hand, and hollers to the whole bar.

“One fuckin’ fight and you’re all outta’ here! Double the tab!”

Grumbling falls across the bar, and Katsuki shakes his hand, discarding the bottle.

“Need help?” Shouto asks.

Katsuki snaps at him.

“Not from you.”

“I’ll buss tables,” Shouto offers, already standing.

“I ain’t paying you.”

“I already live in your attic. Just call it recompense.”

Katsuki does not look happy in the least, but Shouto gets to work clearing empty bowls and broken cups. He knows he’s being watched like a hawk, but it’s not like it’s hard work.

He gets recognized at a few tables, “Hey, ain’t I seen your face before?” But Shouto plays it off easy, blames the alcohol and sends the drunken sailors off on their way.

It’s a good hour before the tavern is empty again, and by the time they’re gone, Katsuki is down a stool, a floorboard, and six cups.

“Hardly worth the business,” Katsuki grumbles, wiping down his hands. He speaks louder, “If you expect a thank you, you’re not getting it.”

“Wouldn’t want one from you, anyways,” Shouto shoots back. He comes around the bar to dump the empty cups in the sink, and Katsuki growls at him.

“Dickhead.”

“Jackass.”

 Katsuki actually snorts, surprising Shouto again.

“Hand me that towel. No, not the rag, a fucking towel, thank you.”

Shouto watches him work with his hands. Cut up, bruised, puffy from the soap-water and calloused from god knows what.

They are nice hands, and that’s all Shouto will say.

☆☆☆ 

Izuku disappears, sometimes. Chores only take so long, and it leaves Shouto at a loss of what to do.

He walks their property when the weather’s nice, and the birds are out. They have a coop for the chickens, and a small iron forge behind the house. They own blacksmithing tools, and a few blocks of metal. Assumably, for pot-making and basic houseware.

Their property has a strange aura to it. As peaceful as it is, it draws something strange in Shouto’s heart, setting off the fight or flight that tells him to stay aware.

He wrote the feeling off as Katsuki’s scrutinizing gaze – but he’s not here. Just Shouto, and the birds.

When Shouto’s boot meets metal, he stops walking. He finds himself drawn to a metal hatch in the ground, with a big lock and chain.

His heart pulls the most, here. It’s paranormal in feeling. All the hair on his arms stand on end, and he can feel a physical tug in his chest. Shouto blinks through the feeling, and kneels to examine the lock.

It’s only a hatch. Probably food storage, or magical ingredients. Maybe winter clothes and old cedar chests. Shouto could break the lock easily…

He catches himself, as he comes to his senses. Shouto stands quickly, and backs away from the hatch.

Not my business, he reminds himself. Not my business.

☆☆☆ 

“Goodness, that’s a big one,” Izuku wonders, approaching Katsuki at the door. “Oh, careful with it! I still need the feet.”

Katsuki drops a white rabbit on the dining table, and wipes his hands on the rag that Izuku is shoving at him.

“Tch, ran like a fucker, too.”

Shouto raises his eyebrows, “You caught that?”

“You caught that?” Katsuki mimics back, in an exaggerated tone. “Yes – you think I have the money to be buyin’ whole rabbits? Inui charges an arm a leg and a fuckin’ house.”

Shouto is a little impressed. He examines the rabbit – and it is rather large. He hasn’t seen such a big hare before. Only…whatever it was, that he saw lurking in the Baytown shadows. From the shape alone, he knows this is not that creature.

“Good toes, sharp teeth…” Izuku opens the mouth, and pulls on the tongue. “Might be useful for a tonic…”

Katsuki shoves Izuku roughly by the side. Shouto tenses in reflex, but Izuku wobbles over easily, with a smile.

“It’s for eating dumbass,” Katsuki barks. “So, don’t go choppin’ it up too much.”

“I won’t, I won’t!”

“He’s such a pansy,” Katsuki huffs, now talking to Shouto. He jabs his thumb over his shoulder, “Can’t hunt his own vermin, but he’ll dissect them to hell and back.”

“I don’t like killing them! It makes me sad.”

“You’re sad.”

Shouto hums, and watches Katsuki unload the bow and quiver from his shoulder. When he’s not at the bar, he’s always dressed down in a shirt barely buttoned, and no coat in sight. He wonders if this guy gets cold at all.

Shouto pulls out one of the arrows from the quiver, and examines the head. It’s sharp, and handmade – and different from the metal kind he shot in war.

“The army taught us how to shoot rabbits, before we shot men.”

Strangely, Katsuki looks away.

“I'm sure they did. Go start that cooking fire while I skin this thing.”

Izuku is off hunting through cabinets, searching for an empty jar to house his rabbits’ foot, so Shouto crosses to the kitchen and hooks the cast iron on the chain.

“Where do you keep the flint and steel?”

“Top shelf,” Izuku starts to say, but Katsuki cuts him off with a sharp noise. The sound of him sticking a knife in the table.

“Just use your stupid magic. It’s not like we’re going to give a shit in here.” Katsuki gestures to a broomstick that is stuck to the ceiling.

“Oops,” Izuku mumbles. He incants a word under his breath, and the broomstick clatters to the floor. The noise only fuels the adrenaline rushing through Shouto’s body.

Shouto speaks slow, and clear. Like an animal that’s about to run, or kill.

“How do you know I have fire magic?”

The house goes silent. Izuku straightens at the cabinet, and Katsuki doesn’t move a muscle. He makes a strange face, and sneers in his direction.

“You think I’m dull? Your father is the hellfire king. Kinda’ stupid for him to crown a kid that can’t use his bloodline power. I mean fuck, lookit’ you. Got half his face, anyways.” 

Oh. Right.

Shouto’s heart rolls to his feet. He looks to his left hand; it only hurts the usual amount. No discoloring, finally – and only a few gemless rings.

Well. If he’s going to stay here until the new moon, he might as well explain.

Shouto clears his throat, and keeps his tone flat.

“I have the disposition to use fire magic, but I cannot perform it.”

Izuku tips his head, now interested. The jar in his hands gets set on the counter distractedly. His skin is still warm and glowing from working their day out in the sun, and he never did pull some of those leaves from his curly hair.  

“What? Like – you refuse?”

“Ha, dear old daddy didn’t teach him,” Katsuki teases.

Shouto shakes his head. He takes a seat on the sitting chair, not far from the fireplace. The memories hurt to think of, and they hurt more to say. He wants to, though. He wants to.

“No. It’s – it’s the whole reason I’m here.  What I’m going to tell you was dubbed a royal secret, because it brought shame to the family. You can’t repeat it.”

 Izuku comes around to sit on the couch. His expression is much kinder than his roommate’s counterpart.

“Something happened,” Izuku assumes.

“An accident,” Shouto corrects. “My family is…a mess.”

Katsuki mumbles, “Well, that’s no secret.”

Indeed. Shouto keeps his eyes neutrally on the floor between them. It’s easier to talk this way.

“Endeavor has always been a strong king, but a terrible parent. For…for a long time, things weren’t okay. And in his search for more power, he put stress on my mother to keep it all together.” Shouto squeezes his fingers together. He can feel the magic there, under his skin. Red in feeling, a contrast to the ice that lives in his other hand. “You’re right. I do look like him. And in an outburst, my mother cursed me by accident.”

Shouto ignites the fire in his hand. Red and yellow sparks of magic lick along his fingers. The pain is immediate; blaring and hot and familiar. His fingertips turn black, and the curse creeps further up his knuckles the longer he keeps the fire lit.

Shouto speaks tense with pain, “You see.”

“Fuck, his hand!” Katsuki barks, surprise raw on his face.

“Oh!” Izuku jumps off the couch, and runs towards him. “Oh – oh gods. Shouto stop! Put it out!”

He extinguishes the fire as soon as Izuku reaches for him. He grabs his fingers, holding them tight as if it’ll soothe the pain.

“If I use it too long, it will kill me,” Shouto explains softly.

“Well, you didn’t have to show us!” Katsuki snaps, coming around the couch now. “An explanation would’ve been just fine!”

Izuku is still holding his fingers tightly. His fingers are strong, and Shouto feels safe in his grip. His eyes however, look devastated.

“Your mother couldn’t reverse the curse?”

“No. And it drew her to insanity with guilt.”

“Is that…why you’re looking for All Might?”

“Yes. I saw healers all my life. Every witch, wizard, and doctor in our kingdom. None could explain the curse, and none could heal it.” Shouto watches as Izuku slowly lets go, and traces the curse with his fingers. He follows it up to his wrist, where it crackles off into symbols and writing. His fingers feel cool along the heat in his forearm. “I hated my father for it. I was perfectly fine never using my fire ever again. But when I fought in the war…”

Katsuki sits. His usual scowl is a little softer, more contemplative in thought.

“The loss on the hill.”

“I realized I wasn’t enough at half power,” Shouto sighs. “For as long as I’m like this, my mother will rot away in a tower, and I’ll never…I’ll never move on. Father is different now. This war isn’t ending, and if I’m to be king…” Shouto looks between Izuku, and Katsuki. “I have to accept who I am.”

Katsuki curses, and rubs a hand over his mouth.

“That’s shitty. Guess it’s not as luxurious as I thought.”

“Your criticisms are justified,” Shouto assures. “I’m only doing what I can, now.”

Izuku is muttering under his breath, pushing at his cursed hand and dissecting it with his eyes.

“I-I’ve never seen a curse like this,” Izuku blurts.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve heard that.”

“How far does it go?”

“All the way to my eyes, if I let it. I’ve fallen ill with fever if it reaches my head.”

“What makes you think All Might can fix you?” Katsuki asks, and Shouto flinches.

“Kacchan!” Izuku grits.

“No. No. He’s right.” Shouto pulls out of Izuku’s grip. He grabs the flint and steel, and lights the fire. “I don’t know anything. But his legend of power goes beyond the map, and he’s the only one I’ve never met. If he’s so well-traveled – if he’s such a hero – then I hope he can at least point me in the right direction.”

Izuku turns over his shoulder to look at Katsuki. They share a long look, something that Shouto can’t even begin to decipher. He fans the fire instead, keeping his stained hand tucked far from the heat.

“I’m going to go grab some lily pads,” Izuku stands abruptly. “I can wrap your hand and soothe some of your pain with a potion. I’ll – well, I’ll look into this curse immediately.”

Shouto doesn’t try to stop him as he scurries off into his study. The fire pops, and when Shouto looks back over, Katsuki is standing once more.

“Don’t do that again,” Katsuki growls. He looks once at Shouto’s throbbing hand, and then is back at the table, skinning that rabbit like nothing happened at all.

Shouto feels tired.  He’s never told someone so much about himself. He didn’t know it would be such a raw feeling.

But as Izuku urges his palm into the soap bucket, wraps his hand in strange goo and bandages it with leaves – Shouto feels happy. Relieved, somehow, that he can share his secret with someone.

Izuku ties the wrap in place with a string, and as he finishes the knot, he looks Shouto dead in the eyes.

“You’re a good man,” Izuku says.

It means a lot, so Shouto says nothing.

☆☆☆ 

Katsuki finds him out with the chickens.

The sun is setting, and with the storm on the horizon, all the clouds turn the sky pink and yellow.

Shouto feels that pull again. That supernatural force dragging him back out into the yard. He’s found peace here, where the chickens nibble at his hands and cluck around the grass. They had gardens at the palace; rosebushes and hedge mazes and sculptures made of flowers. It was never this serene.

“They talkin’ to you?” Katsuki asks.

Shouto turns his head. He watches Katsuki come stomping through the dirt path, hands tight in his pockets.

“Sure,” Shouto says, looking back at the chickens. “Just enjoying our last few minutes of daylight before we’re caged again.”

Katsuki’s eye twitches. He joins Shouto by the wooden barrel he’s sat on, choosing to lean up against the adjacent one instead. He’s fresh from a bath, and Shouto can smell him from here. That…sounds weird. Anyways.

Katsuki has become different lately. Maybe not to the naked eye, but Shouto doesn’t have to argue with him every moment of the day, and that’s nice.

“What’ll you do if the curse can’t be undone?” Katsuki asks.

He’s blunt with his words – but to be truthful, Shouto never understood people anyways. That kind of raw candor is something that Shouto can relate to.

“Go home,” Shouto says. “Die in battle, maybe.”

Katsuki snorts dryly.

“You’re pretty optimistic.”

“No more than you.”

Katsuki crosses his arms. He’s muscular, for a bartender. Even for a hunter, if that’s what he really is.

They’re still strangers, after all. The word doesn’t really sound right.

“Deku’s in there beside himself,” Katsuki mutters. “Tore up half his library already.”

“I didn’t mean to worry him.”

“He worries over everything.”

“It could be incurable. I think, after so long of trying to ignore it – I owed myself this. The desire to get better, at least.”

“You have to want it,” Katsuki agrees. “I get why you didn’t, though.”

Shouto tips his head out of the light, shielding the last few rays of sunlight that are beaming into his eyes.

“He didn’t hit us. Er, outside of training. But when my brother died, we all lost a piece of ourselves. I think the silence from father was worse than anything.” A silence follows, and Katsuki doesn’t react. Shouto feels the embarrassment that comes with oversharing. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to say that.”

“I grew up in a barbarian tribe far out in the eastern forest,” Katsuki points. “Right outside Deku’s village. Living wasn’t easy out there, and Deku was weak and scrawny and an easy target.” He blinks quickly, as if he’s thinking about his words. Shouto hasn’t heard him speak so much in one go – but he continues, “I had issues, and Deku got the worst of it. Not a day goes by that I don’t regret hittin’ him.”

The truth is surprising. As Shouto has lived here, he’s been mystified by their strange coexistence. Katsuki’s rough words, and how they roll off Izuku’’s back like water.

“But now you’re friends.”

Katsuki makes a sour face, and turns away.

“Guess you could say that.”

“I don’t have any experience making friends,” Shouto says. A cool breeze blows past them, and it rustles their hair. The fog will come soon. “I wasn’t allowed to play with other children.”

Shouto jerks as a hand is roughly shoved in front of him. Katsuki’s face is tough and defensive, but his body language is non-threatening.

“Fresh start?”

Shouto grabs his hand and shakes it without question.

☆☆☆ 

Shadows lurk in his loft window at night. He’s waking up more often. Almost twice a night, whenever he feels that strange tugging in his chest.

More houses are damaged by morning, and the town continues on like usual.

Shouto visits the spirit statue, and today it’s been adorned in fish bones, shiny rocks, and the few flowers they can grow here organically. Their alter does not depict the wolf accurately. Shouto can still see that strange night in the forefront of his mind; can still smell the wolf’s breath, and the silhouette of the hare in the corner of his eye.

After tending to the garden, Izuku disappears into his study. He’s been working rather insistently, and it worries Shouto. It’s not his place to ask, but it also…is.

“Are you alive in here?” Shouto knocks.

Izuku jolts, a few papers scrambling on his table.

“Oh, god. I didn’t hear you – how are you, Shouto?”

“Fine. What are you doing?”

“Just some research…” Izuku closes a book, jumping from his chair to place it back on one of the shelves. “I uh… I’m just putting together a small compendium. I have a few questions about your curse, if you don’t mind.”

Shouto steps over papers on the floor, and picks up a tossed book along the way. He sets it onto the corner of his desk carefully, saying, “This mess isn’t all for me, is it?”

Izuku looks tired, but handsome. His hair is particularly wild, and he keeps blowing his bangs out of his eyes.

“No! Well – maybe, but I can’t get it out of my mind. An accidental curse? The whole thing just makes my heart ache. Ah, no offense.”

“You’re kind, Izuku. But you’re already allowing me to live here. I can’t burden you more than that.”

“Stop that,” Izuku points. “The whole royal pleasantry whatever. This whole library is my master’s old collection. If the answer is here, then you won’t have to see All Might.”

Shouto crosses his arms, and leans up against the desk.

“Who was your old master?”

“Uhh…y-you wouldn’t know him! Although, it would be a bit helpful if you knew what remedies you’ve tried.”

“I can’t remember them all, but I can name a few.”

“Then please, take a seat!”

Shouto does, and Izuku scrambles for a pencil. He recalls potions, and seances, and prayers given by priests. He can’t name every medicine, but he can remember most, and Izuku’s face grows more and more grim as Shouto lists all the complications along the way.

“I don’t mean to grow my sob story here,” Shouto says lightly.

“No no no,” Izuku crosses something off on another paper, and turns back. “This – this narrows it down. To uh. A very slim possibility. Jesus, you are in quite the predicament.”

“I feel worse for my mother,” Shouto says honestly. “By law, she can’t leave her tower until the curse is gone. Father tried to make her comfortable, but…”

“I’ll see what I can find,” says Izuku. His face is determined, and Shouto feels bad for him.

“Its…it’s a fool’s errand, you know.”

“It’s a puzzle,” Izuku corrects, standing. “I like puzzles. And I don’t believe in incurable curses, either.”

He watches Izuku flick his wrist and tug a book off the top shelf with a flash of green magic. A pencil is shoved behind his ear, and his suspenders are tugged off his shoulders and loose around his legs, and Shouto feels his heart kick in a terrible cartwheel.

I am utterly falling for you.

☆☆☆ 

Life has a funny way of putting him in his place.

Shouto has just mucked the stalls and begun his trek back through the village, when he hears a hawk calling in the clouds. He stops mid walk, presses a hand to his knife (he still needs to find a replacement sword), and looks around to see if anyone is nearby. Most of the town has cleared already, but a few stragglers still remain.

He shields his eyes and looks up at the bird of prey. It’s bright red in coloring, and without a doubt, it’s who he thinks it is. Shouto sighs and motions with two fingers towards western bridge, and the hawk caws again, spreading its wings and tipping in that direction.

Shouto walks slow, to ensure that he isn’t followed. When he reaches the bridge, Hawks is sitting on one of the wooden posts, picking at his nails.

“Really?” Hawks calls, as Shouto approaches. “Five months, and all you can write are two sentences?”

“To be honest, I really don’t want to hear it from you,” Shouto deadpans.

Hawks laughs, and raises his hands.

“Hey, don’t shoot the messenger.”

Tch. Good message, dad.

Hawks is a young-looking druid who’s been working for his father for years now. He’s Endeavor’s favorite right hand, and many of the liberation soldiers know to keep their eyes peeled for red hawks. He’s a dangerous man, this one.

The druid is in half form; big red wings and sharp bird eyes. Shouto crosses his arms and frowns.

“How’s the war?”

Hawks plays with a stray feather, brushing against the grain and flattening it again. His gaze is just as unnerving as Shouto remembers. 

“Quiet. A few short battles here and there. We’ve caught some spies in the ranks, but nothin’ crazy.”

“What, like you?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me, I gotta’ go back to spy on the League,” Hawks sighs, swinging his legs. “Your dad really has me running laps.”

“Why did he send you here?”

“Wanted to get some eyes on ya’. See how you’re holding up.” Hawks hops off the post and slaps him on the arm. Shouto doesn’t budge, narrowing his eyes. “You look alright to me. But what’re you doing in such a sleepy town? Talk about the middle of nowhere.”

“I’m still looking for my target,” Shouto says. “Supposedly, he should pass through here soon.”

Hawks raises a bushy eyebrow, and makes a oookay face.

“Well, pops wants to know when you’ll be back.”

“Probably sometime next year.”

“Damn. Alright, I’ll let him know.”

“Don’t get followed again,” Shouto huffs. Hawks claps him on the shoulder again and laughs.

“I won’t, I won’t! Come back in one piece. Endeavor misses you, though he won’t ever say it.”

Shouto clicks his tongue, and watches Hawks flap his wings once, and shift into a small red hawk. His caw echoes off the mountains, and he’s gone in seconds, high above the clouds. Shouto kicks a stone, and watches it roll off the path.

Ugh. It’s a little insulting that Endeavor would send Hawks to check on him. No matter the age, that man will always worry endlessly. It’s annoying, even if Shouto knows he should be grateful.

He was going to stop by the blacksmith, but the shop is likely closed by now. Shouto looks up to check the time, and sees the sun not too far from the mountain. Eh, he’ll go tomorrow.

Shouto tucks his hands in his coat pockets, and starts back up the trail. Izuku insisted that he buy a few more clothes to avoid so much washing, so he’s wearing his new cloak today.

As he climbs up the hill and through the scattering of trees, Shouto wonders what they’ll have for dinner. He might not be a good cook, but he has been recruited for slicing vegetables lately, and it’s something he can do quite well, thanks.

Shouto can smell the cooking fire from the edge of the property. The wards don’t glow, so he knows Izuku is home.

From the smell of it, they’ve already begun cooking. Katsuki should be home, too – and today he offered to teach Shouto an old card game from his tribe. He is eager just thinking about it. Shouto remembers watching soldiers play games in the war, but was always too high-ranking to join. He was always tucked in his tent with a dozen bodyguards, listening to father fret over a rotted map.

Shouto is lost in his mind when he enters the house. He doesn’t knock, or announce himself. He toes off his muddy boots at the door, peels off his blue coat, and is jerked to the present by the sound of giggling.

It is unmistakably Izuku’s. As sweet as the sound is, it’s not all that new. What is shocking is the sound of Katsuki’s laugh.

“Hey – stop that. I’m only trying to help!”

“Good,” Katsuki says, lax and cheeky against the counter, picking flour from the bag and flicking it in Izuku’s direction. “God knows I’m the only one who does any cooking around here.”

“Because you act like this every time I’m in here,” Izuku laughs, wiping the front of his shirt. “How do you want the tomatoes?”

“Diced. Not mashed into tiny pieces like last time.”

Intrigued, Shouto hides behind the open doorway. He peeks in just enough to see around the corner. Izuku is relaxed, and Katsuki is charming, much to Shouto’s surprise. He didn’t know Katsuki could smile like that.

To make it worse, Izuku sticks out his tongue, and Katsuki sweeps in and kisses him.

Shouto feels his entire heart drop to his feet.

Katsuki isn’t gentle with him – but rough in how he grips Izuku’s chin and tips his nose, and Izuku melts easily, like they’ve done it a thousand times.

And Shouto realizes that they have. They have done it a thousand times. They’re – they’re –

I’m a fool.

Shouto must’ve blacked out, because when he looks back again, Katsuki is standing behind Izuku, hands up and under his shirt, his forehead resting on his shoulder.

“I can’t chop like this,” Izuku scorns, trying to sound serious.

“You’re useless, Deku. Always living up to the name, can’t even chop a tomato.”

“Well you’re very – distracting – ow! Stop that.”

“Life is full of distractions. Get used to it.”

Katsuki bites into his shoulder. They’re comfortable in the other’s presence, and Shouto wonders how much they’ve been playing pretend, for Shouto’s sake.

“Ack. That one hurt.”

“Oh, you want something that hurts?”

Izuku laughs, but tips his head to the side, inviting Katsuki further.

“You’re so crude.”

“I am sick and fuckin’ tired of you pretending you don’t hear the shit that comes out of your mouth at night.”

“I’m ignoring you now.”

Shouto feels like his entire world has been ripped apart, and stitched back together piece by piece. Many, many things make sense – but also, Shouto feels guilt pool in his stomach. And maybe…disappointment. That’s a new one.

They fit perfectly together. Katsuki is purring into him like a cat, speaking softer than Shouto knew he could. Izuku smiles and laughs and reaches back to smack him on the head, and it’s terribly domestic. A dream, a fairytale.

Oh, he thinks. They’re in love.

“Can you be quiet?”

“Tch, that’s all you’ve been sayin’ this week.”

Izuku turns to bark at him, “That’s because –”

He bites off his sentence, jerking so hard that he hits the cutting table with his elbow, sending the food right to the floor. Katsuki whips around fast as a whip, gripping the counter with one hand, and keeping Izuku tucked behind him protectively.

Shouto freezes, not realizing he’d drifted into the doorway. Hypnotized, and under a spell.

“Shit,” Shouto blurts. “I’m sorry.”

Katsuki goes through a whole range of emotions. He relaxes at the sight of him, and then tenses all over again, his face going deathly blank. Izuku looks horrified.

“Y-you’re home early.”

“I uh…” Shouto says intelligently. 

Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs.

“God dammit.”

“Um. I won’t – I won’t tell anyone…”

“It’s not a secret!” Izuku states, a little too loud. He’s red in the face, and it’s cute, and Shouto has to stop thinking that, now. “I mean. It – it is, but, not –” Izuku presses his lips together, gets his words under control, and starts again. “We’re not hiding. It’s just easier if the town doesn’t know. Err, less questions, yeah?”

“I understand. Are you two…” Shouto makes a vague motion with his hand.

“Just dating,” Katsuki says. “For now.”

Izuku elbows him, then says,

“We were going to tell you. It just never came up.”

Now slightly over the shock, Shouto comes around to the living area, and picks up the tomato that rolled out of the kitchen.

“You’re fine. It just uh, caught me off guard.”

Izuku relaxes, and Katsuki turns to start picking up rogue tomato slices as well.

“I’m – I’m glad! We would’ve been sad if you left, uh. B-because of that.”

Katsuki clicks his tongue and says we?

Shouto tosses the tomato over, and Izuku catches it in one hand.

“Not bothered,” Shouto assures. A little heartbroken, maybe, but he can get over it. “It’s your house. Don’t act strange just because I’m here.”

Izuku looks relieved. Katsuki tosses the soiled tomatoes into the fire, and it smells up the house in a good way.

“We’re already strange. Can’t change that.”

Shouto rubs across his chin, and says, “This makes a lot of sense, you two. Childhood friends to lovers. I can see it now.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“I didn’t know you could be so domestic. It’s cute.”

“I’m going to kill him.”

“Peel this instead,” Izuku says, and Katsuki fails to look threatening with a potato in his hand.

“I can chop carrots,” Shouto offers.

“That would be mighty kind of you, your highness.”

☆☆☆ 

Shouto stares at the lofted ceiling that night. He’s slow to fall asleep, and is unsure of how to sort his emotions.

It’s done then. Izuku is taken, and Katsuki –

–what about Katsuki?? His brain finishes. Tall, broad. Brash, crude. Handsome.  

Shouto rubs his hands over his eyes, and curses aloud. The longer he sits and simmers, the more restless he grows. He thinks of Katsuki buried in Izuku’s neck. The hand marked with scars that reached back to pet through his hair. It plays in his mind over and over and over –

Shouto swings his legs out of bed, opens the hatch on the window, and sucks in humid air.

Just over the peak of the hill, green lightning flashes. A beat, and the light is orange. No thunder, and no rain.

Shouto sags against the window, and tries to breathe.

Chapter Text

☆☆☆ 

The next morning is awkward, but not for long. 

Katsuki is stirring breakfast in the cast iron, and Izuku is sitting at the table drinking tea, and they both mumble a quiet hello. They look especially tired – but Shouto doesn’t pry.

He doesn’t want to think about what they might’ve been up to last night, what they’ve been doing, right under Shouto. Not that the thought disgusts him. It’s the opposite, and that might be worse.

Given the strange aura of the house, Shouto offers to feed the chickens. Katsuki mumbles something gruff like don’t expect a thank you, in which Izuku says oh, thanks!

When he returns, there are bowls on the table, some eaten and some not. Izuku is sitting near Katsuki, rubbing something into his palm. They startle at the door opening, but don’t separate. Shouto is warmed by it, though he doesn’t know why.

“Are you hurt?” Shouto asks, hanging his coat.

“Nah. Just the fuckin’ bar rot.”

“I’ve been trying new remedies,” Izuku explains. “But they always wash off so quickly in the water. I’m trying something that should be more resistant.”

“You say you don’t favor potions, but you’re pretty good at them.”

“Oh, you didn’t see the years of trial and error,” Katsuki huffs. Izuku works the salve into his skin intently, massaging to the end of his fingers and back to his wrist, and the tenderness of it is touching. “Once he turned my hair pink for a week.”

Shouto sits at the table, and nods his thanks for the food.

“I would’ve paid heavy coin to see that.”

“I still have the recipe,” Izuku chirps.

“I swear to the gods, I’ll kill you with my bare hands.”

“You said that then,” Izuku coos, and with a simple kiss to his knuckles, he rises from the table and clears their empty bowls. They’re not overly affectionate, not in a stifling, or uncomfortable way – but Shouto’s heart flutters like he was the one that Izuku kissed.

Katsuki studies his sticky hand with a scowl. He sniffs it, and then clicks his tongue.

“It smells like ass.”

“It’s actually frog mucus.”

“Oh, gross.”

☆☆☆ 

Once Shouto starts noticing, he can’t stop.

Katsuki and Izuku share their living space in a unique way. They’re not exceedingly loving in the way that some couples are (not that Shouto has a lot of home experience), but they fit together. In all their odds and ends.

A hand at their waist as they pass behind the other. A peck goodbye in the morning, when Katsuki leaves for the tavern. Elbowing the other at the cooking table, arguing over dinner, and falling asleep in front of the fireplace.

Shouto does not belong here. And truth be told, he won’t be here that much longer.

But they make him feel like he belongs.

Izuku tells him about plants and flowers, about theories of tiny molecules and the structure of magic under a microscope. He sits by him in the evening and scribbles into a notebook with hundreds to match. Asks him questions about home. About his magic.

Katsuki is less direct; not exactly friendly, but sociable in his own way. He sits by Shouto out on the porch – watches him feed the chickens, and plays cards with him, down on the wood floor.

Izuku sits too, placing a warm cup in Shouto’s hand and dealing himself in.

“Be careful with him,” Izuku nods. “He’ll hide cards on you.”

“I have never cheated, you little fucking liar,” Katsuki barks. “You take that back.”

“Oh, so you’re calling that card up your sleeve an accident?”

“I’m not wearing sleeves, jackass.”

“I’m out,” Shouto says, showing his cards.

Katsuki looks at his hand in disbelief, and then throws down his own deck in favor of drilling his fingers into Izuku’s side. “Fucker. You distracted me.” Izuku starts to laugh, and Katsuki digs harder at his ribs. “Oh I see – that was the plan all along – ”

Izuku tucks and rolls to evade him, but Katsuki is fast, nabbing his ankle before he can crawl away.

“Only because you always win!”

“A pleasure doing business with you,” Shouto agrees, and Katsuki huffs an angry laugh, dragging Izuku back by the ankle.

“You scheming little –”

Shouto jumps in before the playful fight can turn serious. “Let’s play again. I’ll bet you a chore on it.”

Katsuki pauses. Izuku uses the opportunity to wiggle out of his hand and crawl to Shouto’s other side, like that will save him.

Katsuki raises his eyebrows, and crosses his legs on the pillow. The beads around his neck clink and jingle.

“What chore we talkin’?”

“I’ll shine your boots, I guess.”

“My boots look like shit.”

“Yeah, they do.”

“Asshole,” Katsuki chuffs. “What’you winning for?”

“You chore at Aizawa’s for me tomorrow.”

Katsuki squints, and then huffs, grabbing the cards to shuffle them again.

“Fine. But no funny business this time. You stay outta’ this, Deku.”

“I’m an innocent bystander,” Izuku raises his hands placentally. “No magic.”

“That means keeping your mouth shut, too.”

“You’re asking for a lot,” Shouto says, and then pauses with horror.

Oh… they’re not really friends, are they? He can’t just say something like –

Both Izuku and Katsuki start to laugh, and Shouto’s pulse races past his ears. The fire makes Katsuki’s hair look orange. It reflects on Izuku’s lashes, and the scars carved into his hands.

“You catch on quick.”

“It’s my vice,” Izuku sighs, but his tone is in jest. “I talk to myself more than not.”

“I like when you talk,” Shouto says, and then curses himself to kingdom come.

Fuck! For the love of the gods…

But Izuku gets all starry eyed, and the campfire pops, and Katsuki starts to deal out cards in a skillful, quick slide of hand, and Shouto doesn’t feel like he’s imposing. Not like how he is, truly.

He tries to put his focus into the game, but it’s hard. Not with the way Katsuki smiles with all his teeth, sharp and gummy and pointed, not entirely angry. No, not entirely at all.

Izuku, too. Smelling like soap, too close at his side and warm from the fire. The house smells like the meal they shared. The sun is going down behind the mountains.

He shines Katsuki’s boots tomorrow.    

☆☆☆ 

Shouto has learned the difference between good tomatoes, and bad ones. Between parasitic weeds, and healthy leaves. Between herbs used for spells, and ones that’ll gut you right there and then.

It’s overcast today. Izuku is busy in his books, so Shouto offers to run the goods down to the market. There are new holes in the town hall shingling, but the clocks keep ticking on the walls, and the grey water sloshes up on the planks, unaware of gods-knows what that lurks underneath.

A woman asks if he’s going to offer thanks to the alter. Shouto lies, and says yes.

When he returns to the house, Katsuki is waiting for him on the porch, weaving an arrow with chicken feathers and wire.

“Took you long enough,” Katsuki grunts, rising from his squat at the ground. “You got a bow?”

Shouto sets his empty basket down by the porch swing. Katsuki isn’t in his bar clothes, but trousers and a stained shirt fit for labor.

“Upstairs, sure.”

“Go grab it. We’re going to hunt some game.”

Shouto looks up at the sky. The grey of the clouds matches the grey water back on the Baytown lake.

“Now?”

“There’s a storm coming in. It’ll drive the herds south. I got your horse for you – she’s a mean little bastard.”

“She doesn’t like other people,” drones Shouto, peering around the corner of the house. Sure enough, Cyrus is hitched next to a tall speckled horse. He recognizes the gelding from the barn. “Is that yours?”

“Nah, I stole it – of course it’s mine, dipshit. Go get your bow.”

In the weeks he’s spent here, learning trades, mucking stalls and listening to the ghastly crooning out on the river, this is finally something Shouto knows he can do well.

They don’t ride far. It’s an hour up the river, maybe, until the trees change shape, and the ground gets soft.

Katsuki is a good rider. Shouto doesn’t know much about the barbarian tribes, but he knows the infamy of their warhorse riders, and it makes him wonder. He has a good seat, good rein control, and his horse doesn’t spook easily. Shouto finds himself staring more often than not, and he has to keep his eyes straight forwards, lest Katsuki catch on.

“We’ll hitch here,” Katsuki says, slowing his horse. “Herds will wander up to the trees looking for food. Stay quiet or I’ll skin you too.”

Shouto hitches his bow on his back, same as Katsuki, and follows him into the trees. They keep their footsteps quiet. It smells fresh out here, like pine and mulberry. Squirrels scamper up to the trees, and birds coo in the trees, announcing their presence.

He spots the tracks before Katsuki does.

“Here,” Shouto whispers. “The bark is stripped.”

Katsuki crouches down to see where he’s pointing, and then stands again.

“Well shit, good eye. Looks like a buck’s been rubbing.”

The praise makes Shouto feel hot. Not warm or tingly, but downright sweaty. Shouto clears his throat, and follows the tracks around the bend.

“There’s velvet on this bush over here.”

Katsuki hums. Together they follow the tracks – whispering to stay quiet.

“I knew you had to be good for somethin’, princess.”

“Since leaving home, it’s the only way I ate,” Shouto admits. “Killing is easy.”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, and steps under a low hanging branch.

“You don’t look like a killer.”

Shouto doesn’t answer right away. They pick up more tracks; a small herd, it looks like. Shouto keeps his voice low.

“Sometimes I think the curse was predestined. Like it was some kind of terrible foreshadowing. Judgement for sins I hadn’t committed yet.”

“If you’re looking for a pity party, I ain’t gonna’ throw you one,” Katsuki mutters. “But if you want my two cents…I don’t believe in any of that fate crap. We’ve all done things. I’ve never met as hard a worker as you, though.”

Shouto almost trips. He rights himself on a tree, and stares at Katsuki in downright shock.

“Was that a compliment?”

“Shh! I see a doe.”

Shouto crouches next to Katsuki. He smells like horse blankets and hard leather, and Shouto has to stop himself from breathing in like a complete freak. With the doe so close, Katsuki motions to Shouto in question.

You want the shot?

Shouto gestures back as if to say,

Go for it.

Katsuki pulls out his bow. Shouto watches the deer drop her head to eat, and he hears the familiar sound of an arrow hooking in a bow string, and drawing tight.

The doe shifts slightly. Shouto feels a terrible squeeze in his chest.

“Wait!” He whispers hoarsely.  

The doe raises her head, scanning the field. Katsuki looks to Shouto and snarls furiously under his breath, bristling like a cat.

“What?!”

“She’s pregnant,” Shouto points. Katsuki’s glare softens, and he whips his head around to watch the deer scamper off into the trees, particularly round in her midsection.

“Shit,” Katsuki curses. He loosens his hold on the bow, and rubs a hand across his eyebrows. “Deku wouldn’t’ve liked that.”

“Hell, I wouldn’t have.”

Katsuki breathes out through his nose, as if trying to rid himself of his frustration. His voice is calmer now.

“That buck might still be around here.”

“I was thinking the same thing.”

They find dried blood on one of the trees in the clearing, and follow it out back to the river. The blood isn’t fresh, but it’s a start, and Shouto keeps his voice down just in case.

“Where did you learn to hunt?”

“Home,” Katsuki grits shortly.

“A bit odd that you’d take to the bartending business.”

Katsuki huffs through his nose, and hops over a fallen log. Shouto hops it too.

“You do what you can to get by. I ain’t a drinker, but mom knew liquor by the back of her hand.”

Shouto nearly laughs, chewing down on the side of his cheek and blinking.

“You don’t even drink?”

“Well not like a dwarf, damn. I like to not feel sick every waking moment of my life.”

Shouto mumbles, “I can agree with you there –”

He stops when Katsuki flings a hand outwards, pressing into his chest. His hand is warm, and it shifts to his shoulder and squeezes tightly, urging Shouto to look at the clearing. There, by the river, is the buck with the shedding antlers.

Katsuki’s fingers burn into his shoulder. He has undeniable strength in his hands. He leans in close – so much that he can see different shades of red in his eyes. Maroon, and pink, and sharp.

He nods to the buck.

Take it.

Shouto breathes through his nose. The buck’s ears are flicking frontwards and back, so Shouto quietly draws his bow, and lines up the shot. Katsuki is watching him intently. Scrutinizing, almost, but he’s truly just staring.

Shouto exhales, and slips the arrow through his finger. The buck yips in pain and goes down, and Katsuki flings himself out of the bushes and draws his knife, straddling the deer and cutting clean into the heart, putting it out of its misery. His speed and effectiveness are striking, at the least. Maybe Shouto can understand a little (a lot) of why Izuku would be attracted to such a guy.

