Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There were only two documented dragons left in the world, and both remained tethered in chains, mounted on display atop the castle’s highest parapet, exposed to the relentless cold. Here, high above the kingdom of Musutafu, it was believed their flames might somehow stave off the ever-advancing winter. But no fire, not even dragonfire, could seem to break the curse that now bound the land in an unyielding frost.

Musutafu had once thrived under a gentle sun. Its fields rolled with golden wheat, and its orchards teemed with ripe fruits. But now, the winds that blew were thick with sleet, the kind that cut through skin like knives. Snow descended daily in ruthless torrents, blanketing the world in a heavy, oppressive white. Trees stood brittle, their bark frosted and cracking, and the rivers had frozen over, entombing fish and flora alike in layers of ice. The sky, once a clear, endless blue, now remained choked with gray clouds, casting a pall of eternal twilight over the land.

The dragons, once majestic beings that ruled the skies, had been reduced to relics—spectacles of  times long forgotten. Izuku Midoriya, born during Drakenval, the era that marked the beginning of the relentless winter, had only ever known dragons as these bound, subdued creatures. He’d heard tales of days when they soared free, painting the night with vibrant, flickering flames that danced in the heavens like shooting stars. But those were the memories of elders, faint whispers of what had been. To him, the dragons were as much prisoners as he was to his own fate.

Izuku had never known luxury. He had been born into a world that seemed indifferent to his struggles, with no family to offer support or guidance. His mother had passed away when he was just a toddler, and his father had long since disappeared, leaving Izuku to navigate life alone. There were no memories of his parents to cling to, only the gnawing emptiness of growing up without the warmth of a stable home. He never had the luxury of feeling truly safe or loved.

His early life was one of desperation and loneliness. There were days when he wandered the streets of Musutafu, scavenging for scraps of food and seeking shelter in alleyways. The city was vast and bustling, but Izuku always felt like an outsider. With no family to care for him, he had learned early on that the world didn’t owe him anything. It was a place that took and took without offering much in return.

Izuku had always been a quiet, introspective child, preferring the company of books or the occasional stray animal over the bustling crowds of people. He wasn't someone who made friends easily. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to; it was just that no one ever seemed to notice him. He had no status, no wealth, and no connections. He was just a ghost in the city, invisible to most. But there was one thing that kept him going through the years—the burning desire for something more. Something better.

He would often dream of escaping the endless cycle of survival, of one day finding a place where he belonged. That place, however, seemed farther and farther out of reach with each passing day. His hope, like the weather in Musutafu, had grown colder over time, covered in layers of doubt.

It was during one of those cold, bitter nights when he found himself wandering the streets aimlessly, that he was approached by a castle messenger. The offer was unexpected, almost too good to be true: a job as a dragon keeper  at the royal castle. Izuku had heard stories of the castle's dragons that lived far above the town, chained and caged in their cold, stone keep. They had been there for as long as anyone could remember, though no one spoke of them much anymore. The dragons were a forgotten relic of a time when fire ruled the skies and the land was bathed in warmth.

The castle had become a place of quiet despair in recent years, much like Izuku’s own life. With the land blanketed in snow and cold, the king had come to a hard conclusion: something needed to be done, or the dragons would die, and with them, any hope of ending the curse of winter. The soldiers had been tasked with the dragons' care for years, but their attention had waned as food became scarce, and their priorities shifted.

That’s when Izuku had been hired.

The job promised warmth, a roof over his head, food to eat—things he had never known in his life. Desperate to escape his desperate and harsh reality, Izuku accepted the position without hesitation, despite his lack of knowledge about dragons. The dragons had been there for generations, but they were too wild and untamed for anyone to really understand.

When Izuku first arrived at the castle, he was in awe of the creatures that lived there. The dragons were awe-inspiring, their scales glistening in the dim light of the high tower. But they were also intimidating, chained and restrained in ways that made it impossible to tell if they were simply waiting for death or if they still harbored a spark of life that might one day ignite the world once more.

Izuku didn’t know how long the dragons had been in the castle. Years, perhaps decades. They were ancient, their bodies massive and daunting, their presence commanding. But their spirits seemed to be as faded as the sun that no longer shone over Musutafu.

The castle soldiers had already established a routine to care for the dragons, but it wasn’t enough to keep them alive for much longer. The king, seeing the dwindling resources and the growing threat of the curse, had made the decision to hire someone who would devote himself to the dragons' care, even if the task seemed impossible.

Izuku, in his naivety, thought that taking care of the dragons would be an easy enough task. How difficult could it be to feed and clean up after a few giant lizards, after all? But it didn’t take long for him to realize just how complex and unforgiving the job was.

Being the dragon keeper  had its ups and downs. Before getting the accidental fortune of being appointed as the castle's most recent dragon keeper , he had only heard stories of the luxuries the job would bring: daily food, a roof over his head, decent pay, and best of all a warm room all to himself.

Izuku had come to the castle as a boy, following the promise of warm shelter and regular meals. Life as a dragon keeper was said to be a rare opportunity, one of honor and fortune. He had imagined feasts, warm hearths, and perhaps even fine clothing as his reward. But the reality was far less glamorous. Izuku realized, through his own naivety, that being the dragon keeper  wasn't as glamorous as it was rumored to be. Sure, he may have gotten his daily food, but like most of the townsfolk in the surrounding settlements, those rations consisted of cabbage soup, a cold piece of bread, and if he was lucky, a portion of the daily hunters' catch of rabbits. While Izuku may have had a roof over his head, it wasn't the best place to reside in. Light was scarce, the low grumbling of the dragons sputtered on throughout the night, the castle workers always clamored beneath me , and the icy wind whistled through the cracks nonstop. The pay didn't mean anything to him since he never had the time to leave the castle to spend the hard-worked earnings. Instead, he would sneak a few copper pieces to the castle servants as they had it worse than him living in the castle cellars. Plus they had the privilege to go outside to shop for supplies needed in the castle. Izuku’s quarters were cramped, drafty, and dimly lit, with barely enough warmth to keep him from freezing at night. The only real blessing was the heat radiating from the dragons, which provided just enough comfort to lull him to sleep.

The only thing that remained true and appreciated of all the rumors around and inside the castle was that, while things had turned out worse than expected winter weather wise, the godsend which was the never-ending heat radiating from the dragons' bodies was always enough provided just enough comfort to lull him to sleep. Despite all the hardships that had happened during the course of his day.

Each day, Izuku dutifully climbed the winding stairs to the dragons' enclosure, braving the fierce wind and snow that bit at his cheeks and numbed his fingers. As the dragon keeper , his duties were simple though tedious—consisting of feeding the dragons, cleaning up after their droppings, and shining their once-splendid scales, which had dulled from years of captivity. Since it had been so long since anyone had seen a dragon, if anyone still lived to share their knowledge, any information about how to properly take care of them was lost along the way. Still, Izuku did what he could in silence, watching as the dragons would do nothing but lay on the stone flooring with their eyes constantly closed. He had thought that being such large beasts, dragons would have been significantly ferocious and short-tempered. Of course, he also heard that while beasts by nature, dragons were also highly intelligent. It remained a mystery as to how anyone would come up with such an assumption if the dragons didn't even speak in the first place.

The dragons each had their own temperament. The larger of the two, an imposing beast with scales so dark they were nearly black and eyes that glowed a haunting lavender, was generally placid but would grow agitated if disturbed too suddenly. The other dragon, smaller but fierce, was clad in iridescent white scales that shimmered faintly under the dim light, its ruby-red eyes ever watchful, calculating in its restraint. It was sharp-tongued and quick to snap, but there was something calculated behind its every move. They were both powerful, intelligent beings, but the castle soldiers had done little to understand them over the years. Izuku, however, was determined. He was used to failure, used to being alone, but for once, he wanted to prove that he could be useful. He made mistakes—many of them—but slowly, over time, he learned the dragons' routines, their likes and dislikes. The larger dragon, despite its temperament, began to warm to him. It wasn’t long before it seemed to recognize him as more than just a servant, and its outbursts began to lessen. The smaller dragon, however, remained as cold and distant as ever. But even it, in its own way, began to slowly accept (tolerate) his presence. Izuku respected their boundaries, understanding that these were not mere beasts, but ancient, intelligent creatures with minds of their own. Izuku minded his own business and it minded its own.

—

Izuku found solace in the company of the dragons. He named the darker, almost purple-tinged scaled dragon, Yin. While the smaller,  grumpy, stubborn creature who didn’t seem to want anything to do with Izuku, Yang. ‘Yin and Yang’ Izuku thought he was pretty clever for that one. But even with ‘Yangs’ constant huffing, rolling his eyes, and exaggerated displays of annoyance couldn’t deter Izuku from continuing his conversations. He’d just talk, talk, and talk some more, filling the silence with his ramblings about his day, the weather, the state of the world, books, flowers, and the endless curiosity that seemed to flow through him like a river.

As time passed, however, the dark-scaled dragon had begun to show an unexpected attachment to Izuku. Every morning when he approached with their food, it would turn its great head towards him, watching his every movement. Its once-frequent outbursts had dwindled, and on rare occasions. 

‘Yin’, for his part, found this rather amusing. It had become accustomed to Izuku’s endless chatter, his voice a constant backdrop to the quiet, darkened space in which the dragons spent their days. Though Izuku wasn’t aware, ‘Yin’ enjoyed the free entertainment—there was something oddly charming about Izuku’s naïve optimism, and the way he spoke as if the dragons could understand every word. Which they could, even though the dragons hadn’t responded to him. ‘Yin’ noticed how Izuku's voice softened when he spoke to them, how his face would light up with expression whenever he started telling them about a book he had read or a new idea he had for something.

It was a routine that Izuku had settled into without even thinking much about it. Every day, he'd come to the dragons' chamber, bringing them their meals, cleaning their area, and talking to them as if they were his companions. The dragons, each in their own way, had grown accustomed to his presence. ‘Yin’, though seemingly detached, had taken to silently observing the boy with increasing interest. ‘Yang’, on the other hand, was almost always in a perpetual state of annoyance—its sharp eyes constantly glaring at Izuku whenever he got too close, his body language bristling with irritation at the persistent chatter.

In his loneliness, Izuku took to talking to the dragons. They were the only souls who would listen without judgment. It didn't matter whether or not they could understand me or not. Sometimes, in a place where everyone was constantly busy, it just helped to have someone to listen to what he had to say. Izuku was still an outsider in the castle, but with the dragons, he found a small comfort. They didn’t judge him. They didn’t demand anything from him except care and attention. So, he gave them both. Every day, he spoke to them, about his day, the weather, his dreams, his regrets. He filled the silence with words, hoping that somehow, the dragons would understand. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him feel less alone.

At first, it was an uncomfortable dynamic. Izuku would talk, and ‘Yang’ would sulk. It was clear that ‘Yang’ had no desire to engage, and yet, Izuku never seemed to mind. He would keep speaking, as if the dragon's silence wasn’t a rejection but simply another aspect of their strange relationship.

But, as days turned into weeks, something began to change, something subtle. ‘Yin’ started responding—though not vocally. It would nudge Izuku with its snout when the boy was too close, its motions soft, almost gentle. At first, Izuku thought it was just being playful, perhaps trying to get attention in its own silent way. And so, Izuku would keep talking, offering the dragon a small smile or petting its scales, all while ‘Yang’ simply watched with burning, unblinking, ruby eyes.

One day, though, as Izuku was talking to ‘Yin’ about the latest snowstorm, he brushed too close, his shoulder bumping against the dragon’s snout by accident. Izuku didn’t even notice, too caught up in his thoughts. But ‘Yin’—who had become so used to Izuku's presence—was startled. Its body tensed up as the physical contact took it off guard. Immediately, ‘Yang’, who had been lounging nearby, jumped up, bristling and a growl building in its throat as it reacted to ‘Yins’ sudden anxiety. In a flash, “Yang’ snarled at Izuku, snapping his jaws in warning.

The sound made Izuku freeze, his heart pounding in his chest. It wasn’t that he was scared of the dragons; he knew they were dangerous, but this felt different—’Yangs’ growl wasn’t one of casual annoyance; it was a fierce, protective warning.

“Sorry! Sorry!” Izuku stammered, stepping back quickly, his voice quivering in panic. ‘Yin’, still shaken by the unexpected contact, took a few moments to calm down. Its eyes darted from ‘Yang’ to Izuku, realizing that the boy hadn’t meant to make it uncomfortable. As if to make amends, ‘Yin’ nudged Izuku with his snout, a gentle push that made Izuku flinch at first but then step forward again, a little hesitant but still hopeful.

“Are you... okay?” Izuku whispered, his hand hovering near ‘Yins’ scales. It was clear the dragon had gotten nervous, but the little nudge felt like a reassurance that ‘Yin’ didn’t hold a grudge.

Izuku, though, wasn't prepared for how unsettling the moment had been. His heart was still racing as he retreated to his room, wondering if the dragons would ever get used to his presence, or if this was a sign that he had crossed a line.

The following day, Izuku returned to the dragons, trying to be more cautious. He went about his usual routine, but as he bent down to feed them, ‘Yin’—ever the instigator—began to sneakily position himself between Izuku and the food tray. Every time Izuku moved to get close to him, ‘Yin’ would shuffle slightly, blocking his path with its large snout. It was as if ‘Yin’ was testing his boundaries, his playful behavior more pronounced now. ‘Yang’, on the other hand, was far from amused. It watched the two of them with a stern glare, its piercing red eyes narrowing every time Izuku moved a little too close to ‘Yin’.

—

 "It’s colder than yesterday, isn’t it?" he would say, his words trembling from both chill and fatigue. "Not that you’d notice with those flames inside you." The dragons offered no reply, yet something in their steady, silent gaze seemed to respond, urging him to share his burdens.

“It feels like the curse is spreading,” he confided one particularly frigid morning, his breath visible in frozen clouds. “They say you could end it, you know. That your flames could bring back the warmth. But... I don’t see how that’s possible when you’re bound up here, chained and shackled.” He trailed off, realizing he had spoken aloud a thought that was likely treasonous.

