Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Living amongst humans was much more simple. There were things about it that, of course, were not necessarily to her liking, but charming a human to look the other way as she did as she wished was simple enough. Having a human business was even something that Ochako enjoyed, even with the massive amounts of red tape she had to deal with on the bureaucratic side of things.

She did use her charm to deal with things such as that sometimes as well.

But all in all, her little cafe in the human world was her pride and joy, ever since she came to this world and walked into one. The symbol on its sign appealed to her, the only reason she stepped a shaky foot into the establishment. But when Ochako tasted coffee for the first time? She was in love.

It took a little less than a year to get her business underway—many of the humans likely would have called it ‘immoral’ or ‘stealing’ but she did procure a good amount of her funds by placing charms on disgustingly rich men who were surprisingly easy to entrance. But they surely wouldn’t miss the measly few thousand that she ‘asked’ for from each of them. She even left them alive!

Killing humans would have to be something she put behind her if she was going to live among them, and that wasn’t very difficult for Ochako. She had never been particularly interested in doing so like the rest of her wake; those women were blood thirsty. It was likely why she had never felt as though she fit in.

Thus, The Enchanted Bean was born. Ochako put her heart into the place, making it cozy and magic themed—because apparently humans loved a good thematic establishment. And with the way she threw herself into learning anything and everything about coffee—ways to brew it, varieties of beans, complementary flavors—her products spoke for themselves. People in Musutafu loved her coffee and tea, as well as the spellbinding vibes.

And Ochako loved them. There were new people coming into her shop every day, but there were also the regulars she had come to look forward to seeing. There was Izuku who always ordered a maple miso latte from the day the item hit the menu—she had intended it to be a limited time flavor, but she couldn’t deny one of her favorite customers that way. Shouto, also a creature of habit, liked a simple iced matcha latte, no matter the season. Mina came near daily armed with a smile and tea—that is, she gave Ochako the town gossip in exchange for a lavender chai or a yuzu earl grey. Kyouka, ever the artistic soul, wanted to try whatever new flavor combination Ochako had most recently brewed, usually without even knowing what it was.

She lived for these moments with her humans. While she could never tell them what she truly was, she never felt closer to anyone.

So it was jarring when, for the first, someone came into her shop who wasn’t human. For a moment, Ochako thought she was mistaken since he looked like one, but her nose did not lie. He didn't smell human, but she couldn't put her finger on what he did smell like. He wasn't a werewolf, as they were pungent and distinct. Not a vampire, as there was no iron clinging to the air. Probably not a witch, as they tended to have the scents of all kinds of herbs and spices clinging to them. He wasn't anything she could identify at all.

But what she did know was that the scent of death clung to him.

It wasn’t the rotting, sour kind, so he was no undead. It was the sort of smell that a human would not be able to distinguish, something sharp and strangely clean, like the air before a lightning strike. It was not faint either, but it wreathed around his shoulders like a stormcloud as a hoodie.

But the thing that confused her most was the faintly sweet but burnt scent that radiated from him as well.

What in the four worlds was he?

“Heard you do weird flavors. Got anything spicy?” he said, without any preamble. 

Ochako blinked, but recovered quickly.

“Not on the current menu, but there is one I’m working on. Want to be the first to try it?”

His deep red eyes surveyed her for a moment, his hands once in his pockets now drawn out so he could cross his arms. “Depends. It is shit?”

Ochako couldn’t help but laugh. Humans loved to beat around the bush, so his bluntness felt charming in a way, something she had been a bit starved for.

“No, it’s good, I promise. For here or to go?”

“Here.”

That made her heart jump; maybe she would have the opportunity to talk to him a little more.

“Can I get a name for the order?”

She didn’t really need it since he would sit at a table and she would bring it to him, but she would punch it in the machine as though it was a required question just so she could learn his name.

“Katsuki.”

She nodded then got to work.

“Don’t people usually pay for it first?” he called as she walked away toward her stash of housemade syrups.

“Not if you’re acting as my test subject. Just tell me if you like it and that’ll be payment enough!”

And if giving him something for free made him come back another time, that would only be a bonus. As much as she loved living in this world with all these humans, the presence of another species like her was enough to excite her in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. Plus, she needed more time to figure him out.

Ochako wondered, was his preference for spice something that hinted at what he was, or just a personal preference?