“Nice shot!” Katsuki calls. He grunts as he rolls the buck to the side with his boot. “Good rack on this guy too. We can use the whole thing.”

“Thanks,” nods Shouto. Then, “We should skin it now and share the load between our horses.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Katsuki says, but it’s not angry. He actually grins, pointing to his arrow lodged in the buck. “You were a little off the throat. If you hit here next time, it’ll go down without a knife.”

Shouto clicks his tongue, but draws out his own knife to help Katsuki pop the antlers off.

“Always a critic.”

It’s not until they’re loading the buck and rolling up the fur, does Katsuki speak without looking at him.

“You know, deer can sense magic. I could never take Deku hunting ‘cause he keeps so much of his magic in his emotions.” Katsuki eyes him, and Shouto feels hunted. He holds his breath, as if preparing for a fight. “I was wonderin’ if you’d be the same, but I didn’t even feel an effin’ peep from you.”

Shouto looks to his left hand. His fingers have lost the deep black color again, and the symbols are no longer burned into his forearm. It doesn’t mean it’s painless, nor does it mean the curse won’t return.

“I have to be careful,” Shouto says, heaving the deer off his shoulder and onto Cyrus’ flank. “I once used my fire in anger, and nearly died. I can’t afford to be…open.”

A frown etches into Katsuki’s face. He mounts his horse, and gathers the reins in one hand. He clicks his tongue, and his horse paws the ground anxiously.

“You expectin’ a red carpet, princess?”

Shouto rolls his eyes and mounts his horse, and together they race down the river.

It’s a worthless moment. Of birds and stale wind and horse hooves on soft ground. But for one reason or another, it’s something Shouto will remember fondly.

☆☆☆ 

They eat good that night. It’s a chore and a half just to cook, clean and eat – and when Shouto comes back from his bath, Katsuki is knocked out on Izuku’s shoulder.

“The bath is free,” Shouto says in a lowered tone. Izuku turns his head to look at him, and smiles through his eyes.

“We’re okay, thanks.” He gestures for Shouto to come sit, so he hesitantly crawls into the armchair. Izuku has an open book in his lap, and Katsuki is silent against his shoulder. Izuku doesn’t lower his voice, like he knows Katsuki won’t wake. “Thank you for your hard work today.”

“It wasn’t a chore,” Shouto settles on. The windows are open tonight, and the world looks very blue outside. He feels that draw in his chest – the familiar feeling magnetized inside of him – but he ignores it. “He’s a good tracker, for such a loudmouth.”

Izuku looks to Katsuki, and back to Shouto.

“I know he’s…brash. But Kacchan is always reliable when you need him most.”

Shouto can hear the affection in his voice, and it makes him sick, and equally soft for them. He wants to brand this place into his memories. Sketch it all down, so he won’t forget a single detail. 

Shouto finds himself talking without thinking again.

“You should see the way he looks at you.”

Izuku’s eyes fly upwards. The air in the room grows tight, suddenly. Like the fire is sucking out all the oxygen.

Izuku licks across his upper lip, and wiggles his arm around Katsuki’s wide shoulder.

“Yeah?”

“I think…you’re his world,” Shouto says. He swallows thickly, and fights the heat in his face. “I’ve never known love.”

Izuku’s eyes shine over. He presses his fingers into Katsuki’s bicep, like he has the tattoo memorized from touch alone. Katsuki doesn’t stir, his chest rising and falling in a deep sleep.

“It was never easy.”

“I know. That’s what makes it so valuable.”

Izuku presses his lips together, and stares at the pages in his books, not reading a word.

“Are there no princesses waiting for you, back at the castle?”

Shouto hums, and stretches out his legs. He can feel the heat of the fire through his socks.

“Yes. Though I’ve never had much interest in any of them.”

“I thought royalty got betrothed.”

“They do,” Shouto admits. “But I think my father just wanted me to stay alive.” The words make Izuku flinch, so Shouto is quick to say, “I never cared for princesses anyways. They’re…exuberant.”

Izuku laughs once, and pats Katsuki on the head like a dog.

“I see.”

Izuku falls deep into thought. He chews on his lip so much, that Shouto has to glue his eyes to the fire, else he stare at the bitten redness of his mouth, and zone out to the thought of what it tastes like.

☆☆☆ 

The crooning calls him that night. Over and over, Shouto can hear nothing but the low cries on that lake.

It feels like his body is being torn apart. Something is yanking on him – gripping into his heart and heaving with all its might. The longer he lays, the longer he feels like he might die, so when lightning flashes through his window, Shouto throws off his covers.

He doesn’t want to break the house rule. He truly doesn’t – but his mind is full of doubts, of what ifs, of the couple sleeping peacefully in their bedroom downstairs – and its torture.

Shouto ensures that their door is shut tight, before he toes on his boots and sneaks outside. He steals the lantern off the porch and starts down the path.

I won’t intervene, he thinks. I just need to see them again. Just once more.

Shouto stops at the bridge into town. He hides behind the last tree on the edge of the riverbend, and watches through the thick fog coating the village. Everything is grey and muddy, and it’s impossible to see a thing.

Shouto can’t see the creatures, but he can hear them. It sounds like nails on wood, creaky footsteps and low, terrible groaning.

One is on the butcher’s roof, tearing a hole in the wood. In a burst of orange light, the creature is gone.

What are you? Shouto thinks. He pulls out his notebook from his inner coat pocket, and scrambles for the piece of charcoal that’s been staining the cover for months.  

It’s too difficult to see from this far, but Shouto doesn’t dare go closer. The creatures move unpredictably, in and out of his vision. None sense him behind the tree, despite the wind blowing from behind him.

Low sense of smell, he writes.

Lightning cracks, though not from the sky. In an instant, Shouto sees the hare perched on a roof, long ears sticking straight from its head. He can hardly see the fur coloring – but it’s dark, like the sky behind it. In a flurry of movement, a second figure crouches next to the hare.

The wolf dwarves the rabbit in size, but they do not fight. One turns its head towards the other, exchanges a sound wordlessly, and together they disappear.

The hare and the wolf are allies.

They don’t feed from the creatures. They only hunt and destroy, moving too quick for Shouto to sketch anything other than a shadow. He was never truly an artist, but it’s something to remember it by. Something to remind him that the night on the bridge wasn’t a dream.

When the bay goes quiet, Shouto sneaks back into his room through the vine by his window.

☆☆☆ 

It’s late afternoon when the rain starts, and a loud bang! rings from Izuku’s study.

With the choring done, Shouto has free reign of the afternoon. He prefers the cottage couch to Baytown’s fishy smell, so he’s well into one of Izuku’s novels when the house suddenly fills with smoke.

“Shit!” Izuku’s curse echoes.

Shouto flies out of his seat and scrambles into the study.

Nothing is on fire, thank god, but everything is coated in a thick pink smoke, while Izuku is on the ground, groaning in pain.

Shouto grabs a book to waft out the glittery smoke.

“Are you okay?”

“Yep! Totally fine. Damn, I screwed that up pretty bad.”

Shouto looks at the table, where a small circle had been drawn with chalk, and a handful of ingredients are now charred and black.

“What were you doing in here?”

“Um…well…” Izuku blinks shyly. “I found an old book on curse reversal. It didn’t have much that you hadn’t tried before, but there was a forbidden section in the back and…”

Shouto pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Are you really still on this?”

“Of course I am,” Izuku scowls. “I’m a mage! I-I might not be the one you’re looking for but…but I don’t want you to write me off as a failure before I even had the chance to try.”

Shouto feels his heart sink.

He pops the hatch on one of the windows, and sets the book on Izuku’s table, crouching next to him.

“I didn’t mean to come off that way. I’m sorry.”

Izuku softens.

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell.”

“Can you stand?”

“Yeah –” Izuku starts, and then yips in pain. Shouto startles, and pushes up the pantleg of the thigh Izuku is gripping.

The skin is purple and inflamed. This kind of injury is only seen on children – usually those who are inexperienced, and unable to contain the magic in their bodies.

“What the hell…” Shouto mumbles. “You really overdid it. The magic is swollen in your skin.”

Izuku sighs, and pushes his bangs out of his face.

“I know. Kacchan is going to kill me.”

“Grab onto my shoulders.”

Shouto gets a good enough grip to haul him into the living room. He’s a solid weight, not too heavy, but dense with hard-earned muscle.

The smoke has leaked out into the hallway, but it’s thinner and easier to breathe.

Shouto gets him on the couch; Izuku pulls up his pant leg, hissing along the way.

“Ah, damn. I really thought I was over this.”

“Do you have any tonics?”

“Yes, back in my study. Err, top right shelf.”

When Shouto returns, he’s propped his foot on the adjacent chair and is cracking the joints in his fingers, like he’s going to attempt to heal it himself.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Shouto points. Izuku straightens at his language, and his face goes red.

“I, uh…”

“Seriously? More magic? You’ll only make it worse.”

“I know, I know. I’m just not looking forward to the lecture from Kacchan.”

Shouto hums, and gives Izuku the tonic to drink. He grimaces through the entire process. Sniffing the bottle, raising it to his eye level and downing it hard.

“You might deserve it.”

The leg looks terrible. Izuku starts to sweat from the medicine, shrugging out of his shirt and yanking it off with only half the buttons undone. He is…er. Toned, would be a good word. Though Shouto is mildly horrified by all the scars on his arms.

“What’s all this from?”

“Ah, uh,” Izuku flounders. “A few things, here and there. Some are magic scars.”

That is upsetting to hear.

“This will scar too, if you’re not careful.”

“Heaven help me.”

Shouto watches him sweat out the pain for a moment, before he decides to go in search for a rag. When he returns, Izuku has closed his eyes, and is resting his skull against the couch cushions.

Shouto sits next to him, careful not to jostle his leg.

“Icing should help,” Shouto offers. Izuku peeks open an eye.

“Ah, I’ll be okay. The bruising will go down in an hour.”

“It’ll go down faster, like this.”

Shouto summons his magic with a deep breath. It chills through his arm, runs through his blood and exits through his fingers. He doesn’t freeze the rag, but he makes his hand explicitly cold, and he uses the rag as a barrier as he rests it on Izuku’s calf.

“Ahh shit,” Izuku curses, rubbing his eyes. “That hurts.”

“Sorry.”

“No, no. It’s a good hurt. Thank you.”

His chest is sticky with sweat. It rises and falls, and Shouto adjusts his hand on Izuku’s leg, gripping above the knee. He doesn’t dare go higher, though he secretly wants to.

He feels guilty for the thoughts, but they’re beyond his control. Izuku has incredibly strong legs. His thighs are thick, and they tense as Shouto adjusts back down to his shin, icing down the swelling.

The smoke is slowly clearing the air. Shouto feels some of his anxiety bleed with it, as he focuses on icing various parts of Izuku’s bum leg.

“You have very good control,” Izuku notes.

Shouto didn’t realize he had opened his eyes again. Shouto (internally) startles, and looks at Izuku through the corner of his eye.

“Only with my ice magic.”

“It’s still impressive, Shouto.”

Izuku purrs his name. It’s likely unintentional (the medicine, maybe?) yet it makes Shouto feel breathless anyways.

He lets go of Izuku’s leg quickly. Shouto flees, like a coward.

“I’ll go air out the rest of the house. Please rest before Katsuki comes home.”

Izuku lets out a laugh, and tips his head back against the couch again.

“God knows I’ll need it.”

☆☆☆ 

“You are a fucking moron.”

“I know, I know!”

“Lookit’ this! You blew out the magic all the way to your hipbone.”

“I told you it was an accident, what more do you want from me?”

Shouto sits up in his loft, and rests his head against the open window as he listens to the argument downstairs. He’s chosen not to get involved, though he can almost see their expressions in his mind.

Do I know them that well?

“You said I wasn’t going to come home to this shit no more.”

“I’d gotten better! I just uh…wasn’t expecting the physical toll of this spell.”

“You are god fuckin’ lucky you didn’t try it on the prince, or you’d be strung up for treason.”

“Seriously? You really think I would do that?”

“At this point, I don’t even know!”

Shouto closes his eyes. The breeze is blowing in from the river again, dragging in fog no doubt. The world is blue again, as the rain never let up.

Shouto opens his eyes when he realizes the shouting has stopped. He lifts his head, and focuses his hearing. They’re still speaking, but lower now.

“…he helped you?”

“Yeah. It looks much better now than it did.”

“Tch. Y’know I don’t like you like this.”

The laugh from Izuku is so light, Shouto nearly misses it.

“I’m sorry baby. It won’t happen again. I think next time I’m going to use fish bone instead of bird liver —”

“Ugh, just stop.”  

It goes quiet. Shouto wonders if he’s kissed him. Even worse is – Shouto has a terrible thought of wishing he could see it.

☆☆☆ 

True to his word, Izuku is up and working the next morning. He’s hobbling a little, but the leg has returned to its normal color, and Izuku doesn’t look like he’s in pain.

“Here!” Izuku grins.

Shouto tucks his chin to look at the flowers now shoved into his arms. They smell nice, and one of them tickles his nose, causing him to wrinkle it.

“Wha –” Shouto sneezes. “Excuse me. What are these for?”

Izuku snickers at him, and wobbles back to the table, where he’s involved in some home project or another. It looks complicated, whatever it is.

“A present, to say thanks for helping me out yesterday.”

Shouto carefully turns the flowers in his arm; they’re purple, and Shouto recognizes the lavender.

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“Well, it’s too late now.” Izuku traces a crack in the table, and looks up at him through his lashes. It’s a killer move, all things considered. “Oh, by the way…some musicians are going to play out in the square this evening, to celebrate the spirits of our town. Kacchan has to work, but I thought we could keep him company. Would you like to come?”

“A celebration?” Shouto sits at the table as well. “Like a bonfire?”

“We can’t have night parties here, so it’s only until sundown. If business is slow, Kacchan might close the bar early.”

“Are you sure you two don’t want to…” Shouto waves his hand. “Have time alone?”

Izuku raises an eyebrow at him.

“You’re not third-wheeling, if that’s what you’re getting at.”

“Ah. Okay. But I didn’t know you drank.”

Izuku rubs the back of his head sheepishly, “Err…its best that I don’t. But I can have a couple!”

“Lightweight?”

“The opposite, actually.”

Shouto lets out a laugh, and Izuku smiles at him with his entire face. He really shouldn’t. Not with his lover a mile down the road, working a shaky old bar.

I’m a bad man, Izuku, Shouto thinks, with a stone in his stomach. The ache in his left arm confirms it, rightfully so.

☆☆☆ 

For a dreary, stinky old fishing town, the villagers do try their best to make the place cheerful. Wreaths are in the doorways, and flowers have been strung between light-posts. There is no rain this evening, but the overcast makes it feel darker than it is.

Izuku is dressed up tonight; a tight little waistcoat, puffy sleeves and a knotted ascot at his throat. He looks so damn cute, Shouto couldn’t even bear to look at him when he first saw him waiting at the door.

“Don’t you clean up nice,” Izuku whistles.

Shouto clears his throat, and adjusts his white cuffs. 

“It’s not… I didn’t bring…”

“Oh I’m sure you have the world's most expensive closet back home,” Izuku waves. “Come on. I’ll set the wards on our way out.”

The evening led them here, walking along the uneven planks of Baytown, dodging children and ducking under low strung flowers. The music is…um. Humble would be the right word. It’s not exactly a five-star orchestra – but the quaint men and women are playing wonderfully on their instruments, and it’s more talent than Shouto has. He always hated violin lessons.

Izuku takes him by the hand, and Shouto’s world falls out from beneath his feet.

“Come on,” Izuku tugs. “Kacchan is waiting for us.”

Shouto could argue that Kacchan waits for no one, but he’s too busy staring at Izuku’s fingers threaded through his own. His hand is rough from all those scars, and Shouto feels his entire body go hot from it. He exhales ice under his breath, hoping to offset the heat in his face.

He’s expressionless when Izuku lets go, and leads them into the tavern. True to fruition, it’s only half full; a few regulars that won’t give up their afternoon beer, and a family that wandered in from the festivities.

Katsuki is cleaning the dishes like usual. He only regards them with a tip of his head.

“Kick your boots.”

Katsuki sometimes wears a vest to work, but he’s without one tonight. His red shirt sleeves are rolled up, and Shouto can see those tribal tattoos again, winding up his arm. Even with the shitty attitude, and the heavy snarl, he looks handsome. He should push his hair back like that more often.

“How’s business?” Izuku asks.

Katsuki clicks his tongue.

“You have eyes.”

“Gin please,” Shouto says, setting his coin on the counter. Katsuki looks between Shouto and the shillings, then sighs.

“Put your money away. It’s on the house.”

Izuku gets comfortable on the barstool. Shouto raises his eyebrows.

“You’re only being nice because Izuku is here.”

“I’m always this nice,” Katsuki deadpans. He turns to make their drinks – first Shouto’s gin, and a beer for Izuku, like he already knew what he wanted. “B’sides, it’s a holiday. Let loose a little, your highness.”

Shouto tucks his coin back in his pouch, and doesn’t respond.

“Get yourself a glass,” Izuku points. “We’ll toast.”

“You want me to drink on the job?” Katsuki teases. He grabs a bottle anyways. “And they say I’m the bad influence.”

It’s only them at the bar. Shouto waits for Katsuki to take his drink in hand, before lifting his own. Izuku looks satisfied, nodding to say, “To the spirits. And to our guest, his royal highness.”

Shouto rolls his eyes, but clicks their glasses together. The gin is rough, and Shouto has to wince through half of it.

“God,” Katsuki croaks, “I should start watering down my shit. Save a penny or two, goddamn.”

Izuku hums, “Your clientele will sniff it out a mile away.”

“Fuck me, you’re right.”

Shouto can hear the music muffled outside the tavern. The lake sloshes beneath them, and the bar smells like alcohol and cigars, even with the window cracked open.

“Aren’t you going to make an offering?” Shouto jabs his thumb over his shoulder. “You know. To your spirit-whatevers.”

Izuku and Katsuki share a look. The latter huffs, and leans his elbow on the bar, getting a little closer to save his breath.

“I told you. I worship no one but myself.”

Shouto suffers through another swig, and wipes his mouth with the corner of his sleeve. He looks to Izuku.

“What about you?”

Izuku straightens.

“Huh, what?”

“You don’t act like the others do.”

Izuku rubs the back of his hair. He’s cut it recently, yet the strands still curl with the humidity.

“I ah…well. I wasn’t raised here, as you know. I choose to not get involved. Though I have the utmost respect for those spirits – I uh, I like living here without worrying about one of those creatures crawling through my window.” Izuku clears his throat, and sips off the top of his beer. “But um, enough of that. I want to hear more of what it was like growing up in the inner kingdom.”

Caught off guard, Shouto widens his eyes, and blinks the surprise away.

“You do? There’s not much to say.”

“C’mon, even I know that’s horseshit.” Katsuki leans back to catch a coin tossed at him by a leaving patron. He pockets it, and leans back on the bar again. “Even if your family life wasn’t the best, there had to be some cool shit going on in that castle.”

Shouto rubs his chin, smooth from his shave in the bath.

“There were many parties. Like err, ballroom dances and such. They were sociable things, mostly for networking.”

“No kidding? When I was kid, they said the palace had a room made of gold.”

“That’s not true,” Shouto says, then pauses. “I’m at least ninety percent sure. There was a basement I never found the key to, but I assumed it was just food storage. The ballroom had a gold ceiling, however.”

“It sounds beautiful,” Izuku sighs, head folding into his hand. “I always wondered what it would be like inside.”

“You should visit.”

“Don’t fuck around,” Katsuki huffs, laughing.

Shouto frowns seriously.

“What?”

“We can’t really visit. We’re peasants.”

 Shouto blinks. He tips his head curiously, and blinks again.

“I’m the crown prince. I could bring in a horse, for all they care.” Pause. “I actually did once. I got in trouble for that one.”

“Seriously?” Izuku taps the side of his boot against Shouto’s, and doesn’t move away. “That palace is so guarded, I never dreamed of stepping foot in it.”

“Well shit,” Katsuki adds. “It would be a death wish to try.”

Shouto bristles. “The next time you ride out past those mountains, you stand at the castle gate and say you’re a friend of mine. I’ll escort you to the bridge myself.”

Izuku beams at him, all teeth.

“A friend of yours?”

“Well, sure.” Shouto swallows. “Right?”

Katsuki gives a crooked smile.

“Wow, an escort from his highness. I’m bloody fuckin’ honored.”

“Oh shut it.”

Izuku’s foot stays pressed against his own under the bar, and when Katsuki goes to refill Shouto’s drink, their fingers brush slightly. Shouto knows he’s overthinking it all, but he feels hot down to the core – the air thick and heavy with some strange tension.

This evening feels serene. People are in the tavern, but Shouto couldn’t name a single one. He’s dull to his surroundings, and he knows it’s a weakness, he knows he’s become sloppy, but he doesn’t want to look away. Not from the words Izuku rattles against his tankard. Not from Katsuki’s hands, that scrub glasses out of habit. Not from a single second of it.

He does not belong here. But he wants to.

☆☆☆ 

They talk until the clocks chime. Until the bar is clean. Until Katsuki is locking the door, and the musicians are packing up the center square.

The sun makes the sky look purple and orange, and they walk a slow pace back to the house; not entirely drunk, but warm and tingly nonetheless. Shouto feels like his lungs can fully expand out here. Like his worries are far behind him, even if they’re anything but.

Izuku only had one drink, but he loops his arm though Shouto’s like he had ten. He does his best not to startle. However, he fails when Katsuki grabs the back of his neck and squeezes.

“You alright in there?”

Shouto breathes through his nose, and steps over a fallen branch in the road.

“Your drinks aren’t that strong.”

Katsuki lets go of his neck, and Shouto misses the grip immediately.

“Just checkin’. You look red.”

Goddammit. Shouto clears his throat, and watches Izuku playfully kick a stone in the road.

“What about you? Is your leg okay?”

Izuku answers entirely honest, “I feel great!” And yet he doesn’t let go. Shouto eyes Katsuki, waiting for the moment he’ll bite, but his hands are tucked clean in his pockets, and he doesn’t look overly agitated. Or, ah – only the normal amount. He turns his head when Katsuki catches him staring, and Izuku says the spell that unlocks the wards to their home.

No – no no. Katsuki and Izuku’s home.

Shouto has a hard time coming down to reality. Katsuki makes an offhand comment about the mess on the table, and Izuku goes on to lecture about the importance of alchemy, and somehow Shouto ends up sat on the floor, a pillow tucked under him, and his head resting against the cushion of the armchair. It’s easy just to sit and watch them. As Katsuki lounges on the couch and spreads his knees, and Izuku ends up curled around his leg, his feet stretched out to catch the warmth of the fire.

The sun is setting outside.

“Is that my mom’s brandy?” Katsuki asks, when Izuku settles his butt on the floor.

“Well, yes,” Izuku deadpans. He pops the cap off his bicep. “You were never going to drink it anyways.”

Katsuki raises an eyebrow, scowling down at him. He’s already undone a few buttons down his shirt, and Shouto can see the bare cleavage of his chest, and it’s hell, it’s a living hell.

“I thought you said we was saving it.”

“Now’s a good a time as any.” Izuku gestures, “We have a guest, right?”

“Don’t use your good liquor on my behalf.”

“Nonsense.” Izuku takes the first sip, and passes it to Katsuki. “It’s a town holiday.”

He hums in response, scowling at the bottle.

“Are you watchin’ yourself?”

“Ugh, you know I’m sober already.”

“Impressive,” Shouto notes, though he can feel himself teetering on and off the edge.

“I have a high tolerance,” Izuku explains. They both watch as Katsuki necks the bottle and swallows thickly. “Another year of protection from the spirits. Can you believe it?”

Katsuki chuffs, looking between Izuku and the brandy.

“If you wanted to kiss me you coulda’ just asked.”

Shouto feels his heart hammer. He sits up as Izuku laughs, and pets his hand up Katsuki’s inner calf.

“I thought I didn’t have to ask.”

The fire pops. Shouto feels plucked from time, as Katsuki reaches down to grab Izuku by the chin, and kiss him quickly. He pushes the bottle into his hands as he does so. Izuku closes his eyes, just for that short moment. It’s not out of place, not unpleasant to watch in the slightest.

“Mm, thanks.”

Shouto doesn’t know how to react. He shifts on the pillow he’s sat on, and Izuku turns to look at him.

“Want some?”

It’s a strange, open invitation. An indirect kiss that means nothing, and everything.

“I uh…”

Katsuki’s hand is petting down into Izuku’s hair. It’s the most tactile he’s seen them; Izuku still mindlessly tracing the inner seam of his trousers, and Katsuki rubbing his fingers to Izuku’s cheek.

They’re waiting for an answer.

Shouto accepts the bottle wordlessly. It’s old, and it tastes old, but it’s good. The liquor burns his mouth, and it gets worse when Izuku loops his arm under and up Kastuki’s thigh, rubbing his cheek against the side of his dark jeans.

“He’s easy to kiss, if you’re wonderin’,” Kastuki says, sobering Shouto in an instant. He props his fingers under Izuku’s chin. Tips his head up, and shows him off like a prized dog. “Despite how wily this brat is.”

Izuku laughs through his nose, and doesn’t fight Katsuki’s hand.

“Don’t be mean.”

The bottle feels too heavy in his hands. Shouto’s just here, watching this. He should excuse himself, he should go to bed, he should…

Kastuki tips Izuku’s head to the side, and rubs across his jaw with his thumb. His calloused fingers make a tactile sound, and the room is so quiet that Shouto can hear it.

“Wanna’ taste?”

Shouto stomach bottoms out. He exhales shakily; and for a moment, he questions if it’s really him Katsuki is talking to. He knows Izuku is his – equally as much as Kastuki belongs to him in return. They’ve staked a claim on each other that isn’t visible to the naked eye. Not unless you’re looking. So there’s no way, it’s just not possible.

But no – Izuku is staring too. He looks nervous or, no, not nervous – but eager, maybe? And the idea of that being projected towards Shouto, the thought of them looking at him like that – it’s too much to process.

Shouto feels drunk and sober all at once. He can taste his heart beating in his mouth, and despite all the years of speech practice, he struggles to gather his words.

“I…”

“You don’t have to,” Izuku interrupts. He sounds disappointed, and that’s even worse.

Katsuki has such a firm way of speaking. Like whatever he says is his word, and he won’t go back on it. He’s brave, in that way.

“You’re always looking, right? You’re not that subtle, your highness.”

Shouto’s fingers shift on the bottle. He sets it down on the floor before he can break it by accident.

“I’m sorry. I would never – I mean. I have the utmost respect for your relationship…” Shouto is embarrassed. He never stutters over his words, but his mind is running a thousand miles in every direction. 

“You think us so insecure?” Izuku replies, smiling. He extends a hand. “It’s only a kiss.”

Shouto’s willpower disappeared with the neck of that bottle. He shifts closer on the wood floor, off his red cushion and over towards the couch, where Katsuki is mindlessly playing with Izuku’s right ear.

“That’s a good boy,” Katsuki teases. “I knew you could follow instructions.”

Fuck. That hits him right in the chest; straight on, like the wind was knocked out of him. He knows a million reasons why this is a terrible idea, but he can’t remember a single one.

As the sun goes down, the room gets darker. Izuku hasn’t lit the lanterns, so the fire is their only source of light, and it drowns out their surroundings. Makes it feel like it’s just them, and this couch, and nothing else in the world.

Shouto shifts close enough. He doesn’t know where to put his hands (or where to look) but Izuku reaches for him like he’s done it a thousand times, and Shouto reaches back for him, gripping Izuku by the wrist as he cups his cheek.

“His eyes, Kacchan,” Izuku whispers.  

“I know.” Katsuki relaxes back into the couch, and tips his head. “Go on then.”

Shouto’s manages to speak flatly,

“I’ll taste like liquor.”

Izuku laughs, and some of the tension breaks.

“You think I’m any different?”

Izuku doesn’t kiss him first. It’s like he’s waiting for Shouto’s permission. Like he hasn’t thought about this in his worst moments.

He’s soft, Shouto thinks. Their lips brush barely, noses tipped out of the way, and Shouto feels it tingle all the way down his spine. Izuku grips back into the base of his hair and Shouto kisses him finally, for real – and he does taste like liquor, but it’s sweet on his tongue.

Shouto isn’t well practiced in this, but as Izuku kisses him further, Shouto finds that it’s easy. Izuku lets him take the lead, and it’s nice and slow and completely groundbreaking.

“What a gentleman,” Katsuki hums.

It shakes Shouto out of it. He jerks back, and Izuku huffs a breath in complaint.

“Ugh, Kacchan.”

“Sorry, sorry. I didn’t know he’d fuckin’ spook.”

Annoyed, Shouto squints, “I’m not a horse –”

Izuku interrupts, cupping his cheek and petting the edge of his scar.

“You like men, don’t you? Tell me who you’ve kissed before.”

Shouto is too out of it to make up any lies.

“A princess, once, at a party. A knight behind my tent. Um, a housemaid, though I hardly remember it.”

“Fuck me,” Katsuki mumbles. “You’re as innocent as they come.”

Shouto tries to bark back, but his voice is too hoarse from the whisky.

“I had more important things to think about.”

“Is this okay?” Izuku asks, petting his cheek again. Shouto’s eyes nearly flutter closed. “To think about this?”

Shouto has to clear his throat.

“Yes.”

Izuku kisses him this time, and Shouto gets lost in it. He smells masculine, like sweat and skin, and the soap they keep in the washroom. He likes that his lips have marks from the way he bites them. He likes how sweetly he kisses, as if he’s the prince, trying to seduce him away.

When Shouto opens his eyes again, it’s to rustling. Katsuki has decided to join them on the floor, a leg stretched out, and his hand gripped on Izuku’s thigh to stabilize him.

Not drunk, but not sober, Shouto sets his hand on Izuku’s waist and squeezes, and Izuku makes a sound that carves out his stomach with a spoon. Izuku exhales heavily through his nose, and the small reaction is enough to set him on fire.

When it’s hard to breathe, Izuku pulls back smiling.

“Now I can say I’ve kissed a prince.”

Shouto’s pulse quickens. He rushes to defend himself,

“If that’s the only reason –”

“Oh knock it off,” Katsuki growls, setting his hair on end. He props his chin on Izuku’s shoulder, and presses his cheek to his ear, like a dog staking claim. “You know that’s not damn well why.” He turns his nose towards Izuku, speaking to him now. “Wanna’ switch?”

Shouto finds it hard to swallow. His mouth feels dry. He meets Katsuki’s gaze head on.

“You…want to?”

Izuku answers for him; a content little yes that changes everything. Katsuki grabs him around the waist and hauls him into his lap, and Shouto goes because he’s too stunned to put up a fight. He finds himself at a loss for words, planting his hands on the couch behind them and staring down at Katsuki’s unreadable face. They’re touching everywhere now, Shouto sat in the cradle of his hips, their belt buckles clicking as Katsuki slides his hand to his lower back and snugs him close.

“You’re damn good at fooling other people, your highness,” Katsuki teases. “But not me.”

Shouto clears his throat, and manages to reply, “Well aren’t you special.”

Katsuki kisses like all the fury that Shouto expected, and yet none of it at all. He doesn’t let Shouto set the pace like Izuku did, instead yanking all control out from under him, kissing clever like he’s trying to keep Shouto from running away. There’s no way he could – he can barely catch his breath, and he kisses so good it’s like chasing an addiction, trying to keep up.

He tastes like all the gunmetal and bitter they’ve been sharing, and more explosive somehow. Shouto feels a tongue run up his lip and it’s so damn hot, Shouto lets him lick out the inside of his mouth without question.

Their teeth click when Izuku slides behind him, startling him out of the kiss. Katsuki doesn’t let him get his bearings; Shouto full on shudders when Izuku peels down the side of his collar with all the care of unwrapping a birthday present, and presses his lips cool there. He laughs at Shouto’s reaction, but it’s not derogatory.

“Okay?”

Shouto can barely see straight. Katsuki lets him go long enough so he can reply.

“You two planned this.”

“Thought about it,” Izuku corrects. His hand slips around to press against his belly. “Talked about it.” His shirt is too thick to feel any warmth from it, but he can feel the pressure, like Katsuki’s arm at his lower back. Gods, there’s so many hands –

“Planned a little,” Katsuki adds gruffly. He tips Shouto’s jaw up by the nose and bites mockingly at his throat. Nothing hard, but it’s hot all the same. “You gonna’ answer, or what?”

It takes Shouto too long to process what he’s saying. He’s afraid of making any sound, afraid that this will disappear out from under his hands, and he’ll wake up sticky in his bed.

“Yes. Okay.”

Izuku slides close enough to get his knees under Katsuki’s thighs, and it forces Shouto further into his lap. They couldn’t be any closer, and yet they are – and he can taste magic in his throat, where his emotions are bubbling through.

“I can feel your magic,” Izuku tells him, sweet at the back of his ear. “It’s strong.”

“Watch his hand.”

“I won’t lose control,” Shouto scowls, and then bites his tongue when Katsuki meets Izuku’s mouth at the side of his neck. The kiss is wet, and then his mouth is busy again, Katsuki tracing the side of Shouto’s tongue with his own.

He can’t keep track of everything. Izuku petting his stomach through his shirt, or Katsuki rolling him further into his lap. Shouto holds onto his thick biceps and squeezes, and Katsuki makes an approving hum into his mouth, and it rattles his teeth like an earthquake.

Despite how Katsuki might kiss, the pace isn’t rushed or messy. He drags it out leisurely – a distraction, Shouto realizes, for Izuku untucking his shirt from his belt and pressing his cold fingers underneath. He breaks out in goosebumps.

“Shit,” Shouto shivers.

“He’s so pretty,” Izuku sighs, and Katsuki hums an agreement.

Shouto starts to mumble, “Don’t…” but he loses track of thought when Izuku nudges him to rock into the warm little seat he’s sat in, and Shouto goes stiff in alarm.

He’s going to get hard if they keep going like this. One look at Katsuki tells him that might not be a surprise. He looks like a predator, licking across the front of his teeth as he grins. His hands feel large at his hips.

“So sweet…when are you going to show me some of that war in you?”

Shouto’s eye twitches, and Izuku turns his hand to poke firmly into Katsuki’s stomach.

“Don’t antagonize him.”

It doesn’t matter. Shouto surges forwards and Katsuki purrs into his mouth, and when they kiss too long, he’s grabbed by the chin, and made to neck Izuku too. He’s getting hot under his clothes, and when he does get hard, Katsuki yanks him down so rough that their buckles clack something terrible. The pressure on his crotch is fucking heavenly, and Shouto gasps through his nose.

“So quiet…” Izuku muses. “Does that feel good?”

“S’ okay, princess,” Katsuki mutters. “Rub off on me.”

“God you’re the worst,” Shouto croaks, and he gets two laughs in return. Shouto goes lightheaded as he’s rocked back into Katsuki’s lap, so he starts to follow the rhythm. He can’t tell if Katsuki is hard through all his clothes, but he’s damn sure he can feel him in return. Shouto can’t adjust himself in his trousers, so he’s forced to meet the equal pain that comes with rubbing up against Katsuki’s inseam. He won’t make noise, he refuses, but he does mutter, “You treat all your houseguests like this?”

Izuku has been busy unbuttoning his shirt, and Shouto doesn’t notice until it pools into the crooks of his elbows. Those calloused hands are on him now, following the line of his abs and tracing down his ribs. Izuku’s fingers are short and wide and made for work, and as innocent as he looks, his touch is sure.

“Nah.”

“I don’t like other people playing with my things,” Katsuki states. He leans around to grin at Izuku, who props his chin on Shouto’s shoulder, forcing his weight to grind forwards again. “Ain’t that right, Deku.”

“It took a little convincing…” Izuku admits. “But you are rather pretty, so it wasn’t too hard.”

“If you keep this up, I’ll –” Shouto bites off his sentence with an audible click of his teeth. Katsuki’s found his exposed collar, and is fitting his teeth there just fine. “Ah. Shit. What kind of convincing?”

Izuku laughs under his breath, and Katsuki answers like they’re discussing the weather.

“While you were gettin’ your beauty rest, I’d have him right up against that wall. Tellin’ me all about how bad he wants your cock in his mouth.”

Fuck. Shouto trembles, throbbing so hard he can feel the inside of his zipper. He’s grinding subconsciously now, trying to ride out and seek whatever friction he can get. He can’t remember ever being so turned on – it’s a world of revelations, happening all at once.

“Ah, now Kacchan, that was a secret,” Izuku sighs, but doesn’t sound upset in the slightest. He appears at Shouto’s other ear, the side that hasn’t been kissed and licked to hell yet. “Would you fuck me, your highness?”

Shouto gasps. His nails dig into Katsuki’s shoulders – whose head flies up at the sound, red eyes darting right to Shouto’s face. His pupils are blown out, and Shouto feels hunted.

“Yeah? S’at what gets you off?” Katsuki grins at the pointed look Shouto gives him, and bucks up his own hips to give Shouto something to ride. His eyes roll back soundlessly, and his forehead flops to Katsuki’s shoulder as his balls get tight. “Yeah, yeah. C’mon, it’s just us sweetheart. We won’t tell anyone.”

What does him in is Izuku’s palm – flatly sliding over the front of his jeans, and digging into the side of his cock. It’s so sudden, that Shouto is doomed to just fall. He twitches fully, and spills into his jeans like a virgin, running hot down to his feet. He grips tight and holds on, and he’s held in return.

“Oh my god,” Izuku whispers, but Shouto doesn’t hear it. He’s being soothed from all over, as his head feels like mush. It’s like wet snow. Like the muddy crap that sticks all over your good boots.

Katsuki is humming at him, rubbing up and down his spine. Izuku has sat back already, breathing like he’s the one that got off.

“That was pretty hot, princess,” says Katsuki. He gives Shouto a pat to the thigh, like a horse. “You good?”

Shouto sobers all at once.

“I uh…”

He can feel it now. Katsuki’s erection that he’s been sitting on. When he turns, Izuku is red in the face, and the combination of the two blows out his brains like a canon. He doesn’t know how to handle the affection. He can’t process the idea that they would get aroused just watching him.

“Would you like to come to bed?” Izuku offers, wide eyed and determined. “With us? I mean – we’ll get you clean. Sorry, um, none of this was really in the plan – not that we had a plan, but…”

The embarrassment rolls in slow. Shouto can feel his heart tugging painfully; not just lust, or attraction – but this terrible feeling that he cares for these people (and he got off from kissing them, of all things, by Zeus, bury him now please).