The dragons remained silent and continued to eat their food without giving him so much as a glance. Giving him no sign that they understood, but he felt a small comfort just voicing his fears. He sighed, pulling his thin cloak tighter around himself as he headed back to his room, where he could hear voices drifting up from the floors below.

Izuku sighed, his breath condensing into the frostbitten air in an icy puff. "I wonder if you two really have the power to end this winter curse…"

Still, the dragons did not say anything so Izuku decided that it was best to retreat to his room before his ears froze off from the cold.

Once inside, he could hear the voices of men from the floor below him.

"This is becoming ridiculous. How long has it been?” someone muttered, the frustration evident in his voice. “Fifty years? The storm hasn't died down. If anything, it's becoming worse by the day. Pretty soon, the forests are going to run out of things to eat. The last of our crops finally succumbed to the winter just a week ago. We're all going to starve if something isn't done." 

Izuku rubbed his hands together to keep the tips from freezing off. No wonder his rations had become smaller. It wasn't just the village that was running out of food, the whole castle was beginning to feel the impacts of the everlasting winter, too.

“What can we do? We’ve tried everything,” another voice responded, a tinge of despair heavy in their tone.

"What do you suggest we do?" He heard a third voice ask.

"We're running out of options.” the first voice chimed. 

There was a pause, and then a suggestion, spoken in a hushed, almost reverent voice: “If the cold doesn’t subside in three days’ time, we must sacrifice one of the dragons on the altar.”

The words echoed in Izuku’s mind, their meaning settling over him like a fresh layer of frost. Sacrifice one of the dragons? A chill ran down his spine, colder than anything the winter winds could muster. The idea struck him as grotesque, a last-ditch effort born out of desperation. Could the death of a dragon really end the curse? Or was this simply an empty hope, a way for the nobility to cling to a myth in their growing fear?

—

The three days were up, and in that time, the winter only grew worse. A blizzard was now considered part of a normal day. Only the hardiest of animals could survive in such a brittle environment.

The day after the deadline, the castle was a hive of activity. Nobles from nearby regions had braved the harsh journey to witness the ritual, eager to see if this sacrifice would end their plight. The snow fell harder than ever, and a blizzard churned around the castle, blurring the boundary between earth and sky. Soldiers moved about, shoveling snow from the pathways and securing the perimeter. Inside, the castle servants worked with frantic energy, setting up what would be the altar for the sacrifice.

When Izuku woke up that morning, he noticed the castle noises below him were significantly livelier. Maids were scampering to keep the roof clean of as much snow as possible, and the numbers of soldiers increased for the case of an emergency. As he remembered from the night before, a handful of nobles from the neighboring castles had taken a quick voyage to witness the magnificent sight…a dragon being sacrificed.

What disturbed him most of all wasn't knowing whether or not the sacrifice would actually work or not, it was whether or not he would have a job after all of this. Surely with there being only one dragon left in the world it would have died of loneliness, and if there were no dragons there wouldn't be a need for a dragon keeper . Still, there was little Izuku could do to prevent any catastrophes from happening. If the king, himself, wanted a dragon to be sacrificed, then he would have his way.

That morning would be his last as one of the dragon's keeper. For Izuku, that morning was like any other. He went about his duties as usual, bringing the dragons their meals, sweeping their enclosure, and making sure their scales were as clean as possible. But today, the sorrow in his heart weighed down his every movement. He couldn’t bear to look at the dragons directly, wondering which one of them would soon be gone forever. Except this time, as he retreated back into the castle, he could hear the muffled sounds of the crowd assembling below. Chains clinked, voices murmured, and then, echoing up through the cold stone walls, came a low, mournful roar. The sound pierced through him, carrying an emotion that he could only describe as sorrow and resignation. Izuku shut his eyes and pulled his hands over his ears hoping to drown out the emotions that were overwhelming him. The sounds of the tragedy unfolding below. It was a futile gesture—he could still feel the sorrow reverberating through the walls, the bitter anticipation of a death he could not stop.

Only the privileged were allowed to witness the dragon sacrifice which meant that Izuku was spared from having to see the unlucky dragon die. In that moment, an ache took root within him, deeper than any he had felt before.

He wondered sadly which one it would be.

Chapter Text

The morning after the sacrifice, Izuku awoke with unexpected tears, feeling an instinctive sorrow he couldn’t quite explain. He didn't feel particularly sad, but something told him it was a necessary time to cry. Alas, he had to attend to his duties as dragon keeper, there was little time to dwell on emotions; he hurriedly wiped his eyes and made his way to prepare the dragons' breakfast. 

As expected, when he went up to the roof, there remained only one dragon tethered in chains - the pearly scaled one.

"I'm sorry," Izuku apologized, though he didn't understand why.

"Don't be. There was little you could do about it."

Startled, Izuku halted. Looking around still in shocked disbelief. Where did that voice come from? He could have sworn whoever was speaking was right next to him, but the only living thing in sight was the chained up dragon. There must be someone hiding around where they’re not supposed to be…Unless he’s finally lost it and gone crazy.

"Who's there?" Izuku asked aloud, bewildered. Hoping that whoever is there would reveal themselves. He assumed it was a young man from the maturing tone of the voice.

No answer. The wind merely howled on, and the snow continued to fall. Sigh—seems like the dragon's death hadn't changed anything.

"I knew you were slow, but not this slow, human," a deep, raspy voice growled.

Izuku jumped back, dropping the dragon's food all over the ground. Frantically looking around, trying to catch the owner of the 2nd new voice. Oh no…what if there was a group of them hiding on the roof…maybe thieves?...no one would really expect thieves to sneak from above…Izuku continued to mutter theories to himself. Although, when he looked up and straight ahead, he noticed the pearly dragon huffing in either annoyance (or amusement, it was rather hard to tell).

"Tch fuckin useless. It would have been better if you didn't drop the fuckin food all over the fuckin ground now," the same raspy voice growled again. "I could have used that energy."

Baffled, Izuku hastily looked away from the dragon and began to look around for anyone who might have been playing tricks on him, like one of the maid's sons. When he didn't see anyone save for a soldier who was standing guard nearly 3 dragon's length away, he turned back to the dragon whose eyes were now completely open. 

It stared more glared in his direction as the dragon showed its fangs and hissed.

"I can't believe he chose someone like you. You're clumsy, stupid, weak, useless- " It continued to rant.

Izuku frowned. This couldn't be. This just couldn't be. Was the dragon…?

"Are you talking to me?" Izuku interrupted, bewildered. Dragons could talk? Never mind that but they can talk with US? HUMANS?! Wait, was this a new thing? This is wild! No, no Izuku you’re just hearing things. THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING! It was strange suddenly possessing the knowledge that he could talk to the dragon. Does this mean then all of this time….all his daily chatter to them and neither of them had given him a response. 

Izuku looked back at the dragon suspiciously. Eyes squinted.  

‘Yang’ had the audacity to roll its ruby eyes back much like a human expressing sarcasm.

"Of course I'm fucking talking to you! Do you see any other clumsy, stupid, and weak little human loitering around here!?" the dragon? roared .

Izuku made a face. Never mind the dragon being able to talk, but ‘Yang’ had quite the tongue.

"I'm terribly sorry, but you wouldn't expect me to know that a dragon could speak after keeping quiet for nearly fifty years, would you?" Izuku sassed back in a moment of boldness. Slightly surprising himself yet feeling petty over the fact that the dragon didn’t speak earlier.

The dragon flicked its forked tongue out and glared back twice as hard now coupled with unreadable ruby reds.

"Honestly? You’re as dense as I’d fuckin expected. It wasn't that we were keeping silent loser. It was because you weren't able to understand us until now," it scoffed. Turning its head to face the wall once more. 

Izuku furrowed his eyebrows. Confused.  "Us? But you’re the only one here?...the last dragon left…"

"Oh no, there is definitely more than one of us." The first voice popped up again.

"AHHH!" Izuku screamed. Where did that voice come from? He swore it felt really close. Unconsciously his hands went straight to his chest. Specifically above his heart. Something inside of him was pulsating with an unfamiliar warmth. The more he thought about it, the feeling was similar to those times when he would pet the twilight scaled dragon on its snout. Although…It couldn't be…

"Bitch, if you can hear me, then listen up! You fucked up! You chose the wrong human container," ‘Yang’ suddenly piped up. Sitting up again, attention solely on Izuku’s…well…chest.

"Tell the grouchy dragon he's wrong, please," the voice echoed, seemingly coming from  inside him.

Izuku stumbled back, overwhelmed. Once again looking around. He still couldn't trace the source of this particular voice.

"You're…" Izuku whispered, then shook his head. Straightening himself a bit, Izuku tried again "The other voice says you're wrong."

The dragon snarled. "That's because his spirit has grown soft. No thanks to you, fucker," 

Izuku was still dumbfounded that dragons could communicate with humans. Don’t get him started on the voice in his head, er, heart. That revelation still hadn’t sunken in. 

"Tch whatever. Human! Unchain me this instant!” The dragon barked. 

Izuku merely stared at the dragon like it was mad. Honestly, Izuku was 67% sure this was a dream because what is even going on. "Hold on, hold on. Time out! In case you haven't assessed the situation, your companion has been sacrificed, I can talk to dragons, you can suddenly talk to me, and there is a voice inside me which I am pretty sure isn’t my conscious speaking. Don't you think I at least deserve an explanation before doing something as irrational as releasing a dragon who clearly dislikes me!?" Izuku managed to get out in one breath. Slowly becoming more hysterical as the information is settling in. 

"Is there something the matter over here?" a soldier suddenly yelled from a distance, marching over.

"I- the dragon was-" Izuku stuttered, flustered. "The dragon was talking just now. Didn't you hear it?!"

The soldier stopped. Only to stare and give Izuku a funny look. Clearly thinking Izuku was losing his marbles. "I think spending all that time with the dragons has finally gotten to you."

"No! I’m telling the truth! It really talked!" Izuku insisted.

"Right, and Drakenval will end tomorrow," the soldier sarcastically added, giving his shoulder a pat before going back to his post.

"What? Huh?!" Izuku babbled.

"Just do as the idiot  says," the inside body voice instructed. "It will make things easier and faster."

"I can't even see you! And you expect me to just listen to you!?" Izuku said hysterically, still looking pointlessly around for the other speaker. Praying that it's just some grand joke. It was the soldier and his buddies for sure. Any second now they will jump out.  

"Stupid fuckin human," the alive and ONLY dragon growled. "Why do they always need a fucking explanation before carrying out a duty?!"

"I'm not going to free a dragon just because I can suddenly understand it," Izuku whisper-yelled. "I will definitely lose my job…and my life in the process!"

"There's nothing to fear. I promise you will continue to live as long as his majesty grumpy toes is with you." Izuku’s personal commentator spoke up.

"WHO IS TALKING?!" Izuku burst out. Some of the soldiers gave him side glances, but other than that, they remained where they were.

"You can't see me because I'm inside your heart," the mysterious voice  said. 

Immediately after hearing that, Izuku unconsciously placed his hand over his heart. "My heart? But how…?"

"When I was sacrificed, my soul had to migrate to a vessel of my choice. Consider yourself honored for being chosen." The voice explained. 

"You…*gasp* You're the other dragon, YIN!" Izuku realized. 

It was starting to make sense. Somewhat….somehow? This is so confusing. 

"Humph It took you long enough," the ruby eyed dragon snapped. "And now that you have your stupid answer, you should know that if you don't fucking hurry and comply with MY orders, you will die here."

Izuku was still unconvinced. "What gives you the right to say that?"

"He is right, unfortunately," ‘Yin’ spoke up. " Since I am a dragon soul inside a human’s body, your heart will burn up if we don't separate before the time is up."

"Wait! Then why would you enter my body in the first place?!" Izuku exclaimed.

"Because it will be easier to get to where we are going," the dragon's soul answered.

"I don't understand. Where are we going?" Izuku tried to piece this puzzle with the limited information he had. 

"You don't have to understand, you wench!" the dragon suddenly made his? ‘Yin’ kept using he/him pronouns, making Izuku stumble on the icy stone. "I told you to unchain me! Yet i’m still here CHAINED. I expect you to rectify that IMMEDIATELY!"

"No," Izuku huffed. "I don't take orders from a dragon, Yang, and I don't plan on going anywhere. I'm happy here, thank you very much."

Then, from inside he heard what sounded like a sigh.

"I guess I'll have to act on my own for a while…"

To Izuku’s bafflement, after hearing the supposedly other dragons statement, his body began to freeze up and this sensation washed over his body. As if his skin was being stabbed with a thousand needles. Izuku’s mind was racing, but other than his racing thoughts, Izuku couldn't control any part of his body. It was like he was being possessed. Just a puppet on a string. 

The first thing Izuku’s possessed body did was to walk towards the soldier, the very same one who had talked to him only a few minutes ago.

"Is there a problem, dragon keeper ?" Asked the soldier with a strange look.

Of course, Izuku’s first impulse was to tell him that he didn't have control over his body anymore, but instead, his arms shot out and pushed the soldier down despite great body mass difference. Izuku tried to apologize, but his tongue sat like a lump of meat in his mouth and his facial expressions remained completely relaxed. Then, while the man was still down, Izuku’s hand grabbed a hold of the sword around the downed and dazed soldier’s belt and began to drag it back towards the already standing white dragon.

“No! No! No!” Izuku screamed in his head. ‘Yang’ was waiting in anticipation. Behind him, the soldier had gotten to his feet and began shouting.

"Are you crazy?! The beast will destroy the castle!" The soldier shouted.

"Your little fucking castle isn't worth my energy," Izuku vaguely heard ‘Yang’ hiss. By now, his arms had brought the sword behind his back about to swing it down, when someone grabbed onto his wrists.

"Don't do it!" The soldier shouted once again, struggling to keep Izuku restrained, but an inhumane strength inside Izuku had overpowered the soldier. Once his body had broken free, Izuku immediately brought the heavy weapon down on one of the dragon's chains, sending the metal flying back as the dragon broke free from its cold prison.

"Now you've done it!" the soldier shouted and retreated back into the castle walls.

"Coward," ‘Yang’ snorted and continued to wriggle out of his chains. While this was happening, Izuku suddenly collapsed to the ground in a coughing fit.  Bright bursts of lights danced behind his closed eyelids.