“Fine by me,” he mumbled before taking a seat at a nearby table. 

It was a slow time of day, so Ochako could really focus, not only on what she was doing, but on him . His scent was distracting, and in a way alluring, and this was not unlike his appearance. 

Soon enough, she carried a mug to his table.

“One caramel chipotle dark chocolate mocha for Katsuki,” she said with a bright smile.

“That’s a damn mouthful,” he said, as he accepted it from her. “Thanks,” he added quietly, as an afterthought.

“Of course. Remember to let me know what you think,” she said before heading back to the counter.

She wanted to stay, but she couldn’t fabricate a reason to, especially because he didn’t seem too… personable. So she busied herself with cleaning up a few things, checking on her syrup and other ingredient stocks, cleaning some more, rearranging a few things…

It had only been five minutes. She could think of nothing else to keep her busy and there were no signs of any new customers coming in for the moment.

So, in the little notebook she kept in her apron pocket where she normally brainstormed new flavors, she wrote down what she knew of the mystery being who sat a mere ten feet away.

-Red eyes, unnatural for a human

-Smells of death and burnt sugar

-Antisocial

- Absolutely Gorgeous

“It’s fucking great, by the way,” Katsuki said suddenly, causing Ochako to jump and drop her pen.

She disappeared behind the counter for a moment to retrieve it, and probably looked a little crazy when she said, “Really? You like it?”

“Yeah. The dark chocolate was better than if you’d used milk chocolate or else it would be too sweet with the caramel.”

“That was my thought exactly. I’m glad you like it!”

With that, he returned to the newspaper in his hand, and Ochako found herself without anything to do. Again.

Until Izuku walked in. Thank the Lands, Seas, Above and Below.

“Hey stranger!” he called.

“Welcome in! Want your usual?”

“How’d you know?” he said with a dorky little smile and tilt of his head.

Ochako could make this drink in her sleep, so she saw fit to chat with him as he waited.

“But yeah, the cat seems to be really fitting in at Shouto’s place. They both keep to themselves eighty percent of the time so it’s like a match made in heaven.”

“Glad to hear it! And how does the cat feel about you? You know, for when you eventually move in?” Ochako said with a wink and playful lilt to her question.

Izuku blushed profusely, just like he always did when the subject came up. “He doesn’t like me like that! I wish you and Mina would give it a rest.”

Shouto absolutely did like Izuku like that, and Ochako and Mina would positively not give it a rest any time soon. But she dropped it for the moment as she presented him with his coffee, to go because he was on his break from work and wouldn’t have time to sit down with her.

“Keep the change,” he said as he slid her a couple bills.

“Oh, Izuku, this is too mu—”

“Don’t care! Bye, Ochako!”

She shook her head with a smile as he actually ran from the shop, careful not to spill as he evaded any attempt she may have made to give him his change. It wasn’t the first time he had done it and it wouldn’t be the last, which was why she threw in a free muffin after he paid on some days.

“Thought he was gonna get away without paying too. Almost made me feel less special about my free coffee.”

Ochako had nearly forgotten about the man in her shop. Her eyes darted to him to find his eyes still on his paper almost as though he hadn’t said a thing, but with a small smile on his face.

“Yours is the only handout today, so feel free to keep feeling special,” she said with her sunniest smile.

“Just for today, huh? So you give freebies on other days? Every day?”

“I don’t think I could afford that, but it’s occasional.”

He stood then, bringing his mug to the counter. She realized it was empty and that he would surely be leaving now; her mood sunk ever so slightly.

“So you’re saying if I come back, say this Friday, I might be a test subject again?”

He was smiling at her in a way that she sensed he didn’t do often and her heart picked up its pace in an embarrassing way. Of course not all magical beings had heightened senses like scent and hearing, but it was common. He could probably hear the way she was about to have a heart attack just from the effects of his grin. His heart, however, remained steady.

Smug bastard.

“There’s always a chance,” she said, trying her hardest to remain coy, at least on the outside. 

He placed the ceramic on the counter between them, and when she reached for it, their fingers briefly touched. She gleaned nothing of use from the touch, except that it made her heart continue to perform death defying stunts.

“Then I’ll see you later… Ochako.”

He was doing it on purpose now. Because hearing her name fall from his lips was something otherworldly. Curse Izuku for saying it aloud and giving this man that kind of fuel against her.