He could easily take their offer, but he knows a snare when he sees one. It’s beyond sex, and as embarrassing as that is, Shouto can’t do that to himself.

Shouto stands shakily, like a deer on ice. He ignores the disappointed look from either of them.

“I’m going to run a bath. You two go on without me.”

Izuku scrambles to his knees, and he looks dizzy.

“Hey, wait.”

“Shouto –”

He disappears to the washroom. 

☆☆☆ 

Shouto has memorized the grooves in his loft ceiling. Not his for much longer – but when he closes his eyes, he can still see it.

He can still see Katsuki’s face, too. Can still see Izuku’s hands.

Shouto scrubs his eyes so it hurts. The rain was late tonight, and it rolls in droves against his window.

The guilt is horrible. It weighs him down something so heavy, he can’t even take the feeling of the quilt on his skin. His ears have been ringing on and off, for a good portion of the night, and as overdramatic as it is, Shouto feels like he’s dying.

He has no experience for any of this. Nothing to recall upon, nothing he’s studied, no one he’s ever met. He’s utterly lost, just as he is in this town, waiting for something that might not happen at all.

His chest tugs. It happens more often now. The unease that settles in his skin, yanking him towards something he can’t explain.

It takes all night to sort his thoughts, and by the time he sleeps, the sky is already turning pink.

Chapter Text

☆☆☆ 

The cottage is so quiet, you can hear the water dripping off the roof from last night’s rain.

Shouto skips that squeaky step on the stair, but heads still turn as he steps foot at the end of the hall.

Izuku’s mouth opens and closes, like he can’t find the words. Katsuki is expressionless, which might just be worse. They look equally tired. Dressed, and a little unkempt. Messy hair, messy clothes. 

“Good morning,” Izuku settles on. Shouto stares at the floorboards. 

“Hello.”

“Food’s hot,” Katsuki mutters, throwing a rag over his shoulder. Breakfast smells nice, but Shouto isn’t hungry. He grabs his coat off the hook and slips his arm through.

“Thanks. I’ll go feed the chickens.”

 “Um –” Izuku starts to say, but concedes immediately. “Ah. Okay.”

Shouto shuts the door behind him, and takes in a deep breath. The air is moist and humid and sticky, just like this terrible mood they’ve settled in.

The ground is mushy under his boots. Thankfully, the chicken feed is safe under the awning, so he spreads out the seed on the spot of land that’s still dry. Hens come clucking, and Shouto leans against the fence to watch them eat.

It feels like his lungs won’t expand. It’s claustrophobic and awful.

Last night was…a lot. New and exciting and worlds away from banquet halls and law studies. It was selfish and fleeting and superfluous – and Shouto enjoyed it.

His heart feels sore. Many have tried to seduce him, but never has it been so successful.

I should have said something.

A hen pecks at his shoe. Shouto sighs, and tosses another handful of seed to the ground.

Maybe they’re playing games. Maybe he’s messed this all up more than he can salvage. Maybe this isn’t something he deserves to have in the first place.

The chicken still pecks at his shoe. Shouto scoops her up, and looks the hen in the eye.

“What do I do?” Shouto asks her.

He gets his thumb pecked at in response.

“Ow,” Shouto mutters. He sets her down with the flock, and she runs off clucking. “Bakugou raised you, all right.”

He thinks of their faces last night. Shocked, and disappointed. And now this morning – walled off and nervous, like Shouto will spook.

The sun peeks through the cloud cover.

It’s a precipice.

☆☆☆ 

The house is empty when Shouto returns.

But their boots are in the entryway, and the fire is still crackling, so they must still be here.

A bowl of oatmeal is cooling at Shouto’s chair (his chair? He has a chair now) – so Shouto sits to eat it. Faintly, he can feel Izuku’s magic buzzing around the house. He’s grown used to it now; that fuzzy feeling, like before lightning strikes, and your hair stands on end.

He cleans the bowl and dries it. Katsuki still has not left for work.

They approached him first, so it’s Shouto’s turn. He goes searching through the cottage.

Izuku’s study is empty, and the washroom is dry. But their bedroom door is shut tight, so Shouto bravely knocks three times.

“Come in!” Izuku calls.

Ah.

He creaks the door open. Shouto has never stepped foot in their room – has never so much as glanced at it – but it feels…fitting. Izuku’s books everywhere, barbarian relics, a bed full of furs and antlers mounted on the wall; the air smells like them, too. Shouto feels guilty for knowing what that is.

Their bed is large. They’re both sitting on it; upright and fully dressed, like they were mid-conversation.

“Sorry,” Shouto blurts.

Katsuki raises an eyebrow and snaps, sharp as ever, “What’s your problem?”

Izuku covers for him.

“Is everything okay? We set out breakfast for you.”

“Yeah, I know.” Shouto closes the door behind him, and breathes in through his nose. “I figured. Um. We should talk.”

Izuku sighs deeply, like pretending to act normal was taking a physical toll. Katsuki won’t even look at him.

“Yeah, I think so too. Come sit.”

Shouto perches at the edge of the bed. He looks at the crystal shadow boxes on the wall. A glass mobile hangs in the window, and reflects light all across the room. The clutter of this place is nothing like the neat, furnished rooms in the castle, but it feels infinitely more homey.

Shouto looks back, and Izuku is so stiff, he worries he might just fall over and shatter. Katsuki is cracking his knuckles one by one. They’re nervous.

 Shouto frowns, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Um…” Izuku wrings his hands. “Last night. We didn’t – well. I-I’m sorry, we really did just want to take you to dinner…ah, but I should’ve clarified it with you, that was my fault. I just feel so bad –“

Shouto’s head spins. This isn’t what he was expecting.

“Wait, what?”

Katsuki finally looks at him, scowling impatiently.

“Dammit, did we force you into anything last night?”

Shouto pauses. He feels his eyes go big, and he scrambles to say, “No. God no. Really?”

They both relax at once. Katsuki curses under his breath, and Izuku rubs across his face.

“Oh, good. Good good.”

The tension cracks a little. Shouto pokes Izuku in the knee to get his attention back.

“I told you it was okay.”

“I know! But when you left…”

“You looked disgusted,” Katsuki finishes. He grits his teeth and huffs at Izuku, “He talked me into it, the little rat.”

Izuku puffs right back, “You’re the one that said we should take him on a date!” He immediately flinches, and looks back at Shouto. “Ah. I’m sorry. If you don’t like us like that…we don’t have to bring it up again.”

“Tch, well. We’re the peasants trying to wine and dine a prince.”

Shouto squints back at him as if to say, are you stupid?

“My social status has nothing to do with this conversation.”

Katsuki gets defensive in return.

“Hey, we put in the work. You ran.”

Ah…right. Shouto scratches through the back of his hair, and fluffs it out so the colors no longer lay in an even split.

“Sorry. I’m not experienced in this. I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t…” Shouto clears his throat. “I’ve heard of partners that swing for fun. But I respect you both, and what you’ve done for me. I don’t want to be…”

A novelty. A toy. Something to play with and forget about when their time is up.

Izuku looks horrified. The space between them feels like an open valley.

“Okay, you are not a one-night stand, let’s get that straight right now.”

The world stops rocking back and forth. For a moment, everything is quiet and still.

Shouto blinks. Tips his head, and blinks again.

“I’m not?”

Katsuki face palms. Izuku rubs his hand over his mouth, and looks to his partner.

“We’re so bad at this.”

“I said we should just tell him!”

“Oh, don’t you throw me under the wagon –”

Shouto interrupts, feeling dumb and left out.

“Tell me what?”

They turn together, and blurt mid argument, “That we like you.”

“Oh,” Shouto says.

“You always blame me when life doesn’t go your way,” Izuku continues, poking Katsuki in the chest. “If I’d never confessed to you, we’d still be dancing circles around each other in some trench.”

“Ha!” Katsuki barks. “Your idea of a confession is making goo-goo eyes and spiraling into self-deprecation until your head falls off.” He gestures vaguely at Shouto, “You’d still be pining yourself into a bottle if I hadn’t said something.”

“Oh, coming from the king of denial. How’s that throne fitting you?”

“Just fine, thanks –”

“I like you too,” Shouto says.

“Sometimes I just wish you’d –” Izuku bites off. He turns his head, along with Katsuki. “Wait, what?”

Shouto chews along the side of his lip. Izuku is red in the face, embarrassed or angry or both, and even while they argue, Katsuki still has a hand protectively at Izuku’s side, so he doesn’t fall off the bed in his antics. It’s them, it’s very them – and while Shouto still struggles to keep up, he knows how he feels.

“I do,” Shouto repeats. “Like you. I guess I just don’t understand how – how this works,” he gestures. “You know who I am. What I am. You know I’ll have to leave. Why would you want to get involved with that?”

Izuku melts. The fight bleeds from them, and the air sizzles out, and goes quiet.

“Oh, Shouto.”

“You’re an idiot,” Katsuki mutters. Shouto agrees with him.

“Yes. Ever since I left home, that has become abundantly clear.”

Izuku crawls towards him. He finds his hand and squeezes it, and Shouto notes all their differences, just in the palm of his hand.

“I know we can’t keep you,” Izuku says. “I know you have to go soon. But doesn’t it feel like you belong here? With us?” He squeezes Shouto’s fingers, his eyes big and green and hopeful. “Can we make you happy while we still have the time?”

It feels frivolous to engorge in something as sweet as this. A selfish romance completely deterred from his reason for being here. His hand burns always, and for once, he can’t feel it.

That magnetic feeling is back. That pull – that yank on his chest. Something is drawing him forwards. A kick in the pants from a force he can’t see.

Doesn’t it feel like you belong here?

It kind of does. That’s the scariest part of it all.

“We’re not looking at you like a charity case,” Katsuki clarifies. “And I don’t give a shit what house you were born into.” Pause. “Anymore.”

Shouto cracks a smile. Izuku is looking at him eagerly, awaiting an answer. Shouto is honest, because it’s all he is.

“I don’t think I know how to be happy.”

Izuku smiles at him, and all is right in the world.

“We’ll teach you.” Izuku pulls, tugging Shouto further up the bed. “We’ll teach you everything.”

☆☆☆ 

Katsuki isn’t one for words, but also the sky is blue, and grass is green.

Shouto is a fool, but not entirely. Katsuki kisses him, and it’s all the words he won’t say. That’s fine. Shouto’s never been that good at speeches either.

Katsuki’s is just warm – intense and possessive. Like Shouto is now something else he’s come to own.

“Don’t you work?” Shouto mutters.

“My bar, my hours,” Katsuki snaps back. He sucks at the corner of Shouto’s lip. He gasps through his nose, and Izuku gets behind Katsuki to sit and watch.

“Terrible business practice,” Izuku sighs.

“Shut up.”

Shouto isn’t complaining.

He feels like he’s hit the ground running. He can match Katsuki’s fiery mouth without getting burned, and the guilt of it is now buried in the yard.

Izuku pets up and down Katsuki’s firm stomach from behind. They’re a mess, kneeled on the bed of fur like this, but Shouto’s lips are swollen from all the kisses Izuku gave him, and he’ll gladly take more. Katsuki flicks over his tongue. Shouto slips his hand past his neck, and holds on.

Izuku giggles suddenly, and Shouto can feel a resounding scowl against his mouth.

“He’s getting hard,” Izuku tells him, and Shouto’s eyes snap down to where Izuku’s hand is in Katsuki’s crotch. It’s daylight, and Shouto can see firmly the line of him in his trousers. It makes him flushed in response.

Katsuki bats his hand away, licking across his top lip like his mouth is sore too.

“Fuck off or do something about it.”

“We can!” Izuku says happily. He looks at Shouto – and he can almost taste the adrenaline. “Have you ever used your mouth?”

It takes Shouto a moment to process that. Oh, god.

His answer is a flat, “No.”

Katsuki inhales roughly, and squeezes at his side, like he’s trying to stay calm. Shouto kind of likes it; the subtle affection in his heavy-handed grip. Shouto will swallow his doubts when Katsuki looks at him like that.

“I can show you,” Izuku says.

Suddenly, Shouto’s never wanted anything more in his life. He nods soundlessly, and Katsuki lets him go.

“Alright then. On your knees – it’ll be easier on the floor.”

He carefully slides off the bed. In doing so, he watches Katsuki whip around to mutter something to Izuku – which is received with a laugh.

He hears Izuku whisper love you under his breath, and Katsuki snatches his chin and kisses him fat on the mouth.

“I know. You gonna’ show off?”

“Maybe.”

Izuku happily slides next to Shouto on the floor. It eases the oncoming anxiety; especially when Izuku tugs him close and pets across the scar on his cheek.

“If you don’t like something, we can stop any time.”

Shouto nods. Izuku settles happily on the heels of his feet, and when Katsuki spreads his thighs, Shouto feels his stomach drop hard.

“Ain’t this a painting,” Kastuki grins, releasing the tie on his pants. “A prince on his knees for me.”

Shouto rolls his eyes, “Shut up.” 

Katsuki is an asshole, but he’s hot. It might be his only saving grace.

Izuku nudges Katsuki’s hand away and pulls him out fully, and he’s big. Thick and pink and intimidating. Izuku pumps him comfortably in his hand, and Katsuki watches with a critical eye.

“It’s super easy,” Izuku tells him. “Here, come feel.”

He’s grabbed by the wrist. Shouto wraps a hand around him when prodded – and he’s smooth to the touch. When he squeezes his fingers, Katsuki breathes from his nose. Shouto realizes this isn’t all too different from what he already knows, so he trails his fingers up to the tip, and circles the head with his thumb.

“Ah,” Izuku watches. He sniffles, shifts on his knees, and hums contently. “You have pretty hands, Shouto.”

He turns skeptically.

“Huh?”

“Nothing,” Izuku grins. “Here. You don’t have to fit him all in your mouth – I rarely do. Just watch your teeth and move slow.”

“Dick,” Katsuki insults lightly. “I wanted to see him choke.”

Izuku pulls him into his mouth, and Katsuki’s hand fits perfectly at the back of his skull, and Shouto burns, suddenly, to be held that way too.

His head bobs skillfully, and Shouto feels his own cock ache in sympathy. Katsuki doesn’t react much, but he looks pleased, and Izuku rolls his tongue up the underside as he licks his way up the top.

“There!” Izuku grabs his thigh and tugs. “You try.”

Katsuki’s cock is sticky with spit now. Shouto exhales icily, and gets himself together before giving it a try.

He doesn’t take him very deep, but hearing that controlled inhale from Katsuki is hotter than anything he’s ever known. He’s big in his mouth, and Shouto has to swallow around the excess drool, and Katsuki’s thighs tense and release.

“Oh, that looks good,” Izuku sighs. “See, an utter natural.”

Katsuki pets his cheek. Shouto’s eyes snap up, and he goes a little further in some internal desire to be good.

“Mmhm. Can you take more?”

Shouto pulls off. Then he takes a breath, and tries again.

“Don’t push him too far,” Izuku chides.

Katsuki pets across his cheek again. Shouto realizes that he’s feeling the shape of himself, and Shouto’s entire body throbs.

“Maybe I wanna’,” Katsuki purrs. “Keep going, princess. You’ve got a good mouth.”

Shouto gags. Only a little – but it surprises him. He pulls off to breathe, and Katsuki looks satisfied.

“Sorry,” Shouto blurts.

“Nah. It was hot.”

Izuku’s hand has drifted to his inner seam. Shouto’s so hard, that the contact alone is torturous.

“Try again – I’ll help you.”

“Fuck,” Katsuki mutters.

Shouto hasn’t caught on yet – but curiously, he does enjoy the feeling, so he tries again. He startles when Izuku leans in too, licking around the inches that Shouto can’t reach – so Shouto pulls off to mimic him, and Katsuki’s thighs open and squeeze, like he can’t help it.

Katsuki’s still gripping into Izuku’s hair, but he won’t touch Shouto. Feeling determined, Shouto sets his palm on his thigh to ground himself, and flicks his tongue at the head, where Shouto himself is the most sensitive.

He gives a tight grunt. Finally, Katsuki grabs into his hair, his rings tangling in the strands, and Shouto closes his eyes happily.

“Fuck,” Katsuki mutters. “You’re a fast learner. Good boy, your highness.”

He might implode. Shouto’s heartbeat is rushing past his ears so loudly, he can’t hear what Izuku says. But he can see the look on his face – proud, and excited and flushed – and Shouto wants. For the first time in his twenty-five years of living, he deeply, deeply wants.

Izuku is entertaining himself by sucking hickies into Katsuki’s fuzzy thigh, like he can get away with it now that Shouto’s here. When Katsuki bats him off, he turns his head to suck one of his balls into his mouth, and the reaction from him is so interesting, Shouto tries it too. They move disjointedly, up and down – but they kiss around him ever so often, and it’s sweet to the taste, too.

Katsuki curses. To his own embarrassment, Shouto feels like he could come like this – entirely untouched, again.

“Close,” Katsuki grits.

Izuku looks up with genuine amazement.

“Seriously?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s a big compliment,” Izuku says towards Shouto. “He doesn’t finish easily.”

Shouto pulls off, and covers what he can’t with his hand, (see, he learns fast).

“What, really?”

Izuku shrugs, unbothered, “Just how he is. Where do you want it?”

It.

Shouto goes hot.

“Um.”

Sensing his hesitancy (and Katsuki’s prodding urgency, twitching now restless in his hand), Izuku steps in for him.

“It’s okay, I’ll swallow.”

“Jesus Christ,” Katsuki mutters. “What a showoff – come on then. Open up, Deku.”

Izuku does. Shouto watches in amazement as Izuku bobs his head, meets Shouto’s fingers, and pulls off as Katsuki shudders silently. Shouto doesn’t know where to look. Up – down – it’s all so much to process.

He can see Izuku’s throat swallowing. Tan freckles down his throat, bobbing as Katsuki chokes out a breath and lets go. He can feel him pulse in his hand. The room smells like sex, his skin like sweat – and Shouto wants to push his nose into his hip and inhale.

A monster, he thinks. They’ll make a monster.

Izuku pulls off wetly. He’s looking at Katsuki through his lashes, rolling his tongue around before swallowing – and from Katsuki’s tight expression, Shouto gathers that this is some kind of routine. A private moment of something they’ve done many times.

But Shouto is dragged back in quickly.

“Give him some,” Katsuki points. Izuku’s eyes snap over, and Shouto feels his mouth go dry.

Izuku turns, flushed and fidgety. Shouto nods (without hesitation), so Izuku kisses him. Shouto opens his mouth, and the taste is odd. Not terrible, but not what he was expecting. It’s laced with Deku’s own tongue, a sweeter flavor that makes it easy to swallow. His mouth feels tacky, and he’s sweating through his shirt, and he’s so hard he wonders if his dick really can fall off. It might.

Katsuki looks winded. He’s tossed his shirt, wiping his face with it – and his trousers are still fallen open, and it’s hot. Trashy, and hot. Shouto wants to feel the risen bumps of his tattoos.

“Can I touch you?” Izuku blurts.

Shouto tells him yes. Gets his hands under his butt, slides Izuku flat into his lap on the floor, and lets Izuku sort out their buckles.

“You’re so good,” Izuku blabbers. “So pretty. Your mouth is all red.”

“So is yours,” Shouto mutters, and squeezes his eyes shut when Izuku dips his hand into his pants. He quickly opens them again when he hears a second zipper, and he looks down to see Izuku rut them together. Oh, norns.

It’s messy and fast and exactly what he needs. Izuku is smaller than him, but Shouto’s mouth waters all over again, and he feels ruined. Newly addicted, and wild.

Shouto fits a hand around them too. Distantly, he can hear Katsuki curse, but he’s too overwhelmed by how close he is. Izuku’s cock is slippery soft, and the slide is dry, but the friction is indescribable.

Izuku fits right in his lap. Thick thighs, a strong core. Shouto wants all of him, all of this. His brain soaks it all in like a sponge.

Izuku whines his name into his mouth, and his stomach concaves.

“Ah – ah, oh my god –”

Izuku rocks into his fist, bonks their foreheads together and squirms, and Shouto goes scorching hot when his fingers get sticky. He follows right after, gasping dryly and shooting across them both. The overstimulation makes his skin burn. Makes his vision splotchy, and his brain stupid.

Izuku is curled into him. Shouto braces a hand back against the floor to keep them both from tumbling over.

“He’s so good, Kacchan,” Izuku mumbles, distantly. “He’s so good.”

Shouto flushes, but is ignored. A hand threads back into his hair, and Shouto leans into the blunt nails like a dog.

“A little clumsy,” Katsuki murmurs. “But a fast learner. I bet you’re just good at everything, aren’t you, sweetheart?”

Shouto grumbles at the nickname. Izuku is heavy and warm, and this hug is hitting all the good parts of his brain, even as they soften.

“No, not really.”

“Your gracefulness is charming,” says Izuku. “And your eyes. Your eyes.”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Katsuki scoops Izuku off his lap by the armpits. Shouto feels a little sad about it. “Both of you, bath.”

Shouto looks up at him, and blinks dumbly.

“Together?”

Katsuki gives him a flat look, and extends a free hand to help him up.

“We don’t own a big fuckin’ tub for no damn reason, now do we?”

☆☆☆ 

Izuku is clingy. Shouto is not all that surprised by this revelation.

What he is surprised by, is the fact that he likes it.

The bath is heated and warm. It eases the ache in his left side, and makes him sleepy. Izuku is happily curled up with him, and Shouto fights the drowsiness for the opportunity to look at him fully naked.

Shouto has known of his scars, but they are…more frequent than Shouto expected. Heavens know he has his own fair share. Shouto only wonders how someone could acquire so many.

Izuku yawns, and it’s cute. Shouto’s learning that it’s okay to idly touch him, so he takes interest in his fingers, squeezing his fingertips and petting his nails. Izuku’s hair is damp against his shoulder, and Shouto doesn’t mind.

“You two,” Shouto starts. Izuku tenses, waking to listen. “You’ve been together for a long time.”

Izuku pushes his feet up to the edge of the tub. Far away, in the kitchen, a few cabinets open and shut.

“Yes. Since we were eighteen.”

Shouto stares at the wall of the bathroom. A circular window lets in light, with few worries of any traveling onlookers. The world is green and grey beyond this cottage.

“How are you okay with this?” Shouto asks gently. Izuku doesn’t turn around.

“I don’t know,” Izuku admits. “It just felt right.”

Shouto lets out a breath, and looks at the ceiling. They’re touching everywhere, and it’s hard to think right. It’s been hard for days, now.

“You’re crazy.”

“A little bit.” Izuku squeezes his fingers back. Threaded, like a weave. “But when I first met Kacchan, I knew he was it for me, even if uh, we didn’t get along for many years. But I still knew.” Izuku turns now, and pokes Shouto in the chest. “Right here. Like a gravitational pull.”

Speechless, Shouto can only say,

“Oh.”

“We’ve never done this before either.” Izuku swallows, “With a third person, let alone royalty. But don’t you feel it?”

Yes, he wants to say. And I don’t know.

“I can’t stay,” Shouto reminds. Izuku doesn’t look sad. He smiles, and presses a kiss to his left cheek.

“You enjoy what you can in this life.”

The bathroom door swings open. Katsuki appears with tea.

“Okay, I’m outta’ here,” Katsuki says, setting the tea by the end of the tub. “My regulars are going to hunt me down and fuckin’ skin me.”

“I’d like to see them try.”

“Me too,” Katsuki grins, evil. “But seriously. Don’t blow up the house.”

“We won’t,” Izuku waves. Katsuki hesitates a moment, before leaning over the tub to let Izuku kiss him. When he looks at Shouto, they both pause. Shouto clears his throat, and Katsuki goes through multiple expressions before Izuku rolls his eyes and says, “Oh come on.”

Katsuki settles for pressing his nose into the side of Shouto’s hair. He thinks – his heart might’ve skipped more from this, than if he had kissed him.

“See you at sundown.”

☆☆☆ 

Shouto works, visits the town, and returns by the evening. He does not ask to sleep in their room, because they do not offer.

He’s grown used to his loft. His window, and his little chest of drawers.

Back home, he could ring a bell and have the world at his fingertips. But he likes the soreness that comes with preparing a meal. The comradery, the homeliness. The conversation over dinner.

Shouto didn’t think of himself as a lonely person, but he’s quickly learning that he was one. That too, is terrifying.

In the mirror, he carries bruises on his skin. Mouth-sized bites under his neck, and on his shoulder. He cares for it more than he should. Bright, and flowering on his skin. Sore, and pretty. He is far less pale than he used to be, but he can never truly wipe the countenance of royalty that clings to him – in his posture, his language, and his damned eyes.

He will always be an outsider here.

The clock ticks.

☆☆☆ 

“Pick yer sword,” the blacksmith grins, a hammer over her shoulder and soot on her face. She’s a rotund little dwarf, with a long black beard. Loud, but kind. “These are the finest metals in alla’ the west.”

Shouto picks up a blade. It is a white-silver in color, and engraved.

“This is elvish.”

“Sure, sure. Picked it off some dead bastard, I did.”

Cool. Shouto sets it down.

The heat of the forge fills the room. It makes his shirt stick to his skin. Shouto browses the assortment of swords, knives and axes, but none of them catch his eye. He’s known many swords in his lifetime; any of these would suit fine, and yet none feel right. Maybe he’s growing sick.

“I’ll have to think on it,” Shouto says.

The dwarf nods, hammering out onto an anvil.

“Open every day, morning to sundown.”

Shouto nods a goodbye, and steps out of the shop. He breathes in that humid air, and looks up at the clock on the tower.

It’s being repaired again. Scaffolding is built up the side, as diligent workers hammer patches for the holes. Strangely, the giant stone in the clocktower remains untouched by those demons.

The altar stays decorated in offerings as always. Shouto feels strange, and doesn’t know why.

That electric feeling is in the air. Another storm might be coming.

☆☆☆ 

These days are blurring together. It’s good and bad all at once.

The chicken coop collapses during a windstorm, so Shouto rolls up his sleeves and helps with the construction.

“See, look!” Izuku hovers a plank off the ground. Green flickering magic vibrates up and down his arms. “I told you I could do it.”

“In the time you lifted one plank, you could’ve carried five,” Katsuki points out, shooing a chicken that gets a little too curious to his handiwork. Izuku huffs, and drops the plank to the ground.

“You’re no fun. How am I supposed to get better if I don’t practice?”

“You improved from last time,” Shouto points out. Izuku grins at him, and Katsuki rolls his eyes.

“You don’t have to lick his boots, you’re already going to get laid.”

“Hey. When I figure out how to float right, you’re going to wish you were much nicer to me.”

Shouto helps Katsuki raise the wall of the hen house, and then looks at him curiously.

“When you learn what?”

“Well…” Izuku cracks his knuckles. “Before I got into researching your curse, I was working on a different kind of floatation magic.”

“Don’t,” Katsuki lectures. “I’m not chasing you down again. Fuckin’ embarrassing.”

Shouto looks between them. Ignoring his lover, Izuku says an incantation, and starts to rise off the ground. Shouto’s mouth opens like a fish. Izuku looks wobbly and off balance, but indeed, he rises off the dirt like that plank of wood. Katsuki looks less than impressed, but observes protectively until Izuku is back on the ground again. All bark and less bite, this man.

“See! Totally fine. No broken bones, either.”

“Hm.”

“That’s incredible,” Shouto blurts. “I didn’t know wizards could do that.”

“Only the super powerful ones! All Might use – er, uses strength alone to jump far distances, but I’ve heard of enchantresses that can float like a bird – no wings needed!”

“Hey, Deku! Are you going to help, or are you going to just stand there and yap all day?” Katsuki barks. He wipes his forehead with the hem of his shirt, and Shouto’s eyes fly down to his toned stomach like a magnet. He’s still way too muscular for a bartender.

Izuku rolls his eyes, and hip-checks Katsuki out of the way so he can pick up a plank onto his shoulder. It’s become increasingly harder not to stare at the curve of his rear. Shouto is truly losing it.

“This is why I try to do most of the housework. All he does is complain.”

“And all you do is talk.”

Shouto laughs. He surprises even himself, but he can’t stop. They both turn to look at him – and neither are angry. Katsuki smirks, waving him over.

“Oh, laugh it up, princess. Come gimmie’ a hand with this, and maybe I’ll feed you.”

“You will anyways,” Shouto points out, and gets a pat on the ass as he walks by.

☆☆☆ 

“Here,” Katsuki tells him, low in his ear. “Like that. Curl your fingers. He likes it.”

Shouto is amazed at Izuku’s reaction. Amazed at all of this.

His fingers are sticky with lube, and Izuku takes them greedily. He’s astounded by how easy it is for him – how Izuku tilts his hips up, and knows exactly what feels good. He’s so beautiful, Shouto feels like he can’t memorize him all at once. It’s almost blinding; all those curls spread on a pillow, tan skin and naked as the day he was born.

Izuku is muscular and soft, speckled and pretty and lewd in how he works himself on Shouto’s hand. Katsuki is lucky, but he likely already knows.

Shouto is learning… always learning.

Katsuki’s fingers slide up with him, Izuku makes a loud noise from his chest, and Shouto feels like he could damn well die here. Katsuki noses along the back of his neck, bites at his shoulder, and fingers Izuku alongside Shouto.

“You wanna’ fuck him? Or do you wanna’ watch?”

The mere insinuation of either makes him pause. Shouto pulls out his fingers, and Izuku grumbles, swatting his hand down to put them back. He doesn’t.

“You’re asking me?”

“Whatever you want,” Izuku wiggles. “I really think I could take both, but – ”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’d rather watch,” Shouto says, without a doubt. The mere idea of it makes him sweat. He doesn’t think he’ll sleep until he sees it.

Katsuki grins wolfishly.

“Alright. Move over, princess.”

“C’mere baby,” Izuku grabs at him.

Shouto goes willingly, and cracks a smile at Izuku’s face.

“What’s that look for?”

“Just happy, I guess,” Izuku kisses him. Katsuki scoops his leg into his arm, and Shouto watches from the corner of his eye. “Kacchan is good to me.”

“Ugh. Don’t be embarrassing.”

“I uh – oh!” Izuku croons as Katsuki pushes into him. It’s fascinating how much he can fit inside so quickly. “Ah. Ah. E-Embarrassing you is my favorite pastime.”

Katsuki clicks his tongue, but feeds his cock into Izuku, and watches with a look that’s primal and hungry. Like it never gets old.

Izuku’s back arches off the bed; his hand flies to Shouto’s thigh for support and digs in tight. His cock twitches, and Katsuki takes time pause, and exhale. He’s still in trousers, but his shirt got tossed, and Shouto is attracted to how big his arms are. How Izuku’s thighs look in the crook of them.

“Wow,” Shouto says. He tentatively pets over the slight bulge in Izuku’s stomach; Izuku squirms happily, and Shouto lets go. “Oh.”

“No – nnhh, it’s okay. You can touch me.”

 Katsuki pulls back and snaps his hips back in. Izuku’s head slams back on the pillow, and he groans.

“There’s no way that feels good,” Shouto mutters. Katsuki snorts, and Izuku peeks open a watery eye at him.

“Oh, you have no idea.”

“Don’t worry.” Katsuki gets his grip under Izuku’s ass and squeezes. Thumbs over his hipbones, and his thighs, like it’s all his. “We’ll show you, too.”

Fuck. Okay.

Izuku makes pretty noises, so Shouto kisses him. Izuku is delighted by this – gets a hand in his split hair and pulls, and Shouto grows desperate with it.

This should be strange. But it’s not.

It feels reverent to watch. Amazing and hot and overwhelming. Izuku comes alive under his mouth – this sweet, strong thing – and when Shouto finds the crook of his neck and sucks down, the sound he makes turns something in his gut, like a keyhole.

Skin slaps skin. Izuku’s tastes especially nice.

He licks across a rosy nipple just to see what’ll happen. Izuku arches up, and clings tighter to his hair. His cock bounces up and off his stomach, but when he reaches for it, Katsuki stops him.

“Don’t,” Katsuki grunts. “He likes to come untouched.”

Shouto blinks owlishly.

“You can do that?”

Izuku laughs. The bed creaks with him.

“Yeah, you can. Come back up here, I’ll get you off too.”

Katsuki has slowed the pace a little, but he’s still a sight to behold. Shouto swallows.

“You don’t have too…”

“Just move. Kneel by my face.”

Shouto does. He’s well past hard, and Izuku eagerly tugs him until he’s unzipped and rubbing against his cheek.

God. It’s good. Izuku’s mouth is soft and his lips are unchapped; and he pulls him in just enough to suckle around the head as Katsuki starts pounding into him again.

“I don’t want to choke you,” Shouto croaks.

His cock slips off his mouth. Rubs against his upper lip, and his freckled cheek. Shouto’s entire body shudders from it.

“You won’t.” Izuku grips around the back of his thigh to lock him in place, and Shouto is reminded of the strength this man has. “But you could.” He flicks his tongue, and Shouto’s head lulls.

“Goddamn,” Katsuki curses. “Look atcha’, you finally get what you wanted?”

Izuku groans happily. Shouto’s just trying to keep himself from shaking.

“He’s easy now,” Katsuki rambles. “Not like when we were younger, n’ didn’t know shit about sex. Used to just rub off on each other ‘till we were chaffed.”

“The mental picture is still nice,” Shouto mutters. Izuku tongues under his cock, and Shouto grips the headboard to stay upright. “Shit.”

Shouto looks back, and Katsuki’s staring right at him. It’s predatory (a little intimidating), but Shouto doesn’t back down. He stares back, and Katsuki turns to rub his nose at Izuku’s inner knee. Like a beast marking his own.

Being with his man is still playing with fire. Shouto hasn’t forgotten that.

“Never thought I’d share,” Katsuki mulls. “You’re an odd one, halfie.”

Shouto rocks forwards just a little, chasing the edge he’s building on. Izuku looks close from the way he’s tensing, but he doesn’t let Shouto pull away.

“Looks like you don’t mind,” Shouto says, flicking his gaze down and up. Katsuki grins back at him, and tilts Izuku’s hips up.

It’s a mess. Izuku spills all over himself, and it’s so pretty that Shouto goes right with him. He feels a little bad about it later, but he paints across his cheek, his lip, and the corner of his eye, and Shouto goes mute from the shock. He can’t even apologize; Izuku’s still shivering through his own orgasm, yet grabbing Shouto’s cock with his hand and pumping him through it, wiping his tongue against his lip to taste it, and Shouto’s brain turns off.

Katsuki stops to let him catch his breath. Shouto is slightly impressed by his stamina.

“Jesus, look at you both. You like that?”

Izuku sighs like the world is on his shoulders.

“Oh – yes.”

 “Whore,” Katsuki replies, and Izuku laughs. “Tell him thank you.”

“Thank you.”

Shouto starts to shudder from the oversensitivity, and Izuku lets go.

“Um,” He croaks. “Maybe I should be thanking you.”

“Don’t.” Katsuki pulls out, still hard and slick with lube. “He got more out of it than you did.”

Izuku wipes his face off with the sheet and exhales happily.

“He tastes so sweet, Kacchan.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Goddamn,” Shouto swears. Katsuki snorts, and flips Izuku right onto his stomach. He tugs his rear up, spreads his knees, and it’s a dizzying sight. What an ass.

“Sometimes I think he’s worse than I am.”

“You made me like this,” Izuku accuses. But he stretches out like a cat, shifts his hips, and rolls his head to the side. “Whatever, just give it to me.”

And Shouto gets the very pleasant experience of watching Katsuki press his palm between Izuku’s shoulders, and fuck him for real. It’s harrowing, and arousing, and maybe a little spiritual. Shouto likes holding Izuku’s hand, and he likes watching, and he likes being here. It’s easy to forget the world he comes from. Easy to forget why he’s here in the first place.

I’ll be gone soon, his brain supplies. Take it while you can.

Nails in the sheets, skin on skin. All the messy kisses, sweet and otherwise. Katsuki tenses, pauses, shivers, and comes inside Izuku – and Shouto feels like a whole new world opens up before him.

Katsuki is soft as he pulls out, rubbing circles into Izuku’s hip, soothing the tension out of his back with his knuckles. Izuku relaxes, and is none the wiser to the mischievous look that glints in his eye.

“You,” juts Katsuki. “Come here.”

Shouto’s drowsiness evaporates like water.

“Me?”

“Who else would I be talking to, genius?”

“I don’t know, the wall?”

“Smartass.” Katsuki grabs his arm and tugs, and Shouto allows him to. He forces Shouto’s fingers against Izuku’s abused hole – who yips from the sudden pressure. “Clean it up.”

Shouto’s mouth gapes. He looks down, and then up, and says nothing. Izuku rolls halfway to look over his shoulder.

“Oh, you – you don’t have to.”

Katsuki squints. The ruby shade of his eyes makes it more threatening than it should be. He grabs Shouto by the back of his hair; grips tight, and makes his skull tingle.

“I dunno’. He’s got a smart mouth.” Katsuki is close, baring his fangs as Shouto refuses to submit. “He should use it.”

Shouto swallows. Izuku shifts restlessly, now interested, but poorly feigning otherwise. Shouto can feel Katsuki’s hot breath, can sense the challenge in the air. His grip is tight, and when Shouto tugs, it feels like the ends of his hair are going to come free.

It’s good. It’s really good.

“I’ll do it,” Shouto says. He struggles, just to feel the skin on his neck tingle again. “But you shouldn’t make such a mess.”

Katsuki grins now that he’s playing along. He yanks, forcing Shouto’s head down like a dog; he’s holding Izuku still with his other hand – and like a marionette, he tugs their strings, and makes them dance.

Shouto licks experimentally down the crack of his ass. Izuku’s hand slaps the headboard, and sparks of magic fly off his fingers.

“Ohh!”

“Shush,” Katsuki tells him, playfully. “This ain’t about you.”

Izuku laughs under his breath. Then stops, moans, and pushes back against Shouto’s mouth. Shouto feels possessed. Out of his damn mind, and consumed in madness.

The taste is bitter, but now familiar, and Shouto licks him clean, all that Katsuki marked him with. Izuku squirms and pants and bangs on the headboard, and Katsuki never lets go of his hair.

Shouto is a little annoyed that he has him figured out already. Katsuki holds his head down like he’s drowning him under the lake, and for all the exhaustion he carries, Shouto thinks he could get hard again, from this.

When the time comes, Shouto returns to his bed in the loft, and no one complains otherwise.

☆☆☆ 

In the dead of night, something clatters outside.