"I'm sorry I had to do that, but it was the only way you would comply at this point." ‘Yin’ apologized. 

Years of weathering and the cold had finally weakened the metal enough to brittle down. ‘Yang’ had broken completely free of the strong chains that had once bound him to the castle. Izuku could only gape at the horrific sight. Even as the arriving soldiers stormed the roof and began to surround them with their swords drawn and weapons pointed at the free dragon…and him. 

Unexpectedly, the dragon looked over. Unflinching and standing as the weapons were being used to threaten harm, nay, death.

"Grrrr FUCK IT! Get on my back!" ‘Yang’ shouted.

"Never!" Izuku yelled back.

"There's no future for you or anyone if you stay here. Please do as he says," the dragon's soul pleaded.

Now this was a conundrum. The dragons were sadly right. No matter what, he would be executed for unintentionally freeing the only dragon left in the world. Even if Izuku wasn’t executed once the dragon disappeared, there wouldn't be a need for a dragon keeper . So, without another moment to lose, Izuku charged through the soldiers and scrambled onto the dragon's back, pleasantly shocked at how easy it was to gain leverage.

"It's about fucking time you did something right," huffed ‘Yang’ before making a sharp turn sending several of the soldiers falling on their back from being knocked over by his tail.

 "I highly suggest you hang on tight," the dragon soul advised. 

"You're not really going to fly from here, are you?" Izuku asked in a wavering voice on the brink of tears. The castle was at least 12 stories high not counting the height of the tower where the dragons had been kept. If he fell, he would definitely break multiple bones, and that would be the end of it.

"What else would we fucking do!? Run down the human size stairs?! The fucking soldiers are going to regroup, then we're going to be surrounded by humans who want nothing more than to kill us," the dragon replied as he backed up.

Oh no. Oh no, oh no, oh-

"Nooooa-ahhhhhh!" Izuku screamed as a powerful gust of wind blasted past his face as the dragon's wings spread out on its sides and began to beat them violently against the blizzard gusts. All the while, he could hear the shrill whistling of arrows and spears flying towards them. It took everything to hang onto the dragon's neck and hope ‘Yang’ remembered he was still on its back.

"Keep still, human!" the dragon yelled. 

Just then, an arrow zipped past Izuku’s ear, missing by mere inches and prompting a startled yelp as he scrambled higher up the dragon's neck. In his panic, however, Izuku didn’t account for how his sudden movement would throw off the dragon's balance. What had been a steady glide quickly turned into a wild, erratic swerve. Each time Izuku wobbled, the dragon, 'Yang,' struggled to counterbalance both his shifting weight and the onslaught of deadly projectiles, creating a frantic feedback loop that only made their flight more precarious.

"YOU IDIOT!" screeched the dragon. A terrible sound cut through the air. It sounded almost like paper or thin cloth being ripped to pieces. When Izuku looked to the left side, he noticed that there was a tear in the film around the dragon's wing. Due to the rapid beatings of the wing, the tear had grown larger and larger until it completely tore the section of the wing away.

"Your wing is ripped!" Izuku yelled over the chaos to the dragon. All of a sudden, Izuku felt a jolt followed by a series of shaking as the dragon struggled to keep itself airborne.

"Fuck BRACE YOURSELF!" the dragon bellowed, veering sharply as it managed to clear the rooftops of the castle town unscathed. He clumsily glided a few lengths farther before they started their quick descent. Before finally crashing down between a cluster of trees, plowing snow aside in its wake. Miraculously, Izuku emerged unscathed, save for a few scratches. But with the town so close by, he knew it wouldn’t be long before soldiers arrived on the scene.

"We have to get out of here," Izuku heard the dragon say as he picked himself up. He suddenly sprinted straight for shelter under the snow covered canopies.

"Eek!" Izuku squealed, surprised at how mobile the dragon actually was. He could still see the torn film on its wing. Izuku felt guilt well up as It was mainly his fault it had happened in the first place.

Eventually, the trees faded into a series of rocks piled on top of each other.

"There should be a cave here somewhere," Izuku overheard the dragon murmur in a surprisingly soft voice. Then, it banked into a sharp turn and disappeared into a hollow opening in the stone wall, a cave.

—

Once they were deep inside the cave, ‘Yang’ quickly lowered his neck and began to shake as if to throw a leech off. Izuku obeyed without protest.

"They'll be here any minute now," the dragon hissed and urged Izuku to follow deeper into the cave. "We can't spare any more time here, useless. Follow me."

With that demand, Izuku did his best to follow the dragon into the cave feeling wary of tripping on a rock. The dragon wouldn't have to worry about stumbling since it was so large, but Izuku couldn't see a thing, and frankly, it was frightening.

Sure enough, ‘Yangs’ head snapped towards the direction of the cave's entrance. Izuku then began to hear voices shouting into the cave from the opening too.

"They went in here, men!" a soldier barked, sending vibrations bouncing on the walls of the cave. Izuku wondered if the sounds the dragon was making also echoed throughout the cave. Speaking of the dragon, where did ‘Yang’ go? Izuku was sure to have been following him-

"Ee-!"

"Keep quiet!" a familiar voice growled, but this one belonged to something who couldn't have been anything other than a human. Before Izuku could make a peep, there was already one hand covering his mouth and another wrapped around his neck so he couldn't move. Hiding behind a stalagmite, Izuku and mystery person who sounds suspiciously like ‘Yang’, barely breathed as they continued to hear the clamor of the soldiers' armor. 

"There's no way something that big could have made it this far into the cave," Izuku heard a soldier say as the squad of soldiers progressed further into the cave. Izuku remained pinned against the rocks taking care to not make a noise.

"Let's keep looking," another soldier suggested.

"Are you dense? The cave gets smaller the more we go here. There's no way the dragon could have squeezed past us without making some kind of noise."

"I'm sure it went this way, though."

"You thought wrong. Men, clear out!"

With that, the soldiers began retreating from the cave and marched back out to the snow. Finally Izuku could relax and breathe in relief, but there were still the questions of what really happened to the dragon and who the person behind him was.

"If you fuckin stayed still like I told you to, my fuckin wing wouldn't have been shot like that," a deep raspy voice growled.

Izuku blinked trying to adjust his eyes to the darkness. The person had let go so he was able to get a full view of what this 2nd? 3rd party looked like. Does the voice residing in him count as a party member?

The person standing in front of Izuku was beyond handsome. He was beautiful. Even in the dark, you could tell his face could have belonged to that of an angel. His hair was a fair shade of light blonde, and his eyes had the same otherworldly gaze as they did as the grumpy dragon Izuku had taken care of only this morning. His irises sparkling with a dangerous red shade. Izuku was struck speechless.

"Y…you..uh..dra" Izuku stammered feeling his face grow hot despite the cold. "You're ’Yang’!"

The young man sneered, ruining his angelic impression. "FUck off with that Yang shit! If you're going to address me, do it properly! I am the Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight."

Izuku scratched his head. Who in their right mind would want to call anyone by such a long name?

"Or you can call him Katsuki," the voice inside of Izuku said.

"Kacchan," Izuku repeated. "Alright! I’ll call you Kacchan."

Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, or rather Kaachan made a face of disgust. “THE FUCK IS A KACCHAN! ADDRESS ME BY MY TITLE OR DON’T ADDRESS ME AT ALL! Also SCREW YOU WINGS OF HYPNO HAZE!!”

Before returning to a neutral scowl. "Tch. Can’t believe he  told you about that name," Scoffed Katsuki before crossing his arms over his chest, sulking. 

"Wings of Hypno Haze?" Izuku repeated.

"Ah please ignore the princess’ tantrum, my title is also too long," the other voice said. "You can just call me Hitoshi."

"Kacchan and Hitoshi…" Izuku practiced their names softly to himself. Then he lifted his head up. "Do you guys  want to know my name?"

"Your name is irrelevant to me, extra," Katsuki huffed and began to walk away. "Now the fuck hurry up. We have to get moving before time runs out."

Izuku pouted and began to trail after the dragon. Or human now. He couldn't understand why or how Katsuki was able to transform into a human or exactly why he needed to tag along, but if he was going to be following them for a long time, Izuku wasn’t about to let him get the better of one Izuku Midoriya.

"I'm going to tell you my name anyway," Izuku called after him. "My name is Izuku."

Katsuki didn't say anything.

" It's nice to finally know your name, Izuku," Izuku heard Hitoshi say.

At least someone around here is polite, Izuku pouted in thought as they stepped out into the slurry of ice and sleet outside. Once out in the sunlight Izuku turned to ask Katsuki a question. And that’s when Izuku noticed a major issue—one so glaring it made Katsuki’s attempts to blend in futile. Despite resembling a human in every visible way, there was absolutely no way they could travel together without drawing attention.

"K..Kacchan…" Izuku stuttered.

The dragon continued walking. "I already fuckin told you. You are to address me by my dragon title, human. Or better yet don’t talk to me at all,," Katsuki replied without bothering to look his way.

"Katsuki…!" Izuku pushed on trying his best to remain looking at the back of his head with a straight face. Yet face aflame. 

Now the impatient dragon snapped his head around and threw an icy glare.

"What do you want!? Is it so fucking  important that you just had to disturb me!?"

"Uh…" Izuku hesitated. He couldn't do this anymore. He had to cover his eyes. Flailing his arms in embarrassment, Izuku meekly yelled  "KACCHAN, you're naked."

Chapter Text

“This is insane. I don’t even know why I’m agreeing to this,” Izuku mumbled under his breath, his words nearly lost in the howling wind. The cold stung his cheeks, and his boots sank into the deepening snow with every step. 

“You’re the one who insisted Katsuki wear clothes, even if only the minimal kind,” Hitoshi reminded him. The dragon’s voice echoed calmly in Izuku’s mind, carrying a faint tone of amusement. That was something Izuku couldn't ignore.  No matter how much he wanted to argue, Hitoshi was right. Ever since the dragon’s soul had fused with his heart, Hitoshi could hear every thought Izuku had, making privacy an impossible luxury. Hitoshi heard everything, every fleeting worry and frustration. It was both a constant reminder of their connection thanks to the pact that was made. As well as their primary means of communication.

Nevertheless, Izuku couldn't travel with someone, regardless of how beautiful they are. Just knowing he was going to be walking around with a buck naked man in the cursed snowstorm…The sheer thought of it left his brain short-circuiting, a flustered mess of disbelief and secondhand embarrassment. Even if Katsuki claimed the cold didn’t bother him, it didn’t sit right with Izuku to let him walk around completely naked. Katsuki might have insisted it wasn’t a problem, but Izuku wasn’t about to trudge through a village or forest with a naked dragon-turned-human in tow. It was indecent—and embarrassing. Unfortunately, lending him any of his own clothes wasn’t an option. Izuku refused! He had barely enough layers to keep himself warm, and the biting wind wasn’t about to show mercy.  It’s cold! Sue him!

Katsuki, as arrogant as ever, had brushed off the idea of needing human garments but ultimately issued a challenge: if Izuku wanted him clothed, he’d have to find the clothes himself. That meant heading back to the castle town. They hadn’t planned their escape well—there’d been no time. Well actually it was less a planned escape and more a kidnapping. Without money, Izuku had only two choices: beg or steal. Begging seemed impractical. Time was of the essence, and it wasn’t as if the townsfolk were eager to give charity to a stranger. “I guess stealing it is” Izuku whimpered reluctantly. 

—

Hitoshi and Izuku mutually decided that it was best to leave Katsuki behind in the forested area near the cave—for safety reasons, of course. Katsuki, unsurprisingly, wasn’t pleased about being told what to do. His colorful string of curses echoed through the trees, sharp enough to make Izuku wince. Still, Izuku couldn’t imagine trying to sneak back into the village with Katsuki as he was. The image of the dragon-turned-human striding naked through the streets was enough to turn Izuku’s cheeks pink.

Now, walking back to the village alone—well, physically alone—Izuku realized just how much presence Katsuki carried. There was a weight to it, an intensity that lingered even when he wasn’t around. It left Izuku feeling... odd. Not quite lonely, but definitely aware of the absence.

Still, the walk itself was surprisingly peaceful. Without Katsuki’s sharp tongue or fiery temper keeping him on edge, Izuku found himself able to breathe a little easier. It wasn’t as though Katsuki had been chatty on their earlier trek—he’d barely acknowledged Izuku most of the time—but the silence between them had felt loud and tense, like waiting for a storm to strike.

Hitoshi, on the other hand, was much easier to get along with. The dragon soul’s calm demeanor and occasional dry humor made for pleasant company. He didn’t overwhelm Izuku, nor did he leave him floundering in awkward silence. Their conversation flowed naturally, with Hitoshi offering gentle observations about humans and the world while Izuku timidly asked questions or shared his own thoughts.

At least one dragon knows how to hold a polite conversation, Izuku thought, biting back a small, wry smile. Hitoshi’s mellowness made the trip back to the village feel less daunting and helped pass the time without the creeping sense of dread or boredom that usually accompanied Izuku’s solo ventures.

It was, for once, almost... nice.

“You humans have such a complex yet selfish reward system,” Hitoshi remarked as they neared the village gates. Snowflakes fell in thick, lazy flurries, sticking to the rooftops and turning the streets into a patchwork of slush and ice.

Izuku huddled deeper into his too-thin cloak, his breath misting in the air. “Well, I guess that depends on how you look at it,” he replied, his tone hesitant before he realized what he’s about to do. Gaining a slight edge. “But I suppose you think living without rules makes dragons superior?”

Hitoshi’s response was swift, yet calm. “We don’t live without rules, Izuku. Don’t forget Katsuki has sworn to protect your life, no matter the cost, as long as I’m bonded to your heart. That is a rare and sacred vow for a dragon to make.”

Izuku’s face scrunched, both at the statement and at the wind biting his cheeks. He mumbled, “I’ll believe that when he stops glaring at me like he wants to set me on fire…”

A warm chuckle resonated in his chest, Hitoshi’s amusement evident. “Perhaps you’re not entirely wrong about that,”  Hitoshi admitted.