“Have a good day, Katsuki,” she said in return. She managed to sound steady enough.

She could finally breathe when he left, but she also couldn’t wait for him to come back.

She smelled like salt and… roses? Or something floral, at least; Katsuki was no botanist or potion brewing expert. It was hard to tell if there was anything else lying underneath as she was also enveloped in the smell of coffee. Normally the scents that humans would add to themselves, like perfumes or deodorants, were faint enough that he could tell between them and something of a more magical origin, but the fact that she was surrounded by coffee—practically fucking swimming in it—made it stronger.

But those first two scents, those were definitely magical. Witches used salts and floral ingredients enough, so that was on his list of possibilities. But… he didn’t know, she didn’t seem like a witch. All he knew was that she definitely wasn’t a damn human.

It was a pretty unpopular choice for a magical being to live among humans, so he couldn’t help but feel a little intrigued to find her in the heart of a human metropolis. Katsuki had his reasons for leaving his land and his people behind, but what was her story? She seemed immersed enough in the culture that he could believe that she liked it there for the sheer novelty of it. She even had at least one human friend who had come into the shop, and they spoke of even more of them. He hadn't liked the way the guy smiled at her, but after the reference to him being interested in someone else, Katsuki cooled off. 

Not that he had any claim over the quirky little cafe owner. In fact, he had none at all.

He didn’t usually care this much to pry into the lives of others. Katsuki was a mostly solitary being, but it didn’t hurt to put himself out there every once in a while. And until now, he had never wanted to so keenly.

But for now, he would play it cool. He wasn’t sure if she knew he wasn’t human either but he figured she did. That must have been why she seemed so embarrassed when she realized how fast her heart was racing. It was cute, really. It wasn’t the first time he had made a woman’s heart beat faster—which was always preferable to a heart stopping—but causing hers to quicken like that did something to him.

He was so lost in his thoughts of her that he almost didn’t sense the impending death nearby, but his head snapped toward the man just in time.

“OI! Watch where you’re going!” he yelled across the street at a pedestrian stepping onto the street, nearly getting hit by a speeding motorcycle. His voice startled several passersby, but he was used to that. At least another dumbass was still walking the streets.

Humans could be such idiots sometimes.

Chapter Text

Katsuki wasn’t planning on coming back so soon.

He’d meant it when he said Friday. That gave him a few days to clear his head, put some distance between himself and the coffee-scented enchantress who smiled like sunshine. It gave him time to remind himself he didn’t care about anyone’s business but his own.

But it was Wednesday, and there he was again, standing in front of The Enchanted Bean , hands shoved deep in his hoodie pockets, glaring at the storefront as if it had personally dragged him there.

It hadn’t.

Her scent had.

“Just coffee,” he muttered as he stood outside the door. “One drink. In. Out. No weird feelings—”

“Oh hey, Katsuki!”

Damn it.

Ochako stood behind the counter, hair in two space buns today, a baby pink apron tied around her waist over a purple long sleeve. Her hair had been up last time too, probably so she could keep it out of her way as she worked, as it did seem there was a lot of it.

The smell hit him instantly—coffee, of course, but also her . Still salt and roses, and maybe lavender? Still hard to pin down. It was enough to make the fine hairs on his arms rise like he’d brushed past something ancient and powerful.

“You’re early,” she said with a teasing tone, pulling a mug down from the shelf. He guessed he was drinking his coffee here again. “I didn’t think I’d see you ‘til Friday.”

He shrugged, stepping up to the counter. “Didn’t plan to, but I was nearby. Figured I’d see what else you’re cooking up.”

She smiled like she’d won something, and he thought that she was probably about as eager to spend time with him as he was with her, though he would never be as forthcoming about it. 

“I’ve got something smokey this time—smoked cinnamon and chili with a touch of orange zest. Wanna be my test subject again?”

He grunted, which she seemed to take as a yes, and he found himself watching her as she moved behind the bar, graceful and precise. Even her movements hinted at something that wasn’t human, not entirely. Too fluid, like she was dancing instead of working.

“So tell me about you?” she asked, still working. “Do you live nearby? I haven’t seen you around before.”

“Just moved here.”

“How exciting! I’ve lived here for about two years now and I totally love it. I hope you do too! What brings you to Musutafu?”