Shouto sees shadows outside his window. Without hesitation, he throws on his boots, scurries down the stairs, and finds nothing but an empty garden.

A mysterious crackling noise pops from the town. He knows it’s those false spirits, wading their war in the battleground of peasant homes.

He wants to go. But the house rules feel like sand in his mouth. And now that they’re – together, in a sense – and he feels worse about breaking them.

The house is dark and quiet. The fire is extinguished, and not a sound is heard. Shouto stops at their bedroom door and stares at the gold knob.

He is tempted to turn it. Truly, he’s become weak and desperate.

Katsuki works long days, and Izuku spends all his free time in that study, experimenting for his sake – so Shouto does not bother them.

The cottage is quiet. Very, very quiet.

☆☆☆ 

“No, no, left foot forward,” Mother says, holding his tiny hands. “Yes, well done. The man always leads. Left foot, right –”

“Spin?”

“No, not yet. Hold my hands, darling. Right foot –”

“— left, no, your other left,” Shouto says.

“This is too hard,” Izuku sighs. “I’ll stick to blowing myself up and turning Kacchan pink.”

“Ha. Funny.”

“If you come to visit the palace, you’ll inevitably be invited to a ball,” Shouto lectures. He holds Izuku’s hands higher. Finally, for once, it’s something he can teach. “Step with me.”

“He’s got two left feet and the rhythm of a goddamn turkey.” Katsuki watches from the couch, and chews into a dry sourdough loaf. “Yer’ a sorcerer, not a miracle worker.”

“What he said,” Izuku parrots.

Shouto slides his hand to his lower back. Izuku’s eyelashes flutter, and Shouto snorts at him.

“Seriously? You have the nerve to be embarrassed now?”

“Well, there’s no music,” Izuku frowns. Their shoes scrape against the floor. One, two, three – Izuku tries to keep up, and Shouto takes pity on him, carrying him through the rest of the steps. Izuku goes woah, and clutches tight.

“Then make some,” Shouto says, so they sing. Not very well, if at all – but Katsuki watches with his head in his hand, and maybe, he thinks there might be a smile scratched deep in there.

☆☆☆ 

“You,” Shouto blurts, wide eyed and stupid, “— are really beautiful.”

Izuku pauses; half-mounted over him, thighs sticky and cock hard to his bellybutton. He goes pink in the face, but smiles.

“You know, I think we’re finally starting to crack that shell of yours.”

“Shell?” Shouto’s tone is flat and lifeless, because all of his attention is on Izuku leading his cock between his strong legs. “What shell.”

“You’ve got walls, Shouto,” Izuku replies. He is stunning kneeled over him like this. Flicking his bangs from his face, and focusing intensely as he slips the head of his cock past the tight ring of his hole. “Oh, ah. We-we’ll get through them. Yes we will.”

“And here I was, thinking that stick up your ass was your princely charm,” Katsuki snides. He’s behind Izuku, kneeling with his hands on his freckly hips, and as Izuku sinks down, Shouto squeezes his eyes right shut.

“Oh.”

“Yeah, feels fuckin’ good. C’mon, help him a little.”

Shouto exhales, and shifts his hips to help Izuku slide all the way in. The feeling is indescribable. Wet and hot and suffocating. He grips his thighs to keep him there, and Izuku moans in response.

“Ah. Yes, again.”

“Bounce,” Katsuki growls, and Izuku does. Shouto holds his hands. Katsuki’s fingers slide down Izuku’s rear, and feel where they’re connected. Nothing exists but this – absolutely nothing.

Shouto’s wound tight as a string, but he wants to please. He wants Izuku to make the faces he made for Katsuki. He wants to hit that spot that makes him shake all over. When Shouto finds it, he keeps Izuku there – more of a subconscious thing, really – because he just wants to see.

Izuku’s head flops back on Katsuki, his thighs shaking and his body sizzling. Magic is everywhere, glowing wispy in the air. Shouto breathes it in with every inhale.

Katsuki is in Izuku’s ear, telling him things. Izuku laughs at some, and moans at others. Shouto grinds up into him, and feeling Izuku go all tight around him is – ah, hell. Shouto bites his tongue.

“So quiet…” Katsuki drops a hand off Izuku’s hip to squeeze at his inner knee. Shouto twitches from it. “What’s in that empty head of yours?”

Shouto tries to snap back, but his lack of breath lessens the bite.

“Counting sheep – what the hell do you think?”

He gets a laugh in response, and it uh, makes him feel fuzzy, inside. Izuku leans forwards enough to kiss him, grinding back and forth to keep them on the edge together. Shouto feels fingers slip down past his balls, and his eyes fly open.

“Okay?” Katsuki asks. Shouto’s breath shakes against Izuku’s cheek.

“Yeah.”

It’s a strange feeling, but it’s not like Shouto can focus much on it. Izuku is rocking back and forth, and Shouto’s so close he can feel it; like hanging a foot off the edge of a cliff. He grips back into Izuku’s hair and meets him in a kiss that hurts. Katsuki pushes a second finger into him, and Shouto’s chest vibrates.

“Oh,” Izuku gasps. “Oh, Kacchan – did you hear –”

“Yeah,” Katsuki rasps. Shouto swallows hard.

“Shush.”

Izuku is riding him – using him – to feel good, and Katsuki works circles around his ass, now a gentle in and out and – gentle?? From Katsuki?

Shouto squirms, trapped on all sides. Izuku plants a hand in the bed to stay upright, and flicks the sweat out of his eyes.

“Please,” Izuku begs. “Let go. I wanna’ feel it.”

Katsuki urges him, “Come on, princess. Lose your virginity.”

Shouto’s laugh comes out rasped into the side of Izuku’s neck. He’s sticky everywhere. Pulsing from his scalp down to his toes.

“I haven’t already?”

“You’re almost there.”

“We have you,” Izuku says. He nudges Shouto’s hand to feel over his stomach. To feel where he is, deep inside. “See? You’re ours.”

Katsuki’s fingers are long and skilled, and he curls into that spot Izuku is always aiming for – and Shouto’s head almost flies off his shoulders. It’s shocking and addictive, and a separate pleasure from Izuku squeezing around him.

“God damn,” Katsuki rasps. “Have you never done this yourself?”

“Tried,” Shouto wheezes. “Couldn’t. Um.” Reach.

“He sounds fuckin’ pretty. How’s he feel?”

“Hard,” Izuku sighs. Shouto rolls his tongue in his mouth, and counts to ten.

“I can’t. I really –”

They urge him on. Hands on him – always these hands. It’s a togetherness he still can’t comprehend. Never forgotten, never pushed aside. How they’ve adapted so easily, Shouto will never know.

But it works. Three little cogs that turn. Oh men, and their new machines.

Shouto thrusts up and Izuku’s voice peaks, and everything happens at once. That precipice again, right off the edge. He’s still coming when Izuku slips off. Still shaking, and wiping his face in the crook of his arm.

“No, please –” Izuku begs, peeling his hands away. “Please, your eyes –”

Shouto looks at him, as hard as it is, and they kiss while he’s still got half a brain to think about how lucky he is.

Katsuki peels Izuku off with a rare gentleness. He hovers over Shouto. Raises an eyebrow, and pushes his bangs off his face.

“Spoiled brat,” Katsuki says with no malice.

“Me?” Shouto whispers.

Izuku rolls over and sighs, fingering himself happily.

“No.” Katsuki tips his head. “That one.”

Shouto laughs through his nose, and Katsuki leans down far enough to kiss the side of his face. It’s – god. It lights him up inside. It’s a wordless approval that he didn’t know he needed. He carries mixed feelings for this terrible man.

Katsuki sits up and slaps him hard on the thigh (there it is), and goes looking for a towel.

“Welcome to the club, your highness.”

Izuku finds his stomach, sticky with a variety of substances. He pets upwards, traces his sternum and his collarbone.

“Stay a while,” Izuku says, finally. And Shouto does.

☆☆☆ 

This is new.

The sun isn’t quite down; the four corners of the room are still visible from the crack in the window. And yet Shouto’s here, with Izuku curled in the middle, Katsuki flat on his back behind him.

The bed radiates heat. Shouto tentatively feels across the zig-zag scars on Izuku’s ribcage, and keeps his hand cold with magic. Izuku is loving it (apparently), because he drags his hand to press against his forehead like a compress.

“Wish I could master ice magic,” Izuku mutters.

Shouto lets him cradle his hand. It’s cute, anyways.

“Have you tried?”

“I don’t have the disposition for it. At least, not now.” Izuku opens his eyes, and all Shouto sees are fields of green. “I think my arcana is a little more taken to fire elements, but I’m not so good at those either.”

“You can light a candle,” Katsuki notes.

Izuku’s eyes roll.

“So can a match.”

“Whatever, dickhead.”

Shouto curls the fingers of his left hand. They feel a little numb, but it buzzes with unspent energy. He can always feel the fire in his skin. Sometimes it hurts more to tamper it, than to use it.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku whispers, suddenly. Shouto’s eyes jerk to him.

“What for?”

“Your fire still hurts you. All my studying, and I still haven’t found a way to reverse the curse.”

Shouto frowns. He takes his hand back from Izuku so he can freely push his curly bangs away from his eyes. He has freckles on his forehead.

“My father gathered the greatest alchemists in the world, gave them unlimited resources, and they still found no answer. Years, it was. Not weeks. Years.” Shouto presses his lips together, then says, “Me being here was a last resort.”

He thinks, in the far reaches of his heart, that his father knows he won’t find success. Maybe he wanted Shouto to see the world. Experience life, before returning to war. It’s a stretch, but Shouto wonders.

Izuku is staring at his scar. The sheets rustle, and Katsuki slides up to Izuku’s back. His arm worms between their bodies, and Shouto’s stomach caves when he feels rough knuckles brush against his skin.

“I dunno’ much about all the technical shit, but I’ve seen a lot of magic in my life. I find it hard to believe that an accidental curse could be permanent.”

“You’d think.” Shouto shrugs. “All Might wields one of the strongest magical relics on Earth. All I can do is hope he can help me.”

Izuku hesitates. Katsuki’s fingers squeeze and release.

“Shouto, I –” Izuku starts. He then stops, swallows, and pulls at Shouto’s wrist again, so he can nose into the palm of his hand. “We’ll figure something out.”

Katsuki lets out a breath. Shouto finds it hard to keep his eyes open any longer, so he hums a response, and falls asleep just like that.

This is the first time he’s never slept next to someone else.

It is surprisingly easy.

☆☆☆ 

Shouto wakes, and everything is wrong.

He’s not where he fell asleep, for one. Somehow, he’s woken up back in his loft bed; the window is shut tight, and the sheets are tucked to his chin, and a glass of water has been sat at his bedside. The room is dark with the witching hour.

 Was it a dream?

Shouto feels across his back. It’s sore with the scrape of Izuku’s nails; achy, from where Katsuki has bitten him on the throat.

No.

Shouto flies out of bed. His heart is pounding, and he can’t explain why. It’s just pure adrenaline – far up in his mouth, clogging his throat and his lungs.

He shoves on his boots and flies down the stairs. A force is yanking him forwards, driving him into an unusual panic.

Shouto throws open their bedroom door. It is empty.

He stops, and listens. No creaking, no crackling fire. Their boots are gone.  

They’re not here, he dreads. They’re not here.

But the lightning – oh, the lightning –

Shouto doesn’t bother going back for his weapons. He yanks a lantern off the wall, tugs on a coat and rushes out into the night.

He knows the road into town by heart. As he runs, his brain supplies him with irrational thoughts. Demons that slithered up the path. Kidnapped from their bed by raiders. The League gathered again, here to kill those close to him as revenge.

As a prince, you have born enemies, father would say. Shouto can only hope they’re not here.

He sets the lamp at the edge of the bay. The night fog is abundant and soupy, and Shouto breathes through his mouth to get air. The bridges are creaking, those creatures crooning low, hissing like snakes in a bog.

Green lightning crackles, and the village lights up just long enough for Shouto to see dozens of night-creatures perched on the rooftops. The light becomes orange, a loud bang echoes, and they’re gone.

The invisible force around his heart is squeezing. Something is drawing him here. Something he can’t explain with words.

He doesn’t care about being discovered. Something is irrevocably wrong.

“Izuku?” Shouto calls out. “Katsuki!”

The battleground goes silent. Not a sound, not even the wind.

Then, it pops off all at once. Screaming echoes; hands claw from between the floorboards, and Shouto runs through them, hopping over slimy fingers and rushing to the middle of town.

A creature hisses before him. Shouto freezes it, and skids on before it breaks free.

His instincts are screaming at him; somewhere, they are here.

But the town is empty. His eyes burn from the smoke (wait, smoke?) and he finds no boats at the dock. No pirates, no kidnappers.

Behind him, the creature shatters. Then, a monstrous growling.

Shouto turns, and the wolf is there. Standing nine feet tall, snarling and drooling to the planks below. The teeth strung around his neck jingle and clatter with his heavy breathing. He is just as remarkable as before.

Shouto does not back down. Ice magic is running up and down his arm, and he can feel it in his breath.

“Did you take them?” He asks, through the crack in his voice. “The bartender, and the mage. Did you take them?”

The wolf snarls, and steps closer. Shouto takes a step back, narrowly missing a hand clawing through the wooden dock.

The wolf’s voice is so deep, it vibrates in his ears. It is familiar in a way it shouldn’t be.

“Go. Home.”

A creature bubbles up behind them. Shouto rises magic to the center of his hand, and shouts, “Behind you!”

The wolf turns. And once again, a fiery enchantment bursts from the wolf’s palm, exploding the creature into nothingness. More of those demons attack from the lake, and the wolf moves so quickly, Shouto can barely catch it with his bare eyes.

Shouto is left surrounded. The wolf appears on the rooftop, and rips a creature from the shingling of the bar.

It’s battle instinct. To freeze the creatures, dip under an arm, and run across the bridge posts. The creatures break out of their frozen prison easily. Shouto is tempted to use his fire, but knows he cannot.

Green lightning cracks, and the demons disappear entirely.

The rabbit is here.

Shouto’s boots squeak on the wet planks.

The hare stands at full height, and looks at him with large green eyes. Desperate, crackling with magic, and hunched in a position that isn’t quite beast nor human. It’s fur appears dark against the fog; they have ears that stand up tall, and strong, speckled legs.

Tar-like fingers reach between the wood planks, and tortured souls groan from the lake. The hare thumps his foot, and the bridge lights up in sparkling magic. The fingers retreat into the lake, groaning in pain.

“I’m looking for my friends,” Shouto explains, slowly. A house catches on fire. The hare jolts, and looks over his shoulder frantically.

“You – you need to leave!”

The rabbit’s voice is strange. Shouto steps forward, prickly with ice frosting across his shoulder.

“Let me help.”

“Go now! You’re in danger!”

“I’m –”

“Please, Shouto!” The hare begs. “Just go home!”

Shouto stops. The tugging his chest isn’t there.

How do you know my name?

Magic still clings to the bridge like dust, and the fuzzy, familiar feeling of it makes his heart drop to his feet.

The hare flinches immediately. Up on the roof, the wolf is watching.

Ooouuuhhhhhhh whines the lake.

Shouto goes numb.

The hare’s eyes are big, and familiar. A creature punches through the window of the town hall, and the glass shatters with the pieces of Shouto’s heart. Suddenly, everything and nothing makes sense.

Izuku turns, and winces.

“Go home,” he says again. Then he is gone, kicking the wretch in the window, and disappearing into the night.

The air tastes electric, and smokey. Shouto turns on his heel, and walks back to the cottage.

☆☆☆ 

Love isn’t for people like us, Shouto. Love is for peasants on the prairie countryside. Milkmaids, and farmhands. We make these sacrifices so they can live on.

You are to be above them all. When you become king, they will look to you the way they do me.

Stay strong, and resist the temptation of this world.

It will do it’s damndest to eat you.

Chapter Text

☆☆☆ 

Sleep is futile.  Shouto sits at the kitchen table and waits.

The cottage is dark and empty and cold; the ticking clock edges his nerves with every second, and the wind makes the house groan and crackle.

And when the air gets crisp, and the sky lightens in color, he hears a creaking noise out in the yard.

The chickens are still asleep. Shouto can hear footsteps in the grass. The doorknob turns, and the porch creaks. The suspense is nauseating.

When the door swings open, Shouto does not look at them. Bees are in his stomach. Along with bitter disappointment, and nerves he can’t swallow. His throat is so raw, he doesn’t even recognize the sound of his own voice. 

“What are you?”

“I’m sorry,” Izuku says, instead.

“Druids? Wizards?” Shouto’s tone goes cold, “Both of you? This whole time?”

“One fuckin’ rule,” Katsuki growls, slamming the door behind him. “I gave you one rule –”

Shouto stands, boiling over like a cast iron pot.

“You lied to me!”

“I thought I was pretty damn clear – stay in your fuckin’ room, or sleep in the stalls.”

It hurts like a slap to the face. Shouto recovers, shouting back.

“You were gone! I woke up, and I was alone. What was I supposed to think?”

Katsuki flinches at that. Izuku grabs him by the sleeve, and pulls tightly, forcing Katsuki to get a grip.

“We owe him an explanation.” He looks to Shouto, exhausted and wild. “We do.”

Katsuki sighs irritably, and scruffs a hand through his spiky hair. He calms at the surface, just barely.

“I know. C’mon. It’s better if we show you.”

Shouto bites his cheek. He hesitates, but Katsuki gestures impatiently over his shoulder, so Shouto follows them outside.

He keeps his distance. Izuku leads them to the basement door behind the house, and Shouto’s mind starts to race. The mystical force that continues to draw him here is now going wild inside himself. His body becomes restless, and edgy.

Katsuki pulls out a key from his pocket. The iron lock jingles, and springs free. It takes both of them to throw the weight of the door, and a pair of dark stairs are revealed, descending into a pit of nothingness.

Katsuki pulls a lamp from the top stair, and lights it with a pop of orange magic. Shouto scowls, and Katsuki frowns right back.

“Not a wizard,” Katsuki grunts. “Bloodline limit, same as you. Come on.”

They traverse the stairs. Izuku inhales deeply, exhales, and then casts a spell across the room, spreading the fire from lamp to lamp. Soon the four corners are lit, and Shouto can see even the wet cracks in the cemented bricks.

It is a storage room, just as he thought. A few bags of rice, some clothing chests, and a wall of weapons. Shouto spots the armor mounted to the stone, and does not breathe.

“This insignia…”

Izuku wrings his crooked fingers. His face is tense and determined, like a lighthouse facing a storm.

“Yes. Years ago, we fought for your father’s army.”

Shouto touches the insignia. The armor is badly damaged, and the paint is faded. The detailing in the shoulder is low-ranking; rather than the fine gold of a Knight, or a Captain.

“We were at battle on the hill.” Katsuki sits on a wooden box, and leans his elbows on his knees. “Barely seventeen, same as you. Called to fight, so we damn well did.”

“I had been studying as a wizard’s apprentice,” Izuku explains. He’s keeping his distance from Shouto, and he is smart to do so. “The hero named All Might. Like his master before him, he came to our village in search of a protégé, and um…I was chosen.”

Shouto pauses. Eyes wide, he turns to face them fully.

“No.”

Katsuki huffs through his nose.

“Yep. Caused a lot of fighting between us.”

“We were called to war while All Might was overseas. I was happy to serve the king, but…I wasn’t born with magic, like Kacchan.” Izuku’s voice becomes strained, and he blinks quickly. “There were so many...you – you must remember how bad it was. That kind of dark magic is impossible to fight, it kills everything in its path, and –”

“It was me,” Katsuki interrupts. “Me and my bigass head. Thought I was the toughest kid out there. Ran right to the front lines, and Deku came after me. I put us both straight in hell.”

Izuku finds his fingers without looking. Katsuki squeezes his hand, but his expression does not crack.

“All Might is dead,” Izuku says.

Shouto turns away.

“Stop this.”

“He died, eight years ago. P-Protecting us! He –”

“Stop.”

“I have All Might’s arcana. It lives in me. When we awoke on the field, we ran! We ran here –”

Shouto spins again, hissing, “You’re lying to me!”

“Look around you!” Katsuki shouts back, now on his feet again. Izuku’s voice hiccups, and Katsuki shoves him behind his arm protectively. “Look at those swords. If we were lying, it’d be a shit fuckin’ lie.”

Shouto exhales unevenly to dampen his temper. He looks to the basement wall, and sees three swords lined up on the stone. Each hilt is a different color, and standing too close makes his adrenaline spike beyond control. 

“All Might passed his power to Deku as he was dying.” Katsuki grinds his teeth. “But when he handed him the sword, the stupid crap broke in three.”

Izuku wipes his eyes, forcing his voice steady.

“We don’t know why. We just…gathered up the pieces, and ran as fast as we could.”

“Deserters,” Shouto hisses.

Katsuki does not shrink.

“Deku didn’t know shit about controlling that power, and your father was sending us to die. Yeah. We deserted.”

Shouto rubs across his mouth, and looks at the swords. They are smaller in shape than the greatsword of legend – or reforged, he realizes, from something larger. The metal is unique; not like a mirror, but cobbled, like a stone path.

He goes to touch one, but Katsuki barks at him.

“Don’t. If you’re not chosen, the metal burns you. We found out the hard way.”

 Truly, this is All Might’s relic.

 But All Might is dead.

 Shouto rubs across his chest as his heart starts to blister.

“How,” Shouto rasps. “But – how?”

“All Might used his sword to transform into a hero,” Izuku explains, slowly. “In reality, he was a skinny, feeble old man. He um…he was very sick in the years I knew him. When we took the swords, we realized we could both use its transformation magic.”

“We tried to bury the third one,” Katsuki mutters. “Only needed two. But the damn things don’t like being separated. We had to go back a week later because the metal kept ringing.”

“So that’s it.” Shouto feels cold under the realization. “You’re Baytown’s beloved spirits.”

“That uh…that got out of control,” Izuku scratches his cheek. “It took us a couple years to even find this place. It’s not like we could just go home, and I had such little reference on how to wield this magic – so we traveled here. To the ends of the earth, to find All Might’s hidden library.”

“The town was already a goddamn mess and a half when we got here,” Katsuki gestures. “Whole place was living in fear. We just try to keep those river-bastards from eating all the fuckin’ babies. There’s nothin’ more to it than that. We ain’t heroes.”

“Not anymore,” Izuku whispers.

The lanterns flicker. Shouto feels utterly hollow. Tired on his feet, and dizzy with too many emotions.

“You lied to me,” he ultimately says.

Izuku sighs, “I’m sorry. If we tell the world All Might is gone, the league will attack within days. At first, we didn’t know if we could trust you...but then, then you were so wonderful, and – and I was just so happy spending time with you and…”

“We had our reasons,” Katsuki states. He glares at Izuku for rambling. “But we should have told you sooner.”

Shouto pushes back his bangs. He’s sweaty from the humid heat down here.

So many years he spent trusting no one. Keeping his heart locked far away, where nothing could hurt him. This kind of betrayal is raw and vulnerable, and it makes his scar hurt.

“After all that,” Shouto mulls. “I came all this way for nothing.”

“Not for nothing!” Izuku starts up again. “You can still speak with him. Um – on the full moon. When it peaks, I’ll have enough strength to summon his spirit, o-only for a short amount of time, of course, but maybe he can still help you.”

Well. That is some relief in this hellscape.

Shouto arches an eyebrow skeptically, “No lies?”

“He can perform the séance,” Katsuki snaps. “I’ve seen it with my own eyes.”

Shouto rubs his tongue along the back of his teeth. He can’t bear to look at them anymore, because he doesn’t know what he’ll say.

“All that we did,” Shouto mutters.

“I know,” says Izuku.      

Shouto turns from them.

“I need to think.”

“Okay.” Izuku steps to Katsuki, and finds his hand, like he needs it to stay upright. Terribly, in the recesses of his mind, Shouto feels jealous from it. “Please just – if you’re going to leave, say goodbye first. Please.”

Shouto aches.

“I will,” he says, and walks away.

☆☆☆ 

Shouto does not leave, as much as he secretly wants to.

Instead, he rides Cyrus out of town; hard and fast, he spurs her until she’s panting with him.  And when they reach the end of the bay, Shouto brings her to a halting stop.

The trees grow taller out here. Shouto breathes in the pine, feels the cool wind on his face, and thinks of home.

No fog, here.

Cyrus dips her head to nose at the grass. Shouto rolls his fingers in the threads of her mane, closes his eyes, and feels the fire magic throbbing under his skin. It’s sore, and the curse feeds off it with every breath.

He flicks a flame off his fingers. It is bright in color, but his skin goes black in an instant; sickly like poison, spreading up his knuckles like waves on a beach.

This is why you are here.

He remembers how Izuku grabbed his fingers so quickly. Pressed herbs to them, and muttered a clumsy spell. The barked demand from Katsuki is still so clear in his mind.

Don’t do that again.

The ice in his mind or the fires of his heart; it’s another war he was cursed to fight.

Shouto nudges Cyrus in the flank, and walks her back into town.

☆☆☆ 

He’s gone all day. When the sky starts to reach the mountains, Shouto is still not ready to return to the cottage, so he walks over the bridge and around to the waterside, and sits where he can watch the fishing boats on the dock.

The clouds are starting to break and dissipate, giving Baytown a hue of color. Shouto is so used to the dreary grey of the fog, that he loses track of time watching the seagulls pester the returning fisherman.

“You haven’t left yet.”

Katsuki’s voice is so rough and gritty. Sandstone in feeling, gravelly in pitch. Shouto thinks he could pick it out in a sea of voices, take that how you will.

“No.”

Gravel crumbles under his boots, and Shouto watches from his peripheral as Katsuki comes to sit a few feet over. He looks fresh off the bar, sleeves still rolled to his elbows, his hands red and agitated. Shouto wonders how much is appointed to the constant handwashing, and how much is a result of his magic singeing his palm each night.

A scowl is deep set in Katsuki’s face, and he shifts uncomfortably on the dirt before he settles.

“It’ll be dark soon.”

Shouto watches the sun crawl behind the mountain.

“You fight them every night?”

Katsuki grunts an affirmative.

“Every night.”

Shouto watches him stifle a yawn, and scratch at the stubble on his cheek. He looks more than exhausted. He looks sad.

“That sounds miserable.”

Katsuki snorts, and looks off to the bay. The breeze rocks the boats up, and down.

“Never in our lives have we known peace.” Katsuki presses his fingertips together. He keeps his tone flat, and emotionless. “You coming back?”

He decides to speak plainly.

“It hurt. But I understand why you did what you did,” Shouto says. “And I know it wasn’t your fault.”

Katsuki looks at him, and his eyes are wide. Usually so sharp and ruby red – he looks young, suddenly.

“Are you high?”

Shouto rolls his eyes. He flips a stone between his fingers; it is smooth like a dish.

“No. You were barely eighteen. This weight was never yours to bear.” Shouto clears his throat. “I guess, in the end, I found exactly what I was looking for.” 

Izuku holds All Might’s power. Shouto is still wrapping his head around it.

“That magic…” Katsuki shakes his head. “I’ve seen what it’s done to Deku’s body. It’s – fuckin’ horrifying. There are people that would do anything to get their grubby hands on it.”

It’s true. If the League knew…

Shouto sighs, “The legend of All Might has kept the League at bay for almost a decade. But we can’t rely on the story of a dead man to keep us safe.”

Katsuki looks surprised.

“You’re taking this well.”

“I wish things happened differently.” Shouto throws that rock across the lake. It skips twice, and sinks into the water. “I wish you had told me sooner. But I understand why you didn’t.”

Katsuki shifts, and Shouto realizes he’s sitting closer. He doesn’t move, and Katsuki keeps his hands between his knees.

“I regretted tellin’ you about the full moon. I thought, I shoulda’ just said fuck off, dumbass – and I mean, I don’t even know why I said it in the first place. But then I found out why you were here, and I regretted it a lot less.” Katsuki looks at him. “Deku’s gonna’ let you speak with the old man. All this shit aside, you’ll get what you came for.”

Shouto frowns. He lifts his hand, hesitates, and then sets it at Katsuki’s elbow. He bristles like a dog, whipping his head over and looking at Shouto wildly.

“It’s more than the mission,” Shouto says.

Katsuki exhales through his mouth.

“I’m bad at this.”

“No more than me, I guess.”

Katsuki reads him. Then, in the last dregs of daylight, he leans across the short distance and kisses him flat on the mouth. It’s closed lipped and sweet, and Shouto leans into it. When they pull apart, Katsuki cups his neck and holds him like he’ll run.

“I don’t need forgiveness,” Katsuki says. “But are we okay?”

The fact that Katsuki has swallowed his pride enough to ask – it tells Shouto that they are.

It’s an unfortunate situation, but Shouto isn’t alone. There’s hope yet for all this.

“Yes.”

“Good.” Katsuki pats his cheek, and goes to stand. “You should go see Deku. He’s a goddamn mess.”

Shouto takes the hand offered to him, and Katsuki pulls him up without effort.

“What’s he doing?”

“Scrambling to prepare the séance. The full moon is in two days.”

They start to walk, the water left behind them.

“But it’s at night. Now can he perform a ritual and protect the town all at once?”

Katsuki shoves his hands in his pockets and grins wickedly, walking with his signature confidence.

“I’m about to introduce you to some wonderful deus ex machina. Those fuckers don’t come out during the full moon.”

“No shit?”

“Yep. It’s the one day a month we get to sleep six hours.”

Shouto frowns. One night of rest, and Izuku will use it helping Shouto.

He quickens his pace, grabbing Katsuki by the sleeve and tugging.

“Let’s go.”

“Ack, hey, halfie! This is my only good shirt!”

☆☆☆ 

Shouto throws open the door, and Izuku pauses mid-pace through the kitchen, an armful of flowers clutched to his chest, and various herbs stuck in his hair. He looks faintly covered in some kind of blue dust, and the cabinets are all open, jars plucked out and set around in a fat mess.

“Igh, come on Deku,” Katsuki huffs, checking the bottom of his boots. “Keep it in your study.”

Izuku ignores him. He looks at Shouto, frozen in place like a deer in the woods. His eyes are puffy and red.

“Hi,” Izuku croaks.

Shouto still feels slightly hurt; maybe a little achy, from the emotional ride. But these two are hurting also, and compassion is something Shouto has had to study and learn.

“I will stay through the ritual,” Shouto states.

Izuku nods sharply.

“Okay.”

Silence.

Shouto has nothing else to say. He slowly opens his arms, and Izuku comes to him without question.  Flowers dropped to the floor, jars of ingredients kicked along the way. Shouto stays upright as Izuku crushes into him.

“Shit,” Katsuki curses, stepping out of the way. Shouto hugs him back, and sighs through his nose.

Izuku muffles a rambling apology. Shouto only catches bits and pieces, until it derives into something incomprehensible. He awkwardly pats him on the head, nudging him backwards, and Izuku swallows before looking at him.

“If you’re honest with me, I will be honest with you.”

Izuku laughs weakly, and wipes his eyes with his sleeve.

“Okay. I can do that.”

“No one else knows that All Might is dead?”

Izuku’s eyes go far, far away.

“No. We – we dragged him off the battlefield. Buried him, um out in the hills. No one saw.”

“Welcome,” Katsuki says, hanging his coat. “To our big bad secret.”

Shouto sighs, and clenches his darkened fingers. It’s only fair, he supposes.

“I’d like to see those swords again, if you don’t mind.”

☆☆☆ 

As unsettling as it is, the transformation is incredible.

A flash of colored light; sizzling magic, and a quiet hissing sound. Katsuki grabs the handle of his sword, turns it in his hand, and then becomes a beast.

It’s more of a façade, than a transformation. His clothes are not battered and torn, but reflected into something new. All the jewelry, and the piercings; it is undoubtedly of barbarian descent. Shouto feels like a fool.

“Can you control what you transform into?”

“Unfortunately not,” Katsuki grumbles. His voice sounds pitches deeper. Snarly, and terrifying. “Otherwise, I wouldn’t be no mangy mutt. I’d be like, a fuckin’ bear. Or a shark.”

“I think it reflects your inner self,” Izuku mutters. “Or maybe, what others see you as. I haven’t quite figured it out. Relic magic is still an utter mystery to me.”

Shouto has a strong, unwarranted desire to touch the sword, but doesn’t. He watches Katsuki slide it into a sheath on his back, and remains a wolf. This form is massive, and he barely fits in the cottage.

“All Might didn’t choose you as his successor,” states Shouto. Katsuki growls, his upper lip showing sharp teeth. Shouto doesn’t startle. “And yet you can use his relic.”

“I don’t have the answer to that either,” Izuku sighs. He touches the blade of his own sword, careful of the sharp edge. “I think maybe, that’s my fault. I might not be strong enough to control it.”

“I was there when it broke,” Katsuki huffs. He ducks his head, and returns to his human form in a puff of smoke. “Coulda’ just been coincidence.”

“Or it chose you, too,” Shouto says. Katsuki looks away. “Are you going back out there tonight?”

“Of course.” Izuku checks the time. “Soon. Maybe an hour.”

“I’ll go with you.”

Katsuki shuts him down.

“No. I know you can fight, your highness, but you can’t fight this.”

“And – what. I’m supposed to just sit here?”

“We can handle it,” Izuku smiles. “We have for years now. Four?”

“Almost five,” Katsuki says, tiredly. Shouto kind of aches for them. He opens his mouth, but is cut off. “Don’t gimmie’ that look, princess. We couldn’t even fight those bastards in human form. The only thing they’re vulnerable to is heat, and you still char yourself lighting a cigar.”

Shouto hides his cursed hand into his pocket. It will return to color by morning.

“Do you ever sleep?”

They laugh. Shouto takes that as his answer.

☆☆☆ 

His long journey stands before him. Nothing but a map in his pocket, and hope in his heart.

Father does not look pleased to see Shouto on his way, but father is so rarely pleased ever. Shouto kneels on the marbled stairs, but Endeavor urges him upright, and walks him to the chamber door.

He’s changed since he got that scar; now a different, sadder man. Maybe he always was. Maybe this is the year for showing true colors.

“Your majesty,” Shouto starts. “There is something weighing on my mind.”

“Speak.”

Shouto keeps his words short.

“If you knew the wizard in your youth, why did you never speak of him until now?”

 Endeavor stops walking. High stained-glass windows make the throne room a kaleidoscope of color. He looks to one; a sculpture of a great old flame king.

“I was foolish in my pride. I wanted the people to look to me, their king, for guidance. Not some country bumpkin with unfathomable power.” Father looks to him, and Shouto keeps his back straight, practiced for all the books he once balanced on his head. “My arrogance stood in the way of my own family. I will allow it no more.”

The king walks, so Shouto follows.

“No one has seen him for years.”

“If there is a soul on Earth that can find that old coot, it is you, son.”

☆☆☆ 

The room is ghastly dark, illuminated only by a circle of candles on the floor.

Not a sound is heard. Not here, and not outside the cottage study.

Izuku mutters to himself incessantly. With his sleeves rolled, shirt strings untied with sweat, and his bangs pushed back by a metal pin – he spreads out various ashes across the floor, drawing symbols that Shouto can’t begin to recognize.

Katsuki stands protectively with his arms crossed. Shouto keeps his distance from both of them.

The moon rises slowly, creeping over the circular skylight. Shouto opens his mouth, and Katsuki interrupts before he can even begin.

“You’d better stay quiet,” Katsuki mutters. “This takes a lot outta’ him.”

Shouto’s teeth click shut.

It was a busy day preparing for the ritual. Shouto regrets that he wasn’t much help (though he tried).

Izuku opens a jar, sniffs it, and empties the container. Shouto flinches when he sees bones rattle out of the jar.

This feels more like dark magic than arcana, but Shouto will not be the one to say it.

When the ingredients are prepared, Izuku sets his hands on his knees, and looks to the skylight.

“Now we wait.”

There is no breeze tonight. No clouds, no rain.

Shouto’s nerves swell up and down his chest, but he refuses to let it show.

This is it.

The moon reaches the center of the skylight. Then, the candles blow out all at once. Only the moon gives light, and Shouto breathes through the thick intensity in the air.

Izuku says his piece. The symbols on the floor glow in a brilliant yellow color, and then Izuku is hunched over with effort, planting a hand on the floor to brace himself.

He shouts, and Shouto jumps forwards, only to be held back by Katsuki’s hand.

“Don’t.”

The room is motionless and dark. Shouto gets a prickling feeling on his neck, like he’s being watched by multiple eyes. It is likely that spirits are already in the room.

Izuku closes his eyes, and says,

“I would like to speak with All Might, please.”

Magic pulls from Izuku. Powdery, glowing dust swirls around the room, and takes shape amid the candles.

They ignite once again, and then Shouto is met with the opaque, gold shadow of a man.

The shape stretches, inhales, and levitates some of the excess powder in the room. All the hair on Shouto’s arms stands on end.

“Oh, my boy. It has been some time.”

Izuku’s head whips up. He is bleeding from the nose, but wipes it quickly.

“H-hello, master.”

The illusion has no eyes, yet his smile is wide and warm. The form of All Might isn’t what Shouto expected. He is thin in stature, with shaggy long hair that hangs around his face in strands.

“Young Bakugou is here.”

Katsuki greets him shortly.

“Sir.”

The spirit looks at Shouto. Those dark, deep set eyes are unnerving to look into.

“I see you found him.”

Izuku tilts his head, and looks back and forth between them.

“Huh?”

“Mmm, nothing. Why have you summoned me?”

Katsuki elbows Shouto.

“Go ahead.”

Shouto steps forwards. He then wipes his hands on his thighs, and bows politely.

“I am Prince Shouto, son of King Enji, the appointed Endeavor.”

“I know who you are,” the spirit says. The warbled tone of his voice sounds eerie, like it’s passing back and forth between the veil. Shouto clears his throat, and nods.

“I’ve traveled far to find you. I’m in search for a cure to a curse – one that is deemed incurable.”

The essence hovers in question. Izuku continues for him.

“His mother cursed him by accident. The use of his own magic inflicts pain, and he’s...”

“I’m dying,” Shouto explains. Katsuki does not react, but Izuku flinches slightly.

“Show me.”

Shouto raises his hand in demonstration. Katsuki puffs through his nose, like he wants to stop him, but resists. Fire licks across Shouto’s nimble fingers, and leaves a curse in its path. All Might hums deeply, rattling the windows. His expression is hard to read, but it looks…disappointed.

“I see. So your father did not find the answer he was looking for.”

Shouto’s heart falls.

“No. I guess not.”