Izuku groaned softly. “Why does everything about dragons have to be so confusing?” he muttered, his words nearly lost in the sound of crunching snow underfoot.

“Katsuki wasn't exactly thrilled that I chose you as my temporary host,” Hitoshi remarked, breaking the silence, his tone far too casual for Izuku’s liking. “But I didn’t have much of a choice.”

Izuku frowned, clutching his cloak tighter as the cold bit at his fingers. “Yeah I can tell. Wait, hold on a second! Why me? I mean, there had to be someone else, right? There are lots of people at the castle. Plus soldiers who are much stronger than I am...I can’t possibly have been your only option...”

“I needed a someone whose heart was pure,” Hitoshi explained calmly, as though he were discussing the weather. 

Though that statement halted Izuku in his tracks. "Pure heart?" Izuku repeated.

“Corruption in a human’s heart would have tainted my soul during the fusion process. You were the first—and only—human I found who met the requirements.”

Izuku blinked, his mind stuttering to keep up. “M...Me? Pure-hearted?” He gave an awkward, nervous laugh. “You’re kidding, right? That... that doesn’t....me? Did you check properly? How would you check? Maybe there was a mistake?!”

“There was no mistake,” Hitoshi said firmly, though there was an edge of humor in his voice. “Trust me. I checked.”

Izuku opened his mouth readying to question further before reclosing his mouth, processing Hitoshi's confident statement. Izuku’s cheeks flushed with heat, and he stared determinedly at the snowy path ahead. “That’s... um... wow. Okay, but—” He cleared his throat, voice trembling slightly. “If you needed a human that badly, why not just stay with someone else? Like Kacchan, for example! He’s clearly strong enough to handle... well, everything.”

“Heh Kacchan," Hitoshi chuckled. "That would’ve been impossible,” he smoothly continued. “Had I tried to escape in my previous body’s condition, I would have perished before reaching our destination. You were the only viable option.”

Izuku’s brows knitted together. “Destination? What destination? Where exactly are we going? And, um, why is Kacch—I MEAN Katsuki dragging me, uh, us along for the ride?”

“Bahaha no no please do continue to call him Kacchan," Hitoshi guffawed, creating a rumbling within Izuku's body. It took a second for Hitoshi to compose himself before answering Izuku's question. Once more composed he continued.

"We’re headed for Yuuei Mountain,” Hitoshi replied simply. “We need to reach it before our time runs out.”

Izuku tilted his head, his pulse quickening. “Our time? What’s... what’s that supposed to mean?”

Hitoshi’s tone shifted, growing somber. “Your heart, Izuku,” he began carefully. “My soul—it’s made of dragonfire, just like all dragons’ souls. And, well… your heart isn’t built to carry something like that.”

Izuku’s breath hitched, his mind spinning. Dragonfire? He swallowed hard, the weight of Hitoshi’s words settling uncomfortably in his chest.

“As time passes, your human heart weakens,” Hitoshi continued. “It’s straining under the burden of holding another soul, especially one of a dragon, such as mine. If we don’t make it in time for me to gain another body… you’ll die, Izuku. And I’ll die with you.”

Izuku’s face flushed with panic. “Die?!” he squeaked, his voice cracking. “I...I mean, that’s not, uh, ideal!” His hands flailed awkwardly, his thoughts scrambling to process the information.

“That’s why we need to reach Yuuei Mountain,” Hitoshi said gently. “If we can get there in time, I can find a new body. Then you’ll be safe.”

Izuku nodded slowly, though his face was pale. “Right. A new body. That’s good. Easy even...right! Yes...That’s fine. I mean, not the dying part! Definitely not fine! But, uh, fixable? Maybe?” He rubbed the back of his neck, his thoughts tangling like yarn. “Okay. So. No pressure, but… uh, how much time do we actually have?”

Hitoshi’s silence wasn’t very reassuring.

Izuku felt his stomach churn. His chest tightened as if his heart...his heart!...had suddenly become fragile glass. “Wait... so you’re saying that you’re... burning up my heart? And if we don’t make it in time, I’ll... I’ll just—”

“You’ll die,” Hitoshi interrupted as gently as he could.

“Oh,” Izuku whispered. His head spun, and for a moment, all he could hear was the crunch of snow underfoot and the distant howl of the wind.

“We're not going to let that happen,” Hitoshi added after a pause. “I'm not going to let that happen. I promise. Not if I can help it.”

Izuku swallowed hard, his throat dry despite the cold. “R...Right... um... good to know. That’s... reassuring?”

Hitoshi chuckled, a warm ripple of amusement spreading through Izuku’s chest. “You humans have such colorful ways of expressing your fear.”

“Wha—? I’m not—!” Izuku stammered, his voice cracking as he waved his hands defensively. “I’m not scared, I just—okay, fine, maybe a little! This is a lot to take in, you know!”

Hitoshi hummed thoughtfully. “You’re handling it better than I expected. Though, perhaps it’s your good-natured heart keeping you grounded.”

Izuku bristled, his tone turning faintly grumbley. “Oh, sure, blame my heart. It’s not like I have any say in the matter.”

Hitoshi’s laughter deepened, vibrating through Izuku’s chest. “You know what I find slightly amusing? Once I leave your heart, I doubt you’ll enjoy the real me as much. It’s only your pure heart that’s made me this... well-mannered. Perhaps that’s why Katsuki disapproved of my choice—he thinks I’ve gone, in his words, fucking soft.”

Izuku sighed, tugging his hood lower to hide his flustered expression. “I... I wouldn’t call you soft. Maybe... kind? You're still a little smug. Just a bit.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment!” 

Izuku groaned. This journey was shaping up to be even more exhausting than he’d imagined.

—

When they reached the market square, Izuku was shivering against the biting wind. Though the lively hustle of townsfolk that filled the air, warmed him a little. Merchants called out their wares, the scent of freshly baked bread mingled with the sharp tang of smoked fish, and the chatter of villagers carried on the breeze. Izuku scanned the shops, looking for a tailor that wouldn’t attract much attention.  

It didn’t take long to spot one. A small storefront displayed garments of various colors and sizes, hung neatly on racks and mannequins. His eyes locked onto a rich red tunic paired with black pants. The deep crimson reminded him of Katsuki’s piercing eyes.  

By the time Izuku reached the tailor’s shop, his eyes scanning the window display. The garments inside looked warm and sturdy, perfect for keeping someone comfortable in the snow. Though Katsuki had grumbled earlier that he didn’t feel the cold—dragon immunity or whatever—he still needed to wear something. Izuku wasn’t about to argue about dignity or respect again.

A simple tunic and pants would do, nothing fancy. Izuku figured the tailor wouldn’t miss a few pieces, especially ones tucked away in a crowded shop like this. It’s not like I’m stealing an entire wardrobe or anything, he rationalized, though his stomach twisted uneasily at the thought.  The tailor wouldn't miss a few scraps of clothing. He was a dragon, so heavy clothing wouldn't be necessary anyways. Just a couple of scraps. For a dragon. 

Even in his head, it sounded ridiculous.

“I don’t think the owner is around,” Hitoshi noted. “Better act quickly.”  

Izuku hesitated. He wasn’t a thief by nature. Izuku hovered at the doorway, heart pounding. The air inside the shop felt too still, like it was holding its breath, waiting for him to mess up. He wiped his clammy hands on his cloak.

“I’m not a thief,” he muttered under his breath, cheeks burning with shame. But the alternative—dragging the stubborn dragon through the wilderness stark naked—was worse. 

Steeling himself, he slipped inside, keeping his footsteps light. The shop was small but cluttered, filled with rows of neatly folded fabrics and racks of finely crafted clothing. His eyes darted around, quickly spotting the red tunic and matching pants he caught sight of earlier. Katsuki had mentioned he didn’t need much against the cold, but Izuku wasn’t about to let him strut around in just scraps. Ignore his previous thoughts, that would look more suspicious! Izuku made his way to the tunic, plucked it from the display, and grabbed the pants to match. As soon as he grabbed the garments, he spun on his heel, ready to flee—only for a rough hand to clamp down on his wrist.

“And where do you think you’re going with those, little thief?”

Izuku froze, his breath hitching. The tailor, a burly man with graying hair loomed over him, lifting him effortlessly off the ground. Panic shot through Izuku as he dangled helplessly.  

“W...Wait, I—this isn’t—” Izuku stammered, his words tumbling over themselves.

“Stealing, huh? Guess you’ll learn the hard way not to mess with my shop,” the man growled.

“H-Hitoshi! Help!” Izuku prayed in his mind, flailing uselessly.

"Hitoshi, what do I do?!"

“You’re taking far too long,” Hitoshi replied, his voice cool and detached. “Allow me.”

Izuku barely had time to protest before his body moved without permission. His leg swung up with startling precision, landing a sharp kick to the tailor’s groin. The man’s grip loosened as he crumpled with a groan, and Izuku stumbled to the floor.

“Hitoshi!” Izuku screamed internally as he scrambled to his feet, clutching the stolen clothes. "I said help, not turn me into a delinquent! Also! You have got to stop doing that!"  

“It was necessary,” Hitoshi replied matter-of-factly, unrepentant.  

“Thief!” the tailor bellowed, clutching his stomach. “Guards, stop that thief!”  

“Oh no,” Izuku squeaked, panic settling in as the sound of clattering armor grew louder. Hugging the garments to his chest, he bolted for the door, his face red and his heart hammering. The tailor’s cries carried over the wind, drawing the attention of patrolling guards.

Izuku bolted out of the shop, clutching the stolen clothes to his chest. Shouts erupted behind him as guards sprang into action. He weaved through the crowded streets, dodging villagers and carts.  

“This is officially the worst idea I’ve ever had,” he muttered to himself, running through the snowy streets. 

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Hitoshi remarked dryly.

“Welcome? You made me kick someone in the—ugh! And I said you were kind!!” Izuku groaned, ducking into an alley as shouts of pursuit echoed closer. "I’m never going to live this down!" wailed Izuku inside in mind

“They’re gaining on you,” Hitoshi’s calm warning echoed in Izuku’s mind, though it did nothing to soothe his rising panic.

“You don’t say!” Izuku thought frantically, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it might break free from his chest.

The clatter of armor and the pounding of boots were terrifyingly close. Izuku dared a glance back and immediately regretted it. A squad of soldiers was charging after him, their swords gleaming in the dim light. The high-pitched whistle of an arrow ripped through the air, grazing his cloak and yanking him off balance.

"They're shooting arrows at me!" Izuku's panicked voice rang out in his head as he mentally shouted at Hitoshi.

"Not to worry, Izuku," Hitoshi replied calmly, his voice utterly unfazed by the chaos. "As long as I'm in here, Katsuki won't let any harm come to you."

"That's easy for you to say!" Izuku hissed, weaving frantically through the narrow streets of the village. "You're not the one who's about to get decapitated!"

"He’s over there!" a soldier’s shout cut through the air, and Izuku winced, his legs burning as he pushed himself to keep running. The buildings around him blurred as his focus zeroed in on the edge of the forest coming into view ahead. Just a little farther, he thought desperately.

"Don't let him get away!"

“Keep moving!” Hitoshi urged, his voice sharper this time.

“I am!” Izuku wheezed, his legs burning with every step. “It’s not exactly easy with—oh, I don’t know—people trying to kill me!”

Izuku's lungs were heaving and his heart pounding erratically in his chest. Since Hitoshi's soul settled within Izuku's heart, it felt like his stamina had plummeted. He could barely manage a decent sprint without his legs screaming in protest.

"I hate this," he muttered, the complaint more of a whimper as he stumbled over uneven cobblestones.

More sharp whizz's cracked through the air, and the world seemed to freeze for a split second as more arrows narrowly avoided Izuku. He staggered forward with a yelp, nearly face-planting into the snow.

"Get up!" Hitoshi urged, his voice steady but firm.

"I'm trying!" Izuku shot back, scrambling to his feet. "Do you have any idea how hard this is with two lives hanging on every mistake I make?!"

Through the flurries of snow, the edge of the forest came into view, its thick canopy promising some kind of cover. If he could just reach the trees, maybe—maybe—he could shake them. His breath hitched at the hope, his pace quickening despite the ache in his lungs.

But hope, as always, was short-lived. A soldier broke free from the pack, charging ahead with terrifying speed. Izuku skidded to a halt, his boots slipping on the icy ground. The soldier’s sword was raised, the steel catching the dying sunlight in a blinding flash.

Izuku froze, his wide green eyes locking onto the blade. His breath hitched, his legs refusing to move. 

"This is it. I’m going to die. I’m actually going to die."

And then a deafening roar.

It was a sound so primal, so earth-shattering, that Izuku’s entire body vibrated with its force. He flinched, clamping his hands over his ears just as a blur of scales and fury hurtled into view.

Katsuki.

The dragon’s massive form slammed into the soldier with the weight of a falling mountain, sending the man careening through the air like a discarded toy. He landed in a heap several feet away, unmoving.

Izuku’s breath hitched, his mind struggling to process what just happened. Katsuki’s red  eyes locked onto him, sharp and intense, as if silently saying, You’re welcome. Or maybe, no, most likely a Fuck You.

“D-Dragon!” one of the remaining soldiers shouted, the panic in his voice unmistakable.

"No point in letting them live," Izuku heard Katsuki say as he charged forward. The remaining soldiers faltered, but Katsuki didn’t hesitate. With a bellowing snarl, he lunged, claws tearing through metal and flesh as if it were paper. The remaining soldiers faltered, but Katsuki didn’t hesitate. He crushed one under his claws, tore another apart with his fangs, and slammed the last into a tree with a flick of his tail. Blood steamed against the snow as the soldiers crumpled under his fury. 

Izuku stood frozen, clutching at his wildly beating heart. “Oh no... oh no no no—this is bad,” he stammered, though whether it was about the bodies piling up or Katsuki’s feral rage, he wasn’t sure.

“I knew you’d screw this up,” Katsuki growled, his voice rumbling like distant thunder. 

Hidden behind a tree, a soldier saw Izuku just standing there and charged towards him, intent on striking. As soon as Izuku heard the noise, he turned his attention to the soldier.