He hesitated, before admitting, “I like the noise.”

Ochako blinked. “Noise?”

He took a seat at the bar instead of his old table, aware of the three humans who sat in the cafe as well; at least one of them looked like they were leaving. Ochako threw them a wave as Katsuki folded his arms on top of the counter. 

“Yeah, I like the city noise, traffic, voices. Makes it easier to tune things out.”

She paused briefly at that but said nothing for a long moment.

Most people didn’t understand what that meant. But most people didn’t hear what he did—the flutter and fail of fragile human lives like a low hum beneath everything. Death had a frequency, and he was always tuned into it.

But something about Ochako made the static fade a little, like it was muffled.

“Interesting answer,” she said eventually, setting the mug in front of him. Steam curled from the top, the scent hitting him before the heat did—smoke and sweet and just enough kick to bite.

He took a sip and considered it for a moment, though he knew his answer probably reflected on his face, at least a little. “Not bad.”

“You’re a man of few words, huh?”

“Words are overrated.”

“Oh no,” she said with a dramatic sigh. “You’re the brooding type, aren’t you?”

He narrowed his eyes, but her smile didn’t falter.

“I bet you play the piano in secret and write poetry by candlelight.”

“You’re mixing me up with a vampire,” he said dryly.

“Oh no, I know you’re not a vampire,” she replied, too quickly.

They locked eyes. It only lasted a second—but that second was heavy with implication.

Katsuki took another drink to buy himself time.

So she did know.

Maybe not what he was exactly, but enough to place him outside humanity. Enough to clock him by scent like he had her. But if she knew… why wasn’t she asking?

He supposed he wasn’t asking her either. But he liked the back and forth they had found themselves in, and maybe she did too.

“You run this place alone?” he asked instead, steering the conversation elsewhere.

“Not completely, I do have a part time employee. I need some time off, after all! But it’s just me most of the time.”

“Not scared? Woman alone, downtown cafe?”

Ochako’s laugh was low and throaty, like waves pulling across stones. “I’ve got a good, strong voice. Good to call for help with, you know? But I doubt I’d ever need any.”

He choked a little on his drink. She had to be teasing him.

“You?” she added. Katsuki raised a brow. “Are you scared?” she clarified.

“Of what?”

She shrugged innocently, then spoke more quietly so the others present couldn’t hear. Humans had shit hearing after all. “Being here. In a human city among strangers.”

So they were being upfront about it now. For some reason, that excited him. His heart may have sped up if it weren’t for the topical nitroglycerin used on his chest to keep his heart rate down; feeling the death surrounding you at all times had a way of getting his blood pumping a little too fast, a little all the time . Thank the worlds for some human medical advances.

He held her gaze again. “Nah. I know when something’s coming for me.”

Her lips parted slightly, but she didn’t respond.

For a moment, the ambient noise of the shop seemed to fall away. It was just them, caught in some strange orbit of mutual curiosity and buried knowledge. Two creatures playing at being human while quietly dissecting the puzzle of the other.

The doorbell chimed, breaking the tension, and a pair of teenagers stepped in, laughing loudly and discussing what they would order; some kind of pink sugar frappes with extra whipped cream.

Katsuki grimaced.

Ochako winked. “The real horror of this city: teenagers.”

He smirked and sipped the last of his drink as the girls proceeded to order some frilly sounding things that weren’t on the menu. Ochako didn’t miss a beat.

When she turned to the blender, he finished his—frankly, fucking delicious —coffee, rose quietly, and set the mug near the edge of the bar. He hesitated, then pulled something from his hoodie pocket—a small rock, black with silver streaks, smooth like glass.

He placed it on the counter and walked out without another word. Giving her a little clue wouldn’t hurt; if she didn’t already, he wondered if she would know exactly what he was the next time they met.

Maybe he would actually make it to Friday this time.

The after school and work rush started to trickle in and Ochako welcomed the business, especially since Katsuki had slipped out. It offered her a distraction from the fact that he hadn’t said goodbye, though that was probably something silly to be upset by. She glanced down at the counter where he had sat between orders, then her eyes widening when she saw it.

Obsidian.

It was a protective stone, used primarily for grounding and shielding. It was especially potent for those with sonic-based magic.

Had he worked out what she was, then? She supposed that comment about her voice might have been a dead giveaway, but did that bother her? She supposed it shouldn’t, but Ochako felt a little bit like she had lost some game they were playing, even if no rules had been established.