Katsuki cuts straight to the point.

“Is there a cure? Or is he fucked?”

Shouto looks at him and squints, thanks for that. Katsuki shrugs.

The aberration laughs, staccato and uneven. His image flickers in and out of existence. Izuku plants a hand on the floor, and exhales deeply to focus.

“You are still in my library.”

“Yes.” Izuku looks up again. “I-I’ve been studying. If there’s a spell that can help him, I’ll perform it. I’ll use your power however I can.”

“And if I must travel, I’ll travel,” Shouto adds swiftly. “I just need to know if there’s hope at all.”

All Might turns, and looks out the window.

“You are in Baytown…”

“Yes.”

His image flickers. The moon is moving, now shifting over the other edge of the skylight.

“Then the answer is around you.”

Katsuki growls, “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

“A book?” Izuku prods. “Is it a potion? A relic? Is it here?”  

Some of the dust starts to fall to the floor. All Might’s legs are disintegrating, piling up into sand like an hourglass. They are running out of time.

“Free the town, and you will free yourselves.”

Shouto stands frozen to the floor.

“Master, please!” Izuku begs, shaking with effort and sweating off his nose. “Please, please don’t play cryptic right now –”

“I am happy you have found each other.”

“Hey, old man!” Katsuki shouts, stepping forward to threaten. “That’s not a fuckin’ answer!”

“If the curse is accidental, then you must right what has been wronged,” All Might explains. The dust is now falling from his arms, losing its glowing color as it piles dimly on the floor. “Study. Look around you. Stay strong.”

Izuku gasps, and looks up through wet lashes. Accepting his fate, he allows All Might to go peacefully.

“I will, master.”

“I am proud of you all.”

The last of the sand falls, and pushes out to the edges of the candles, blowing out the fire like a puff of air. Shouto closes his eyes against the dust, and Katsuki kicks one of the jars in frustration, shattering it against the wall.

“God dammit!”

Izuku is panting heavily. He holds a hand sorely over his ribs, and catches his breath.

“I’m sorry Shouto,” Izuku labors. “I hoped he would say more.”

“Stubborn old man.” Katsuki ruffles his hair and paces. “What the hell does any of that mean?”

Shouto does not respond. Izuku starts wobbling to his feet, and Katsuki stops to help him.

“I don’t know, but – we’ll figure it out! I promise Shouto, I’ll –” Izuku stops. “Shouto?”

His eyes are burning. Shouto realizes it a little too late, and quickly wipes them. He clears his throat, sniffs, and then lets out a wet laugh. Katsuki’s face gets all scrunched up.

“Hey, princess. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Shouto exhales. A weight lifts off his shoulders, and he doesn’t quite know how to breathe right. “Yeah.”

“I dunno’ what the hell you’re smilin’ for, but we’re exactly where we started.”  

“We?” Shouto echoes.

Katsuki throws up his hands, effectively out of patience.

“Yeah, we! We’re all in this shit now, if you haven’t noticed.” His antics jostle Izuku a little, and he stops to support him again.

“Why?” Izuku prods, clever as he is. “What are you thinking, Shouto?”

Overwhelmed, he braces a hand against the wall.

“There’s a cure,” Shouto repeats. “There’s a cure, and it’s here. I’m not going to die. It wasn’t for nothing.”

Izuku and Katsuki share a look; a secret language that Shouto is slowly learning every day. Izuku smiles tiredly, and Katsuki throws him over his shoulder, beckoning Shouto to follow.

“Well, at least not today. Come on, you both stink.”

“And you smell like beer…” Izuku mumbles thoughtlessly.

“I run a bar, dumbass.”

Shouto follows.

“A beer sounds nice.”

“Ugh. Fine. Help me open the door, this asshole is gonna’ be out for at least a day.”

“Thank you,” Shouto says, to Izuku, or maybe both of them. Izuku summons enough energy to lift off of Katsuki’s shoulder, and look at him through his drooping eyes.

“For you, I would do it again.”

I guess I’m staying a little longer, Shouto thinks. Dimly, it is a relief. 

☆☆☆ 

Izuku does sleep through the following day. Shouto checks on him, but he’s motionless and silent. Not even a snore. 

“Just leave him,” Katsuki had said on his way out the door. “He has to recharge.”

Worried, Shouto would peek in anyways. He looks comfortable in all the furs spread about their bed, clinging to one that must smell the most like Kacchan.

Shouto does the chores, tends to the garden, visits the stable and feeds the chickens. Izuku still isn’t awake when Katsuki returns. As he walks through the door, Shouto has the fire going, and is attempting to replicate one of the easier stews he was taught.

“Did you add the bone broth?” Is the first thing Katsuki asks.

“Shit,” whispers Shouto. Katsuki snorts, and hangs his coat.

“It’s not too late. Is Deku awake?”

“Not yet.”

Katsuki pops the knuckles on his hand, and toes off his boots.

“I’ll go get him.”

“I thought you said to leave him be?”

“Yeah, and sleeping beauty had her rest.” Katsuki comes over, peeks in the pot, and then pats him on the shoulder. “He’s done this before. Stop worrying.”

“That’s rich, coming from you.”

“Shut up and add the stupid broth.”

 Izuku is slow to wake. By the time Katsuki wrestles him out of the bed and into the kitchen, they both look a little messier than before. Shouto raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t comment on it.

“Feeling okay?” Shouto asks instead.

Izuku sits, saying, “Much better. Thank you for cooking! I feel so honored to be served by a prince.”

Shouto rolls his eyes.

“Sure. I owed you anyways.”

“I’m not so sure about that…” Izuku rubs his neck. He still looks a little guilty.

“Let’s just call it all even,” Katsuki waves. “Fresh start, blah blah blah.”

“Again?” Shouto laughs.

“Sure, the sequel.”

“Okay.” Shouto serves the stew into bowls. “The sequel.”

They eat in silence, until the sun starts to go hazy. Izuku wakes further, and appears to be deep in his thoughts. He is stirring particular circles around his empty bowl. Even Katsuki is quiet, which is a little shocking.

It’s a relief when Katsuki speaks up.

“So, what now?”

Izuku pats the spoon against his bottom lip, ponders for a moment, and then says, “I’ve been thinking about what All Might said. About how the answer is around you.”

“I’ve been thinking about it too,” Shouto says. “Do you think it’s in the house?”

“I don’t think so. Well, maybe? I tore apart this library front and back. I don’t know what I’m missing.”

“Maybe it’s more or less correlated to Baytown on a whole.”

“So...?” Katsuki swallows. “He sends us on some treasure hunt in our own backyard?”

“No.” Izuku taps, taps, and taps. “I don’t think he’s just talking to Shouto.”

Shouto perks.

“What do you mean?”

“Free the town, and you will free yourselves. Plural, not singular.”

They sit in silence, looking amongst each other.

Katsuki’s words pull to the front of Shouto’s mind. Flashback to three days ago, when they sat on the slope of the bay;

Never in our lives have we known peace.

The kitchen clock goes tick, tock. It is forever a reminder of the creatures soon to crawl out of the bay.

“We’ve been fighting those things for years,” Katsuki points. “You kill a hundred, and they pop up the next night. How the hell’re we supposed to free the town?”

Izuku falls deep in thought. Shouto runs his thumb along the corner of his mouth, and looks to the hall, where the door to Izuku’s library is wide open.

“All Might specifically said ‘study, and be brave’. Are you sure you’ve torn apart that library?”

“I’m absolutely certain of it.”

Hmm. Shouto looks over his shoulder, and out the window. The path to Baytown is starting to become dark.

“Are there any other libraries in the village?”

“No,” Izuku sighs. Then, he pauses. “Well…the town hall has a private collection, but the Mayor guards that thing like a hound.” He huffs, annoyed. “I hate that lady.”

“Well…why don’t we go check it out?”

Katsuki arches an eyebrow.

“Are you deaf? He said the mayor’s an asshole. She doesn’t let anyone touch those private records, makes a big ole fuss about…about…” Katsuki starts to trail off as he puts the pieces together. “Son of a bitch.”

“I can get us in,” Shouto says.

“But, I’ve tried! I get shot down every time –”

Shouto stands resolutely.

“Doesn’t matter. I can get us in.”

☆☆☆ 

“Wow,” says the mayor. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen you crawl out of your cave before noon, bartender.”

Katsuki growls through his teeth, and Izuku holds him back with a firm arm.

“Good morning, Mayor Ralhorn. This is our friend, Shouto Todoroki. He’s been staying with us up on the—”

“Yes, I know,” she says shortly, pushing up her glasses. “The prince who wandered a little too far from home. You’re quite the talk around here.”

“Um,” Shouto pauses. “Thank you.”

“What do you want?”

The mayor is a tall, elderly woman. She looks half-elf by the shape of her ears, but Shouto finds it incredibly surprising to find anyone with elven-blood this far down the border. He’s seen her around town, but barely met her. Always holed up in this town hall, never around when the clocktower rings at the hour.

“I’d like to access the town’s library, if you please,” Shouto bows. “It’s royal business.”

The Mayor scowls at him over the rim of her square glasses. Her greying hair hangs in messy rivets between her eyes.

“That is a private collection, and is therefore off limits.”

Katsuki throws up a hand, “What did I tell you?”

Shouto ignores him. He presses his hands together and sighs, looking to the window.

“I understand, madam. That is a real shame.”

“Truly, now leave.”

“No, you see,” Shouto leans against her desk. He glances around the circular office; small shelves filled with books, maps and stationery. “What is a shame, is this war. My father has left all the folk south of the Everlan to mind their own – but with the pressure of the League…well…” Shouto spins the globe with his finger, and the mayor’s expression darkens. “Seeing as Baytown is off the map, maybe I ought to encourage the King to blockade the Croybrook canal. What’s a small fishing town to a war?”

The mayor’s eyes slowly go wide. Izuku and Katsuki are silent behind him.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“If you want to keep your trade, I suggest you let us in that library.” Shouto steps back calmly. “And keep this between us.”

Low, he thinks. But easy.

The mayor folds, slamming the drawer to her desk and bustling with papers.

“Use the back door. Do not let anyone see you, or I will damn this town. That collection has been passed between burgomasters for hundreds of years.”

“Sure,” Shouto says. “Thank you, ma’am.”

The woman hisses, and Izuku ushers Katsuki out the door before he can hiss back.

“That was kinda’ hot.” Izuku whispers. “I can’t believe you pulled that off. I tried all the bribery in the world…”

“This town is settled in a very unfortunate spot,” Shouto explains. “For all the obvious reasons, but one look at their trade route says it all.”

“She’s such an asshole,” Katsuki grumbles. “Made me wait six months for my liquor license. A license, in a town of a hundred people. What a joke.”

“Come on, the door is this way.”

They walk through the alley. Children are singing out in the square, so they dip behind the houses, and climb the stairs to the back of the town hall. When Shouto reaches for the door, it is unlocked.

Inside is the library they were promised. It’s not the most grandeur, but the books look old, and by Izuku’s expression, they must be ones he’s never seen.

“Wow,” Izuku spins. “I don’t even know where to start.”

“I can’t stay long,” Katsuki says. He dips his hand into his pocket, and pulls out a watch. “Maybe an hour.”

It smells musty in here; like parchment, leather, and dust that hasn’t been cleaned in a while. Izuku drags his fingers along the spine of a thick, leather bound book.

“This could take us weeks to read through.” He turns, and looks at Shouto sadly. “I’m sorry.”

“I’ll stay until this is finished,” Shouto says determinedly. He pauses. “And as long as you’ll have me.”

Or…if I’m called to war. But Shouto doesn’t want to think too hard on that.

Izuku smiles widely. He scrunches up the freckles on his nose, and it’s cute. While it’s only been days, it still feels like forever since he had Izuku smiling in his arms, kissing on his cheek, his neck and his shoulder.

“We will keep you as long as we can.”

Shouto’s heart spins. Katsuki sits on one of the tables, and sets his foot on the chair.

“So where do we start?”

Ah, right.

“Well…” Shouto looks at the variety of shelves. “I guess you could start by telling me what you already know.”

Izuku sighs, and leans up against one of the shelves.

“It’s not much. The creatures come out at night, and try to hunt from the people in town. They can’t be killed, but they have a weakness to heat.”

“But what are they?”

“We dunno’. I sure as shit have never seen anything like them.”

“I’ve looked through countless novels,” Izuku explains. “There are no mythical creatures, no spirits, no race that match the description of those monsters. I can only assume they’re native to this part of the river.”

“Townfolk used to say they had to make sacrifices every month.” Katsuki rocks the chair off its legs, back and forth. “First it was jewelry. Then livestock. By the time we found the place, they were considering sacrificing people just to sleep at night.”

“Jesus,” Shouto curses. “And now they come nightly?”

Katsuki and Izuku share a look. It’s a little sad, a little tired, but unwaveringly strong. Deserters or not, these two were certainly soldiers.

“Yes. And now we can’t leave.” Izuku rubs along his arms, like he’s cold. “Our families think we’re dead. We hoped to return to them by now, but…”

“If we walk away, we might as well slaughter the entire place ourselves,” Katsuki huffs.

Shouto sits at the empty chair. This is much worse than he thought.

“If those creatures have something to do with my curse… they might hold sentience. Have you ever tried capturing one?”

“Yes,” they say together, in a flat and exhausted tone. Katsuki lifts up his shirt, and shows a healed scar running down his sculpted hip.

“It didn’t go well.”

Ah. Shouto was a little curious about that one.

“This place is so strange…” Shouto mumbles. He itches along his own scar, and looks at the wall of books Izuku is leaning against. “Maybe we need to study some history.”

“Ugh,” Katsuki groans, as Izuku nods his head in agreement.

“Right. Let’s get to work.”

☆☆☆ 

It’s a lot of…nothing.

Trade routes, fishing encyclopedias, money ledgers. Many of the books aren’t labeled, so they have to sort them one by one.

Katsuki returns to the bar, and they sneak a few books home in their jackets to finish over dinner. Although, those are a waste of time, too.

Izuku feels far away. Not physically, but – deep in his mind. He’s scribbled through multiple journals in the past week, and he starts another one as the night rolls in.

They sleep very little. He doesn’t know how they find the energy to work through the day, and then battle all night.

“It’s not all night,” Izuku defends. “Only the witching hours, when the sun is furthest from the earth.”

“It’s basically all night,” Katsuki grumbles.

Shouto wishes to follow them. His bed is quiet and lonely, and not as soft as the one full of furs, downstairs. Though, that bed is empty most of the night, too.

They haven’t – well. Shouto hasn’t slept in their bed since that night. 

The past week has been more than a mess (a psychological disaster, as Izuku called it) and now with their daily trips to the town library, it is busy. The chores still need to be done. The cooking, the gardening, the wood chopping. Shouto has long accepted that he won’t be returning home anytime soon.

Izuku appears to feel guilty about that.

Shouto notices that they don’t touch him anymore. Only small things; pats good morning, or a short kiss here and there. Thigh to thigh in the library, passing tea back and forth. They act okay, but are they really?

Shouto catches on quickly. He knows what guilt looks like. He can smell fear and hesitance, because he once bathed in it every day.

This evening, Izuku is in his study. After a day of hard labor, he still brought home books from the library, and is cross referencing them with his own collection.

Shouto peeks in.

The room smells musty from the sun baking in the window. They’re lucky to get clear skies today, and yet Izuku is here, still working.

He lost a sock somewhere. A quill pen is stuck behind his ear, and his shirt is untucked from his trousers, billowing to his knees. The size of it tells him that it is likely not his shirt, but Katsuki’s.

“You should rest,” Shouto says.

Izuku doesn’t even turn around. He has a finger pressed to one book’s page, and his right-hand trailing along another. Once again, he’s chopped his hair short in a manic-fit (it’s in my way, Kacchan!) and Shouto can see the dark baby hairs growing up his fuzzy nape.

“Sure, sure,” Izuku mumbles. “Right after this book…”

“Is that the scroll compilation from Aznia?”

“Ah, yes.”

“It’s six hundred pages.”

“I’m almost done, I swear!”

Shouto hums skeptically. He looks up, down, and picks up a fallen potion jar. It’s hard not to step in here and think of All Might, proudly glowing with the remnants of Izuku’s magic.

Izuku says his inherited magic lacks control, but everything Shouto has seen so far is very impressive. Both Izuku and Katsuki have proven more than proficient in their combat abilities, considering that they stand in front of an army of questionable monsters to defend the town every night. These two are much more powerful than they realize. 

The silhouette of Izuku’s hunched shoulders is making his heart hurt. Shouto has been unsure of this strange relationship since it began; but they took him in without question of who or what he is. They taught him happiness, step by step. And Shouto wants that back. Wants to hold onto these days, as frantic and messy as they’ve been.

Izuku gasps as Shouto steps behind him. His head snaps up, and it’s the first time his nose has left that book all day.

Gently, Shouto noses into the side of his neck, and closes his eyes. When Izuku doesn’t complain, he folds his arms around him, and stays there.

“Are – are you okay?” Izuku stutters.

“Mm. Are you?”

“I, um. Yes? Oh.” Izuku sighs happily as Shouto kisses under his ear. He’s warm here, smelling like pine and parchment and homemade soap. “Oh. Oh.”

“Is this still okay?”

“Yes,” Izuku rasps. He sounds desperately relieved. Like Shouto is something he didn’t think he could have again.

Izuku’s head lolls to the side, so Shouto kisses him there too. He presses his palm flat to his navel, keeps Izuku tight to him, like if he tried hard enough, they could melt into one being. Izuku grasps the shelf before him, and the bottles rattle.

Shouto isn’t used to desire. He’s known pain, he’s known suffering. He knows frustration in its rarity, and curiosity at its fullest. But this is something else. This is carnal. Tailor made, for this person. These people.

“Will your Kacchan be mad?”

“Ours.” Izuku’s voice goes whispery, and soft. He sounds relieved. “And no, he’ll like it.”  

Shouto noses along his spine, where it dips under his collar. These days have been long, but when they’re touching like this – the exhaustion becomes something to forget about, like all of his other worries.

Izuku is melting under him. Shouto rubs up and down his side, until his hand is warmed up enough to dip under his shirt without freezing him out. Izuku makes a happy noise, then another when Shouto kisses the side of his neck again.

“So sweet…are all princes like this?”

“No,” Shouto says, with absolute certainty. “And I was not always so kind.”

Izuku isn’t bothered. His chest rises and falls under Shouto’s hand, sighing as he feels across his ribs.

“Life is funny that way.” He shakes a little when Shouto pets across the front of his trousers. Shouto pauses, until he realizes it’s from excitement, not discomfort. “I uh, I used to dream of being a hero.”

Izuku tilts his hips into him, and Shouto just wants.

“Somehow, that does not surprise me.”

Izuku twists around to try and kiss him, but Shouto keeps him pinned in. He uses his left hand to cage him against the desk, then kisses the side of his mouth as he works down his fly. Izuku is warm and hardening in his hand, and it’s thrilling.

“Like this?” Izuku asks. Maybe begs.

Shouto gently grinds against the cleft of his ass. The pressure is good, but not satisfying. Maybe the tease is what’s pleasurable about it. The dull heat, and the friction. Shouto’s bangs hang in his face, and he doesn’t bother to move them. Izuku’s neck is soft; untouched by any sword, magic, or otherwise.

“Yeah.”

Izuku is quick to pluck a jar off the shelf and flick the top off. Shouto nudges his pants down to his knees, and Izuku is slicking his fingers for him before he can even ask.

“This’ll do,” Izuku assures him. “Come on, please.”

He knows what he’s doing this time. Izuku only needs a couple fingers before he’s pawing at the shelves, rocking back into his hand and gasping impatiently. 

It’s not very ceremonious. Shouto is hard, and he slicks himself before holding Izuku still, and grinding between his thighs. Izuku trembles, squeezing his legs shut. Shouto has to count each of his own teeth with his tongue, before he’s ready enough to slip in. 

Izuku makes a pleased, short little moan; and as he squeezes so tight around him, Shouto decides to stop thinking and start doing. 

He just wants to be closer. To crawl into this person that he cannot keep. To lock them together and throw away the key. 

Skin slaps skin, and Izuku grabs onto the desk to keep the bottles from rattling off the shelves above it. His body reacts every time Shouto slides in; squeezing tight, his toes curling, rocking back against him like he doesn’t want Shouto to leave. 

Shouto builds a home in Izuku’s shoulder. With his shirt half unbuttoned and shoved aside, Shouto presses close to him, breathes him in and fucks him. 

Izuku makes little oh! oh! sounds that spur Shouto on like a cape to a bull. He keeps Izuku tight to him with a palm at his stomach, using his weight against him so he can slide as deep as he can. 

Shouto palms over the front of Izuku’s cock. He’s hard and sticky, and knowing it’s for him is a contact high he’s still riding.

He wonders if Katsuki has fucked him here. Bent over the desk, with the papers, and the dust. Shouto asks as such. 

“Yes,” Izuku croaks. “Many times.” A hand reaches behind to grab into Shouto’s hair and pull. His hair is bone straight, so Izuku has to grip tight to keep the strands from slipping between his fingers, and Shouto feels his stomach physically swoop. “Ah, oh – he, he wants you, you know.”

The idea makes his heart race. Shouto doesn’t realize he’s slowed until Izuku is bending further over the desk, trying to work back against him in frustration. Shouto kicks his leg out further, and Izuku yips.

“He’s had me,” Shouto says.

“Not like this. You have no idea.” Izuku goes ah, and starts to work himself in hand, like he’s lost the patience. “It’s like – being whole. Being connected.”

Shouto isn’t as much of a biter as Katsuki, but he does have the strange, innate desire to suck down on the side of his neck like a leech, so Shouto does.

Izuku moans his name. Gripping the desk, he hangs his head and rasps ah, ah, oh gods, yes please –

When it becomes too much, Shouto pulls out to come across his thighs, shivering and twitching like he’s been possessed. Izuku goes no, the books! – so Shouto spins him, fingers him tight, and makes sure he comes down the way he wants to.

It’s something spiritual to see Izuku’s face. Wet lashes, bitten lips and a flush on his face. Shouto never would’ve lasted looking at him like this.

“Sorry,” Shouto mumbles. He wipes some of his tears with his clean hand, and helps Izuku back into his pants. “I don’t know why…”

Izuku laughs wetly, and cups his cheek in his hand. Shouto is now haunted by those scars; riveted up and down his knuckles, like a brand.

“You’re allowed to touch me, you know that, right? That’s what this means. Being together.”

“It feels selfish.”

Izuku hums in agreement, and kisses him.

“Sometimes, I think that’s the best part about it.”

Is it truly?

Nothing feels real anymore. Somewhere, in the mountains, a hawk caws.

Chapter Text

☆☆☆ 

At breakfast, a hand slides around his throat.

Shouto pauses immediately; a spoon halfway to his mouth, the bread roll dropping from his other hand.

The fingers fit snug around his windpipe. They don’t squeeze, and Shouto knows who they belong to by the cool metal rings at his pulse.

“I hear you fucked my boyfriend,” Katsuki mumbles against his ear.

Shouto sets his spoon back in his bowl. The cottage is so quiet, that the resonant clink sounds especially loud.

“I’d say you’re the one that taught me how.”

The tension breaks with Katsuki’s snorted laugh. He releases Shouto’s throat, and weirdly, he misses the feeling. Katsuki is not an affectionate person – or, if he is, it’s quite selective. But as he ruffles Shouto’s hair to be an annoyance, he can still feel the kindness in the gesture.

“Hm…I’ve never had a protégé before.”

“Please shut up.”

Katsuki’s tone is relatively light.

“Tell me to shut up again and I’ll chop off your legs and feed ‘em to the trolls.”

“Wow. And you wonder why your transformation is a wolf.”

“Oi! What’s that supposed to –”

Izuku’s voice rings from the study.

“Kacchan! Don’t forget to take a book with you to work!”

Katsuki pauses. The fight bleeds out of him, and he begins to grumble around the kitchen. Despite his brutish appearance, he always moves fluidly; lifting boxes and cups and patting through shelves, and yet he never spills a thing.

The more Shouto watches them these days, the more he realizes they really are the same as him. Trained into soldiers, forced to become something worse than human.

“Dammit, where’d I put that stupid fuckin’ thing…”

Shouto can’t resist poking just a little more.

“Cute. Izuku’s got you house trained.”

Katsuki nearly vaults the table. He’s not fast enough to get Shouto in a headlock, though he tries. Shouto ices his fingers and sticks them into the crook of Katsuki’s neck. He yips like a dog, and pops his magic by Shouto’s ears, causing him to recoil in return.

Shouto flings him over his shoulder and onto the floor, but Katsuki takes him down with an ankle around his calf, and a chair gets knocked over in collateral.

Izuku comes out of the study with a pencil in his hair and a book in hand.

“What the hell are you two –” Pause. “Seriously?”

“He started it,” they say. Katsuki rolls Shouto to his back. Shouto tries to flip them over, but they end up in a knot. Katsuki smells like leather and campfire smoke, and it fills up his senses.

“Fuck me you are strong,” Katsuki curses. “Where’re you storin’ all this muscle, ‘cause it sure as shit ain’t here.”

“In your mother,” Shouto struggles, and then stops when Izuku starts to hysterically laugh. The absurdity of the whole situation hits Shouto all at once. He, a prince, should not be bickering with someone on the floor. Be it a romantic partner, or not.

Shouto tips his head back, and gives up the fight. Katsuki wins in pinning him to the ground, and Shouto starts to go hot.

“Um. Apologies.”

“No, it’s…” Izuku struggles to fight back a smile, and then gives up entirely. “I’m happy you’re comfortable here. I’m really, really happy.”

Katsuki presses his face into Shouto’s hair, and breathes. It’s a total one-eighty from their fight moments ago, until Shouto realizes…maybe it isn’t.

They’re two separate people, Izuku and Katsuki. Each their own puzzle, and for that, he thinks that’s why he likes them.

His heart is racing like Katsuki really is some kind of unpredictable beast. His arms are like iron, immovable and strong.

For a moment, it was impossible to move past that fight in the basement. But by the weight of Kastuki’s possessive breathing, and the smile on Izuku’s face, Shouto thinks they might be okay for just a while longer.

“You have work,” Shouto reminds.

“Thank you, prince obvious,” Katsuki mutters, yet kisses Shouto at the ear. He is a walking contradiction at its finest. “I’ll get you back later then.”

“I’ll count on it.”

Izuku uses his magic to fling the forgotten book at Katsuki’s head. He catches it reflexively, but is surprised anyways.

“The book, Kacchan!”

“I’ve got it, I’ve got it! Shittyass nerd.”

“I love you too,” Izuku waves, and shuts the door behind him. Still on the floor, Shouto looks up at him in wonder. Izuku only shrugs, and extends a hand. “Don’t worry, you get used to it.”

That might be what Shouto’s afraid of the most.

He’s on borrowed time. Shouto should not be enjoying it, but he still is.

☆☆☆ 

The barn doors open and shut, and Shouto has a knife in hand before he can even see who it is.

“If I wanted to kill you, I would have,” Aizawa says.

Shouto pockets the knife easily, and continues to clean the stall.

“Somehow, I believe you.”

Aizawa looks tired, as he ever is. Dressed in baggy black clothing, muddy fishing boots and reeking of fish. He leans against the barn post, crosses his arms and watches Shouto work.

“Haven’t seen you around lately.”

“Sorry. I’ve had to come work a little later than usual.”

“I’ve seen you sneaking into the town hall with those two oddballs. You’re poking around in business you shouldn’t be dealing with.”

Shouto pauses. One of the goats decides to headbutt his leg, and Shouto frowns at her.

“Are you going to do something about it?”

“No.”

As he thought. Shouto starts to shovel out into a wheelbarrow, and Aizawa does not move.

“I have my reasons, sir.”

“Don’t we all,” Aizawa intones. “But this town is unforgiving. Sometimes, life can’t be fixed. Be it reason, or hope.”

“I’ve been here for over a month,” Shouto says, finally turning to look him in the eye. “I’ve heard the rumors. Izuku tells me you teach the town children to read in secret.”

Aizawa huffs, “Midoriya is an air-headed fool. I wouldn’t listen too much into that kid.”

“You’re educated,” Shouto defers. “I know you don’t believe in this guardian-spirit nonsense. Don’t you want it to end?”

Aizawa flicks something around his finger, and it takes Shouto a moment to realize it’s a cigarette. He pulls it to his mouth, but doesn’t light it yet.

“It never ends.”

Shouto does not respond. He adjusts the shovel in his hand, and gets to work again. Aizawa walks to the barn door, saying, “You get rid of those things, and I’ll let that demon mare of yours stay here for free.”

“Once they’re gone, I will be too,” Shouto replies.

Aizawa gives what is considerably the smallest smile on record, but it is surely there.

“I know.”

The barn door closes, and Cyrus whinnies loudly, like a laugh.

“I do this for you,” Shouto hisses. Cyrus flicks her tail, and sticks her nose right in her feed bucket.

The wind blows. Shouto knows the fog is coming.

☆☆☆ 

He wakes in a cold sweat.

Heart racing, Shouto stares straight at the lofted ceiling. The freshly washed sheets do not ground him, nor do the sounds of lighting off in the distance.

Of all nights, his left side aches incessantly. Shouto has grown used to the chronic pain, but some weeks are worse than others.

This bed is lonely. The other one is, too. But at least it has furs that smell nice, and the pleasant memories that permeate with it.

Shouto rolls over.

I do not need them, he thinks. I do not need anyone. I’m fine on my own. I’m fine on my own.

Physically, yes. But happy?

Shouto slides out of bed. Down the stairs, through the hall, and into their bedroom.

It is empty. That pulling desire to run out the door and join them has never gone away. Neither has the cutting urgency to release his own curse, and free the town of these demons. To free Izuku and Katsuki of this war they’re forced to fight.

Shouto crawls under the fur blanket. It’s suffocating and warm, and it helps ease the heated ache in the left side of his body.

 He does drift. Then, in the very, very late hours of the night – so late, that the sun is well on its way – Shouto feels the blankets rustle.

“Oh, Shouto,” Izuku whispers sadly.

He doesn’t even have time to stiffen. Shouto attempts a sleepy apology, but is shushed before he can begin. A body in front, and a body behind. It’s too dark to see, but he knows from the press of their knees. From the hands, and the sniffly, tired noises they make.

Shouto yearns for a night without pain. And he yearns for a night spent with them.

Oh these birds and their stones.

☆☆☆ 

“We’re closed.”

“I know.”

Katsuki’s head flies upwards. He’s wiping down tankards, all sitting to dry in a neat little line.

“I ain’t serving you shit, I already cleaned all these damn cups.”

“That’s fine.” Shouto sits at the bar, and sets one of the books at the counter. “I had to get out of that library. Izuku is still working.”

Katsuki shakes his head. He’s unbuttoned the top half of his shirt already, and the beads around his neck hang on bare, tan skin. Shouto doesn’t bother to look anywhere else.

“That idiot has a one-track mind. Don’t try to keep up with him.”  

“I haven’t read this much since primary school.”

“Since what?”

“Nevermind.” Shouto plays with the cover of the book, running his finger along the leather edge. “Have you learned anything interesting?”

Katsuki snorts.

“I can tell you more about the history of fishing than I ever hoped to know. Waste of goddamn time.”

“I know,” Shouto sighs. “But we have to start narrowing it down. Cutting out options is the only way we can hope to decipher All Might’s message.”

“I swear to the Gods, when I die, I’m beating the shit out of that old man,” Katsuki grumbles. “A simple yes or no would’ve been nice.”

Shouto shrugs.

“I don’t know much about the veil between worlds, but I know spirits have rules. You can’t operate outside the passage of fate.”

The bar creeks with the wind. Some of the overhead lanterns rock back and forth, and the orange light reflects in waves around Katsuki’s sharp features. He crosses his arms, and leans back up against the wall of liquor bottles.

“It’s all a bunch of bullshit. I’m always telling Deku not to believe everything he reads, but here we are.”

Shouto frowns. He looks at his fingers, where his old sword callouses still lie. He’s gained new ones from chopping trees and pulling weeds.

“He works harder than anyone I’ve ever met.”

Katsuki comes around the edge of the bar to lean next to him. Not too close, but not far either. His voice drops to something a little more serious.

“Well shit, he always had to. The odds have been stacked against him since day one. I’ve watched Deku crawl to where he is now. Not walk, crawl.”

Shouto hums. He pockets his hands, and turns to face Katsuki too. His eyes are hard to read. They’re fiery red, always so squinted and angry – but they’re open now; a window of emotion that Shouto can read plain as day. He wonders if it’s always been like this, or if Shouto has learned to truly see what’s in front of him for the first time.

The day he first stepped into this bar feels like a lifetime ago. 

“You respect him.”

“Of course I fuckin’ do.”

“But you wanted his power.”

Katsuki looks away. There is an old hurt buried deep in the rigidness of his shoulders.

“Once upon a time, maybe. I dunno’, it was years ago.”

His protectiveness over Izuku is endearing and obvious. Be it born from insecurity, be it fear, or desire, or jealousy – Shouto is realizing that blanket is extending over him too. In the way Katsuki stands, his back to the door, braced on the counter and watching Shouto intently.

The air feels tense. Shouto embraces it in full force.

“Your bloodline magic. What is it, really?”

Katsuki’s eyes slide to him. His gaze is observant, and skeptical. The sharp gages in his ears only add to his prickly exterior, but Shouto never was intimidated, and he won’t start now. 

“You damn well know I can’t show you in here.”

“I’ve seen those creatures scatter at the sight of it. Is it like fire?”

“No.” Katsuki takes his palm in hand, and Shouto’s heart jumps from it. “It’s – pressure. An explosion, I guess. You ever seen fireworks?”

“Of course.”

Katsuki pops his magic very lightly into Shouto’s palm, and it sizzles and stings. Determined not to flinch, Shouto lets him crackle that orange magic into his hand.

“It’s dangerous,” Katsuki mutters. “I mean, I can’t lift a damn house like Deku, but I can blow through castle walls like parchment.”

Shouto doesn’t let him pull away. He grips his hand instead, stepping forward to stand a little closer.

“It’s powerful. And yet those creatures don’t die.”

“Nope. A blast to the face, and they’re up and running the very next night.”

Shouto studies his palm. It’s a little clammy, but Shouto finds it endearing. His hands are very different from Izuku’s; with long fingers, protruding tendons and veiny forearms.

“There might not be an end to this,” Shouto whispers.

Katsuki pulls out of his grip, only so he can tug Shouto closer by the hip. He sets a hand at the bar behind Katsuki to steady himself, but Katsuki just stares blankly. They’re close in height, and Shouto really feels it now, standing so close together like this.

“Well, guess that means you gotta’ stay ‘till we find it.”

Amused, Shouto exhales dryly through his nose.

“You know I’ll try.”

“Sure.” Katsuki’s hand presses to his lower back. Shouto, terribly, tilts his head to the side when Katsuki tips his nose towards his throat. “But would you at least give yourself this?”

Shouto sets a hand at his side. He has such a narrow waist. Such broad shoulders.

“I have already given myself too much.”

Katsuki kisses his jaw. Shouto breaks out in goosebumps from it.

“Be selfish, your highness. Summon the will of your ancestors.”

“Oh shut up.”

They kiss. They probably both started it. Shouto parts his lips and Katsuki slides his tongue in his mouth, and Shouto makes a sound from the back of his throat that’s a little too genuine.

Katsuki’s free hand drags up to the nape of his neck, and it’s like a fire lit under his ass. Shouto kisses back hard, drives Katsuki up against the bar, and gasps when fingers yank his hair by the ends.

“God I want you,” Katsuki grits, and Shouto feels that growl deep in his ribcage. The wind rattles the chime on the door, and Katsuki squeezes his eyes shut, yanking Shouto tight to him. “Shit. But not without Deku.” Another creak from the walls. “And not in my bar.”

“You started it,” Shouto whispers. To his (secret) delight, Katsuki almost laughs.

“Here.” Katsuki finds a spot under his throat and sucks down hard. Shouto’s toes curl in his boots. “You can tell Deku about this one.”

“Damn you,” Shouto sighs. “I can’t hide that.”

“Good. Help me wipe down the bar or I’ll fuck you on the front mat.”

The mental picture is not unpleasant. Shouto chooses to grab a rag, anyways.

☆☆☆ 

They cook dinner side by side.

Izuku reads and reads and reads – until Katsuki yanks it out of his hand, and chucks the book into the other room shouting, no books around the fire! And to Shouto’s amazement, that is the end of the argument.

They eat, then they clean. A short time remains until the witching hour, so they take their rest in front of the fire, Shouto with his legs kicked up on the ottoman, and Izuku’s head squished half into his lap.

They’re sleepy around this hour. Sometimes they nap while they still can. Shouto tries not to be a bother, instead opening one of the books he was working on earlier, and skimming for any information that could be useful. At the very least, this one has pictures. It gives him something to distract himself with as Izuku noses towards his stomach and clings to the back of his white shirt.

Katsuki is at his left. Shouto thought him to be dozing, but when Izuku becomes restless in his lap, he realizes that Katsuki has been watching him.

“Can I help you?” Shouto asks flatly.

Izuku presses his face into Shouto’s thigh. He goes warm from it, and thinks – oh.

Katsuki’s arm is around the back of the couch. Shouto hadn’t thought much of it, until now. His mind races back to the bar, and suddenly the words on his page become blurred and unimportant.

“Dunno’. I guess that’s up to you.”

Shouto bookmarks his page, and shuts the book slowly. Carefully, he sets a hand into Izuku’s hair. The ends curl around his fingers, soft and bouncy and thick, and Shouto scratches down to his scalp so he purrs.

“A true prince serves his people, not the other way around.”

Izuku laughs. Katsuki’s nose bumps the shell of his ear, so Shouto turns to kiss him. Izuku plucks the book from his hand and shoves it between the cushions, and he feels his stomach swoop when Izuku pushes up the hem of his shirt to kiss above his bellybutton.

Katsuki is full in his mouth. Everywhere, wet and warm, and minty from whatever it was he was chewing on earlier. Shouto uses his other hand to cup across his neck, playing with his earring at the tip of his thumb. Katsuki exhales through his nose, and Shouto feels it light something up in him.

“Shouto…” Izuku starts. He rolls further onto his stomach, and slides his palm to Shouto’s bare back, dipping his fingers where his belt isn’t so tight. “There’s something we wanted to say…”

Shouto sighs. It forces Katsuki to pull away so he can speak.

“And your plan was to seduce me beforehand?”