“Don’t just stand there, move!” Hitoshi snapped in his head, snapping Izuku out of his stupor. But before he could bolt, Katsuki swung his tail with a sharp crack, sending the last soldier flying into a tree. The man crumpled with a sickening snap, and suddenly, the forest was silent except for Izuku’s ragged breaths.

By the time the carnage ended, the snow was stained red. Katsuki turned back to him, his expression unreadable. The dragon form glowing faintly with a golden shimmer. A moment later, that massive figure shrank, condensing into a smaller, very naked—and very irritated—Katsuki. Standing before him in human form.

When he shifted back into his human form, Izuku quickly averted his gaze, face turning bright red. “P...Put these on,” he stammered, holding out the stolen clothes. Katuski just continued watching him. Making Izuku uncomfortable and frustrated under his stare. 

"For goodness’ sake, put these on!” He shoved the stolen tunic and pants at Katsuki, keeping his gaze firmly on the ground.  “Y...You could at least warn me before you do that!”

Katsuki snatched them with a snort. “You humans and your stupid hang-ups about nudity,” he muttered, his tone dripping with disdain.

“It’s called modesty,” Izuku huffed, his voice barely above a squeak. 

“Ha! Don't get me fuckin started on your obsession with rags. If you weren’t so weak, you wouldn’t need them.”

Izuku bristled. “It’s called respect," then mumbled "You could try it sometime, you know.”  

Katsuki scoffed, pulling on the tunic. “Respect? You should be showing me some.”  

An insufferable smirk came to Katsuki's face as his head poked out of the collar of the tunic. "That’s rich coming from the guy who dragged me into this mess. Maybe if you weren’t so useless, I wouldn’t have to keep saving your sorry hide.”

Izuku bristled, his cheeks puffing indignantly. “I didn’t ask to be chased by soldiers! A...And—wait a second—you’re...Maybe you should watch your attitude!” Izuku shot back, before immediately regretting it. He clamped a hand over his mouth, his wide eyes darting to Katsuki’s glowering expression.

“Watch it, nerd, if it weren't for me, you wouldn't have survived and would've killed Hitoshi by now,” Katsuki growled.

Hitoshi’s calm voice cut through Izuku before things could escalate further. “Let’s move before more soldiers show up. We don’t have time for squabbling.”

Izuku swallowed hard, nodding quickly. “R...Right. Moving. Good idea.” He scurried to follow Katsuki, who had already started stomping through the snow. Probably realizing Hitoshi was speaking to Izuku. 

As they trudged forward, Izuku couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “Why does he have to be so... so impossible?”

“I heard that,” Katsuki snapped, his voice carrying back to Izuku with ease.

“Of course you did,” Izuku grumbled, quickening his pace to keep up.

“I hate him,” Izuku muttered under his breath.  

Hitoshi chuckled. “He’s prideful, Izuku. Dragons are. But he’s right about one thing: you’ll need him to survive this journey.”  

Izuku sighed. This was going to be a long trip.

—

"Please understand, Izuku, we're prideful beings," Hitoshi said gently, his voice a steady hum in Izuku's mind. "After being chained for so long, it would be no surprise if Katsuki feels only contempt for humans. My true self might feel the same way, given the circumstances."

Izuku’s lips tightened into a thin line as he glanced toward Katsuki, who was marching ahead, now thankfully clothed. "That doesn’t give him the right to act like he has authority over me," he muttered, low but with an edge. Still, frustration surged as Izuku squared his shoulders. Before he could think better of it, he stomped forward, the cold air biting at his skin.

"You!" Izuku’s voice cracked slightly as he pointed accusingly at Katsuki. "You may think you’re all that—flying, smashing things, tearing everything to pieces—but let me remind you!" His words came out rushed, breathless. "Hitoshi is under my care, and until we get to Dragon Mountain, or Ayeewu Mountain, or whatever it’s called—Until we reach our destination, I expect you to treat me with just as much respect as you expect from me! You’re the one who has to look out for me, remember?"

Katsuki, much to Izuku’s dismay, didn’t appear fazed. All of Izuku's courage and bravado quickly left him as soon as they appeared. Posture wilting, suddenly feeling very nervous and a bit silly as apprehension creeps in. Feeling restless, Izuku chances a look at Katsuki once more. And....Woah! What was that? If anything, it seemed like a flicker of what might have been mirth that danced across Katsuki's face. Was that a smile? Izuku blinked rapidly, startled, but it was gone before he could be sure.

"The human has some bite," Katsuki muttered, his voice dripping with condescension. "Maybe you’re not as pathetic as you look. But don’t get too full of yourself—you’re still useless." He let out a heavy sigh, turning his gaze to the distant snow-covered horizon. "If you hadn’t been so reckless before and gotten me fuckin injured, we’d already be flying over the peaks by now. Instead, my wing’s out of commission. Tsk so we’re stuck walking. Until it heals, anyway."

Izuku felt his cheeks warm with a mix of sheepishness and indignation. "And how long will that take?" he asked, his voice soft but tinged with unease.

Katsuki glanced over his shoulder, his red eyes gleaming like embers. "Half a moon, give or take." He shrugged, as though the timeframe hardly mattered. "But walking? Fuck, it’ll take longer. Eventually, we would have to fly..."

Izuku stumbled slightly in the snow, his breath hitching. "Wait, wait!" he yelped, chasing after Katsuki as he started walking again. "How long until, uh, you know, Hitoshi’s soul... burns up my heart?" He hated how awkwardly he said it, but there was no delicate way to ask about dying.

Katsuki turned his head slightly, the faintest smirk tugging at his lips. Katsuki batted his rather attractive eyelashes. The ice crystals clinging to his lashes only made his sharp features more unnervingly striking. "If your heart’s as strong as Toshi thinks, you’ll last about a moon. If not?" He chuckled darkly. "You’ll both croak before my wing heals."

Izuku slowed down to a stop. "Toshi?" Izuku questioned, brows furrowed, perpetually confused. 

"I SAID HITOSHI!" Katsuki screamed in the background already meters ahead.

"Is that so…? Well, that’s comforting," Izuku muttered under his breath, letting out a shaky sigh as he trudged after the dragon-turned-human. Snow crunched under his boots, but his steps felt heavier than ever.

"Hitoshi," Izuku thought, desperate for a distraction, "is there...I've been thinking. Is there anything in this for me? I mean, I am walking all this way for you, uh, with you."

"There’s more to this journey than just my survival," Hitoshi replied smoothly, his voice soothing in Izuku’s mind. "Aside from regaining my true form at Yuuei Mountain, there’s the possibility of finding answers about Drakenval."

Izuku perked up slightly at that. "How?"

"Yuuei Mountain is not only a place for me to be freed. It also happens to be a place for dragons to gather," Hitoshi explained. "It’s more than just a home—it’s a reservoir of our knowledge, built over centuries. You humans tend to overlook this, but we dragons carry a wealth of history. If there’s a way to end Drakenval, there is a high possibility to find a clue there."

Izuku furrowed his brow, trying to process Hitoshi’s words. "Wait... you’re saying Katsuki and you aren’t the only dragons left?!"

Hitoshi’s voice carried a trace of light-heartedness. "Not by a long shot. You’d be surprised at what survives, Izuku. The truth is rarely what you humans think it to be."

Izuku swallowed hard, his thoughts a jumble as they continued through the endless snow. Somehow, the answers they sought felt as heavy as the journey itself.

Chapter Text

Perhaps when Izuku had been the dragons' keeper, it wasn't that Izuku couldn't understand them before becoming Hitoshi's vessel; it might have been that they had never bothered to talk at all. If that assumption couldn't have been proven true in the past, it was certainly starting to become valid at the given moment.

After stealing some clothes for Katsuki, the two of them hadn't exchanged a single word since. Izuku didn't even bother asking the dragon to slow down. This is because he had a feeling Katsuki would only sneer and throw back some insolent remark about how weak he was.

During the short time Izuku had traveled with Katsuki, and it hadn't even been a full day yet, he was constantly wondering how he was going to survive until they actually reached Yuuei Mountain. Back at the castle, Izuku and the dragons had been provided with food and shelter. Out here in the lawless wilderness, the blizzard raged fiercer than Izuku had ever seen. At the castle, he had the fortune of sleeping right underneath the dragons' resting place so their heat would radiate from their scales, down past the stone bricks, and into his body. As a human, Izuku couldn't detect any warmth emitting from Katsuki's body, literally and figuratively. Katsuki has just as cold of a personality as he did as a human as well as a dragon, and in the times Izuku had managed to catch up with him, only to fall behind moments later, he didn't feel the slightest bit as warm as he did at the castle.

The biting wind howled through the trees, gnawing at Izuku's cheeks as he trudged through the snow, trying—and failing—to keep up with Katsuki. The dragon-turned-human moved with effortless speed, not sparing a glance at Izuku, whose boots were sinking into the frost with every step.

Even with Hitoshi’s quiet presence in his mind, the silence between the three of them felt oppressive. Izuku couldn't help but replay the events from earlier—the way Katsuki growled, his voice reverberating through the clearing like rolling thunder. Then with one swipe of his massive claw, he sent a line of soldiers sprawling into the snow. His tail whipped around, smashing into another group and sending them scattering like leaves in a storm—

"Why did you kill them...you didn't have to...," Izuku asked quietly, his voice cracked halfway through. The screams of the soldiers echoed in his head. The memory burned fresh in his mind, Katsuki's heated glare cutting through every soldier he saw as sharply as any blade. 

Katsuki shot him a look of disdain, his eyes narrowing. “You’d rather they kill you?” Katsuki spat, his voice dripping with heat.

“N...no, but—!”  Izuku had tried to protest.

But, whatever argument Izuku was about to make was drowned out by Katsuki's interruption. “If you hadn’t been so slow, we wouldn’t have wasted all that time.”

“I’m sorry for not being a dragon!” Izuku shot back, folding his arms. “You could’ve helped sooner, you know.”

Katsuki  let out a huff and rolled his eyes but said nothing, striding ahead toward the forest.

“Let’s fucking get a move on. Yuuei Mountain isn’t gonna wait for your whining,” he snapped over his shoulder.

Izuku hesitated, still catching his breath and clutching at his chest. 

Now, walking behind him, Izuku clutched his cloak tighter around his shoulders, his face flushed partly from exertion and partly from simmering frustration.

Hitoshi’s voice hummed in his head.

“You’d better keep up, Izuku. Katsuki doesn’t like delays.”

“I noticed,” Izuku muttered, trudging after Katsuki.

“He’s so—so impossible!” Izuku muttered under his breath, only for Hitoshi’s voice to hum in his mind.

“Careful. I can hear your inner monologue, and by the look of him, Katsuki might be able to guess it too.”

Izuku flushed a deeper red. “He’s arrogant, heartless, and—ugh, I don’t get it! Why is he even helping me? Is it pride? Spite? Or is this just a convenient way to make me miserable?”

“Pride,” Hitoshi interjected smoothly. “Mostly. Though if I were you, I’d try breaking the tension. A compliment could work wonders. Tell him he’s pretty—”

“What?!” Izuku’s voice pitched in alarm, his face now blazing.

“Am I wrong? You’ve clearly noticed,” Hitoshi teased, his tone light. Almost as if there was an inside joke Izuku was not privy to. “And if you'd like, just say its from me. Though, you are allowed to admit it, you know. Even dragons appreciate praise every now and then. Especially grumpy up ahead.”

Izuku groaned, rubbing his temples. “And feed his already massive ego? No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” Hitoshi sounded almost amused. “But for what it’s worth, I doubt his pride would let him ignore my situation. He’s probably only helping because he wants to make sure I get my body back so he can go back to yelling at me directly.”

“That… sounds about right,” Izuku muttered, his spirits sagging slightly. He glanced at the sky, the pale light already starting to dim. “I’m more worried about finding shelter before nightfall. Shadowstalkers and Gutbroods. I’ve heard stories about what comes out after dark in these parts. Things worse than wolves or bears.”

“Right you are,” Hitoshi agreed, his tone taking on a serious edge. “There are creatures in these woods far more bloodthirsty than even your most terrifying tales of dragons. Lurking in the shadows, waiting for an unlucky traveler to stray too far…”

Izuku shivered, though it wasn’t entirely from the cold.

“And,” Hitoshi added pointedly, “it would have been convenient to fly over such dangers, but someone had to go and get their wing damaged.”

“Don’t remind me,” Izuku sighed, his breath fogging in the icy air. He didn’t know what Shadowstalkers or a Gutbrood were—and frankly, he didn’t want to find out. The names alone sent a shiver down his spine, and with Hitoshi’s knack for vivid descriptions, he could guess they weren’t anything he’d want to meet in the dark wilderness.

Breaking away from his internal dialogue with Hitoshi, Izuku squinted into the distance. Katsuki was already far ahead, a blur of movement nearly thirty two meters away. How does he get so far so fast? He groaned internally, his frustration bubbling like a kettle about to whistle.

"Better pick up the pace," Hitoshi drawled from somewhere behind him, his tone as flat as the snow-covered path. "Not like he’s slowing down for you."

Izuku bit back a retort, focusing instead on the trail Katsuki had carved out in the snow. His boots sank deep into the uneven path, getting stuck with every hurried step. The narrow path Katsuki had carved out barely wide enough to keep Izuku from stumbling. And every stumble felt like an insult to his resolve. 

"I know," he muttered under his breath, though Hitoshi wasn’t even close enough to hear it. The idea of shouting for Katsuki to wait flickered in his mind, but he squashed it almost immediately. No way. Katsuki would just smirk, toss a snide comment over his shoulder, and make him feel even smaller. He can catch up. Probably. Hopefully. 

"Yeah, you’ve definitely got this," Hitoshi quipped, his voice floating lazily through the frigid air. Izuku clenched his fists, his breath puffing in sharp clouds. He pressed forward, his determination burning hotter than the icy sting biting at his cheeks.

The biting cold seeped through his cloak, his fingers and toes growing numb by the time he closed the gap to a reasonable distance. By then, the sky had shifted from a bright, oppressive white to a moody gray, the sun sinking fast toward the horizon. Izuku’s breath puffed out in uneven bursts as he forced himself to keep pace.