But why did he happen to have a piece of obsidian on his person? It wasn’t as if he had already known what she was when he walked in, unless she was way more obvious than she had imagined during their first meeting. 

For the rest of her shift, she couldn’t stop thinking about him and the rock that now burned a hole in her pocket. She didn’t need the protection, not when charming men was one of her specialties, so maybe it was just a little tease to let her know that he had found her out. But if he had this rock at all, did that mean it was something that he used? Did he need it?

He seemed like a ‘prepare for the worst’ sort of guy, like, if he were a human, he would be the sort who would have casual supplies lying around in case of some kind of spontaneous natural disaster; a man who didn’t like to be caught unprepared. Not to mention that, despite whatever magic he may have possessed to defend himself with, his body looked toned and built enough that he could probably take on most humans in a physical fight without ever needing the aid of enchantments. The stone was probably just a precaution.

But did his possession of the item mean his magic was sonic-based too, or was she reading into that detail too much?

Regardless of all of that, she kept it close as she walked home at the end of the day. Not because she felt unsafe in the slightest, but because it was the first thing he’d ever given her.

And since it was really quite valuable, it meant he would probably be back to collect it.

Chapter Text

It started as a vibration in the air—subtle at first, like the buzz of a fluorescent light about to burn out. It was distinct from the whir of excitement he felt within himself at the thought of seeing Ochako again, and it pulled him from his thoughts of her abruptly.

Katsuki froze halfway across the crosswalk, head tilting slightly as the sound intensified. A low, insidious whine, just under human perception, gnawed at the edge of his hearing. Not sound, exactly. Not the way others would feel it. More like a disturbance in the veil—a point of invisible tension between life and death stretched too thin.

Something had arrived at Musutafu, and if Katsuki’s instincts were correct, it intended to hunt.

He turned on his heel.

Her part timer, Eri, worked on Fridays, so Ochako didn’t technically need to go in. But in case Katsuki really did show like he said he would, she needed to go in. 

Well, she didn’t need to. But she wanted to, she could admit. The potential of seeing him had, admittedly, been taking up the majority of her brain space since he left the cafe a couple days before.

He usually didn’t come in until after the lunch rush, so it wasn’t as if she was in a hurry, but on the off chance that he got in earlier than expected, she would be there. She would simply tell Eri that she had some management type things to do and hole up in her office where she would be able to hear everything that happened within the cafe with perfect clarity.

Ochako was already on her way when the sound found her, slicing through the lull of mid morning like a dissonant chord. It set her teeth on edge the second she registered the sound.

She felt it deep in her sternum—the same way she felt water shifting before a storm even within its depths.

Ochako stepped off her original path. Her breath fogged unnaturally in the early spring air. Something wrong was unfolding.

Not a spell. Not a curse.

Something alive.

She began to run.

When Katsuki arrived at the alley, he noticed her on the opposite end, also just arriving to the scene that radiated a coming dread. They froze when they saw each other.

Ochako, panting slightly, wide-eyed in the low light, her long, waved hair undone and body crackling faintly with magic. He could smell it now, more than just the scent of salt, but of the brine of the sea. It wasn’t the smell of the ocean itself, but something distinctly magical. It was her .

Katsuki, with his hoodie sleeves shoved to his elbows, had his hands open and tense at his sides, glowing faintly with the potential energy of sonic pressure. He knew she could feel it for what it was.

Between them was the source.

It looked like a child at first. That was how changelings liked to appear.

Some changelings were harmless, the ones of fae descent namely. They mostly played tricks and messed around with the faint hearted humans. This one was no such creature; its distant relation to those that liked to horse around surely something it used to its advantage, to deceive and prowl with little suspicion. At least, back in the days when magical creatures were more readily believed in by the humans. Now, they had to put in more work, which they were more than willing to do.

Its scent and energy radiated that of a demon, and demons loved a good hunt.

They were malignant spirits born of residual magic and decay. They slithered into populated areas through cracks in land and abandoned places—drawn to sadness and neglect. They fed on the weak, the grieving, and the magical alike. The Lands was their favorite of the worlds, as they couldn’t survive in the Seas and had no way of accessing the Above; the Below was where they escaped from .