Katsuki goes for a spot on his throat, and Shouto realizes he’s covering the mark he left there earlier.

“It almost worked before.”

“Hm.”

“It’s just…” Izuku’s knuckles brush his lower spine. His hands are a little cold, and Shouto has to repress a shiver. “If you – if you’re needed back at the inner kingdom, we can keep working on this, um, here. We could send for you, when we –”

“Absolutely not,” Shouto interrupts. “I started this. I’ll only leave if I must.”

Izuku looks up at him, and it’s hard not to think of how handsome he is.

“What if it takes months? Years?”

They all know he can’t stay that long. It might be better to build walls sooner than later, but Shouto can’t bring himself to.

“We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

Katsuki sucks down a little lower on his throat, and it gives him butterflies.

“You can’t run like we did, your highness.”

“No. Hawks will surely find me.”

“Who?”

“No one.” He stops, and remembers their vow of honesty. “My father’s druid.”

“I could take him,” Katsuki growls.

Shouto twists his fingers around Izuku’s hair, who has gone dangerously quiet. Shouto realizes that he has been stealthily untying his trousers.

“He wouldn’t go down easy.”

“I’ll put you down easy,” says Katsuki, and Shouto rolls his eyes so hard, he has to drag him back in to find his tongue again. He just has to.

It’s a lot. He hasn’t been in the middle like this since the last time they were in front of the fire. While the crackling of the logs remains the same, everything else is different now. Shouto only feels the good kind of nerves, and he doesn’t shy away.

Izuku shimmies so he can mouth across his cock through his underwear, and Shouto makes a surprised sound right into Katsuki’s open mouth. It gets wetter because of it, Katsuki tonguing to the back of his teeth and licking across his upper lip. Drool gets forced down his chin, and Katsuki licks that too.

“Dog,” Shouto thinks aloud. Katsuki bites his lip, and it hurts.

“You’re a royal asshole.”

Izuku giggles, and reaches over to squeeze his lover by the thigh. Katsuki’s leg twitches in response.

“The resemblance really is there.”

Katsuki pinches his ear, and Izuku goes ow.

“Shut up hare. I’ll spank you too.”

“Oh nooo,” Izuku sighs flatly. “Whatever will I do.” He’s still pawing and nosing into Shouto’s crotch, determined to not only make him hard, but to make him ache – and he’s mostly there already. Izuku keeps tonguing through the fabric, glancing up through dark lashes to watch. “Ah, you’re so hard, Shouto. Does it feel good?”

Shouto doesn’t trust himself to answer. He digs his knuckles into Katsuki’s warm, sweaty nape, and they slip a little on the edge of his tattoo.

“I, um.”

He doesn’t know how to say what he wants, now that it’s in front of him. It’s okay, because Izuku vocalizes it for him.

“Can we take care of you?”

Shouto knows how to answer that.

“Yes.”

“Great,” Katsuki grins wickedly. “Let’s move.”

☆☆☆ 

Katsuki might have good hands, but Izuku knows exactly what he’s looking for, and that’s even worse.

Shouto white-knuckles the headboard and gasps. Izuku supports him soundly in his lap, arms wrapped around him and three fingers up to the third knuckle. Shouto went cross-eyed long ago; now he’s just counting each breath.

“Give him a minute, fucking hell,” Katsuki says, smacking Izuku’s thigh.

“But look at his face,” Izuku grins. “I told you it feels good.”

Izuku is just grinding into his prostate. He slips on and off it on purpose, rubbing circles that are impossible to predict. It’s overwhelming, almost too much of a good thing, and it feels like Shouto is falling apart at the seams. His cock might just wither and die.

“Oh, fuck,” Shouto whispers.

“One more?” Katsuki asks. Shouto hisses through closed teeth, and hangs his head.

“Seriously?”

“You’ll need it.”

Izuku eases up, and Shouto takes the moment to relax, sitting down fully on his thighs. He catches his breath.

“Cocky.”

 Behind him, another finger slips in. It goes easily with the lube, but Shouto still squeezes his eyes shut to try and adjust.

Katsuki speaks against his ear, and it makes his insides shake.

“Sorry if I don’t want to break you, princess.”

Ha. Very funny.

“It can’t be any worse than the injuries I’ve suffered before,” Shouto mutters. Izuku cups his cheek with his free hand, and Shouto’s attention snaps back to him.

“You’re not supposed to suffer. You’re supposed to feel good.”

He feels a bit of both. Katsuki rubs around the rim of his ass, soothing to fight the burn, and it kinda’ works if the oversensitivity is anything to go by. Someone squeezes his hip; Shouto doesn’t know who.

Izuku kisses him, and he can probably taste Katsuki. He likes making out with Izuku because his mouth is so plush and soft, and he never pulls away first, like he could go on forever. Fingers slip out and in, and Shouto shivers again.

Izuku purrs approvingly,

“Hmm…feels better now.”

A forehead presses against his spine.

“Deku,” Katsuki growls. The kiss pops apart, and Izuku smiles over Shouto’s bare shoulder.

“Yes, Kacchan?”

“You wanna’?”

“Yeah.”

“Wanna’ what?” Shouto asks. He gets no answer, and as they start to shuffle around the bed, Shouto feels panicked. “Wanna’ what?”

Katsuki’s presses one palm tight to his chest, and another under his thigh, lifting him off Izuku so he can roll over. The loss of Izuku’s fingers is actually worse than the initial stretch.  

“Fuckin’ relax,” Katsuki soothes, in the most un-soothing tone. Still, it’s something. “You know we’ve got you.”

“Stop coddling me.”

“Princess, I’ve never coddled a thing in my life. Roll over.”

Shouto does. He tries to see what Izuku is doing, but Katsuki pins him to the bed, licks into his mouth and noses hungrily into his collarbone. Shouto silently groans from it, reaching for his shoulders and pawing the shirt off his torso so he can feel across the muscles deep-set in his back.

The fabric of his pants scratches against Shouto’s bare thighs. Katsuki’s nape is damp, and Shouto holds to the ends of his hair as he licks his tongue flat between Shouto’s pecs, and gives him butterflies.

“You sweat a lot,” Shouto blurts. It’s kind of sexy, but he doesn’t get to finish that thought.

Izuku starts to laugh under his breath, and Katsuki bites hard into his side. Ouch.

“We need to work on your bedside manners.”

“It’s his magic,” Izuku explains. “He always runs hot. I mean, have you ever seen him in a coat?”

Huh.

“You know, now that you mention it…”

Katsuki licks across his abdomen, kisses under his bellybutton, and makes it hard to think. He’s not gentle, but he’s not forceful either. Maybe for Katsuki, that is gentle.

Izuku rolls slightly over and squeezes Shouto across the chest, kissing his mouth while Katsuki dives between his legs. The attention is overwhelming as it always is, but Shouto is growing addicted to it; to being a part of something, instead of on some pedestal.

Katsuki licks across his erection, and Shouto can’t even make a sound. His jaw drops silently, and he squirms up and off the bed as Katsuki bobs off his cock a few times. It’s something he never thought he’d see, and he ends up sliding off Izuku’s mouth just to watch.

“Not too much, Kacchan.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Shouto rasps.

Katsuki actually pulls off to laugh, but his expression steers mischievous again when he looks Izuku in the eye.

“Good?”

“Yeah.”

“You two are making me nervous,” Shouto points.

Izuku finds Katsuki’s hand sweetly, squeezing once before rolling to his back.

“Borrowed time, remember? I’ve decided I want to make the most of it.”

Shouto’s heart aches. He’s done nothing in his life to deserve something like this – and yet they’re still here, right in front of his eyes.

The room already smells like sex. The color of the sun reflecting through the glass mobiles is telling of the time. They don’t have forever, but Shouto will pretend they do.

Izuku wads up one of the fur blankets for a pillow. Shouto is a little confused when Izuku prods him to kneel between his legs. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Shouto props a hand in the sheets, and lets Izuku slip and rub their erections together.

He’s a little sore from being hard for so long, so the pressure is nice. Izuku is tan and pretty and painted like a canvas, all those scars and moles and dots in places Shouto still hasn’t discovered yet. It’s easy to get lost just looking at him – but when Izuku starts to nudge him between his cheeks, Shouto wakes up.

“Wait, I thought…” He inhales through his nose, inching forwards and pushing into Izuku on reflex. His entrance is slick and relaxed, and when he squeezes, Shouto feels his ribs constrict with him. It’s not like he’s complaining, but he now feels foolish for getting all worked up over nothing. “Ngh, w-wait, hold on, weren’t you going to…”

Katsuki’s cock slides hotly against his inner thigh, and Shouto’s eyes go so wide, they start to dry.

“It’s okay,” Izuku whispers. His nails are dull, scratching into the base of Shouto’s skull. “Mmm, you feel good, your highness.” 

His brain feels split in two; straight down the middle, between the white of his right side, and the red on his left. Katsuki grips his thigh, keels up behind him, and kneads his thumb into Shouto’s hip to get him to focus.

“Hey, don’t tense up.”

“I can’t –” Shouto blurts, stops, and starts again. “There’s no way I can do both.”

“You don’t have to do anything.” Izuku locks him in with his knees, drawing him in close so it’s all skin on skin. He can feel his ribs, his stomach and his chest rising as he breathes. He’s hot inside, wet with lube and stretched nicely, and Shouto realizes that’s what he was doing earlier. “Kacchan will do all the work.”

A huff.

“Gee, thanks.” Sensing Shouto’s hesitancy, Katsuki slips his fingers up and down Shouto’s thighs, and drops his voice. “You wanna’ be good, sweetheart?”

Everything stops. Shouto freezes rigid, and feels something audibly click inside of him.

He never would’ve dreamed something up like this, but now that it’s happening, he’s never wanted anything more. He draws close into Deku, pushes so he’s all the way in, and listens for the happy sigh in return.

“Yes.”  

Katsuki squeezes his ass in one palm, and hums, “Good.”

His stomach is in knots until Katsuki finally pushes in. It feels impossible – way too big, too hot, too everything. Izuku coaches him through it, Katsuki waits, and when he’s relaxed again, Katsuki shoves in fully, inch by inch.

“Oh, my god,” Shouto blurts. He has to forcibly swallow around the excess drool in his mouth, and his vision goes fuzzy. “Oh my fucking god.”

“Izuku,” Katsuki growls, tense as a board. “He’s fuckin’ tight. I thought you checked him.”

Izuku flounders, “He – he should be okay! Shouto, if it hurts we can stop – ”

“Don’t,” Shouto hisses. He breathes in, out, and dips his face to the side of Izuku’s neck. “Don’t stop.”

A beat. Izuku looks at Katsuki over his shoulder, and they exchange an amazed, reverent look.

“Oh,” Katsuki purrs. “You like it?”

Shouto’s throat is so dry, it clicks as he swallows. 

“You’re big.”

Izuku cups the back of his skull, and whispers sweet in his ear.

“Breathe out.”

Katsuki pulls out, slides in, and Shouto falls apart.

Normally shocked silent, Shouto is surprised by the sound he makes. It’s so much, it’s so much – Katsuki is in him, everywhere; full up to his stomach, forced forwards into Izuku’s tight body – oh, fuck oh – fuck.

Shouto’s magic is sizzling in him. He can feel Izuku’s arcana reacting to it, little flicks of gold vibrating in the air. Katsuki is all that reckless heat behind him, gripping hard and keeping his pace vigilant, and Shouto slaps a hand against the headboard and sobs.

It gets good. It gets really good. They build up a pace somewhere, and Izuku starts to thrust and squirm and cling to him desperately, his cock twitching restlessly between them.

“Oh, yes,” Izuku sighs. “You – you sound so pretty, Shouto. Ah – oh, m-more, Kacchan.”

He’s hard enough to burst, but whenever Katsuki’s cock snaps back in, the pressure is so shocking, it keeps him back on the edge. His stomach is concaving, knotting in arousal and churning on the edge, and he can’t focus enough to cross the line.

Shouto tries desperately to stay quiet and avoid embarrassment, but Katsuki grips him by the waist, snaps hard into him and rambles in that gritty rasp, “Good girl, princess, good fuckin’ girl – don’t let Deku down, keep goin’.”

Shouto has lost his mind, because he whines. Katsuki is jamming full stop into his prostate, and the spastic arousal is sending him insane. He rocks into Izuku, and focuses on the nails raking down his back to keep himself from coming.

Izuku digs his heels into Katsuki’s butt, and yanks him in closer. Shouto can feel Katsuki’s balls snug tight to his ass, and every breath hurts, like he’s fucked up into his lungs. He wonders if that’s how Izuku feels, now that Shouto’s buried so tight into him, clinging like he might just disappear into the cracks of the wood floor, if he so dares to let go.

Izuku only has to cry Kacchan for his lover to reach over Shouto’s shoulder and kiss him. It’s more weight on his back, but it feels good. Shouto’s buried to hell in Izuku’s shoulder anyways, but the sound of their kissing makes him go tight. Katsuki’s resounding groan is something worth thinking about for, um – for forever, really.

Katsuki’s necklace beads clink against his nape. They’re cold, and Shouto breaks out in goosebumps. There are only hands, now. Hands everywhere, lips in places he can’t remember, disjointed movement and a rhythm that they hunt down eventually.

The sun creeps down the horizon, the clocks tick, and Shouto doesn’t want it to end.

If he truly belongs nowhere; stuck between fire and ice, between a curse and a kingdom – Shouto wants to believe he at least belongs here. These two peasants have made him believe it as such.

Shouto is hiccupping from the overstimulation. Izuku kisses him messy and sweet. Katsuki grips the back of his hair and pulls to the root, and Shouto makes a sound so loud, his throat hurts from it. Izuku gasps and orgasms reflexively, like Shouto coming undone was enough for him. His hands are stuck in the sheets, but Shouto can feel him pulsing around him, can feel his cock sticky and throbbing against his bellybutton, and Shouto shakes in his arms.

“Oh! Shouto yes, yes yes – so pretty, your highness, come with me.”

“I can’t,” he croaks. Shouto is almost afraid to cross the line. Like if he finishes, he really will die.

“I’ll roll him,” Katsuki says.

Izuku stretches out his toes, cracks his joints and purrs, “Okay.”

Dazed and overstimulated, Shouto only has a vague idea of what’s happening. He knows Izuku cleans himself with some kind of yellowy magic, and he shivers when Izuku pulls them apart. However, he’s not in any way shape or form prepared for Katsuki to slide out of him.

That full feeling disappears. It sucks all the air out of his lungs, and makes his heart race.

“No!” He croaks. “No, no no – ”

“Hey, woah! Shh, it’s okay. Shouto.” Izuku tries to ground him. “Look, look, he’s coming back.”

Now flipped to his backside, Shouto fights in Izuku’s arms, and he only stops panicking when Katsuki walks on his knees, and gets Shouto’s thighs into the crook of his arms. Katsuki’s cock is red and hard and pointed straight to his bellybutton, and it’s amazing to think that he is the cause.

“Not goin’ nowhere,” Katsuki mumbles. He rubs up and down his thigh, meeting Izuku’s hand somewhere on his belly. “Your ass is mine.” 

Shouto can see his face now; dead-set in determination, eyes focused and his mouth red, like he’s been biting it. Shouto lets out a breath, and Katsuki slips back in. Watching him physically swallow is arousing, too. His tribal beads hang low off his chest, and Shouto watches them swing as he thrusts fully.  Shouto grips to Izuku’s knee like a lifeline.

“Katsuki,” he rasps.

Sharp teeth find his mouth, and he goes slack for him. His cock is just twitching incessantly now, drooling heavily onto his navel. He’s well past close. 

“C’mon,” Katsuki bites him. “I wanna’ see those tears.”

Izuku cups his cock, and Shouto nearly dies.

“So pretty,” Izuku murmurs.

An agreed, “Fuckin’ beautiful.”

His legs get thrown over wide shoulders, and the angle is absolutely impossible. Shouto hides his face in his arm and sobs, but his fingers are quickly swiped aside, and he’s left to seize and beg in Izuku’s arms.

This man is always strong, and Shouto feels it in the way he’s carefully held still. His grip is like iron, and Shouto comes all over himself, nails clawing into Katsuki’s shoulder, and his other hand gripped tight to Izuku’s forearm. It’s like a train; white hot and pulsing to his toes.

And if that wasn’t enough; Katsuki curses loud and clear, “Shit, oh fuck –” and doesn’t have time to pull out. In the dregs of his orgasm, Shouto flushes all the way down to his toes.

“Quick,” Izuku nudges him by the chin. “Watch Kacchan.”

He peels his eyes open just in time to see Katsuki tremble over him. His chin is tucked to his chest, and Shouto can feel his hands wicked hot on his skin. This man has excellent control over his magic, but in this very moment, Shouto finally feels it on his skin. Bitter hot, spicy and addictive.

Izuku giggles, and pushes his toes into the flex of Katsuki’s hip.

“Good job, Kacchan.”

“Ugh. Fuck off.”

Shouto is stunned. His whole body tingles, and he can feel Katsuki softening inside of him. Even as he pulls out, Shouto still feels that residual fullness, and when he realizes what it is, he goes hot again.

“Sorry,” Katsuki mutters. He drops Shouto’s legs to the bed, and swipes his fingers between his cheeks to feel for any damage. “Was gonna’ pull out. You shouldn’t make those kinda’ faces around just anyone, your highness.”

Far, far from earth, Shouto manages a hoarse answer.

“I don’t plan on it.”

Izuku is nuzzling up to him. Petting over his collarbones and down his sternum. The touch is very grounding, and oddly cute.

“I knew we could get you to make some noise.”

“Mmm.”

Katsuki returns with a towel. When he goes to clean Shouto out with his fingers, he wakes up fully, like ice water has been dumped on his head.

“Don’t!” He panics. Both Izuku and Katsuki pause.

“Hey,” Katsuki frowns. “You okay?”

Shouto doesn’t feel like a person just yet.

A beast, he thinks. I’ve become that beast.

“It’s mine,” he blurts, fingers protectively diving between his legs. “You gave it to me. It’s mine.”

The silence is loud. Katsuki’s eyes draw wide, and Shouto can see all the shades of red in the last remaining light.

“Oh,” Izuku whispers.

Shouto is full, and sticky. He can feel it leaking between his legs, so he pushes it back in. He’s sore already, but doesn’t care. He can barely feel it anyways.

Fingers are in his hair again, and the tingling goes all the way down his spine.

“We’ll keep it in,” Izuku soothes. “Just for a little bit.”

Katsuki gives him a concerned look, but Izuku shoots him down. Trusting the process, Katsuki crawls between his legs and gets good and close.

“How do you feel?”

Shouto blinks.

“Fuzzy.”

Eyes glance to the window; concerned, but not worried. They have a little time yet.

Izuku sweeps his fingers through his bangs, and Katsuki comes to lay atop him like a compression blanket. The pressure scratches an itch in his brain. 

“You can sleep,” Izuku says, and Shouto takes that to heart. 

☆☆☆ 

He wakes as they return. 

The door opens, shuts, and the window starts to glow blue with the promise of morning. Shouto feels more guilt than he can process, because he slept through it all. 

Izuku crawls next to him, so Shouto gathers him into his arms. He sounds tired from the sigh he makes, and Shouto squeezes until his back pops. 

“Okay?” Shouto whispers. 

“Few scratches,” Katsuki mutters back. The bed creaks with his added weight, and they shift so he can crawl behind Izuku. “All healed.” 

“I’ll do the chores tomorrow,” Shouto promises (and feels slightly out-of-body in doing so. In what royal lifetime did he ever volunteer to do maid-work? Willingly?)

Izuku laughs weakly against his chest. 

“You’ll be sore tomorrow.” 

And he was right about that, too.

“Don’t laugh,” Shouto points, sitting stiffly at the kitchen table. “Don’t you dare.” 

Katsuki tips his head back and cackles anyways. 

“I have a remedy for that,” Izuku says. 

“Does it turn me pink?” 

“Um...no. Maybe a light, light mauve –”

“I’ll pass.”

☆☆☆ 

Shouto is familiar with the call of a red-tailed hawk. He is also familiar with the call of their red-tailed hawk.

He sets down his axe. Izuku is none the wiser, hacking into a large tree and wiping his forehead with his sleeve.

“Izuku,” Shouto says, cleaning his hands. “I have to go for a second.”

Izuku perks. The tree splinters, cracks, and falls right where Izuku wanted it to.

“Huh? Are you okay?”

Hawks’ shadow casts over the grass. When Izuku follows his line of sight, his mouth falls into an o shape.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Ah. Okay.”

Shouto motions to the clearing, and Hawks dips his wing and follows.

He watches him transform before his own eyes. Now that Shouto has seen the transfiguration power of All Might’s relic, he can now see the stark differences. Hawks changes shape physically, bones cracking, feathers stretching in size. Smoke puffs around him, but it is magic itself; grey in color, and sparkling in the light.

Hawks lands gracefully. His large wingspan upsets the grass, blowing the flowers into the air.

“Well well well,” Hawks tsks. “Look who’s still here.”

“Did his majesty send for you again?”

“Nope.” Hawks ruffles his feathers, shaking his head out like a bird. He never does change all the way into a human, though he could if he tried. “I’ve been spying on the League. Gathering intel.”

Shouto crosses his arms.

“And?”

“Thought I’d warn you first before I got to your dad.” Hawks blinks, and a serious look crosses into his sharp eyes. “They’ve got big plans over there. Shigaraki has taken full control of the throne, and he’s made allies with Re-Destro.”

“Shit,” Shouto swears.

Hawks scratches the back of his fluffy hair.

“Yep. You should uh, start wrapping it up here soon. You’ve got a good four-month ride back to the gates, and I have a feeling the King is going to send me right back for you when he hears the news.”

Shouto closes his eyes briefly, and aches. Somehow, he knew this was coming. Happiness was never something he was meant to keep. He takes a deep breath, and becomes the crown prince.  

“Fly back to his majesty. Don’t tell anyone else what you’ve seen. We can’t let fear overtake the people.”

Hawks smirks proudly. He bows in a deep curtsy, and his wings spread high and wide like the drama queen he is.

“Of course, your highness. Good luck on your quest.”

“Hm.”

Hawks swirls in his magic, shifts into bird form and caws away.

And with that, the countdown starts.

When he returns to the logging yard, Izuku looks at him with open concern, arms full of logs and his bangs tied up on his head.

“Shouto? Is everything okay?”

I should have built those walls, Shouto thinks. But it’s too late now.

“I have something to tell you.”

☆☆☆ 

The tower is surrounded by her favorite flowers, hand planted by the decree of the king.

Shouto is used to seeing mother for moments at a time. Sometimes spoken through a small metal door, sometimes from the foot of the tower. It took many years to be brave enough to see her again. Now he hopes he can be brave enough to free her. 

“If you go,” she says, “— you might not return.” 

Her voice is full of worry. Shouto wonders if one day, she can find the peace to love him. 

“If I get called to war, then I truly won’t,” Shouto replies. The guards at the foot of the tower stare through their silver masks. Shouto keeps his back straight, and his head tall. “From this, I will return.” 

Mother doesn’t cry anymore. Not since the day she burned a scar into his flesh. But her eyes do haze over in agony, and Shouto wishes he could take it from her. 

“I would give up this life for you to walk free.” 

“I know, mother.” 

One day, they both will.

Chapter Text

☆☆☆ 

Katsuki massages his temples with the pads of his fingers, and squeezes his eyes shut in frustration.

“It never ends. It never fucking ends.”

“Arguably, foreign affairs aren’t your concern.”

“Arguably, I think it’s plenty my concern if that curse eats you up before you even hit home,” Katsuki snaps back. Shouto clicks his tongue as if to say fair enough.

It’s become routine to sit by the fire after dinner. Shouto spins a pocket-knife around his finger just to have something to do with his hands. He used to whittle wood blocks between marches back in the regime, so the knife has long been dulled.

Shouto clears his throat.

“This war has been passed down by generations. The royal council is well aware that the League has been stockpiling defenses. But, uhh…I don’t think he was expecting an alliance with the liberation army.”

Izuku sighs.

“When Shigaraki leads an army right to the border, and All Might doesn’t appear to save the day…what then?”

Katsuki huffs, “All hell breaks loose.”

“My father has sustained too many injuries in the recent years.” Shouto frowns, “My brother is a pacifist, and my sister is a healer. This war is my birthright, curse or not.”

Izuku’s eyes waver. He looks so exhausted that it pulls on Shouto’s heartstrings just to look at him.

“We – we still have time. The answer is here, I know it is.”

Shouto meets Katsuki’s gaze. He is thinking the same as Shouto. It’s not a lack of faith, but a tired agreement to push forwards.

More than just Shouto’s health sits on the line. The weight feels crushing, and yet –  never before has he shared the burden with someone. Katsuki’s expression is resolute and determined, and Izuku refuses to let go of the books in his hand, and there is a feeling in his chest that is unexplainable. A fluttering warmth that is entirely unrelated to the fire magic threatening to end his life.

“I will owe you more than I can ever repay,” Shouto admits.

Katsuki’s arm lifts off the back of the couch to cap the top of his head.

“We can talk debts when you’re lighting cigars for me, your highness.”

“Well, maybe I wasn’t talking to you,” Shouto retorts, right as Izuku tiredly wipes his eyes and mumbles, “You don’t even smoke cigars.”

There is little time. Shouto can see the way Katsuki’s heart breaks as Izuku yawns, and flips another page. They will fight again tonight. Always (but hopefully not forever).

If Shouto could take their place, he would. If he could pray to the fae to swap their places. If the gods could gift him strength to fight those beasts alone. He. Would.

What is this devotion? This loyalty, to people he’s barely known?

“Read to us,” Katsuki says in a tone gentle only to him, and Izuku does. Until the fog comes. Until the clocks chime. Until, until.

☆☆☆ 

Shouto sits in the garden and feeds the chickens. They no longer fear him, sitting at his feet and eating out of his palm; it reminds him of when he was a child, feeding the ducks with his mother out on the northern bridge.

The swords are vibrating down in the cellar, and Shouto closes his eyes to fight the chill. A chicken pecks his hand, and it grounds him. Keeps him in the present, here and now.

Wet grass under his trousers, humidity in the air; it’s different from home. Muggier, greener. A circle of mushrooms grew in the corner of the yard, and they’re all too wise to go stomping around it, so the grass is untouched. Shouto never saw fairy circles at home. Only in the mountains, or out in the bogs.

Shouto spent too many years filled with hatred for his father. Now, he would give all he has just to hear Endeavor’s advice in this moment. Not the old, cruel King; but the man he is now. The one that tries, fails, and keeps going. The one Shouto cannot forgive, but has learned to respect.

What do I do?

There is only tomorrow. So for today, Shouto will keep trying.

“Do you know anything about curses?” Shouto asks the hen.

She tips her head, clucks, and bites the sole of his boot.

“Ah, very wise. Thank you.”

☆☆☆ 

Of all their hard work. Of scouring the wizard’s study, of ripping apart the Baytown library book by book, of listening to those creatures cry and whine every night – the answer comes to them on any other day. When the clouds are stormy, and the seagulls are pestering those fishermen out on the bay.   

“Anything good?” Izuku asks.

Shouto has to stifle a yawn. He’s been staying up to work through the night. At the very least, he can make more progress while those two are out fighting mysterious river monsters.

It’s hard to look at them the same since that night spent in their bed. The feeling is hard to describe. He’s edgy, like his heart will jump out of his chest and run off without him. It’s not very princely, but no one is here to slap his wrists.

“Not really. Just another compendium.”

Izuku rises from the creaky library chair to place a book back on the shelf. His shirt is tucked messily into his waistband, and it slips free as he reaches up to slide the book into place. The skin is unmarred there, just tan and smooth.

Shouto’s eyes snap back down to the page when he turns around.

“What’s it about?”

“Well…” Shouto flips the page back and forth. “Something about the founders of the town and their… grandchildren, I think. A bunch of fishermen that brought back a giant stone and gifted it to the burgomaster, et cetera, et cetera. Someone drew a picture of it.”

Izuku pauses.

“A giant what?”

“A stone,” Shouto repeats. He squints at the page. “Or maybe an opal. The translation is rough.”

“Let me see,” Izuku says. Shouto slides the book over, and shares the picture with him.

It’s faded in charcoal, but you can still make out the edges of the drawing. There are three fishermen, a boat, and a giant circle shared between their hands.

“Doesn’t that stone look… familiar?”

Shouto pauses, then shrugs.

“Kinda’ sure. It looks like the big rock they keep in the clocktower.”

“Does it say where they got it?”

“Sort of. Apparently, they fished it out of the ocean. Somewhere back east, I think.”

Izuku goes rigid. His head snaps upright, and his eyes fog over in deep thought.

“East… east. Oh my goodness.”

Shouto alerts to the tone in his voice.

“What is it?”

Izuku starts to scramble, shoving books in his bag and tugging on his coat.

“Grab that book! Right now, quick!”

Shouto does not hesitate.

They all but run out of town. Izuku decides he isn’t moving quick enough, and tugs him by his shirt sleeve. He’s muttering to himself so quickly, Shouto can’t make out anything he’s saying.

The wards glow as Izuku steps foot through the garden. They disarm, and Izuku throws open the front door with too much force.

“Hey,” Shouto starts. “Slow down –”

“Third shelf, third shelf,” Izuku blabbers. He skids into the study, climbs up on the wall ladder and feels across each book until he finds what he’s looking for. “Open that page again!”

Shouto gives up on asking questions. He opens the page of the image, and watches Izuku slam down a second book, thumbing through the index.

“What if, what if…” Izuku throws open the page. “What if they’re not an unknown species. What if they’re no demons at all?”

Izuku flattens the page, and Shouto looks at another rendering. This one is much cleaner, having been printed professionally; and after a long glance, Shouto recognizes it as a reference book on mythical races.

The page title says; aquatic sirens.

“Izuku…” Shouto starts. “I’ve seen sirens before. These are…”

Frantic, Izuku points to the picture.

“No you – you see. Unlike their volcanic sisters in the west, aquatic sirens swim in pods, in – in families. They keep these massive pearl heirlooms, passed down from generation to generation – they’re almost religious, I’d say, and you know, the whole maneating thing is a bit dramatized, they only hunt when the seas are overfished by humans –”

“Midoriya,” Shouto snaps. “The point.”

Izuku blinks.

“Oh, r-right. I mean. What if this is what All Might was talking about? What if this –” Izuku points to the image of the women singing around a large stone, “— well, what if they’re just like you?”

It’s like a bell ringing in his ears. Shouto understands all at once. 

“Cursed,” Shouto blurts. “You think they’ve been cursed.”

“By accident!” Izuku points. “Think about it! Eastern sirens are made of water and ice, no duh your ice magic doesn’t work.”

Shouto turns to look at him, wide in the eyes.

You brilliant bastard. 

“But fire weakens them.”

“Exactly. They – they had a relic stolen from them,” Izuku counts off a finger. “Now they’re cursed to haunt the town with an insatiable hunger. They’re people, Shouto.”

Shouto looks to his fingers. At his own will, they can turn black as night, stained with a curse that stretches through his body.

He thinks of those creatures, sickly and dripping in tar, polluting the water and screeching in the hours of the night. They are in pain.

“Could that be me?” Shouto whispers. “Is that my future?”

“All Might said right the wrong,” Izuku reminds him. He grips him by the shoulders and shakes him slightly. “Maybe that’s the answer. Returning what’s been taken from them.”

“That rock has been in the clocktower for a hundred years. Don’t you think they would’ve stolen it back by now?”

“There’s no sentience left in those poor things,” Izuku frowns. “I doubt they even remember what it is. We have to put the relic back where it came from.”

“...We need a plan,” Shouto agrees.

Izuku nods frantically, and starts to mutter at rapid speed. He rubs across his jaw, his nose and his forehead, and then stops mid-turn. The world pauses with him.

“Shouto.”

“Yes.”

“What was taken from you?”

He stops, and sits. The two books lay side by side, and Shouto looks between them for an answer.

“I don’t know.”

☆☆☆ 

Sat at the kitchen table, a bow over his shoulder and a scowl on his face, Katsuki glances between them and raises an eyebrow.

“Okay? So let’s go steal the stupid thing and be done with this.”

Shouto crosses his arms and stares impassively.

“Aren’t you impressed he figured it out so quickly?”

“Tch, I knew he would. What’re we sitting around for?”

“You know we can’t steal it broad daylight,” Izuku says. “The mayor is already having a fit about the library. We’d be run out with torches and pitchforks.”

“Like defacing their beloved statues,” Shouto concludes. Izuku sits on the corner of the table and nods.

“So, we steal it at night,” Katsuki says. He hesitates, like he knows what’s wrong with what he just said. “Damn.”

The afternoon is approaching quickly. If they’re to act, it will have to be soon. Shouto looks at the clock on the wall and does the math. They have four hours, maybe four and a half if the fog is late.

Izuku chews on the tip of his thumb, and Shouto can see that his mind is racing already.

“It’s possible, but it might get ugly.”

“I can run point,” Shouto says. “Keep the heat off long enough for you to steal the stone out of the clocktower.”

“Absolutely not,” Katsuki scowls. “We dunno’ what those bastards are gonna’ do once we get our hands on it, and you don’t have a magical skin suit to hide in.”

“Please never describe it like that ever again,” Izuku sighs.

Shouto doesn’t let Katsuki intimidate him.

“I’m going with you, end of discussion.”

“You can’t –”

“You don’t have any idea what I can and can’t do –”

“Uh, yes the fuck I do, if I remember right I saved your ass twice out there.”

“This will be different, I’ll be prepared – ”

“Prepared for what? To drown? I can’t play royal babysitter while we’re trying to protect the town!”

Shouto slams his hands on the table and stands, challenging Katsuki with a furious glare.

“Don’t you ever speak to me like that again. I don’t care who you are, or what we’ve done. Titles be damned, if I say I can handle something, I can handle it, are we clear?”

The room goes silent. Katsuki’s eyes widen for barely a second, before he breathes out of his nose, and tips his head as a show of respect.

“Yeah. We’re clear.”

Izuku, who has remained silent, looks between them and crosses his arms.

“Don’t mind him, you know he’s protective. It’s dangerous, but I think it would be good to have a third set of eyes this time. I’ll have my back turned longer than I’d like.”

Katsuki grits his teeth.

“And why are you the one stealin’ it?”

“Because I’m faster.”

It’s a fair point that Katsuki doesn’t argue against. He slides downwards in the chair, and pouts like a dog.

“It’s just a fuckin’ rock. How hard could it be?”

Izuku grabs at the back of Katsuki’s neck, and kneads his thumb into the stress there.

“There’s the spirit, Kacchan.”

“Ugh.”

Shouto gets the impulsive desire to sit closer, so he settles for Katsuki’s lap. He is welcomed a little too much, and goes ngh! as Katsuki squeezes the air out of his lungs.

“How does any of this relate to fixin’ you?” Katsuki mutters.

“I don’t know,” Shouto sighs. “I really don’t know. I’m hoping to find out.”

“So we’re doing this tonight?”

The three of them share a look. For the first time, Shouto speaks to them in their silent language. A part of it, instead of a bystander.

It is a universal yes.

☆☆☆ 

Shouto watches Katsuki slide the relic sword into his sheath, and fights the carnal, vibrating desire to touch.

“Here,” Katsuki says. He extends an arm firmly, spinning a spear expertly in hand, then presenting it at soldier’s rest. “It’s the best I’ve got.”  

Shouto accepts the spear. He turns it over and studies the serial inscription.

“Thank you.”

“You know those bastards will bite this thing in half.”

“If I let them,” Shouto says. Standing out in the grass like this, Shouto is free to test the staff, spinning it around his arm and feeling the weight. It is heavier than a practice spear, but lighter than a sword. “I’ve got a few ideas.”

“Hm.” Katsuki looks across the yard to the hatch in the ground. Shouto attests the bees in his stomach to the call of that basement, rather than his actual nerves. “Hey, Deku! Let’s get a move on!”

“Just a second!”

Izuku swings the hatch shut with a grunt, and comes running across the yard. He slings his sword strap over his shoulder, and Shouto watches as he transforms into a rabbit in front of his very eyes.

The sun is down, and they’re running on the last reflection of daylight. Even then, Izuku’s dark fur immediately blends into the world around him. He is a master of disguise without even trying. 

Now that Shouto can see him up close, the large green eyes are very, very telling. Shouto will never be so naive again. 

“Let’s do this quick and clean,” Izuku says. His voice sounds strange again; hoarse, almost, like his vocal chords aren’t all human.

Katsuki exhales through his nose and becomes the wolf. Shouto reaches to touch Izuku by the shoulder, and is shocked at how soft he is.

“Wow,” he mutters.

Izuku’s bunny nose wrinkles, and his ears flick slightly. He now stands the same height as Shouto (but is still quite cute).

“All good?”

Shouto gets one last look at them, and then nods, slipping his hood over his head.

“Let’s go.”

☆☆☆ 

The lake is crying.

Fog coats everything like a blanket, and the water laps on the wooden bridges of central Baytown. You can hear the clocks tick in harmony, a terrible chorus with the groans of the cursed living under the lake.

Shouto can hear his own breathing. The world is still, until it isn’t.

The creatures move so fast, they’re impossible to track with your eyes. One is scaling up the side of a house, dripping wet and snarling as it digs its claws into the rooftop.

At the beck and call of green magic, the world flashes, and the first creature is destroyed. Shouto hears a wolf howl, and it begins.

Hands rise from between the bridges. Shouto freezes them as he runs, turning to watch as Katsuki jumps across the rooftops, and blasts a pod of creatures back into the bay.

Now is the time to move. Shouto sees Izuku’s shadow materialize at the top of the clocktower, so he runs towards the center of town, and prepares a distraction.

The glass breaks in the tower. Shouto inhales, brings his magic to the top of his skin, and freezes the creature mid-swipe for his torso. He only has a moment to shatter it with his spear. As the ice cracks, it turns back to black and seeps between the plank logs.

Another bang rings out across the bay. Shouto can’t see a foot in front of his face, but he can hear Katsuki in combat somewhere near the tower. He will have to rely on his other senses, just like in war. 

Shouto ducks under an outstretched arm, skeletal in size and dripping in a curse. He spins around a lamppost, freezes the creature and shatters it.

“Hare!” Shouto calls. 

Katsuki howls to cover the sound of their voices. He can hear a chirped call among the echo;

“It’s stuck!”

Great.

Shouto spins a wall of ice, and skids out from under the accursed sirens. The poor things look miserable; no eyes, no hair, only open mouths that pool with tainted water.