“Kacchan,” Izuku called, his voice strained from the effort of keeping up. The icy wind stole some of the sound, but it was loud enough for anyone with halfway decent hearing. Yet Katsuki didn’t even glance back, his pace as relentless as ever.

Izuku narrowed his eyes, frustration bubbling up. He tried again, this time louder. “Kacchan!”

Still no reaction.

Inside his mind, Hitoshi’s voice surfaced with barely contained laughter. “You know he’s probably ignoring you on purpose, right? That nickname you’ve given him? He hates it.”

Izuku frowned but said nothing, focusing on catching his breath as he tried to keep pace.

Hitoshi wasn’t done, his amusement growing. “Oh, but it’s so funny. You’ve got to keep using it. Imagine how annoyed he’ll get! And who knows? If you irritate him enough, maybe he’ll finally respond—and then I’ll have some juicy blackmail material.”

A faint chuckle echoed through Izuku’s mind, and he could almost picture Hitoshi smirking.

“Are you serious?” Izuku whispered under his breath, his cheeks flushing at the idea of purposefully riling Katsuki. “I’m not trying to make him angrier than he already is!”

“Oh, come on, Izuku,” Hitoshi drawled. “Think of it as an experiment. I’ll even coach you if you want. Just one more ‘Kacchan’—louder this time! Really get under his scales.”

Izuku bit his lip, torn between ignoring Hitoshi’s teasing and actually following through. If he was being honest, the idea of getting any kind of reaction from Katsuki—other than indifference or scorn—was strangely tempting.

Izuku groaned, dragging his feet through the snow as he glared at Katsuki’s back. He was so tired, his legs felt like they were going to give out any second, and the stories Hitoshi had whispered in his mind about nightmarish monsters lurking after dark weren’t helping his nerves. He just wanted somewhere warm—or at least less frozen—to rest.

“Fine,” Izuku thought, steeling himself. “If he’s going to be a massive jerk, then I’ll do this.”

Taking a deep breath, he cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted with every ounce of strength he had left.

“KACCHAN!”

The echo of his voice seemed to bounce off the snow-laden trees. Izuku braced himself, half-expecting Katsuki to whirl around and yell at him. Instead, Katsuki’s broad shoulders remained rigid, his pace steady and unwavering.

Hitoshi, of course, was having the time of his life. “You’ve got to admire his consistency,” he quipped, laughter threading through his tone. “But don’t stop now! Keep going—this is the most fun I’ve had all day. Let’s see how many times it takes for him to snap.”

“Do you ever stop being annoying?” Izuku hissed in response, his cheeks burning despite the cold.

“Nope,” Hitoshi replied cheerfully. “But think of it this way—if Katsuki does lose it, maybe he’ll finally stop long enough for you to catch your breath. Win-win.”

“Kacchan!” he tried again, putting as much force into the name as his tired lungs could manage.

Hitoshi’s laughter echoed in Izuku’s mind, smug and unhelpful. “Wow, nothing? You might need to kick it up a notch. Maybe add a dramatic plea? ‘Oh mighty Kacchan, spare me from this endless march!’”

Izuku huffed, his breath puffing out in misty clouds. “This isn’t funny,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m freezing, I’m exhausted, and we have no idea what’s out here.”

“Relax, you’re fine,” Hitoshi drawled lazily. “Besides, those monsters I mentioned? They’re only scary if you’re not paying attention. Which you’re clearly not, by the way, since you’re too busy yelling at Katsuki to notice that branch—”

Izuku yelped as he tripped over a gnarled tree root buried in the snow, sprawling forward into the cold, wet ground. He groaned, wiping at his face, his cheeks now burning from both embarrassment and the cold.

Ahead of him, Katsuki let out a loud, exasperated sigh and finally stopped. He turned, glaring down at Izuku, his crimson eyes gleaming like embers. “For crying out loud, stop being so fucking pathetic. We’re almost there.”

Izuku scrambled to his feet, brushing snow from his cloak. “Almost where?! You’ve been walking for hours without saying anything! How am I supposed to know if we’re close to stopping?”

Katsuki’s scowl deepened, and for a moment, Izuku thought he might actually snap at him again. But instead, Katsuki jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, pointing toward a cluster of tall, jagged rocks partially hidden by the snow, in the far distance

“There,” Katsuki said curtly. “Shelter. Happy now?”

Izuku froze at both the distance as well as being subjected under the weight of Katsuki’s sharp gaze, suddenly regretting everything.

Izuku felt his pride shrink under that cutting glare, but he swallowed hard and straightened, albeit shakily. “I… I need to stop for the day,” he managed, his voice trembling but determined. “Carrying Hitoshi’s soul is exhausting, and humans aren’t built to travel this far, this fast. It’s not normal.”

Katsuki looked down at Izuku, his ruby-red eyes narrowing with icy disdain. “Don’t tell me you’re already about to drop dead.”

Izuku ignored him, though his flustered state was apparent in the way he stumbled over his words. “I… I just thought, uh, maybe we could, you know, stop for the night? I mean, it’s getting dark, and I’m sure even a dragon needs rest eventually, right? And… and those things that are said to be out here, Hitoshi—”

“Scary things,” Hitoshi helpfully added, his snark as strong as ever.

“—yeah, those!” Izuku stammered, his voice pitching higher as he gestured at the encroaching darkness. Either not realizing that is was Hitoshi who spoke up or forgetting that Katsuki couldn’t hear Hitoshi. “I just think it’d be safer if we, you know… stopped. Before something eats us.”

Katsuki snorted, the sound dripping with derision. “What, you scared of a couple shadows? Pathetic.”

Izuku flushed, both from embarrassment and indignation. He planted his boots firmly in the snow, puffing out his chest slightly in an attempt to stand his ground. “I’m not scared of shadows!” he snapped, though his voice cracked halfway through. “But I am scared of whatever creepy things are lurking in them. And I’d rather not find out firsthand if they’re hungry!”

Katsuki rolled his eyes and turned away, muttering something under his breath about “Crybaby humans.”

“You are really bad at this, Izuku,” Hitoshi teased, but then his tone gentled. “But, I’m proud of you for trying.”

Katsuki’s expression didn’t shift. He crossed his arms, his stance rigid, and his gaze bore into Izuku like a weight. “You think we have time to waste?” His voice was flat, but the underlying tension made Izuku flinch. “Need I remind you that both you and Toshi are on the clock?”

Izuku clenched his fists, biting back a surge of frustration. “I know that,” he retorted, surprising himself with the sharpness of his tone. “But seriously, I can’t keep going like this! Do you want me to collapse in the middle of nowhere?”

For a moment, Katsuki didn’t move, his scowl unreadable, his expression carved from stone. Izuku’s heart sank as the seconds stretched out, dread pooling in his stomach. He knew this was pointless. Katsuki was too stubborn, too arrogant to listen to—

The dragon turned on his heel without a word and started walking.

“Seriously?!” Izuku hissed under his breath, his cheeks flushing with a mix of anger and embarrassment. “I knew it! I knew he’d just blow me off like the inconsiderate—ugh!” He stomped after Katsuki, his legs screaming in protest against the effort.

“You’re determination is really something, Izuku,” Hitoshi’s voice drawled in his mind, calm yet faintly amused. “He’s not going to let us die, you know. Don’t you trust me?”

Izuku let out a bitter laugh in his head, panting as he struggled to keep up with Katsuki’s relentless pace. “Hitoshi, I trust you. I really do, but don’t you think Kacchan is taking that promise to the absolute edge?”

There was a pause before Hitoshi replied, his tone quieter but no less firm. “Katsuki knows what he’s doing. He wouldn’t push you like this if he thought you couldn’t handle it.”

“Then he’s got way too much faith in me,” Izuku muttered aloud, his voice small but tinged with exasperation. He trudged through the snow, eyes darting nervously at the shadows creeping in as the light faded.

Katsuki, walking ahead, didn’t look back but let out a low grunt. “Quit whining and move your feet, human. If you can complain, you can walk.”

Izuku frowned, his face heating despite the cold. Katsuki’s remark, while not unexpected, still managed to irritate him. He's got to try again. He really can't keep going on like this. “But—it’s getting dark,” he pointed out, his voice faltering as he tried to match Katsuki’s pace. “And cold. If we don’t find shelter soon, we—well, I—might not make it till morning!”

Katsuki let out a sharp huff, the sound carrying more annoyance than concern. “You’ll live. I’ve carried worse deadweight before.”

“Deadweight?! I am not deadweight!” Izuku protested, his voice rising indignantly. “I’ve been doing my best to keep up, and I’m the one—”

“Keep fucking moving.” Katsuki interrupted, not even bothering to look back. “You’re slowing us down again.”

“He’s so grumpy it’s almost adorable,” Hitoshi mused.

Izuku let out a frustrated groan, his shoulders slumping slightly as he trudged on.

Hitoshi’s voice slipped into his thoughts, dry as ever. “You’re wasting your breath arguing with him, you know. He doesn’t like to be second-guessed.”

“Then why does he get to question everything I do?” Izuku muttered under his breath.

“Because he’s Katsuki,” Hitoshi replied, as though that answered everything. After a beat, his tone grew more thoughtful. “You are right about one thing, though. If you don’t stop soon, you’ll keel over. Humans don’t last as long as dragons without food or rest.”

“How long can dragons last?” Izuku wondered aloud, his mind latching onto this information. Wanting a distraction from the misery he was experiencing. At any rate, with a glance at Katsuki's back, Izuku was already swirling with dread at the answer.

“With a decent meal? At least ten days,” Hitoshi answered smoothly. “Assuming Katsuki ate before this little adventure, he could go on like this for a while.”

Izuku groaned again, clutching at his stomach as it rumbled in protest. “That’s great for him, but I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

“Well, if you pass out, at least Katsuki might notice then,” Hitoshi offered, his tone somewhere between sarcastic and oddly reassuring.

“That’s not exactly comforting,” Izuku muttered, dragging himself onward.

Katsuki chose that moment to stop abruptly, and Izuku nearly collided with him.

“Oi, you talking to yourself again? You’re starting to sound crazier than the last human I dealt with.” Katsuki sneered, glancing over his shoulder with a raised brow.

Izuku flinched, his heart skipping a beat. “I’m not! I mean—I’m just—thinking! That’s allowed, isn’t it?”

“Whatever.” Katsuki’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the horizon, his tone gruff but quieter.

 “I...I wasn’t talking to myself! Hitoshi! I was talking to Hitoshi! ”

“Tch.” Katsuki rolled his eyes, muttering something about “annoying extras” before turning back to the path ahead. “Whatever. Just hurry it up. There’s a cave not far from here. We’ll stop there for the night.”

Izuku blinked, startled. “A cave? Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

“Because you didn’t need to know earlier,” Katsuki shot back, his voice laced with irritation. “Now shut up and keep walking.”

Izuku bit back another retort, sighing as he fell in step behind him. As gruff and unkind as Katsuki was, the prospect of a sheltered spot to rest lifted his spirits—just a little.

“See?” Hitoshi chimed in, his voice light. “He’s not completely heartless. Progress.”

“Right,” Izuku muttered, his lips quirking in a reluctant smile as the outline of the cave finally came into view. “Progress.”

—

The light had all but vanished, leaving the surrounding area shrouded in a swirling storm of icy darkness. Izuku could barely see beyond his own shivering breath, the narrow path Katsuki’s human form had carved into the snow as his only guide. His hair was crusted with ice crystals, and the biting cold gnawed at his nose and ears. The exposed cartilage burned like fire, a stark reminder of how fragile his human body was in these brutal conditions.

Back at the castle, sniffling through winter was a norm, but Izuku’s body was so dehydrated that even the simple act of sniffling had abandoned him. His chapped lips trembled as he rubbed his hands together, hunching low to avoid the worst of the wind. The snow lashed against him, stinging his cheeks and blurring his vision. Every blink felt like a struggle, and his legs dragged through the thick drifts like dead weight.

“I’m not going to make it,” Izuku thought, his steps faltering further. His limbs felt like lead, his body a shivering, vulnerable shell carrying not just his own soul but Hitoshi’s as well.

“Hitoshi, I think… I think this is it,” he thought desperately, his fear a quiet plea.

“Don’t say that, Izuku,” Hitoshi’s voice chided firmly in his mind. “I chose you as my host for a reason. You are better than this.”

Izuku stumbled again, barely catching himself as the storm howled around him. Just as his vision blurred completely. Before his eyes could close he spotted a dark figure emerging through the snowstorm. His breath hitched, and his racing mind conjured up the worst possibilities.

A wolf? A Shadowstalker? A Gutbrood?

Eyes half-lidded, Izuku squinted harder as the figure ahead grew sharper, its outline flickering with an unearthly, faint orange glow that wavered like a flame in the distance. His breath hitched, caught between disbelief and hope. Then came the warmth—subtle at first, but unmistakable—seeping through the biting cold that had gripped his body. It wrapped around him like an embrace, chasing away the numbness gnawing at his limbs.

The wind stung at his face, forcing his eyes shut against its fury, yet the warmth persisted, unwavering. It radiated from the figure before him, steady and unwavering, cutting through the freezing air like a beacon calling him home. Relief coursed through him so suddenly that his knees nearly buckled, the tension in his exhausted body threatening to give way as he took another shaky step forward.

“Kacchan!” he gasped, his voice breaking. Never in his life had he been so grateful to see him. He had thought Katsuki had left him behind what felt like hours ago, letting him fend for himself in the blizzard.

The dragon-turned-human huffed, his breath steaming in the frosty air. “I’d prefer if you never call me that again,” Katsuki snapped, his tone sharp but lacking his usual venom. “Great Explosion Murder God Dynamight, got it? Just quit it with that stupid ‘Kacchan’ thing.”

Izuku blinked, taken aback by the oddly specific request.

Katsuki crossed his arms, the faint light flickering from his body making him look like a grumbling, reluctant savior. “You really are something else, human. While you were busy dragging yourself through snow like a half-dead slug, I already found food and shelter.”

Izuku stared at him, dumbfounded. “Was I really that slow?”

Katsuki snorted, his lips curling into a smug grin. “You’re barely faster than a glacier.”