The changeling looked up, the child it first appeared as melting away to something distinctly terrifying . When hungry enough, they showed their true form. Its eyes were hollow and too wide. Its mouth opened to show teeth that were few, but sharpened to the point that they practically punctured the air.

The scream hit them both like a wave, not just sound but a crushing force made of anguish and rot.

Katsuki’s barriers snapped into place instinctively—pure sonic magic, thickening the air in concentric rings around him like invisible shields. The scream bent around him, dispersing into static.

Ochako didn’t flinch either. Her own hum answered the cry—deep, oceanic, thrumming with power. A siren’s magic, he now knew. Not seductive now, but commanding and controlling.

The changeling shrieked again, angrier this time, its illusion fully dissipating into something long and twisted, bones bent wrong, claws clicking against the pavement.

It lunged at Katsuki. It likely had little interest in Ochako if she still held the obsidian.

They moved as one.

Closer now to the creature, Katsuki struck first—his fists breaking the air like thunderclaps, launching compressed waves that slammed the creature into the brick wall. Ochako followed, voice rippling in harmonic bursts that disoriented the creature, forcing it to shrink and twist in agony.

Their magic—different in aura, yet strangely complementary—twined in the alley like dueling melodies that made a perfect chord.

It didn’t last long.

The changeling struggled around their sound waves and shrieked one last time, but it was lost beneath Katsuki’s focused bellow—a resonance so precise it shattered the creature’s resolve entirely. It fell limp, breathing heavily under its regeneration.

All of the devouring of joyful spirits it had done for however long it had been allowed to roam free dissolved before their eyes; once defeated, a changeling reverted to its original form. Once again, though in a different way entirely to the human it veiled itself as at first, it appeared almost like a child.

Katsuki and Ochako released their magic, looking at the creature as it struggled to take in air. He wondered if he would have been able to subdue the creature as resoundingly as they just had on his own; he had at least expected some sort of fight when he first showed up. But their magic combined meant the demon was no match at all.

He could tell that Ochako felt some amount of guilt for being the joint cause of this creature's suffering, but it was a necessary thing; dozens, maybe hundreds of humans would have succumbed to this beings bloodlust had they done nothing. Katsuki didn’t feel quite as soft toward humans as Ochako did, but preventing death was something he far preferred over being its herald. 

He was done being the sort of banshee that stuck to the side and did nothing but announce death.

Ochako’s hand lifted, and a pulse of silent pressure, like the deep current under a tide, pushed what remained of the creature into the Earth, back to the Below from where it had come.

Silence fell.

For a beat, neither moved.

“You’re a siren,” Katsuki said, voice rough, eyes sparking as they turned to her.

“You’re a banshee,” Ochako replied, chest rising and falling with adrenaline.

They stared at each other.

No more guessing. No more teasing and pretending.

He stepped forward, and to his surprise, she didn’t retreat.

“So how long have you known?” he asked.

“That you aren’t human?” She gave a breathy laugh. “Since the second you walked into the cafe.”

“Tch.” He looked away, then back. “You cast a ward when you leave your shop. I knew it was run by someone magical before I even met you.”

A soft hum left her as though she hadn’t considered that. “You win that round then, I suppose. I didn’t know that you’re a banshee until… like, three minutes ago.”

“And I didn’t know you were a siren.”

“So a draw then?” she said, a sly smile on her face. 

Katsuki chuckled. “Guess so.”

They stood there, side by side, as sirens and banshees hadn’t done in centuries. Their kinds weren’t enemies, but they weren’t allies either. Just… solitary. Private, though they were both bound to death and beauty in equal measure.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” she asked quietly.

Katsuki’s voice dropped. “Didn’t want to scare you off.”

Ochako blinked. “You thought you’d scare me? ”

He shot her a half-smile, though it wasn’t entirely joyful. “Herald of death and everything? Yeah, people tend to keep their distance.”

She smiled back, more reassuring than his expression. He had compared her to sunshine before, but now he thought she was more like moonlight. “I don’t think that’s fair at all.”

For a moment, it felt like something shifted between them—like the pulse of the city faded, and the only sound left was the low rhythm of two ancient things remembering what it was to belong.

Then sirens echoed in the distance—the human kind this time, wailing from the top of a vehicle—and the spell between them broke.

“I should go,” Katsuki muttered.

