Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sun crept towards the horizon as Izuku worked.

He was so focused on carefully sorting and tying up the herbs he’d gathered that he hadn’t yet registered the fading light. His head was ducked to focus on what he was doing. As it often did, his mind had drifted off to daydream about far off lands and grand adventures that he was far too ordinary to ever hope to experience.

The sun slipped past the horizon without him noticing.

As he tied off the last of his herbs, he sat back on his haunches, nodding absently as he surveyed his work. Not bad, for only a few hours of gathering.

He was startled abruptly out of his reverie by a loud cry.

Izuku immediately whipped around and was met with the sight of a stout creature with wart-covered green skin and sharp, yellow teeth on display from its sneering mouth. It held a massive club aloft, preparing to swing it down on his head.

A goblin.

Izuku let out a strangled cry of shock, but it was so close to him that there wasn’t time for much of anything else. Even as he was falling backwards in his reactive move to get out of the way, there was a blur of bright red that came in between him and the goblin.

Izuku’s heart dropped so fast it was almost painful from the second shock of a man appearing practically out of nowhere. The man’s broadsword clashed with the goblin’s club that was midway through its arc towards Izuku’s head. The resulting sound was a CLANG so loud that Izuku swore he felt it rattling his bones.

“DIE!”

The man screamed the word with such volume and ferocity that Izuku nearly felt faint from the additional terror it added to his existing state of alarm.

Still, this wasn’t the first time he’d found himself in a bit of trouble. He didn’t waste the time he’d been given by the man’s interference. His own weapons were still carefully laid on the ground where he’d removed them while focusing on his work. As he scrambled back, he snatched one of his swords from the ground. Once he was out of the immediate vicinity of the fight, he shoved himself up.

Within seconds, Izuku was on his feet, sword in hand, facing the man and the goblin. His blood rushed in his veins as he prepared to defend himself, but in the next moment his eyes widened as he registered the man’s sword already driven through the center of the goblin’s chest.

“Disgusting, soulless bastards.”

The man gritted out the words viciously as he pulled his sword back, leaving the goblin’s corpse to fall heavily and limply to the ground. He looked at it with open contempt. There was a look in his eye that was so irate it bordered on manic, and his look of disgust almost made it look like he was baring his teeth at it.

Izuku’s heart pounded hard inside his chest. He adjusted his grip on his sword, ready to fight off the man if need be. The man had saved his life, but that didn’t mean he was in the clear yet.

They were near the port city of Hillside, but several miles deep into the forest. Izuku hadn’t seen another human since he strayed from the main paths earlier this morning. The abrupt appearance of another person was odd enough to make Izuku apprehensive.

Savior or not, Izuku didn’t know who the man was or what he wanted. The speed and precision with which he’d killed the goblin made Izuku sufficiently cautious. Goblins were no major threat, but they were dense and strong. Killing it with one blow meant that the hit was both well placed and incredibly powerful.

When the man turned to face him, Izuku instinctively shifted further into his fighting stance, sword at the ready. The utter fury displayed on the man’s face was more than alarming, it was terrifying. In his state of mind-numbing fear, Izuku comprehended only a few things.

Firstly, the man had a long red cloak lined in fur. It was a bright red, which meant that he was either incredibly rich to be able to afford the dyes, or he was dragonkind.

Secondly, the man looked to be about Izuku’s age, with spiky pale blond hair that shot out from his head in all directions. He wasn’t wearing a shirt under his cloak despite the weather. That all but confirmed that he was dragonkind. The growing chill in the air from the approaching cold season left everyone scrambling for more layers, but dragonkind this far down south and away from the mountains? Most likely, they wouldn’t be bothered in the slightest.

Not to mention, Izuku had heard of dragonkind riding into battle without much clothing. As the stories went, it was to spare their clothes the stains from the blood of their enemies.

Izuku’s heart was thundering impossibly fast, but he held his ground.

“What the hell are you doing?!” the man shouted, approaching.

Izuku took a step back, brandishing his sword as he did so to emphasize its presence. Unfortunately, the man now stood between him and his other weapons, but at least he had this one.

“I have no quarrel with you, stranger,” said Izuku in the calmest but firmest tone that he could manage. “I have no desire to fight you.”

The man glared at him with a rather twisted expression that Izuku had trouble reading—almost disgusted or offended. Then he scoffed, sheathing his sword with somewhat of an exaggerated and dramatic flourish. Then he placed his hands on his hips, redirecting the full weight of his infuriated, terrifying gaze at Izuku.

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?!” he shouted.

Izuku stared at him in bewilderment, eyes flicking back and forth between the man’s sheathed sword and his murderous expression.

“You have to know there are caves near here!” the man went on, spitting mad. “Goblins come out when the sun goes down! I know that y—GAH!”