Still, without waiting for a reply, Katsuki swiped his hand across the snow in front of Izuku, clearing a path with practiced ease. “C’mon. It’s not far. Try not to fall on your face again, though I’m not holding my breath.”

As Izuku followed, he heard Hitoshi’s voice in his head, dripping with smug satisfaction. “Told you he wouldn’t let you die.”

Izuku sighed, his breath puffing into the cold air. “Does he always have to make me feel this small while saving my life?”

Hitoshi chuckled softly. “It’s kind of his thing. You’ll get used to it.”

—

After walking for a few more minutes, Katsuki led Izuku to a small dent-like hollow shape in a tall wall of stone. It was much too small to be considered a cave, but its curved shape proved to be an ideal shelter against the biting winds. There was already a small fire alight at the center of the clearing, and two skinned rabbits were roasting on a crudely fashioned spit. Once they arrived at the base of the fire, Katsuki's majestic dragon body started to glow again, and soon, he had reverted to his human form fully clothed and all.

"I've already eaten," Katsuki said, curling up into a ball against the stone barrier. He wrinkled his nose at the smell of the roasting meat on the sticks. "If there's one thing I can't understand, it's how humans aren't able to digest raw flesh."

Ignoring Katsuki’s remark, Izuku sat himself down by the fire, grateful for the warmth despite the chilly air seeping through the cracks in the stone. He reached for one of the rabbits on the spit, pulling it free with a little effort. The charred exterior cracked under his fingers, and he blew gently on the scorched meat to cool it before peeling away the blackened layers. His stomach growled in protest, and with a soft sigh, he took a tentative bite, the juicy, tender meat soothing his hunger.

He chewed slowly, his mind wandering as the crackling of the fire filled the quiet air. The warmth of the flames felt like a fleeting comfort against the harsh storm outside. He glanced up for a moment, lost in thought, but when his eyes returned to the fire, the warmth suddenly seemed more distant, overshadowed by the chill creeping back into the shelter.

Izuku blinked, realizing with a start that Katsuki had already stood up and silently left the safety of the stone hollow. His figure disappeared into the swirling snowstorm, a shadow against the blinding white backdrop of the storm. The sound of his retreating footsteps faded quickly, drowned by the howling wind outside.

Izuku’s chest tightened, the flickering flames casting long shadows across the small, empty shelter. He hadn’t expected Katsuki to leave without saying anything, but then again, when had the dragon ever shown much interest in explaining himself? He felt an uncomfortable knot twist in his stomach, unsure if it was from the cold air or from something else.

The rhythmic crunch of his footsteps grew fainter until they were swallowed entirely by the wind’s mournful howls. Izuku stared after him, his brows knit with both concern and curiosity, before letting out a long sigh. He pulled his knees to his chest, curling tighter as the fire crackled softly before him, its flickering light casting dancing shadows on the rocky walls. The heat of the flames was a modest comfort, a fragile barrier against the biting chill that lingered in the air.

His breath formed a ghostly mist as he exhaled. “So, uh… what do you think he’s doing?” he asked hesitantly, his voice barely above a whisper. Though his words were spoken aloud, it was clear he was addressing the dragon soul bound to him.

“Brooding,” Hitoshi’s voice quipped dryly in his mind. There was a pause before he added, “Or scouting. Katsuki’s always been restless. Too much energy, not enough places to put it.”

Izuku tilted his head, gazing into the flames as if seeking answers there. “He could’ve said something,” he muttered. “Like, where he’s going or when he’ll be back. It’s not like I can follow him out there.” His voice softened, a touch of worry creeping in. “What if something happens to him?”

“Please,” Hitoshi replied, his tone somewhere between amused and exasperated. “Katsuki’s not the one you should be worrying about. Even injured, he’s more than capable of tearing apart anything that so much as looks at him wrong.”

Izuku frowned, resting his chin on his knees. “Still… It's not like he’s invincible. You said it yourself—he’s hurt. And this place doesn’t exactly feel safe.”

Hitoshi’s voice softened slightly, though it still carried a hint of teasing. “Aw, worried about the grouch already? You are kind hearted, Izuku. But fine, I’ll give you this much: Katsuki might act like he doesn’t care, but he’s not reckless. He knows what he’s doing. Probably went to scout the area or make sure nothing’s lurking nearby.”

Izuku’s frown deepened as he shifted closer to the fire, hugging himself tighter. “I don’t get it. If he cares so much, why doesn’t he just say that? Why act like he’s annoyed with me all the time?”

There was a pause, the silence filled only by the crackle of the fire and the distant wail of the wind. Then, Hitoshi spoke again, quieter this time. “Katsuki’s complicated. He doesn’t like getting attached. And if I had to guess…” Hitoshi trailed off for a moment, his tone taking on an almost wistful edge. “...He’s already thinking about the end of this journey. About the part where you and I go our separate ways.”

Izuku blinked, startled by the weight of those words. “You think… he just doesn’t want to get close?”

“Exactly.” Hitoshi’s voice held a note of grim certainty. “Dragons don’t do temporary bonds very well. For us, everything’s permanent. And even though Katsuki’s got a funny way of showing it, he knows this isn’t.”

Izuku let out a small chuckle before falling quiet again.

Hitoshi’s voice chimed in, softer than usual, almost hesitant. “I’d also like to somewhat apologize,” he said out of nowhere.

Izuku blinked in surprise. “Apologize? For what?”

“I feel like,” Hitoshi began, sounding uncharacteristically thoughtful, “after the day we’ve had and with the journey still stretching ahead of us, I’ve let a lot of my... sharper edges show. It’s been a while since I’ve had to interact with a human so personally, and rarely with one as—well, pure-hearted as you.”

Izuku felt his cheeks heat up, unsure of what to say.

Hitoshi went on, a touch of humor creeping back into his tone. “I can feel myself softening up, which is a strange feeling. But don’t worry, I’ve still got some edge. Can’t make this too easy for you.”

Izuku let out a relieved laugh, his breath puffing into the cold air. “Oh, no, Hitoshi, it’s all good! Really. I can tell you don’t mean any real malice. It’s just some playful teasing, right?” He smiled, the kind of small, honest smile that was uniquely his. “To be honest, you’re still really good company. I like having someone to talk to on this—this mind- and body-numbing walk.”

There was a brief pause before Hitoshi responded, his tone carrying a hint of warmth beneath the usual snark. “Well, good. It’s not like I’d admit this to Katsuki or anything, but... I don’t mind your company either. You’re decent for a human, Izuku.”

Izuku chuckled again, feeling oddly comforted. “That might be the nicest thing anyone’s said to me all day.”

“Don’t get used to it,” Hitoshi replied quickly, though Izuku could swear he heard the faintest trace of a chuckle.

Izuku shifted closer to the fire, his curiosity outweighing the chill of the night. The flames flickered, their glow casting long shadows across the hollow’s stone walls. He bit his lip, hesitating for a moment, before letting the question that had been simmering in his mind slip out.

“Hitoshi… when did you first meet Kacchan?”

There was a brief pause, a stillness that hung in the air before Hitoshi responded. His tone was softer than Izuku expected, almost nostalgic. “We’ve known each other since we were dragonlings. Back then, Katsuki was just as loud and proud as he is now. Always ready to pick a fight, always eager to prove himself.”

Izuku smiled faintly, imagining a smaller, squawking version of Katsuki. “That… sounds about right.”

A chuckle echoed in his mind, warm and amused. “Oh, it’s more than just ‘about right.’ Katsuki’s always been the embodiment of chaos. But…” Hitoshi hesitated, his voice shifting to something more contemplative, “he wasn’t all bark and bite, you know. He had his moments.”

Intrigued, Izuku leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “What do you mean?”

“When Katsuki found his first host,” Hitoshi began, his tone threading with a faint wistfulness, “I was there. It’s… a disorienting process. Imagine merging part of your soul with another being. Your instincts, your power, your very essence—it doesn’t just sit neatly in a human vessel. It floods them, consumes them. And they’re left trying to hold themselves together while wrestling with something far bigger than they are. Katsuki’s host wasn’t just dealing with his strength but also his temper, his impulses.”

Izuku’s brows knit together, a pang of empathy coursing through him. “That sounds… overwhelming.”

“It is,” Hitoshi admitted, his voice tinged with quiet gravity. “Katsuki didn’t ask for help, of course. That would’ve been too much for his pride. But I stayed close. Watched over his host. Made sure they didn’t lose themselves in the pact. It’s… not an easy thing to navigate.”

The fire crackled between them, and Izuku could feel the weight in Hitoshi’s words, a depth of unspoken emotion that made him pause. He toyed with a loose thread on his sleeve before venturing further. “It sounds like you’ve been through a lot together.”

“We have,” Hitoshi replied, his voice quieter now. “More than you’d think. But some things are… personal. Between him and me.”

Though Hitoshi didn’t elaborate further at first, as the minutes passed, his voice drifted into Izuku’s mind again, softer now, like the memory itself was easing him into the story.

“When we were dragonlings, the world was… vast. Boundless. We didn’t know much about humans then, only that they were fascinating. Fragile but driven. Katsuki and I were opposites, even then. He was fire, brash and untamed, always pushing to see how far he could go. Me? I was more reserved. Observant. I wanted to understand, while Katsuki wanted to conquer.”

Izuku smiled faintly at the image forming in his mind. “So you balanced each other out?”

“More like we clashed constantly,” Hitoshi corrected with a chuckle. “But there was respect there. We pushed each other to grow stronger. Back then, we didn’t think about things like hosts or pacts. We were just… dragons, learning to fly, to hunt, to roar loud enough to shake the mountains. It was simple.”

The wistfulness in Hitoshi’s tone was almost palpable, and Izuku found himself leaning in, eager to hear more.

“Then Katsuki died and found his first host,” Hitoshi continued, his voice growing heavier. “I....won't go into detail how he died...but what you should know is that this was supposed to be a rite of passage. A moment of pride for a dragon. You die then make the arduous journey back up the mountain. It's supposed to teach young dragons the value in life or something. But… Katsuki's situation...it was messy. He made a pact with a warrior—a human full of fire and ambition, just like him. They should’ve been perfect for each other, but they weren’t. The human underestimated the strength of the pact. He thought he could wield Katsuki’s power without understanding it. And Katsuki… he didn’t know how to hold back. He overwhelmed his host without meaning to.”

Izuku’s chest tightened at the thought. “What happened to them?”

“The warrior struggled,” Hitoshi admitted, his voice tinged with regret. “He was strong, no doubt about that. But Katsuki’s instincts, his temper—they amplified the man’s own flaws. Pride turned to arrogance. Determination turned to recklessness. I stepped in where I could, tried to guide them both, but… it wasn’t enough. The pack didn’t break, but it… fractured his sprit. Katsuki was forced to leave him before the man completely unraveled. Forced to find a new host quick before his time ran out.”

Izuku glanced toward the cave entrance where Katsuki had left. It was hard to imagine the proud, unshakable dragon struggling like that.

“Was he… upset?” Izuku asked hesitantly.

Hitoshi’s response was immediate. “He was furious. At himself, at the human, at me for not fixing things. But beneath all that anger was guilt. He’d chosen that human. He’d entrusted him with a part of himself, and it ended in failure. That kind of thing leaves a mark, no matter how tough Katsuki pretends to be.”

“And you?” Izuku asked softly. “What about your first host?”

Izuku sat in silence, the crackling fire beside him providing some warmth against the cold night air, but not enough to fully chase away the quiet weight of Hitoshi’s words. He wasn’t sure if it was the weight of the journey or the growing connection between them, but something felt different now—more intimate. More… real.

Hitoshi’s voice broke the silence, softer than before. "My first host was different," he said slowly, as though recalling a memory that had become distant over time. "He wasn’t like Katsuki’s first host—he wasn’t a warrior, or a fighter. He was a healer. Kind. Patient." Hitoshi’s tone was contemplative, tinged with a hint of something Izuku couldn’t quite place. "He had a bite to him, though. He wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge, but he had a softness that made him... approachable. The kind of person who could heal wounds not just on the outside, but on the inside too."

Izuku tilted his head, absorbing the description of someone so different from what he expected a dragon’s first host to be. "Sounds like a good person to make a pact with."

Hitoshi was quiet for a moment, and Izuku felt the weight of the hesitation. "I thought it would be easier," Hitoshi said finally, his voice faltering slightly. "But it wasn’t. A pact with him… it was harder than I expected. My power isn’t as overwhelming as Katsuki’s, but it’s still too much for someone like him to handle. I tried to make it work, tried to ease the pressure I was placing on him, but it wasn’t enough."

Izuku’s heart tightened. "You mean, the pact was too much for him?"

"Yes." Hitoshi’s voice grew quieter, the weight of the memory heavy in his tone. "It’s hard to explain. When you merge with a host, it's not just your soul that intertwines. Your power, your instincts, everything you are—it gets thrust into them, and they have to adjust. But sometimes, no matter how gentle you try to be, it’s too much for them to bear. I… I wasn’t able to pull back enough."

A chill ran down Izuku’s spine, but he didn’t interrupt. He could hear the pain in Hitoshi’s words, the regret in the way he spoke of his first host. It wasn’t the anger or bitterness that often colored Katsuki’s words, but something quieter, more resigned.

"He passed away," Hitoshi added, his voice thick with sorrow. "I couldn’t stop it. As soon as we reached Yuuei, as soon as my soul lifted from him, he... he died."

Izuku’s breath caught in his throat. "I’m so sorry, Hitoshi." He felt a deep pang of empathy. Losing someone was already hard enough, but to be responsible for it in such a way... he could only imagine the weight that would bear on someone’s heart.

Hitoshi was quiet for a long moment, and when he spoke again, there was a note of something almost like resignation in his voice. "It wasn’t just that. He wasn’t supposed to be my first host. He was actually a friend of Katsuki's host. Joined for emergencies. Or well what Katsuki and I thought of: Katsuki’s emergency host."

Izuku blinked in confusion. "Emergency host?"