Ochako nodded, an understanding smile on her lips. He felt vulnerable in a way she didn’t completely understand, but could attribute to the fact that he was probably used to being on his own, used to being hidden in the shadows, or now that he had moved to a big city, lost in the hustle and bustle enough not to be noticed. Ochako saw all of him now, and that scared him.

Her voice was gentler now. “Come by the cafe soon. I’ll make you something spicy, just how you like it.”

He looked at her, like he was seeing her for the first time. Maybe he hadn’t expected her to invite him to stay in her life so openly. Was part of the reason he hadn’t told her outright what he was that he feared some sort of judgment from her?

Well he would find none. Ochako was no stranger to death, even if that was in her past now. With the way he helped her protect the city, he was no cause of demise and suffering either.

With a nod and the slightest uptick of his lips, Katsuki turned to go, but he paused. Ochako’s heart skipped a beat when he turned back around and she could look into his crimson eyes again.

“Why do you smell like flowers? The salt, I get.”

She was confused at first, but then she laughed. It had probably been on his mind this whole time, and maybe even an obstacle for him to figure out exactly what she was.

“Witches aren’t the only ones who make tinctures. I use one of evening primrose for protection and success. And because it helps mask the smell of seaweed,” she admitted.

He nodded, then smiled at her in a way he hadn’t yet, something soft and at peace. Then he disappeared with the whistle of the sea breeze.

But the resonance he left behind lingered. It was in that moment, as she felt comforted in his energy all around her even after he was gone, that Ochako knew this wasn’t just the start of a friendship.

It was the beginning of something inevitable.

Chapter Text

The coffee shop had grown.

Not in size, really—though the herb garden Katsuki planted in the alley had made the once mildly dingy back patio twice as popular.

No, it had grown in spirit.

The shelves were fuller. The air was warmer. The magic, though the humans couldn’t feel it, was gentler.

And everything smelled faintly of roasted beans, crisp clean air, and the sea. But moreso, it smelled like home.

Ochako leaned against the counter, chin propped on her hand as she watched Katsuki arrange pastries in the display case with the kind of exacting intensity he used for banishing spirits. Each scone aligned perfectly, each cookie turned just so. He hated fingerprints on the glass, loved the sharp click of the tongs, and begrudgingly wore the apron she’d enchanted for self-cleaning. He’d never admit he liked the embroidery she added to the corner, even though she knew he did: a tiny embroidered wave crashing over a skull.

It was a slow Tuesday afternoon. Rain pattered against the windows, blurring the street into watercolor. Most customers were taking shelter in their respective places of work or dwelling, unwilling to make any other stops in the downpour.

“I think the storm’s scaring off the regulars,” Ochako murmured.

Katsuki glanced up, brushing flour from his fingers. “Good. I like when it’s quiet.”

She raised an eyebrow. “That’s not what you said during the Valentine’s rush.”

He scowled. “That was different. I was in the zone, even though there were kids fucking everywhere.”

She grinned. “You’re good with the kids, though.”

He shrugged, looking away. “They’re just loud gnomes with stickier hands.”

Ochako laughed, and Katsuki couldn’t help the way his expression softened.

There was a long moment where neither of them said anything. Just the rain, the low murmur of the record player spinning one of Katsuki’s favorites, something old and slow, and the hum of magic strung like a net around the café.

She walked over and nudged him with her hip. “Sit with me.”

He grunted but let himself be led to one of the side tables by the window, where a half-drunk mug of rose cardamom coffee waited for her and a double espresso with a smoked finish was cooling next to a worn notebook of spell formulas coffee flavors.

They sat close. Outside, the rain thickened. Inside, the silence and space between them felt warm.

Ochako turned her face to him, her voice quieter than the storm. But she knew he would hear her just fine. “Did you ever think we’d end up like this?”

Katsuki sipped his coffee, his gaze never leaving hers. “Didn’t think I’d end up somewhere for long at all.”

She reached out, sliding her fingers over his. “I’m glad you did.”

He didn’t smile—not the big kind or not the sarcastic kind he sometimes gave her—but his eyes softened, and he squeezed her hand back like a promise.

“Me too,” he said.

And then they just sat—two creatures who had once been monsters in someone else's story—now co-owners of a café that made people feel safe without knowing why.

The world outside churned.

But inside, everything was warm and whole.

And theirs .