More glass is broken, and the bakery is set on fire. Shouto pulls water from the river, using it to frost the top of the roof in ice. It works, at least.

There is no room for hesitation. He can’t afford a lull in his senses, and he can’t spare a misstep; every motion must be precise. Creatures try to slip past them, but Shouto keeps them occupied without the use of his fire. It feels like training; when Father would blindfold him, and tell him to fight the wolves.

He sees Katsuki’s form perch on another roof. His silhouette is stunning in the fog, set dark up against the moon. Shouto can understand why the villagers would think him to be a spirit.

Katsuki makes a sign with his claws.

He’s got it.

And in that moment, everything stops. The waves, the groaning, the claws in the planks. For one terrible second, the clocks tick in sync. Izuku’s silhouette appears on another rooftop, the shadow of the opal in his arms. It must be damn heavy, because he’s using two hands to carry it.  

The broken belltower clicks, and then all hell breaks loose.

The sirens no longer groan. They scream.

A terrible pitch echoes around the sleeping town. Shouto finches to cover his ears.

Hundreds of accursed sirens spring out of the river, and run right for Izuku. Katsuki blasts right into their path – and lightning crackles as Izuku goes running. He is significantly slower with the stone.  

He needs to reach the mouth of the river, Shouto thinks. But as Izuku runs, the creatures lose interest in Katsuki.

Shouto is becoming overwhelmed. He can’t freeze them as fast as he can cut them down. He moves quickly, efficiently, and breathes to keep calm. But every shatter of glass, every pop of splintered wood; it sinks in his stomach.

Shouto looks towards the river, and gets an idea.

He runs to the water’s edge. The town is a battleground, and the dreadful screams are setting his hair on edge. Shouto inhales as deeply as he can, and releases all the ice magic he has kept in him.

The river freezes entirely. It crackles under the town, splintering to the mouth of the bay. A chill washes through on the breeze, and the world becomes silent.

Rabbit ears perk in the madness, and Shouto, doubled over in exhaustion, calls;

 “Run!”

Izuku takes off. It gives him enough of a lead start to break away from the path. But as quickly as the river froze, it then shatters. The creatures come swarming out of the water, and Izuku is consumed.

Shouto runs, but Katsuki is faster. In a mad scramble, the stone is blasted out of range, and rolls down the bridge.

“Go!” Katsuki howls. He hunches over Izuku’s prone body, and barely keeps the barrage from mauling Izuku alive. “Get the relic!”

He can hardly hear over the terrible screeching. Izuku is kicking and fighting, and Katsuki struggles to keep them away. Shouto runs for the stone, and gets grabbed by the foot. He tucks as he falls, but he still gasps from the hard impact. The spear clatters off the side of the bridge, and is lost in the river.

The hand burns on his ankle. Shouto kicks and squirms, but as more materialize, the adrenaline kicks in.

Another grabs his arm. Shouto looks up through the fog, and sees Katsuki’s magic becoming dimmer and dimmer. A yipping sound rings, and then a roar.

What have we done?

They’re climbing into the peasant houses. Breaking windows, trashing the walls. Shouto has never seen so many appear at one time. The town is covered in that cursed poison that drips from their bodies, and the smell of it churns his stomach.

Shouto’s ice magic isn’t quick enough. More screams come from the town, and Shouto’s stomach drops.

No, really. What have we done?

As his heart starts to race, and panic swells in his mouth, he looks through the curtain of his bloody bangs and sees something shiny laying on the bridge.

It is a sword. The hilt is blue, and the metal has a cobbled finish. Shouto doesn’t have enough time to question it.

He grabs it, twists to his back, and blasts fire in the faces of his attackers. They squeal in pain, and Shouto rushes to his feet, ignoring the scalding heat in his left side.

Katsuki is holding them back just barely. He’s covered in scratches just as Izuku is, back to back and fighting with the last of their magic.

“You bastards! We’re trying to help you!”

“Kacchan, move!”

The relic is lying in the rubble. He knows he needs to grab it. But when Katsuki howls in pain, Shouto just –

Well. His body moves on his own.

It’s like he can see the world in slow motion. The minute hand on the clock is turning just so. Cursed bodies are reaching from the river.

Shouto cuts down a creature with the sword, lifts up the fiery palm of his left, and feels a swell of power overtake him.

He unleashes his fire in its entirety. Everything he’s kept sealed inside himself; the pain and the heartache and the rage. He skids on the planks, stands before the Baytown spirits, and envelopes the creatures in a roaring fire. 

The smoke reaches the heavens. It bellows so far, that even the creatures scratching on the rooftops scramble away.

Squealing chimes through the town. Never before have their battles been this loud, and Shouto wonders how much time they have until the villagers grow a little too curious.

The fire clears, and Shouto drops his mystery sword.

Katsuki and Izuku are looking at him in horror. Shouto glances quickly around the town for collateral. Fire is licking across some of the clock posts, but most of the planks are too wet to catch. The town is sizzling with flecks of his magic, and the river is churning and groaning, having receded to gather it’s forces.

Shouto looks down, and realizes what they’re staring at.

His skin is boiling. The curse is moving up his arm at a rapid pace, and Shouto feels it start to harden into something crystal-like. Pain doesn’t even begin to describe it. It feels like his body is splitting in two.

Shouto doesn’t crack.

“Go,” Shouto demands. “Now’s your chance.”

The hare jerks back into action. He scoops up the relic, and scurries quickly across the docks. As he runs to the river mouth, Shouto drops to a knee, gritting his teeth in pain.

“I’ve got you,” Katsuki growls, now in his ear. Shouto lets out a breath as Katsuki supports part of his weight. His fur isn’t as soft as Izuku’s, but it’s long enough for Shouto to dig his fingers into and hold on. Strangely, he still smells like Katsuki. “I can’t believe you used your fuckin’ fire – are you stupid?”  

“It was my turn to do the saving,” Shouto jokes. But by the gods, his body aches.

Katsuki tenses, and looks to the ground. “Hey that’s – where’d you get that?”

Shouto follows his sharp gaze to the sword. Katsuki and Izuku still have their weapons strapped to their back, so how…

He starts to say, I don’t know – but Izuku reaches the end of the dock, and Shouto points with his good hand.

“Look.”

The creatures are already forming from the river again. A sickly arm crawls between the planks, just as Izuku drops the relic into the water.

And with that, the fog dissipates, blown away like a birthday candle.

The water glows a brilliant light. It’s so bright, Izuku scrambles back from the edge, and braces himself behind a shack.

The river purifies.

Katsuki supports Shouto, but keeps him tucked away protectively. His wolf teeth are bared, his ears flat to his head, and Shouto can feel the growl rumbling deep in his chest.

But with the last of the light, the town becomes eerily silent. Shouto can hear creaking in the houses. He looks over his shoulder, and sees eyes in the windows. He doesn’t blame them. They have gone notoriously off script this evening. 

Katsuki asks the question Shouto is thinking.

“Did we do it?”

A hand pops out of the river – but it is slender, and blue in color. It looks translucent, and it clings to the edge of the dock, before a watery face appears.

The siren is beautiful. Ice eyes like crystal, long hair that defies gravity.

Another appears. Then another, and another. One seeps between the cracks in the planks, and takes half-shape in the wooden bridge. They’re staring, glowing, in the moonlight. Shouto doesn’t dare breathe for a multitude of reasons.

Finally, the opal appears again, now held safely in the hands of a giant woman. It looks so small between her fingers, yet it undoubtedly belongs there. 

So much water swells into her body, that the river sinks nearly half a foot.

Thank you, she says without speaking. 

Instead of that terrible groaning, the sirens harmonize. Their singing is heavenly, and Izuku steps out from behind his shelter to take the outstretched hand of one of the curious ladies.

“They’re beautiful,” whispers Shouto.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Katsuki mutters. “You guys were right.”

A few townsfolk open their doors. More heads are popping up through the windows, watching in awe. Through the mist, Shouto sees the mayor peeking around the corner in her nightgown. 

And as dawn starts to break on the edge of the bay, the sirens slip back into the river, and are gone. It’s beautiful enough to make Shouto forget about his own curse, now crawling up his shoulder and across his chest.

The curse that is still there.

Izuku scrambles over quickly, tucking his ears and whispering.

“People are waking — we need to go!”

Shouto lets out the cough he’s been holding. Katsuki’s head whips towards him, and Shouto shivers in pain.

“Shit,” Katsuki hisses. “He doesn’t look good. Get us some cover.”

Izuku nods; “On it.”

His paws make a triangle, and the world is suddenly smokey pink. It’s enough for Katsuki to scoop him into an arm, grab the fallen sword, and jump to the bridge. Shouto isn’t conscious for part of it, manually sucking in air as the curse starts to slide across his throat.

“Katsuki,” he rasps.

“Shut up. We’re getting you home.”

His leg is starting to burn. Something crystal-like is forming over his jaw, and the rushing air is agony against it. 

There’s not even enough time to properly celebrate their victory. 

Time passes in a painful blur. They must be at the cottage, because a door is kicked open.

Izuku checks him over, rabbit nose twitching anxiously. 

“Damnit.” Izuku scurries, chucking the sword from his back (clatter!) and shrinking into human form. “He looks really bad. I – I need medicine, I need lily pads – get him on the couch!”

Izuku runs into his study like a bat out of hell.

“I’m okay,” Shouto croaks, definitely not okay.

“Shut up!” Katsuki barks for the second time. Shouto notes that his arms are significantly less furry, and he breathes in the scent of warm, human skin. “You are such a fucking idiot. I knew you’d use your stupid fire, I told you not to come and now look at you. We had that under control.”

“No you didn’t,” Shouto mutters. He realizes that he’s now horizontal, spread on the couch with his head propped in Katsuki’s lap. It must be bad, because a hand presses against his cheek, and it’s shaking. “What’s it – what’s it look like?”

“Fucking ugly.” Katsuki tries to fold his left hand across his chest, but the movement alone makes Shouto seize in pain. “Shit. Izuku!! Get your ass in here!”

“I’m here!” Izuku slides into the living room, and dumps an armful of jars to the floor. He looks Shouto over like he doesn’t know where to begin. “Oh my god. Wh-where does it hurt the most?”

Everywhere. He can taste his own heart beating. He can feel the curse coiling into his chest cavity, making his insides feel heavy and sick. Each breath is exhausting, and it’s getting worse by the second.

Izuku pushes up his shirt and gasps.

And in that moment, Shouto realizes that he is dying.

Shouto has never used so much of his fire magic in one go. Shouto didn’t even know he could. In the small, short moment, it felt good. It felt right.

Izuku is trying to wrap his hand in a bandage, but it’s all for naught. His hands are shaking, and he keeps looking at Shouto like his heart is breaking.

You can’t stop it,” Shouto says.

“Hey princess,” Katsuki grits. “We didn’t do all this shit just so you could give up now.”

Shouto manages to croak, “Sorry,” but it sounds even worse than it did before. The curse is squeezing around his throat, and Shouto takes in a painful gasp, digging the nails of his right hand into Katsuki’s forearm.

Izuku begins to sound hysteric.

“We solved the riddle! We – we freed the town! All Might said – he said –” Izuku’s voice cracks, and he squeezes Shouto’s bandaged arm, like he can fix it through sheer willpower. “Why isn’t it going away?!”

The resounding silence is loud. It is also acceptance.

Shouto has seen war many times. He’s seen battles, he’s brushed death. But he’s never known with absolute certainty that he would die. There’s an unnerving peace that washes over him. A numbness that’s more comforting, than unsettling. He knows it’s because of them. It’s always been them.

Izuku’s bangs are in his eyes. He is messy from the fight, nicked and scratched in places, but he’ll be okay. They will be okay, and the knowledge that they’re now free from this place; it makes Shouto’s lip tug in a smile, even as his face is half covered in a dark, crackling magic.

Izuku’s eyes are teary, and Shouto feels the regret, too. He’s remorseful that he couldn’t stick around just a little longer than this; that he won’t see his family again, and his mother will rot away in a tower far far away. 

The passage of fate is a terrible thing.

“You damn fool,” Katsuki breathes, and it is as sad as it is angry. “The sword chose you, dipshit. After all this — all this time. It was calling you.” 

The sword. The relic that split in three pieces. 

Was this all meant to be?

Izuku sets the jars aside, and cups the soft side of Shouto’s face. His breathing is slowing, but Shouto keeps his one eye peeled open so he can look at them just a little longer.

Would he have done it all again? Would he have ridden here? Crossed to the ends of the earth, labored in the stalls, broken his favorite sword, moved into an attic, learned to weed a garden, chop trees and make love in a bed of fur– would he have done it all again, had he known?

Maybe.

Izuku clings to him desperately. Shouto realizes, numbly, that the hand holding his own is the one dry from bar rot and firework magic.

Dawn breaks in the open window. It splinters light into the room very slowly.

“You have to know that we love you,” Izuku begs. “You have to know. Please. Please.”

Everything stops.

Shouto hiccups a breath, and stares at him in muted awe.

What?

Izuku’s tears fall heavily, but he doesn’t sob. He just mutters senselessly, sweet words that Shouto can’t register against the blood rushing past his ears.

Katsuki isn’t looking at him anymore, but he is kneading into his eyes with his free hand. He’s never seen grief on this man’s face.

It feels like a horrible spoonful of deja-vu.

You like me?

We love you.

And you know. The funny thing is, Shouto believes it. He truly does.

The clocks stop.

In that moment, his lungs expand. Shouto gasps from the relief, inhaling deeply and flailing to sit upright, like a man drowning at sea, grasping for anything to hold onto.

Izuku jumps a foot in the air, but Katsuki is quick to react, helping him to sit up and hack across his knees.

“Hey! Woah, breathe, calm down.”

The burning sensation is easing from his face. It slips down his neck, over his shoulder, off his chest and towards his fingertips. As the force of his coughing wracks his body, he’s supported firmly by the arms. He blinks rapidly, and the splotches in his vision begins to fade.

The weight on his shoulders is gone.

“Holy shit. It’s – it’s going away,” Katsuki blurts. “Deku, look!”

His hands are turned over. The curse evaporates like water, leaving behind runic symbols in its path. When the last of the dark magic is gone, the symbols glow that brilliant blue. Then, his skin is clear.

Shouto looks up at Izuku, equally as wide eyed as he is. However, Izuku appears – well, heartbroken.

“Oh, hell,” Izuku rasps. “Has no one ever told you they love you?”

Shouto’s brain is still waking up from its brush with death, but as Izuku continues to stare, and Katsuki’s hand grows tight on his arm, Shouto goes oh.

“No,” he realizes. “No one has.”

You are unsightly! Mother yells. You look just like him!

Don’t look at me with those eyes!

You’re the reason mother is locked in that tower!

When he thinks of it, the ache isn’t so bad.

“Right the wrong,” Katsuki mutters. “Son of a bitch.”

Izuku flings himself into Shouto’s arms, and he grunts from the impact. Shouto returns the hug quickly, and when a pressure squeezes at his back, he realizes it’s Katsuki pressing his face to the back of his neck.

Izuku rambles, “I’m so sorry – if I knew I would’ve, I would’ve said it so much earlier –”

Shouto feels light and fluttery inside. For the first time in twenty years, he doesn’t feel any pain.

“No,” Shouto says. “I think...it was meant to happen at the right moment.”

“Give me a fucking heart attack,” Katsuki mutters. “Took ten goddamn years off my life, you bastard.”

“I love you also,” Shouto admits. Katsuki stops, turns his head, and presses his face right back into Shouto’s hair.

“Whatever.”

Shouto laughs. Be it the irony, the adrenaline, or the downright fairytale of it all.

 Abruptly, Izuku yanks out of his arms, and squeezes his cheeks in his hands. Even through his streaming tears, Izuku looks at him with amazement.

“Quick, Shouto! Test your fire!”

Shouto blinks.

“Here?”

He gets two impatient stares in response.

“Just do it!”

Shouto does. He feels the magic simmering under his skin, feels it in his veins, and the heat around his fingers. With all of his control, Shouto summons flame magic into his hand. It ignites up his arm like a dynamite strip, and Shouto feels fire flicker off his scar, and ember into the air.

The bandages burn, like the sins from his very back.

There is no pain. His skin doesn’t color, and no symbols wrap up his wrist.

Izuku wipes his eyes with his forearm and grins through the sniffles.

“We’re free.”

☆☆☆ 

It’s been a long twenty-four hours.

They would’ve skipped the bath all together, but Katsuki refused to wash their sheets again. The soap is good for their wounds, anyways.

Izuku conks out on Katsuki’s shoulder. He sleeps like there’s not a bone left in his body, tucked into the crook of his neck and snoring lightly. Katsuki looks just as tired. His jaw has been clawed, and he has a few marks over his forearms from protecting Izuku.

“You okay?” Shouto whispers.

Katsuki peeks open an eye. He’s flushed from the hot bath, and obviously fighting to stay awake, though he won’t admit it. 

“Fine.”

“How’re those scratches?”

“No worse than the ones you two give me.”

“Hmm.” Shouto reclines against the opposite edge of the tub. His feet are stuck under Izuku’s thighs, Katsuki knees bumping against his own. Shouto swirls some of the soap with his fingers, and watches it spin. “Are you going to work today?”

“Fuck no. I’m going to bed.” Katsuki’s fingers pet through Izuku’s damp curls. He is so gentle, and so rough. “Once I get this guy to move.”  

“Good.” Shouto finds his knee and squeezes it. “Thank you for helping me.” And thank you for breaking my curse.

Katsuki doesn’t answer right away. His expression is stony, and hard to read.

“Feels like we didn’t do much. With a fix that easy, someone else woulda’ come along eventually.”

Shouto sighs. As the washroom’s humidity rises, he pushes his sticky bangs from his face.

“No. Not with the life I was living. I was cold, and heartless. Even if someone claimed to love me, I never would have believed them.”  

Katsuki frowns. His hands are still in Izuku’s hair, and they come to rest on his nape.

“I lived that life. Gave it up for this guy. Now I’ve got two dipshits to worry about.”

“I know.”

The air is still tense, and simmering. Katsuki’s eyes always return to Shouto, like he’s checking to see if he’ll keel over and die. This man secretly worries like no one he’s ever met, and that – that is his saving grace. His bleeding heart.

“All Might used to live here,” Katsuki says, looking at the ceiling. “He knew about the curse on the town. If he was such a hero, why didn’t he bother to save them?”

It’s a good question. Izuku sniffles, wiggling closer into Katsuki’s shoulder, so Shouto drops his voice.

“You don’t know everything in life. They say when you pass, you come to learn all the things you didn’t.”

“We spoke to All Might before. His spirit-whatever knew we were here. I wanna’ know why he waited so damn long to tell us the town could be freed in the first place.”

“The dead have rules,” Shouto reminds. “And I think everything happened the way it was supposed to. Maybe, when he was living, All Might knew it wasn’t time.”

Katsuki goes hmph. He then licks across his sharp teeth in thought.

“We’ll have to figure out what we’re doing from here.”

“We can talk about it tomorrow.” Shouto is interrupted by the loud clucking outside the house. They look towards each other and roll their eyes. “I’ll get up to feed. You get him in bed.”

Katsuki scowls, “You better be right behind us.”

They’ve been awake for longer than twenty-four hours. Shouto thinks he could sleep standing up.

“You know I will be.”

Where else would he go, but here? He won't think of it yet. Not now, when he's learned of what true happiness is. 

"We've done it," he tells the hens. They don't give a damn, and that's the best part about it. To the rest of the world, it's another day. But to Shouto, it's the beginning of the rest of his life. 

Chapter Text

☆☆☆ 

Birds are chirping.

They’re loud and incessant; the telltale sign of spring breaking.

Shouto is the first to wake. His body is heavy with exhaustion, sunken into the bed like he’s slept in quicksand.

He was so tired, he didn’t even dream. Apparently, Shouto wasn’t the only one either.

Katsuki and Izuku are so conked out, one of them is drooling, and the other is halfway over the bed. Shouto is tempted to check for a pulse; but when their chests rise in sync, the resulting snore is endearing. Of all people, they deserve to sleep in.

You don’t need a clock to know it’s well past afternoon. Shouto sits up slowly, rubbing the sleep from his eyes – and only then, does he notice a sound among the chirping.

A knock at their front door.

Katsuki is an inch away from rolling off the bed. Shouto nudges him back towards Izuku before sliding out of the wad of furs (Katsuki wraps around him easily, like he knows Izuku’s presence even in the pit of sleep).

The knocking persists. Shouto hastens, searching for a shirt to tie on halfway. It’s not his own, but it will do.

Barefoot, Shouto opens the door. He must look like a mess, because the young lady on the porch goes red in the face.

The villagers don’t wander this far up the path. Shouto wakes further with concern.

“Is everything okay?”

“Um…” The girl looks down and away, like she can’t quite look him in the eye. It’s a little too late to remember the old bite marks down his chest, but oh well. “I-I was sent by the mayor. We’re having a celebration in town. Um, f-for the success of the spirits.”

Oh, good. It sounds like they didn’t recognize Shouto in all the madness.

“What time?”

“This evening.” The girl wrings her fingers. “At sundown…”

“I will let the household know.”

The girl curtsies, bowing her head.

“Yes, your highness…”

She all but runs off the property. Shouto raises an eyebrow, and then shuts the door. As he turns, a creaky floorboard gives Izuku away.

“Did you hear?” Shouto asks.

Izuku peeks around the corner. His hair is sticking up in wild places, and he’s also wearing a shirt that’s not his. Half-buttoned and stark white – oh, it’s Shouto’s.

“Yes…a party. We should go, Kacchan.”

From the bedroom; “Shut up! I’m sleeping in.”

Shouto crosses the room, and pulls Izuku towards him. Izuku goes so willingly, it hurts his heart.

“Did someone feed the chickens?”

“I did this morning. I’ll check on them in an hour.”

“Shit. What time is it?”

“Nearly four.”

“Oh my god,” Izuku pales. “We slept all day?”

“I think it was well deserved.”

A short silence settles. Nobody wants to acknowledge that Shouto needs to leave soon. One step at a time, he supposes. Izuku squishes his cheek to Shouto’s chest, then pulls away when he sees the jars spread all across the living room.

“Damn…we left this place a mess.”

“Well, last night was more than a little…”

“Traumatizing,” Izuku finishes.

“Yeah.”

“It feels like a weight has lifted off my shoulders,” Izuku mutters. “But I also feel…uneasy. Like, I’d gotten comfortable in the routine. If I had to stay here and defend the town, then I wouldn’t have to worry about All Might’s power being needed elsewhere.”

Shouto frowns. He’s come to learn a lot about empathy, and compassion. There is much he hadn’t considered about the responsibility placed onto Izuku’s back, but he thinks that there is no one else better that could hold it.

“You don’t owe anyone anything. What you choose to do with your power is your own choice.”

Izuku’s eyes go wide. They shine over, but he doesn’t cry. He lets out a laugh, and Katsuki appears in the hall, disheveled and grumpy.

“You two are so fucking loud,” Katsuki grumbles.

“Sorry.” Izuku reaches up to kiss him, and Katsuki drowsily leans into it. “I’ll start breakfast. Or uhh…dinner. I guess there’ll be food at the party...”

“Just get the fire started and I’ll worry about it,” Katsuki waves. He looks around the entryway, and picks up one of the swords that were tossed in all the madness. “Fuck me, we didn’t even lock up the swords.”

Shouto looks at the corner wall, where the sword with the blue handle is resting. He no longer feels that incessant need in his chest, but he does desire to touch it again.

“Do you always lock them away?”

“They’re too dangerous to keep lying around,” Izuku answers. He fans the fire with his hand, crouched at the pit. “We don’t need some poor soul trying to steal one, only to become an amputee for life.”

Jesus. Shouto looks at Katsuki, who is squinting at him in thought. He grabs the handle of the blue sword, and it doesn’t complain in Katsuki’s grip.

“How’d you even get this?”

“I don’t know,” Shouto says honestly. “When I needed it, it was there.”

Katsuki and Izuku share a look.

“Wow.” Izuku stands, petting over his chin and muttering. “Who knew you’d be the third wielder. I didn’t even think to search for one – I mean, it makes sense now, but I just thought it broke itself down into something more digestible. Do you think this was predestined?”

Katsuki groans, but Shouto perches on the back of the couch and shrugs.

“Not a clue. But why didn’t I…transform into something?”

“S’ not accidental,” says Katsuki. “It’s active magic.”

“Like flexing a muscle. You have to put energy into it to get power out.”

“Ah.”

Katsuki quickly flips the sword in hand, and presents it safely to Shouto by the hilt.

“I do sure as shit wanna’ see what you turn into,” he grins. “I hope it’s something ugly, like a rat.”

Izuku gasps, “You’re so mean!”

Shouto stares at the offered hilt. He takes it slowly, and turns the sword over.

“All Might didn’t have a druid form. He turned into a paladin eight feet tall.”

“It might change from user to user,” Izuku shrugs. Katsuki makes a sour face, and crosses his arms.

“Thank god. I’d rather be a dog than some souped up bodybuilder.”

“Can you please be nice?”

“Just put magic into it?” Shouto interrupts. “How much?”

Izuku answers, “Whatever you feel is right.”

Shouto swallows. He isn’t nervous, rather than slightly…concerned. The sword feels good in his hand; the right weight and size. Somehow, while holding it, he is more aware of the location of the other two swords, having been tossed to their kitchen table.

He closes his eyes, and feels the magic in his body. One side is colder than the other, and the two arcanas feel different in color. The sword has its own mystic force, which Shouto recognizes as a true relic.

It feels like an empty vessel. Like a cup to be poured with wine.

And with that thought, he is surrounded in a cloud of magic. He inhales deeply in surprise, and feels the change in his body. It doesn’t hurt, but it’s numbing, and Shouto stumbles slightly as he suddenly feels heavier. Stepping back, he bumps his head on the ceiling, and crouches.

“Oh, careful!” Izuku scrambles. “It’s okay, it’s okay…” The smoke clears, and Izuku brings a hand to his mouth. “Oh, wow.”

“What?” Shouto asks. He alarms at the sound of his own voice. It is raspier, and more…animalistic.

Quickly, he looks at his hands. They are clawed, and covered in deep red fur. But there are splotches of white; strange looking dots that don’t look like any predator he’s seen.

Katsuki looks him up and down, and crosses his arms with approval.

“Hmm, a chimera. Oddly fitting.”

“A – what?”  Shouto feels over his head. He has pointed cat ears, but something hard is protruding from his skull. It feels like bone – or, small antlers. Oh.

“Predator and prey,” Izuku explains. “Very fitting, your highness.”

Every breath tastes like power. It’s overwhelming; the new sense of smell, the improved hearing, eyesight, and the containment of magic. It’s like his capacity for casting has grown five sizes larger.

He can hear every shift in the ground. The worms in the dirt, and the water dripping from the roof drain. His claws shift and retract.

“Oh, god,” Shouto rasps.

“I know,” Izuku soothes. “It’s okay, you can come down.”

He extends a hand, and Shouto passes the sword over willingly. He becomes his normal height once more, but it feels like he’s been kicked in the chest.

“Is it always like that?” Shouto wheezes.

“Yup. I’d say you get used to it, but I’d be lyin’.”

“That’s insane,” Shouto rasps. “You’re both crazy.”

Izuku laughs, and helps support him by the arm.

“If that’s news to you, then I’m terribly sorry.”

“Don’t worry, it isn’t.”

☆☆☆ 

Shouto has never seen Baytown illuminated at night. By the expression on his friends’ faces, it’s obviously new to them too.

No fog tonight. The skies are clear, and a bonfire has been lit in the middle of town.

Flowers and lanterns are strung between posts. The front of the clocktower has been boarded up with wood, and the time is unreadable – but that no longer matters.

Children dance by the fire. The ‘spirit’ shrine is covered in more offerings than ever before.

“Oh boy,” Izuku shields his face in embarrassment. “We might’ve made this worse.”

An old woman bows to the shrine, and places a basket of bread at the stone slab. Katsuki observes, and groans.

“Ugh. People and their heroes.”

Shouto hums, tucking his hands into his cloak pockets.

“How does it feel to be a god?”

“I’ll fuckin’ kill you.”

“Sure.”

Food stalls are lined up in the nooks and crannies of Baytown’s allies. Shouto notes adults walking around with tankards, and raises an eyebrow at Katsuki.

“Did you arrange this?”

He shrugs, walking along the alley.

“They asked, so I played along.”

Izuku smiles, smug-like.

“That was nice of you.”

“I’m always nice.”

It’s…freeing, to walk around like this. To have one evening where he has nowhere to be, no responsibilities, and no grim reaper on his shoulders.

Tomorrow, he will worry. But tonight, he can have this.

“Oh my goodness,” Izuku whispers. “Netvana made doughnuts.”

Shouto spots the owl shop, and hesitates.

“You two go ahead. I’m going to send a letter.”

Izuku stops mid-tug on Katsuki’s arm.

“Oh – are you sure? We can wait.”

“I’ll just be a minute.”

“Sure.”

Shouto watches them walk off, secretly arm in arm. They aren’t overly concerned about anyone noticing, but it is dark, and the town is busy with their celebrations.

Still. In the end, they are fitting for each other. It’s hard to imagine that once upon a time, Shouto thought it impossible for them to even be friends.

Shouto steps into the post office.

Last time it cost him an arm and a leg just to get a letter across the border, but this letter will be significantly more important.

It will confirm the release of his mother.

The shopkeeper counts his coins one by one, and Shouto folds the letter up tight, pressing it with a wax seal.

“Send your best owl,” Shouto says. “This will be going to his Majesty, the King.”

The old man bows, and Shouto leaves the shop feeling relieved.

The music is louder now; authentic and joyous with string instruments, and homemade hand-drums stretched with leather. He starts to search for the notorious silhouette of spiked hair, but bumps into someone else instead.

“Sorry sir,” Shouto bows.

The person turns, and looks him up and down.

“You’re still here.”

Ah. Shouto tugs down the hood of his cloak, and looks around to see if anyone will overhear. By the sound of the music, they should be fine.

“I am.”

“Good work,” Aizawa says. He glances at one of the scorched posts, and nods, “Looks like you kids did the impossible.”

You kids.

As suspected, he is smarter than he looks. But then again, Katsuki and Izuku always stuck out like a sore thumb in this place. He’s amazed no one else caught on.

Shouto stares in a challenge.

“Are you going to tell anyone?”

Aizawa scratches at the itchy stubble on his cheek, and replies;

“No. I don’t know how you did it, and I don’t want to find out.”

“Good. Then I will enjoy my two days of free hay.”

“Ha.” Aizawa extends a hand, and Shouto shakes it. “Keep smiling, your highness. It suits you.”

Shouto didn’t know that he was. He walks away touching the corner of his mouth, trying to remember how he used to be.

The festivities continue. Waves lap up under the planks, and they bring in a breeze that flickers the fire on the light posts.

He finds the duo eating on a bench near the bonfire, where people laugh and sing and dance. They’re chatting together, smiling (well, Izuku is smiling), and they still attract his eye, just like the very first week he arrived here.

Katsuki’s shirt is untied, and it bellows low down his chest, where his jewelry lays as usual. Izuku’s sleeves are rolled, revealing strong forearms and old scars. He uses his hands as he talks. Shouto’s always liked that about him.

Shouto tries to sit politely at their feet, but Katsuki nabs him by the waist and hauls him onto the edge of the bench.

“Nuh huh, no way, we just did laundry,” Katsuki complains. Shouto raises an eyebrow, and sees right through him.

Yes, the logs are damp below their feet, but it’s a tight fit on the bench. Rubbing elbows and knees like this; it makes it hard to keep his hands to himself.

“I know you don’t like sweet things, but I got you this,” Izuku says, passing him a wrapped pastry.

“Ah, thank you. It smells nice.”

Katsuki’s boots are kicked out in front of him, and Izuku rests his arms on his knees, closing his eyes against the heat of the bonfire.

“The air feels different already,” Izuku whispers. “Doesn’t it?”

Katsuki rolls his eyes, and leans back further.

“You’re makin’ shit up.”

“It smells – fresher.”

“Sure, if you can ignore the stink of fish and sweaty socks.”

“Would you just entertain me for once?”

“No.”

Shouto chews, then swallows to speak.

“The town does feel different. It could be the lack of angry seawomen festering under the river.”

“Thank you, Shouto,” Izuku preens.

Katsuki chuffs, but it sounds like a laugh. His teeth are sharp and wolfish in the firelight, and Shouto knows exactly what they feel like against his shoulder.

“Boot licker.”  

“Mangy dog.”

“Stuck-up.”

“Heathen.”

“Ugh, gods help me,” Izuku mumbles, but is smiling anyhow.

Shouto takes a bite of his food, and Katsuki presses his thigh tight up against Shouto’s, and it makes him want to smile also.

The musicians are entertaining, but Izuku and Katsuki are more so. Shouto still finds himself glancing in their direction; Katsuki with his wide shoulders, and Izuku with his curls tucked behind his ear. Shouto has never been so comfortable in anyone’s presence. Not even his own siblings, back at the palace.

A month and a half ago, Shouto would’ve said with absolute certainty that he would never miss this place. But now as people dance and sing, he knows it’s different now.

Townsfolk have made hoods to look like rabbit ears. Others have wolf pelts across their backs. To Shouto’s utter surprise, someone is wearing a deer headdress, with fabric cat-ears sewn to the top.

 “That…can’t be a coincidence,” Shouto gestures subtly.

 “Huh.” Izuku scratches the back of his hair, and blinks. “Maybe they saw something we didn’t. Kacchan, I thought you had eyes on him?”

“I was tryin’ not to lose my eyes,” Katsuki grumbles.

The swords are locked away safely in the cottage cellar, but Shouto can still feel their vibrations. It’s not loud, but if he focuses enough, the call is in the back of his mind.

He shakes out the crumbly napkin, then folds it, and tucks it in his cloak pocket.

“Can you always feel them?”

They understand him immediately.

“Yes.”

One of the big logs pop on the fire, and everyone cheers as it releases embers.

“Sorry,” says Izuku. “You got dragged into a lot more than you were expecting.”

Shouto realizes, secretly, behind the eyes of the villagers, that a hand has slipped under his cloak, and is resting at his lower back. Katsuki’s expression is stone-faced as ever, but Shouto feels hot under the knuckles that rub around his spine protectively. Maybe he can sense that his mind is racing. Maybe, he’s become more transparent than he ever meant to.

Shouto studies the hand that no longer stains in a curse, and prays that the owl will reach home quickly.

“I got dragged into the right amount, I think,” Shouto says.

Katsuki will always say what he’s thinking, and he’s reliable that way.

“You wanna’ bounce?”

 When he glances over, they’re both staring at him wildly. Shouto wipes his palms on his thighs, and says,

“Yeah.”

☆☆☆ 

Katsuki slams the door shut and kisses Shouto against it.

While Izuku busies with lighting the house lanterns, Shouto fights for air. The cloak gets untied and tossed aside. Shouto clings to the back of Katsuki’s neck, tangling his fingers in the beads he finds there.

Katsuki’s teeth are sharp and familiar, and Shouto allows his mouth to be bitten. He gets rewarded for drawing Katsuki closer to him, a tongue swiping across his upper lip and into his mouth. His presence is always overwhelming, and in your face – and Shouto likes to push back just a little to hear him growl.

“You and your fuckin’ eyes,” Katsuki grumbles. “Always starin’ at us like you got somethin’ to say.”

Shouto replies dryly, though he’s a little satisfied at the deep, needy vibration in Katsuki’s voice.

“Sorry. You’re nice to look at.”

Katsuki shoves a thigh between his legs, and Shouto feels his stomach bottom out. He smells like a campfire, like the humid lake air. Like a man – and it’s a surefire test of Shouto’s sexuality, because it is dangerously addicting.

“Oh, he’s so beautiful,” Izuku sighs. “Let me see.”

Katsuki gets his hand in Shouto’s hair and tugs, showing off the line of his neck like a prize, and Shouto grits his teeth against the familiar tingling sensation.

“You don’t have to keep saying that…” Shouto rasps. Izuku leans around to kiss them both, before patting Katsuki on the ass and hobbling back to untie his boots.

“But it’s true! You — you really have no idea.”

Katsuki slips his hand around to hold him by the jaw, and Shouto’s throat bobs against his palm as he speaks.

“Even with the scar?”

Katsuki narrows his eyes. He drags his thumb against the texture of left cheek, and then holds Shouto tight against the wall. The challenge in his grip is thrilling.

“Mmm. Suits you.”

Shouto looks between them.

“What’s that look for?”

“Nothing,” Izuku grins. “I like seeing Kacchan’s hands on you.”

Shouto is speechless, because that’s exactly how he feels about them. Katsuki, however, nabs Izuku by the beltloops and catches him around the waist before he can wander too far.

“You ain’t off the hook.”

“Oh, good,” Izuku purrs, and kisses his lover in the most wonderful way. “Shouto?”

They always ask for permission, even after all they’ve been through.

He decides to be frank.

“You already know the answer is going to be yes.”

Shoes, socks, and shirts are tossed along the way. They’re useless items anyhow, lost to the floor. When Shouto finally gets on the bed, the fur is soft on his bare skin, and he buries Izuku into it as he kisses over his shoulder.

“Oh! That tickles.”

“Get him under his arm,” Katsuki points, searching for lube.

“Hey, y-you’re not supposed to tell him all my secrets.”

Shouto tries to kiss him there, but he almost loses an eye for it.

“Damn you’re strong,” Shouto struggles. He fits their hands together and fights for control, but Izuku wiggles and squirms and laughs through the fight. “Stop moving.”

Izuku tries to flip them with a thigh around his knee, but Shouto is too smart for that. He pins him back down, then kisses him to stop the laughing, and Izuku gives up in favor of hooking his arms around Shouto’s neck. It’s a lovely feeling.

“See, you’ve got him figured out,” says Katsuki. Izuku tries to flip him off, but his hands are still entwined with Shouto’s.

Their mouths slip and slide, and Shouto ends up kissing the side of his cheek instead. Shouto wants to give him all that he has. All the gold, the horses, and the land – all that he is and will be.

“What do you want?” Shouto settles on.

Izuku squeezes his hips with his knees. A hand pets down his back, and he knows it’s Katsuki’s. He knows them – oh, because he loves them.

“I got what I wanted,” Izuku sighs. “What do you want?”

He wants everything. He wants to be selfish. To claw himself open and bleed out on the bed, to burn all the walls built inside him, before he has to build them again.