“Yeah,” Hitoshi said, his voice shifting, softening with the weight of his memories. “Katsuki’s first host… well, he didn’t last the full journey. We were still young dragonlings, maybe equivalent to 15 year olds for humans. Still trying to understand the bond between a human and a dragon. I told you before, the human Katsuki chose was proud, a warrior full of himself. He thought he could control the power, thought he could handle it all on his own, but it was too much. It overwhelmed him. Something snapped and  Katsuki was forced to leave him. For his safety as well as ours.”

Izuku felt a tightness in his chest at Hitoshi’s words. He could hear the underlying pain, the unresolved regret. There was a long silence as if Hitoshi was pulling himself back from those distant memories, trying to form his next words.

“That’s when I had to step in. Or at least tried to,” Hitoshi continued, voice tight. “Due to unforeseen circumstances… I died on the way.”

Izuku’s brow furrowed, confusion rising. “Wait, you… died? But I thought dragons couldn’t—”

“We can’t die in the traditional sense. Don't you remember I was sacrificed,” Hitoshi cut in, his tone more distant now, as if he were explaining something to himself as much as to Izuku. 

“My first host—he was a good man,” Hitoshi said with a quiet fondness. “He knew the warrior who Katsuki had chosen. They were traveling together, before Katsuki and I joined. The warrior and his healer. So when I died it wasn’t that big of a deal. There was a human already used to dragons and with experience from watching his friend host a dragons soul. Easy choice to use as my first host. In fact, over time we had a sort of strange camaraderie between the four of us, our hosts and us. They were close, and Katsuki and I… well, we were close too. It was only natural that we’d end up together like that.”

Izuku blinked in surprise. “So, you two—Katsuki and you—were always kind of… a team?”

Hitoshi’s voice was softer now, almost wistful. “Yeah. You could say that. In a way, we were. Even before the pacts we made. Even before the chaos. We always had a close bond...When Katsuki’s first host fell apart, when his pride made everything unravel… I couldn’t just stand by. He was my responsibility, too. I had to step in.”

Izuku could hear the unease in Hitoshi’s words, the weight of something unsaid hanging between them. He knew this story wasn’t over yet.

“But…” Hitoshi faltered again, the tension in his voice palpable. “The problem was, after everything that had happened… after Katsuki’s first host failed. Katsuki was became too broken inside. Then my first host and I tried to help by coming up with different strategies on how to help, until my host decided to carry Katsuki the remaining way. When my host took on the weight of both dragons’ souls…” Hitoshi paused as though the memory was almost too painful to relive. “Having already carried one dragon’s soul was hard, taking on another was too much for him. He wasn’t strong enough to carry both of us.”

Izuku’s heart clenched. “Wait… so your first host couldn’t handle you and Katsuki’s souls?”

Hitoshi hummed in agreement. “My host knew what Katsuki’s human was going through and guided them as best they could. I think he felt somewhat responsible for Katsuki too. Katsuki… doesn’t like to admit it, but he trusted him. Even relied on him.”

Izuku was quiet, processing the complexity of what Hitoshi was saying. So, Katsuki’s first host—his human he chose—hadn’t been able to handle the pact, and Katsuki had been left in a position where he had to rely on Hitoshi’s first host to carry him temporarily. But that wasn’t supposed to be a permanent solution.

"So, the healer—your first host—he agreed to help? What happened then?" Izuku asked carefully, trying to piece everything together.

"Yes," Hitoshi replied, his voice steady now. "We talked about it. My host, Katsuki and I. Katsuki used his strength to overpower his host so he could plan with us. In the end, he didn’t want to take the healer’s life away, but he had no other choice. My host and I were bound, and when the pact formed, I had no other place to go. So, my first host agreed, knowing the burden that came with also hosting Katsuki. We were in this together, even though it wasn’t easy for any of us."

Izuku could feel the complexity of the situation, the sacrifice the healer had made. Hitoshi’s first host hadn’t been prepared for the full weight of a dragon’s soul, but he had chosen to carry that burden for the sake of his friend, Katsuki. And when it was Hitoshi’s turn to carry the weight of two souls, it had been too much for him.

"But even so," Hitoshi continued, his voice quieter now, "We were too inexperienced. We didn't know how much strain we would cause. With Katsuki's overwhelming power and my inability to hold back the limited amount I had...I couldn't stop him from passing away. I couldn’t undo it. I...we were still young, still learning the extent of the bond. And the power of both of us was just… too much."

Izuku’s heart ached for Hitoshi. "That’s such a heavy burden to bear."

"It is," Hitoshi agreed, his voice tinged with sorrow. "But what other choice did we have? Katsuki’s pride, now magnified by his host, wouldn’t let him ask for help. He couldn’t turn to anyone else, and my first host—well, he didn’t want to let either of us down. He thought he could handle it. But in the end, I think it broke him."

Hitoshi let out sigh "In hindsight I don't think it's possible for a human to handle two dragon souls, dragonling or not. If the power doesn't kill them, the speed in which their heart will burn up will."

Izuku sat in silence, staring into the fire as he processed the weight of what Hitoshi had said. It was more than just a bond between a dragon and a host. It was a shared sacrifice, a decision that bound them all together in ways that went beyond words. Katsuki had never asked for help, but Hitoshi had always been there, even when it cost him so much.

“I’m still sorry you had to go through that,” Izuku said quietly, his voice full of sympathy. “Both of you.”

Hitoshi took a long, slow breath, the weight of his history still heavy in his voice. “The two souls were too much for his human mind and heart. He started breaking down, losing himself in the power. The connection between us weakened, and when that happened…”

Izuku’s heart ached at the raw emotion in Hitoshi’s voice.

“It’s… part of being a dragon,” Hitoshi replied, his tone resigned but not bitter.

Hitoshi let out a bitter chuckle. “Katsuki and I were both stuck. He couldn’t control the power, and I was barely holding on. It wasn’t until years later that things started to settle, but by then, Katsuki had learned something important. You can’t just throw power at someone and expect them to handle it. The bond—our bond—it’s not just about strength. It’s about trust, about giving up a part of yourself and accepting another.”

Izuku thought about what Hitoshi had said, the complexities of being a dragon bound to a human. He couldn’t even begin to fathom what it must be like to carry such a heavy burden, to be linked to someone, bound to them in such an intimate and dangerous way.

“So, you and Kacchan… you were both kind of lost, weren’t you?” Izuku said softly.

Hitoshi’s voice was quiet when he responded. “Yeah. We were lost, and we had to find our way back together. But it wasn’t easy. There were times when we nearly tore each other apart. Katsuki didn’t know how to trust, and I… I wasn’t sure how to forgive him for abandoning his first host. I thought he was just like every other dragon—selfish and careless—but I was wrong. He was hurting, too. And that was when I realized… we were more alike than I thought.”

Izuku sat quietly, reflecting on Hitoshi’s words. The bond between a dragon and their host was complicated, fraught with pain, pride, and responsibility. He couldn’t even imagine what it must’ve been like for Hitoshi, watching his host die, knowing that his own soul was too much for a human to bear.

“You both had to learn a lot about each other, didn’t you?” Izuku said, breaking the silence.

Hitoshi sighed, as if the weight of the years they’d spent together was finally catching up to him. “We did. But we’re here now, aren’t we?”

Izuku nodded, feeling a strange sense of comfort in the way Hitoshi’s voice had shifted—softer, more understanding. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

 “We still don’t fully understand humans, not really. Even now, with you, there are moments I feel like I’m pushing too hard. Saying the wrong thing. But I’m trying.”

“You’re doing fine,” Izuku said earnestly. “Really. I like having you here. You… make me feel less alone.”

Hitoshi was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer. “Thank you, Izuku. That means more than you know.”

Another long silence passed between them, the kind that wasn’t awkward, but filled with the quiet understanding of shared pain and growth. Izuku took a deep breath, his thoughts still lingering on Hitoshi’s story. He didn’t know everything yet, but what he did know was that the pact between dragons and their hosts was far more complex than he had ever imagined.

Hitoshi’s voice broke through the quiet again, this time with a touch of humor. “And you know, for all that mess, Katsuki and I were still the better team. We just needed to learn how to work together.”

Izuku chuckled, the tension easing from his shoulders. “I think you guys make a pretty good team now.”

Hitoshi snorted softly. “Yeah, well… you try getting Katsuki to admit that.”

Izuku grinned, shaking his head as he sat back against the stone wall, the warmth of the fire flickering softly in front of him. The journey ahead was still uncertain, but for the first time in a while, he felt a sense of peace. They weren’t alone anymore. They were together. And together, maybe they could face whatever the future held.

—

Izuku sat with his back against the stone wall, the warmth of the fire slowly dulling as the logs shifted in the flames. The silence stretched, broken only by the occasional crackle from the fire and the distant roar of the storm outside. He glanced down at the half-eaten rabbit in his hands, the tender meat now cold as his mind wandered, restless.

“I’m telling you, Hitoshi, he’s impossible,” Izuku muttered under his breath, not entirely sure why he felt the need to continue talking. The darkness in the cave seemed to draw his thoughts inward, and with Katsuki gone, it felt almost natural to voice his frustrations. “How does he do it? How does he just… shut everyone out like that? He’s a dragon, so I guess that explains some of it. But still…”

A low, soft sigh escaped him as he stared into the fire, trying to make sense of it all.

“You know what I mean, right?” Izuku mumbled, only half-expecting an answer. “It’s like he wants to be alone all the time. Like he’s running from something…”

The wind howled louder outside, and for a brief moment, Izuku felt a chill creep down his spine, despite the warmth of the fire. He rubbed his arms absentmindedly, huddling closer to the flame. He wasn’t sure if it was the storm outside, or the feeling that he was being watched.

Just as the unease began to creep into his thoughts, a shadow moved across the entrance to the cave. The sound of crunching snow underfoot cut through the stillness, and Izuku’s heart skipped a beat.

Katsuki’s silhouette appeared in the mouth of the cave, his figure briefly illuminated by a flash of lightning in the distance. His breath came in short, sharp puffs, visible in the cold air as he stepped inside. The glow from the fire caught the edges of his red eyes as they flickered over the room, scanning the space in his usual detached manner.

Izuku stiffened, caught off guard by his sudden return, but he quickly looked away, trying to hide the flush that crept up his neck. His thoughts immediately shifted, anxiety bubbling to the surface. Had Katsuki been out there listening? Had he overheard anything?

Katsuki didn’t acknowledge him immediately. Instead, he simply moved to the far side of the cave, shedding his outer layers with a huff. “Fire’s still going, huh? It’s not a bad setup for a shelter, but I’d kill for something better than rabbit,” he muttered, his voice low, as he settled down on the opposite side of the cave. He stretched out, his posture casual as though nothing had changed.

Izuku stayed quiet, the weight of his unspoken words hanging between them. He couldn’t help but wonder if Katsuki had heard him. If he had, he didn’t show it. But there was a flicker of something in the way Katsuki’s gaze flicked over him, something unreadable, almost too brief to notice.

“You’re still alive, I see,” Katsuki added, glancing at Izuku, a teasing edge to his tone. “Don’t go getting any ideas, though. You’re not my responsibility.”

Izuku opened his mouth, then closed it again, not sure if he should respond or just let the silence stretch on. Instead, he focused on the fire, his thoughts a tangle of confusion and curiosity. Katsuki’s presence was unmistakable, but whether or not he knew what had been said was still a mystery.

Katsuki, for his part, didn’t seem eager to talk. He rolled onto his side, facing the wall, and pulled the cloak tighter around himself. His back remained to Izuku, his body language dismissive and yet somehow guarded.

The fire crackled and popped, and for a long while, the only sound that filled the cave was the storm raging outside. Izuku couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed, but whether it was the storm or the tension between them, he wasn’t sure.

Katsuki didn’t say another word after settling in, his back turned to Izuku as he lay on the cold stone floor. The cave was quiet again, save for the wind and the crackling fire. Izuku shifted uneasily, his eyes lingering on the dragon-turned-human, unsure of what to do next. His mind kept returning to the conversation he’d had with Hitoshi while Katsuki was gone. He had felt so... exposed. Now, with Katsuki back, everything felt a little more suffocating, like the air itself had thickened.

“Is… is everything okay?” Izuku asked tentatively, the question hanging awkwardly in the air. He wasn’t sure why he even asked. Katsuki wasn’t exactly the type to open up. It wasn’t like he expected a heart-to-heart.

Katsuki grunted in response, rolling over slightly to peer at the fire from the corner of his eye. His face was hidden in shadow, but Izuku could still make out the sharp lines of his features, the smoldering look in his eyes.

“Yeah, fine. No thanks to you, though,” Katsuki muttered under his breath. He still sounded irritated, but it was hard to tell if it was directed at Izuku or just the world in general. “You’ve been here complaining about being tired, but I already handled everything out there. And you couldn’t even make a dent in that rabbit…”

Izuku flushed, feeling embarrassed. He had been hungry, sure, but he wasn’t about to admit that he wasn’t the best at cooking or preparing food. He wasn’t a dragon, after all. “I… I didn’t realize how long you were gone, okay?” he mumbled, picking at the remaining pieces of meat.

The silence stretched again, only broken by the crackling of the fire. Izuku sighed, trying to shake off the discomfort of the moment. The wind howled louder outside, rattling the walls of the cave as if reminding them that they were stuck in the middle of a snowstorm. The temperature seemed to drop even further.

Izuku yawned, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “I think I’m gonna try to sleep soon… We’ve got a long day ahead of us tomorrow, huh?” he murmured, his voice soft with exhaustion. The constant biting cold and the tension in the air had drained him.

“Yeah, whatever,” Katsuki replied, his tone flat and uninterested. “Just don’t start snoring and make me want to kill you in your sleep.” He gave a dismissive grunt before shifting again, his posture rigid as he curled up, seemingly settling for the night.

Izuku chuckled weakly, grateful for the small distraction. “I don’t snore,” he muttered, though even he wasn’t entirely convinced of that. He was pretty sure Hitoshi had mentioned it once or twice.

“Goodnight…” Katsuki’s voice came again, quieter now, as though he was already half asleep.

Izuku’s heart skipped a beat. Oh. How thoughtful, he thought. Maybe the dragon really wasn’t as cold and uncaring as he acted. He felt a smile tug at the corners of his lips, a warm sensation flooding his chest as he slowly settled back against the stone.

“...Toshi.”