Shouto’s magic is eagerly buzzing, already reaching out to the arcana in Izuku and Katsuki.

Nails scrape over his shoulders, and Shouto jerks from the pleasure. Katsuki’s voice is hoarse, filling up the room with tension like a soup bowl.

“You wanna’ be good again?”

Shouto makes eye contact with Izuku. He appears relaxed, but Shouto can see his pulse through his skin, and it makes his own heart race.

It’s not that he necessarily likes the lack of control – but rather, the lack of having to choose. He wants to be a part of this just as badly as he wants to watch.

“Yeah.”

Katsuki grips into his hair and wretches his head back. Shouto fights him just to see what he’ll do – and he gets yanked harder for it. The pain is indescribably delightful.

Katsuki speaks right at his ear;

“Suck him off.”

Suddenly, he’s never waned anything more.

Shouto slides down Izuku’s body, propping his arms under his lower half and pressing his nose right into the soft skin of his inner hip, and Izuku jerks reflectively, gasping through his nose.

“Oh, god yes. Uh, I mean — is that okay with you?”

He smells so good. Already Shouto’s brain is turning fuzzy; his skull is still tingling from how hard Katsuki grabbed him. 

“There is little I would not do for you.”

Izuku’s eyes change. They soften, but they also lose their patience. He likes when Izuku forgets himself enough to become hungry.

He pets over Shouto’s forehead, pushing back his bangs so he can see his eyes.

“Just as I taught you, please.”

Izuku is all muscle and veins. Squishy skin at the hips, padding at his thighs to support a working life. Shouto sucks into an old mark Katsuki left there.

Meanwhile, Katsuki plants an arm halfway over Izuku, and leans over to peer down at him smugly.

“Don’t say I never did nothin’ for ya’.”

Izuku’s fingers thread so sweetly into Katsuki’s blonde hair. Shouto gets the pleasure of watching his fist clench as Shouto licks flat across his prickly navel.

His voice drops soft, almost too low for Shouto to hear.

“Kacchan, you’ve given me everything.”

Katsuki does not answer, nor can Shouto see his face; but in his hesitation, he says everything he won’t. The short moment between them tastes sweet – and then sweeter, when Katsuki presses his forehead to Izuku’s, and stays there. Shouto licks over the tip of his cock, and the intensity returns with Izuku’s ragged inhale.

“Keep him guessing,” Katsuki tells him, smoothing a hand between Izuku’s round pecs, but still watching Shouto carefully. “He’ll buck into your mouth if you’re not careful.”

“I will not,” huffs Izuku, but he’s already squirming in Shouto’s arms.

He is – ah, well, Shouto can’t help but describe him as cute. Even his cock is attractive, always so eager when Shouto is near him. It’s flattering.

He fits comfortably in his mouth, and he doesn’t have to worry about gagging like with Katsuki. It feels like an accomplishment when his lips meet Izuku’s navel, and he starts to buck and groan. Kastuki helps hold him down, but this is still the inheritor of the strongest magic in the world – they can only do so much.

Katsuki mutters the word behave into the side of Izuku’s mouth, and the struggling ceases.

“Ah, oh,” Izuku cries. “Please fuck him, Kacchan. It would be so lovely.”

“Hmm, if he’s obedient, maybe.”

Shouto still thinks about that one very specific night, and his entire body goes hot.

Shouto pulls off, swallows, and tastes over his swollen lip. He likes pushing Katsuki’s buttons, so he says,

“You dare to demand obedience from a prince?”

Katsuki gets a look in his eye, like he’s aware of the differences between them. He might actually be getting off on that, but it’s hard to tell. 

“Fuck everything else. You belong to us.” 

For some odd reason, it’s the answer his subconscious needed. He works Izuku in his mouth again, and Katsuki silences Izuku by sticking his tongue down his throat.

They kiss messy, like a fight. They’re always bickering on the surface, but Shouto’s been around long enough to know it’s so much more than that.

The sounds of their kisses are wet and erotic. Shouto’s own erection feels like too much, suddenly. He has to shift his weight to distract himself, but it’s worse, dragging his cock against the bed like this.

Deep, deep down, in the recesses of his soul, he feels something terrible. Not jealousy, but a terrible desire, a greed that burns him. To please and to take and to own.

They’re buried in each other, and Izuku’s hips still squirm, but Shouto’s heart begins to vibrate in his core.

He squeezes Izuku by the waist, digging in deep and swallowing around him. He bobs, flattens his tongue, remembers everything Izuku showed him that one night on his knees, and looks up through his lashes as Izuku suddenly shakes, breaking off of Katsuki’s mouth to bite his cheek and moan.

It sounds so nice. A small part of that greed is satisfied.

“Oh?” Katsuki turns to watch, and Shouto meets his gaze. “Are you putting in the work now, princess? Ain’t that pretty.”

Chastised, Shouto buries his nose to the base and huffs. Izuku throbs in his mouth, and openly sobs. He’s close, and Shouto’s now practiced enough to tell.

“Kacchan,” Izuku stresses.

Katsuki raises an eyebrow. He sits back to watch, and when he sets a hand at his mid-back, Shouto tenses in anticipation. The finger runs down his spine, swiping between his cheeks, and rubbing dry at his hole.

“Hm. Do you think you can do both?”

“I won’t last,” Izuku warns.

Katsuki presses that finger in dry, and Shouto makes a surprised noise with a mouth full.

“Make him last.”

It’s a challenge, but Shouto rises to it. He pulls off and lets Izuku catch his breath. Somewhere, the lube jar is unscrewed. Shouto can taste his heartbeat, and realizes he’s excited.

Izuku presses a hand to his eyes, and his chest rises and falls. Shouto counts his teeth with his tongue, and waits for approval.

“You picked that up fast,” Izuku praises lightly. Shouto smiles halfway, and presses his mouth to his hipbone.

“I like the way you sound.”

“Can say the same thing about you, your highness,” Katsuki replies. Two fingers return slick and dexterous, and Shouto’s eyes roll shut as he curls them right up to the third knuckle. “Those peasants have no idea that their prince can beg so sweetly.”

Izuku’s fingers sweep into the back of his hair, and his gut clenches with excitement.

“I don’t beg,” Shouto replies evenly.

He realizes that it’s not just Izuku gripping his hair, but Katsuki too; and Shouto’s head is forced right back on Izuku’s weeping cock. Shoved, yanked, forced.

He can feel where Katsuki is kneeled behind him; bare thighs against his own, his skin hot to the touch, like a reminder of what’s to come.

“You will, sweetheart,” Katsuki purrs. “How’s he doing?”

Izuku groans quietly, his toes curling on the bed.

“I can’t watch for too long – I’ll come.”

Katsuki laughs, and the sound is…comforting. Shouto swallows around excess drool, and goes cross-eyed when Katsuki starts to seriously fuck him with his fingers.

“Could you just from listenin’?”

Shouto doesn’t get it, until he hears himself. His throat is working obscenely, and he’s shoving back against Katsuki’s hand, and the sound of his breathing is so loud. Oh, god.

“Yeah,” Izuku rasps.

Katsuki’s cock slips between his thighs – just rubbing – and Shouto could die.

“Me too.”

Fuck.

Shouto’s still being forced down. He can’t come up for air, and he’s not sure he wants to. The lack of oxygen is making him forget everything he should be embarrassed about. Making him forget about the threat of tomorrow, about the sun that will rise and call him back home.

He will take this. Selfishly, he will.

It’s good, because it’s them. Because it’s their skin, and their voices. Shouto wants to give and he wants to take and he wants to memorize; and as Izuku starts to thrash again, Shouto pins him down and swallows until his eyes water.

Shouto ends up drooling messily from it. He chokes a little, half on a moan, still trying to watch Izuku shiver so sweetly, but Katsuki is such a damn menace with his fingers.

“Kacchan!” Izuku thrashes. “C-Can I –”

A rasped; “Yeah.”

Izuku starts to push at his face, blubbering out a warning, but Katsuki pushes his thumb to the rim of his ass and says smooth as glass, “You better impress me, your highness,” – and Shouto takes that as a challenge.

Izuku shoots across his tongue instantly, like his lover’s permission was all he needed.

He curses in languages that Shouto doesn’t even recognize. His head slams back, and his thighs squeeze, and Shouto has enough time to think that’s from me, before Katsuki grabs him by the hips and screws his fingers in so hard he goes dizzy from it.

“You alive?” Katsuki teases.

“Ughhhh,” Izuku groans. He’s limp, and lifeless – but when he looks at Shouto, his eyes are alive. “He swallowed.” Shouto’s eyes widen when Izuku wipes the corner of his mouth. “Or, tried to.”

“Hmm, that’s hot.”

“Yeah.”

Shouto swallows again, reflexively. His mouth tastes tacky, but he’s not upset about it.

“That’s harder than it looks,” he croaks.

Izuku laughs drunkenly, and wiggles down far enough to hug around his neck. It means his cock gets squished up against his thigh, but Shouto has accepted his death long ago.

“You are too perfect. I’ve yet to find something you’re not good at.”

“I can name a few things.”

Katsuki’s fingers pull out, and his heart jerks as he feels him lean over to spit against his hole.

“Gods I wanna’ fuck you. We good?”

Izuku’s finger snake between his shoulder blades, and Shouto’s brain turns back on.

“Wait…hold on.”

They pause. Katsuki kneads his thumb into the side of his ass, and Shouto has to blink to stay focused.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.” He’s hit with a sudden desire that he never would’ve voiced before. Shouto exhales into Izuku’s chest, and says, “Can I ride?”

The silence is very loud.

“Bastard,” Katsuki mutters. “You’ll kill me.”

“You deserve it, for wearing that shirt tonight.”

“It really wasn’t much of a shirt,” Izuku agrees. “More like a bustle.”

“I get hot,” Katsuki argues, and Shouto takes the pat on the hip as a sign to move. Katsuki turns to sit up against the headboard, and Shouto goes right for his lap. “C’mere, lemme’ look at you – god, Deku sure made a mess.”

“You set me up,” Izuku accuses, though he settles right in the crook of Katsuki’s arm. He helps get Shouto situated, helps lead his cock between his legs. “Please accept my humble apology.”

“Apology accepted.”

“Ugh, you’re both smartasses.”

“We get it from you.”  

Katsuki holds him tight by the thigh, and Shouto pulls his cock in his hand. He’s hard and wet, and the skin is tight around the head. He rubs him against his hole just to tease, and the feeling is unexpectedly overwhelming.

I can do this, he thinks – and then tries to sink onto him and goes – oh, shit.

Shouto shivers, but doesn’t give up. It’s much more daunting now that he’s controlling the pace, but the wild look in Katsuki’s eye makes it all worth it.

The scratches Izuku clawed into Katsuki’s shoulders are now bumpy and risen. Shouto grips over them, and exhales through his nose. He feels bigger, somehow, than he remembers.

“It’s okay,” Izuku soothes. “I know. You can take it slow.”

Shouto gets more than halfway, and moans involuntarily. Katsuki hardens in him, and that’s something he can barely process.

“Fuck me,” Katsuki blurts. “You’re squeezin’ so hard I’ll fuckin’ break.”

He knows Katsuki stretched him well, but it feels impossible.

Shouto’s throat bobs. He tries to work himself down further, but it feels like he’s spearing himself open. Izuku’s hand feels good on his inner thigh; grounding, like the way Katsuki is kneading into his hipbone.

“Talk to us.”

“It’s different,” Shouto rasps. “More, somehow.”

“You’re working with gravity now. Does it feel good?”

Shouto’s cock is bobbing off and on his stomach. The answer is blaringly obvious.

“Yes.”

Katsuki wraps a hand around him (finally) and the dam breaks. Shouto’s throat clicks from swallowing so hard, and he slides in to the very base. He realizes, dully, that Katsuki rarely fucked him all the way – because this. This is a lot.

“Wow,” Izuku whispers. “He’s like art.”

“Fuck me, baby you gotta’ move. Want help?”

“No,” Shouto snaps. He flexes his fingers, and feels the taste of magic in his mouth. He’s used to swallowing it down – to keep his emotions tame in fear of injury – but he doesn’t have to, here. “I can do it.”

When Shouto does start to move, he gains clarity. An understanding of why Izuku likes this so much. The lavish of attention, of hands and bare skin, of leverage to see everything beneath him. It’s a workout, but Shouto rides, and with the control, he can angle him right where he wants.

One hand is gripping his thigh so hard, he knows it’ll bruise by tonight. Watching Katsuki’s chest fully exhale, seeing him rock his head back and fight to stay still; it’s a power trip. Shouto pets up Kastuki’s chiseled abs just to feel his shuddering inhale. To feel him react.

Alas, Shouto gets caught quickly.

“Don’t look so fuckin’ smug,” Katsuki growls. “I’m tryin’ not to hurt you.”

Shouto licks across the points of his teeth, sits fully, and then articulates his words carefully.

“You can.”

The floodgates are opened, along with Katsuki’s dilated pupils. A hand grips around the back of his neck, and Shouto almost drools as Katsuki plants his feet and fucks up into him.

Izuku spits into his own palm and takes over between his legs. Shouto can barely keep an eye open for it.

It’s brutal, and so fucking good.

“Don’t close your eyes,” Izuku begs.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Katsuki hisses.

Shouto can only curse his name. The hand at the back of his neck slips to the front, and his vision goes wonderfully splotchy as Katsuki squeezes at his pulse.

He must’ve gone tight, because he gets a groan in response. It’s all adrenaline and arousal, this threat of how far will I go to watch this person fall apart?

Pretty far.

Still bouncing, still pushing up into Izuku’s fist, still meeting Katsuki thrust for thrust, he nudges his hand off his throat, and licks sloppily over his palm, biting into the skin that’s usually so inflamed from his magic.

The surprised noise from Katsuki is obscene.

“Oh, fuck. That ain’t fair.”

Shouto nips his thumb, and watches his throat swallow.

“You don’t play fair.”

Izuku looks delightfully surprised.

“Kacchan, are your hands sensitive?”

“Shut up.”

“I thought they were sore.”

“They are.”

Shouto sits to the crook of his hips again, forcing his cock as deep as it’ll go. He sucks his fingers in his mouth, sighs around them, and watches the downright shock on Katsuki’s face. Usually so sharp, so etched deep in a scowl, the world turns in slow motion as he rips his hand out of Shouto’s mouth, grips the back of his hair, and forces him halfway into the sheets.

Izuku catches him in his arms, but he’s only rolled to his side. The new angle feels feral and frantic and it’s so good he could sob.

Izuku kisses him, and he comes that way. Like a surprise from nowhere. Like he’d forgotten orgasm was even the endgame. It rips out of him; from the hairs in his head, down to the soles of his feet.

He likes the way Katsuki fucks into him like he’s using him to get off. He likes it so much, he flings back an arm to grip him by the thigh and keep him there. Fingers sweep his bangs away, and lips kiss his forehead. In the end, there is a reverent mouth pressed between his shoulder blades, like an apology and a thank you all at once.

Shouto is adamant that he finish inside, and the fullness makes him drowsy. There are many more things for him to worry about, other than soiled sheets.

 “Tomorrow…” Shouto starts, in the dead of night.

“Don’t,” someone says. “Not yet.”

So he doesn’t say it. Peace is a luxury, but love should not be. Maybe, that’s something else father got wrong.

☆☆☆ 

The morning feels slow, and tangible. Like he could reach out and grab it with his bare hands. Maybe if he held on tight enough, he won’t have to leave this bed.

“I can’t breathe,” Izuku whines.

Shouto squeezes tighter, yawning into his smooth shoulder.

“You’ll survive.”

He knows Katsuki is behind him from the sound of his breathing alone. An arm finds its way across them both, and Izuku lets out a broken exhale.

When Shouto looks up, he can’t find the words. For the first in a while, Izuku finally looks well rested. But it comes at a price, and in the depth of his eyes, he can see sadness he is trying to conceal.

His bangs are swept back. Shouto closes his eyes and fully enjoys the fingers on his forehead. Someone traces a hickey on his neck.

“Do you need help packing?” Izuku whispers.

Katsuki’s fingers flex on his thigh, and let go; agitated, but repressed.

“No,” Shouto answers. “I’ll grab Cyrus after breakfast.”

“Demon mare…” Katsuki mumbles.

One last time, Shouto breathes in and enjoys this. The smell of them, of bare skin, of the lingering sex from last night. When he opens his mouth, Izuku cuts him off.

“Don’t say goodbye yet. I’ll cry, and then I’ll be angry.”

Shouto laughs hoarsely.

“You? Angry?”

“That is something you don’t want to see,” Katsuki grumbles, and Shouto takes his word for it.

No one says –

Must you go?

Or

Can’t you stay?

– because they are questions not worth asking. It’s the real world. The pit in his stomach is something he will learn to swallow.

☆☆☆ 

Cyrus paws the ground impatiently. Shouto tightens the saddlebag at her flank, and she shifts with annoyance.

“Quit that,” Shouto scolds. “You’ve become spoiled.”

She snorts, and grazes the grass. Shouto slides his weapons into place, and secures them.

“Here!” Izuku kicks open the front door with his toe, and lets it slam halfway onto Katsuki’s shoulder (who curses heavily, and is ignored). “This should get you to the desert wastes, at least.”

Shouto looks at the basket in his arms, and sighs.

“This is all your food. I cannot accept this.”

“We can’t eat all of it,” Izuku lies, right to his face. Shouto goes hmm, and looks over his shoulder.

“You’ll have to take it up with Cyrus.”

“Oh, she’s a big girl. You can carry this, can’t you, lovely?”

Her tail swishes, and Izuku gives a small laugh.

The sun is high. Shouto is without a coat, and likely won’t need it until nightfall. Green grass sways under their feet, and doves coo in the trees, and the world feels so much more colorful than it was before. Shouto can’t think of how he’ll miss the smell of their little cottage. How he’ll miss the cooking fires, and the card games.

How he’ll miss them.

It is a new hole in his chest that he cannot acknowledge, else he’ll never leave.

Katsuki takes the basket from Izuku and loads it on the other side of his horse. She isn’t too excited, but Cyrus is wise not to challenge Katsuki.

“How long of a ride?” Katsuki asks him.

Shouto pets across the mare’s shoulder, and tangles his fingers in her mane.

“Four months, maybe. It will be shorter now that I’m no longer chasing my own tail on some wild treasure hunt.”

Izuku looks away guiltily, and scratches his jaw.

“Ah…right.”

Shouto frowns. He keeps his distance, but ensures that he has Izuku’s attention before speaking again.

“You did well hiding yourself here. Your trail was not easy to find.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Izuku smiles.

 Katsuki comes to stand by him again, hands deep in his pockets. The air is tense with their final goodbye.

Shouto swallows around the knot in his throat, and says,

“You know, I will have to tell my father some of the events that transpired here. Uh…more or less.”

Izuku laughs softly, “Hopefully not all of it.”

“No. But the king promised a reward to whoever could break my curse -- more gold and jewels than you could ever carry.”

Izuku and Katsuki share a look.

“We’re honored, but I think we’ll take a rain check.”

Shouto nods. A dove coos on the rooftop, and Shouto feels hollow in return.

“I will ensure that your families are well taken care of.”

Izuku’s eyes shine, but don’t spill over.

“Thank you, Shouto. That would mean the world to us.” Izuku grabs Katsuki by the bicep, and squeezes. “Kacchan?”

Katsuki clears his throat. His eyes are distant, and it hurts.

He reaches over his shoulder, and Shouto realizes that something is strapped to his back. “Uhh. We have something else to give you.”

Katsuki presents the sword with two hands. The hilt is blue, and the sheath is handmade with leather. Shouto’s heart sinks.

“No. I can’t —”

“It chose you,” Izuku blurts. He wrings his hands, but his eyes are determined. “It’s yours now.”

Shouto takes it slowly. The sword sings in his hand, like a content purr.

“I thought the pieces don’t like to be separated?”

“Not if it’s with the rightful owner.” Izuku smiles, “Besides. Now you’ll be able to sense that we’re right behind you.”

“Right,” Shouto says. Then, his brain catches up with his mouth. “Wait, what?”

“Well, we can’t leave right away –” Izuku rambles, “— cause, I mean, we have to find a good home for the chickens, and Kacchan has to sell the bar, and it’ll take a bit of time for us to settle the house because I don’t feel confident leaving All Might’s library unprotected, but I think in a month we could –”

“Deku,” Katsuki warns, but Shouto’s already losing his mind.

“No, you – you’ve built a life here. I can’t ask you to just pick up and leave it all behind.”

Izuku squeezes his fingers determinedly. His jaw is set, and he looks Shouto in the eye.

“I’m tired of hiding. Kacchan and I are soldiers, this is what we signed up to do. I came here to learn about All Might’s power, and now…I know I need to use it the way it was intended to.”

Shouto’s heart is in his stomach. He feels like he’s lost his footing. His mind.

“But this is your chance to be free. I will be returning home to a war. It won’t be –” Shouto gestures to the sweet, gentle cottage, “— this.”

“We know,” Katsuki says evenly. “We’re warriors. And you’re fuckin’ stupid if you think we’d let you just walk away.”

“I – I don’t want to speak too soon, but I think we could end this.” Izuku’s eyes are wide, and captivating in their bravery. “The way we work together. It’s more than romance, as nice as that’s been. Don’t you think?”

Despite all their edges, their differences and the gaps between them, they have developed more than a connection. It’s like another limb. Like splitting your soul in three.

Shouto’s throat feels dry. He gets the irrational desire to cry, but does not.

“It will be busy,” Shouto warns.

“Fuck me, you really think that’s anything new to us?”

Shouto steps closer, like he needs it to breathe.

“I would keep you close to me. I wouldn’t let you go.”

Izuku is the one to take his hand, but Shouto is the one to squeeze it. Their hair blows in the breeze, bits of grass drifting around them — no longer between.

“Our cottage life can wait. By spring next year, we will be together again.”

Shouto’s heart wretches with a beautiful pain; one that reminds him that he’s real. That he’s alive still.

“You would go to war with me?”

Katsuki and Izuku share another look; quick, from the corners of their eyes.

Then, they bow together. In that short moment, Shouto can see the armor on them. Can visualize the swords in their hands, and the emblems on their shoulders. Their change in body language is like seeing a transformation before his very eyes, and in that, he is deeply honored.

“Yes, your highness.”

Shouto throws the sword to the ground, and hugs them both. It is returned without hesitation, and that sentiment heals him more than words can say.

“The palace will be awaiting your arrival.”

Izuku cups his cheek and kisses him twice. Once for goodbye, and another like he needs it to remember.

“We will be right behind you.”

It’s Katsuki’s turn. Shouto closes his eyes, because he knows the kiss on his temple is coming. His lips are rough like the rest of him, and Shouto will miss that.

“Don’t let that swamp monster give you any trouble,” Katsuki grumbles. “And don’t break the sword, or I’ll kill you.”

Shouto touches their foreheads together briefly, and then steps away.

“I will try.”

 Shouto swings into the saddle, and Cyrus shifts under his weight.

“By spring,” Izuku reminds him, sliding the sword into his holster.

Shouto gathers the reins in his hands, and nods.

“By spring.”

☆☆☆ 

He rides past the golems, the trolls, and the swamp-beast the guards the bridge. Past the geysers that spit acid, and the deserts that rain stars at night.

He leaves the fishing town behind, and goes home.

☆☆☆ 

The king is waiting on the palace steps. Dressed in formal attire, jewels, satin, and a crown around his head. He stands tall and proud on the marble staircase, but only Shouto can see the nerves in his father’s gaze. 

Shouto’s siblings are just as anxious. Not fidgeting, but bone straight and chin up, just as they were trained to be. 

Shouto kneels at the bottom staircase, and presents the sword in his hand. 

“I have returned.” 

Endeavor studies him, as if determining Shouto to be an illusion. His voice is deep and booming, and it echoes about the chamber.

“I received your letter.” 

The guards stand at rest with spears in their hands. Shouto bows his head, and thinks it’s as good a time as any. 

He lets the fire lick from his cheek, ashing into ember and floating into the air. He can hear the sharp inhale from his siblings, and the deafening silence from his father.

“I have much to tell you,” Shouto states. 

“Indeed,” Mother says, and Shouto’s head whips up fast enough to snap off his neck. 

She looks well. Adorned in white, and rested. Seeing her outside of that tower is enough to make the journey worth it; the sleepless nights, the long days. All of it. 

They come to greet him on the bottom stair. Shouto rises from a knee, and accepts their welcome.

Yes, there is much to talk about. 

☆☆☆ 

Mother still doesn’t live in the palace. When given the choice, she chose the townhome father built for her, out on the edge of the river; well protected and far from any jailed towers. 

She’s happy here. With the flowers, and the bees. It reminds Shouto too much of a cottage on the edge of the earth, so it’s hard to stay. 

When Shouto tells her of the cure, she does cry. It’s the first in a long, long time, and Shouto can’t even react. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t not love you enough.” She wipes her eyes, one sleeve at a time. She is still a distinguished queen, even in her sadness. “I failed you.” 

Shouto did miss the ability to reach over and touch her. So he holds her hand until her eyes are dry. 

“This was my lesson to learn. My hardship given by the fates.” 

“What did your father say?” 

“Nothing. I think he was...surprised.” Shouto lets go over her hand so she can blow her nose into a handkerchief. “I fell in love out there, mother. Against my very own will, I did.” 

She looks happy, and it’s all the validation Shouto ever needed. 

“Two young heroes…Please, describe them to me.” 

Shouto does. Until morning breaks, and his throat hurts, Shouto does. 

☆☆☆ 

Endeavor studies the sword from afar. With his hands tucked in his robes, and the crown plucked from his head, it is now Father he is speaking with, not his royal majesty, the flame king. 

“So he did pass away,” Father mulls, a deep scowl on his face. “That damned fool.” 

It has been many months since Shouto has sipped earl tea, and he missed it dearly. He keeps his cup between his fingers, just breathing in the scent. 

“Yes. All Might was buried outside the battlefield.” 

Father looks regretful, but Shouto is too wise to prod. It’s just them, in his quarters. No family, and no hawk. 

Endeavor threads his fingers together, and looks Shouto over, like he’s a stranger. 

“Show me once more.”

Shouto ignites his fire for him. He can feel his father’s magic react to it in turn. Endeavor’s power is stronger from practice, but if Shouto has anything to do about it, he won’t be for long. 

When the flame fades, so does the relief from father’s eyes. He turns to the window.

“Hawks informed you of the liberation army.” 

“Yes. There is work to do.” 

Endeavor turns.

“But will you do it?”

There is an unsaid; without them?

Shouto can only hold out hope that they will return. More time has passed than the weeks they spent together; but he can still feel them with him. In the presence of the sword at his hip.

“I have some conditions.”

☆☆☆ 

Shouto misses them dearly. 

Morning, night, and afternoon; he feels the emptiness when he trains in the courtyard. When he wields the fragment of the Greatsword, and feels it’s pieces so far away. At breakfast, in war meetings, and the in-between. He thinks of them often. 

But there is work to be done, and Shouto presses forwards. Each day he wields his fire is another day he owes; another debt in his ledger, to those who freed him. He will pay it forward. He will stand tall. 

Endeavor declares All Might’s death, so the kingdom can mourn his sacrifice. Shouto wonders if his spirit can see this; wonders if he is honored, or revolted. Either way, he can see the regret in Father’s shoulders. Maybe this is his way of moving on; of taking responsibility at last.  

Just as quickly as the word spreads, Shigaraki’s army approaches the border. Shouto hasn’t been called to fight just yet, but he knows it’s coming. 

Battle planning turns from weekly, to daily. They spend so much time arguing with the commanders, it feels like they’re running in circles.

“They will attack the west gate,” says Ryuko. “It yields no natural borders.”

“That’s exactly why they won’t,” argues Hawks. “Shove all your defenses on one line, and he will wipe the floor with you.”

The map feels like a border between them, square on the table, with small figures plotted about. Hakamada picks up one of the toy pieces, and sets it across the map.

“Why not split forces?”

“You haven’t seen what fucked up magic they’ve been practicing in there,” Hawks huffs. “They’ve been building monsters. Conjuring the dead – forbidden spells like you’ve never seen. It’d take a whole army just to bring down one of ‘em.”

Endeavor rubs his jaw in frustration. Shouto, kneeled at his right hand, exhales with equal exhaustion.

“Hawks, calm yourself,” the king says. “We can’t act in fear.”

Hawks clicks his tongue, but obeys. By the tension in the room, it’s obvious the Generals are annoyed by Endeavor’s tolerance to Hawks’ impermanence, though none are brave enough to say anything about it.

Shouto raises a finger, and Endeavor allows him permission to speak.

“What about a preemptive strike?”

Hawks rubs the scruff on his chin. His feathers rustle and shift with thought.

“Their chambers are built underground. You’d have to –”

The large iron door to the meeting room opens. The attention of the room turns as two soldiers approach with spears in hand. Father regards them with an annoyed tip of his head, and the soldiers drop to a knee.

“Excuse our interruption, your Majesty. There is a disturbance at the gate.”

The room tenses. Father waves for them to stand.

“Is it the league?”

“No. It is two of our own. Deserted soldiers that demand to see his highness, the prince.”

Shouto feels his heart lodge into his throat. Quickly (and without grace), his hand flies to his sword. It sings in his hand, and Shouto suddenly can’t breathe.

Shouto whips his head to look at his father, eyes wild and impatient.

They’re here.

Endeavor studies the expression on his face. After a long, horrible, anxious pause, the king waves two fingers at the room.

“We will take a recess. Return in one hour.” He looks at Shouto, who can barely sit still in his excitement. He’s clutching his sword so tight, his fingers might break. Barely, barley, amusement crosses through his father’s eyes, before he says, “Go.”

Shouto stands without hesitation. He waits for the guards to pull open the iron doors, and paces into the hall.

He walks, mostly. But as his heart beats past his ears, his stride quickens.

Six months. It has been six months.

Will they look the same?

Will they still care for him, the way they did?

Shouto jumps over the railing, rather than taking the stairs. A maid startles, nearly dropping her pail of water

“Sorry!” Shouto calls. His footsteps echo through the marbled halls. Shouto realizes that he is now running.

The guards spot him at the door, and jerk upright. They barely pull the tall doors open, before Shouto is sliding through to an utter halt.

“Let us go you fuckin’ inbred trash –”

“Kacchan, stop it! You’re going to get us in trouble!”

“Oi! Get your grubby little hands off him!”

“Please, we’re just here to see –”

Shouto’s breath leaves in a heavy swoosh of his lungs.

It’s taking six guards to hold both of them – which is frankly impressive.

Katsuki’s hair is shorter. Izuku has a new scar on his jaw, jutting up to his cheek. Their clothes are a little tattered, but they look the same.

And they’re here.

“Release them!” Shouto demands, with all of his authority.

The guards let go as if burned. Izuku and Katsuki turn to look at him with blank, wide-eyed expressions.

It goes silent as the guard’s armor clinks to a military rest.

“Shouto,” Izuku whispers.

It’s been so long, Shouto is at a loss for words. They can only look at each other in still, icy silence.

“You made it,” Shouto replies.

Katsuki dusts off his arm, as if wiping the guards’ hands from him.

“I told you we were right behind you – but a little warning about the dragon would’ve been nice.”

“Oops,” Shouto blurts. “Sorry. Kirishima is really nice… if you’re not an outsider.”

“Yeah, fuckin’ found that out. Almost lost an eye until he smelled your shirt.” Katsuki pulls out a wad of cloth from his bag, and waves it. “You left this, by the way.”

“Thank you.” Shouto takes the shirt. He looks at it in utter silence. Then, he tosses it to the floor, and pulls them into his arms.

A dam breaks. Izuku inhales wetly, and Shouto’s soul aches as fingers dig into him in return, and hold on.

The guards tense, like they don’t know what to do. The crowned prince doesn’t greet people at the gate. Does not hug others, or hold hands.

“We missed you so much,” cries Izuku.

Katsuki doesn’t speak, but Shouto can feel the desperation in his hands. Shouto breathes them in, and they smell the same. Exactly the same.

He feels whole again. Shouto has never hugged anyone so tight in his lifetime.

There is a large clunk sound, and Shouto realizes that the guards have dropped to a knee.

He turns to see his father standing in the doorway, robes to the floor, and a crown on his head.

Katsuki and Izuku kneel immediately. Shouto only bows his head.

“Your majesty.”

“Leave us,” Endeavor says. The guards file out into a single line. When the door shuts, he nods. “Is this them?”

Shouto remains headstrong.

“Yes.”

“Rise.”

Katsuki and Izuku stand upright. Even after (nearly) a decade, they still react like they’ve been soldiers all this time. Training is hard to forget, it seems.

“I have heard much about you. It appears I owe you both a great debt,” the king says.

“His highness was a great help to us in return,” Izuku replies, albeit a little wobbly. “There is no debt, my liege.”

The king raises an eyebrow. Already, he has noted the two pieces of the sword.

“Then a reward is in order. You have traveled all this way – state your terms.”

Shouto’s pulse rises.

“Father,” he starts, but Endeavor lifts a hand to stop him.

Izuku goes silent, but Katsuki raises his head and looks the king right in the eye.

“Allow us to stay with his highness.”

It’s odd to hear manners from Katsuki, but maybe being in the presence of a king is new to him. Endeavor looks to Shouto, and asks a question he knows the answer to.

“Do you desire this?”

You can really feel the heat of the sun, here on the front steps. Shouto feels overdressed in his formal wear; colorful jewels, and fine tailored fabrics. He stands protectively in front of them, as a buffer between the peasants, and the king. He won’t let them be turned away, and he shows it in his expression.

“Yes.”

Father studies them with a dismissive gaze, and folds his arms.

“I hope you fight as well as he says. You will be dubbed knights tomorrow, by sunrise. Do not be late.”

A unanimous;

“Yes, your majesty.”

Endeavor leaves, and Shouto looks to them with a smile. Izuku’s already grinning, laughing from nervous energy.

“I can’t believe that worked.”

“We need to get you some new clothes,” Shouto expresses, holding out an arm to look at them fully. “And a bath.”

Katsuki grumbles, cupping his scarred cheek, then his jaw. “Fuck me, did you grow taller?”

“No, no, it’s the boots.”

“Wow, look at you... so stunning.”

“I have so much to tell you,” Shouto blurts. “So much to show you.”

Izuku grins, and squeezes his fingers.  

“For as long as you’ll have us.”

Forever is unsaid, though they know it.

☆☆☆ 

An army stands before them.

Shouto doesn’t fear it with his commanders at his side. Outfitted in the finest armor, swords in hand and unwavering at his side, they stand united.

Besides; they have defeated monsters before. They will defeat them again.

Flags fly, and archers line up in rows. Battle drums play in the distance, and the scent of sulfur is familiar. The smell of war.

They have planned everything about this day. Brilliant Izuku and his war strategies; Katsuki, and his killer’s instinct. They are ready.

“I’ll see you at dinner,” Shouto says, sliding on his hood.

“If you get lost, follow the scent of wet dog,” Izuku jokes.

“Ha-ha,” Katsuki grunts, swinging his sword around his hand. “Very fuckin’ funny. I ain’t pickin’ the arrows out of your ass this time.”

“It happened once, can you just let it go?”

Shigaraki stands wild in the field, his hair a mess, and his lips cracked and dry. He looks deranged, and unhinged. Unpredictable, yes. But ripping through the seams.

“Surrender, and we will spare your lives!”

Even if it wasn’t a lie; of that, there is no chance.

When the battle grows fierce, and they become lost in the cluster of weapons, blood and bodies; magic then smokes, and beasts rise from the fog.

New heroes. New legends. New folktales to tell the peasants hiding in their cellars at night.

Ghosts protect this kingdom. Step out of line, and you will become the hunted.

If you encounter a doe’s shadow. If you hear howling at the moon. If green lightning cracks in the sky; say your prayers, and hope they do not find you.

And most importantly, do not ever look them in the eye.

Death will be swifter this way.

☆☆☆ 

The wind blows free out here. Shouto’s hair has gotten long in his later years, and strands slip from the knot on his head.

You can smell the wildflowers. The ocean isn’t far, and it brings seagulls that circle the valley.

Even worn down through years of war, Izuku is beautiful among the flowers. The sun makes him glow; turns the dark shades of his hair a shiny green. He turns with a smile, wide and crooked.

“Here, your majesty?”

Shouto tucks his hand in his robe, and steps over broken branches and rabbit holes.

“I told you it was your decision.” Shouto raises an eyebrow, “And we’re off duty. I told you to stop calling me that.”

“A king is never off duty,” Katsuki teases. Shouto slightly relaxes at the arm around his side. “Besides. It’s fun to watch you throw a tantrum.”

Shouto drills his fingers into his ribs, and Katsuki doesn’t react out of principle.

“Can we even do this?” Izuku asks. He pulls his scarf close, looking off through the trees. “Would we even have time to visit?”

“I promised I’d give you back your cottage life,” Shouto frowns. “Even if I’m a decade late. We will make time.”

Izuku approaches, a curious glint in his eye.

“Even as ghosts?”

Shouto hums, and turns his face to the wind.

“Even gods deserve rest.”

Fingers dig into him in jest, and their laughs carry in the wind.

“Oh shut it, you.” Pause, then. “Could I have my own library?”

Shouto can almost see it in front of him. A secret place to call home; to break from the hearings, and the galas, and the echoes of their tall-ceiling chambers.

“You will not be denied,” Shouto decides. Fingers pull the band from his hair, and it springs free to his shoulders. He turns to look Katsuki in the eye, who’s only grown more handsome in his time. His expression is mischievous, and smug.

“Maybe a little denial.”

“Hmm. Maybe.”

“Ugh, you always ruin the mood.”

“C’mon, what’s it called again? Consummating the marriage?”

“I don’t think it counts if the house isn’t built yet.”

“Or if you’ve already had sex for ten years.”

“Ugh,” Katsuki groans. “Tradition is stupid.”

“Now, I didn’t say no,” Shouto says, and that’s the end of it.

☆☆☆ 

One day, they’ll become nothing more than words in a book.

Names and portraits, forgotten to those who no longer believe in magic. As technology grows; as the mythic creatures hide into their crevices of the earth, the air will fill with toxins, and the old roads will no longer carry horse and wagons. History will explain away the world with science, and become dim.

But far, far away, on the edge of the world, a small fishing town will always believe.

They’re a cult! The non-believers will cry. They worship false idols, and animal statues.

False to who?

Somewhere on the planet, a baby is born with one joint in their pinky toe.