The man cut himself off with a frustrated yell, seeming overcome with his emotions as he threw his hands in the air.

Izuku’s grip slackened slightly on his sword. His blood still rushed in his body as a lingering effect of the goblin attack, but his uneasiness and terror were beginning to give way to utter bafflement with each passing second.

“And your swords weren’t even on!” the man gritted out, gesturing at Izuku’s pile of things like it scandalized him. “Of all the stupid, gullible, things you’ve—that you could do!”

Izuku let his hands fall to his sides, his sword dangling a bit loosely from his grip. He sort of felt like he was being scolded, and he wasn’t entirely sure what to do with that.

As the man began to pace, ranting and seething with enduring rage, Izuku took a second look at him.

In addition to the red cape, he wore dark, sturdy pants with protective gear over his elbows and knees. He had gray lace-up boots that went halfway up his calves that were caked in mud at the bottom. Around his neck, he had several necklaces of various bright colors shaped like large fangs, and red earrings in the same style.

As he threw his hands around and paced, Izuku spotted a tattoo on his upper left arm and shoulder. In his brief glimpses, Izuku thought it looked like the letter “I” with thick linework around it. Maybe his family name? The name of his partner?

Lastly, as the fear of attack faded further, Izuku noticed belatedly that the man was strikingly handsome.

Though his face kept twisting into rather unflattering expressions, his features were actually quite… uncommonly attractive. He had a strong jawline and startling red eyes. He had a pale complexion that belonged only to royalty or people from the far north; Izuku suspected that he likely fell into the latter category. Despite how that sort of skin tone often made people look sickly, Izuku thought it suited him well enough.

“You could’ve died!” the man was still yelling at him.

It wasn’t certain that the goblin would’ve killed him, but Izuku was definitely grateful for his interference. He also appreciated the depth of the stranger’s concern, even if he found it rather confusing.

More than likely from what Izuku had gathered, the man was dragonkind and a barbarian. Mountain country was very, very far from here, and Izuku couldn’t recall ever meeting anyone from there before.

Though, he’d heard the stories, and it didn’t help him feel very relaxed.

Izuku still hesitated to slacken his grip on his sword any further or to go as far as to sheath it, but it was becoming increasingly clear that the man, while obviously upset, didn’t plan on attacking Izuku.

“What do you have to say for yourself?!” the man snapped as he rounded on Izuku.

He took several steps in Izuku’s direction so quickly that Izuku reactively stumbled back a few steps, hand again tightening on his sword. His heartrate spiked back to full speed.

The man stopped short, and his own face momentarily flickered to something else. Briefly, it looked like he was just as startled by Izuku’s reaction as Izuku had been startled by him. That made no sense; surely this man understood how he came across.

For a long moment, they were both very still as they just stared at each other. The waterfall roared not too far from them, and the breeze pushed both of their hair around lightly.

“T-thank you,” Izuku managed to say after he recovered from his own shock. “I’m not sure why you were also out here, but I’m grateful that you were.”

The man looked away sharply at that, his face twisting back into a scowl. Though he looked less angry now, more… irritated? Somber? Definitely not happy.

“It’s whatever,” he replied stiffly. “I was headed for Hillside anyways and happened to see the goblin headed over to clobber your dumbass into the ground.”

Despite the man’s crude choice of words, Izuku’s eyes widened and a grin spread across his face.

“The fates were looking out for me today, then!” he laughed somewhat breathlessly. “What’re the odds of that?”

For a moment, the man just stared at him stoically, seeming to appraise him carefully with those intense red eyes. Then, his eye twitched and he dropped his gaze to glower at the ground.

“I wouldn’t know anything about that,” he said lowly. “The fates have never done me any favors.”

Izuku blinked expressionlessly at such a heavy statement, before looking away uncomfortably. He wasn’t entirely certain what to say to that.

“Oi!”

Jolting slightly when the man snapped at him again, Izuku looked back over at him. The man had turned to go and taken several steps away. He looked irritated again.

“You comin’ or what?” he asked. “It’s getting dark.”

“Coming… where?” asked Izuku, wary again.

“To Hillside,” the man bit out, narrowing his eyes.

“Oh, right,” Izuku replied, but then he hesitated again. “How did you know I was headed there?”

The question seemed to set off the man’s rage again, and he sneered in Izuku’s direction.

“You’re not carrying any supplies with you except your weapons,” he retorted, voice sharply critical. “Hillside is the only town anywhere near here. If you’re not headed there, you’re a massive idiot!”

“Ah, right, right!” Izuku replied, nodding as his face heated a bit.

Clearly this man was frustrated with him, but it also didn’t seem that he intended any real harm. He’d saved him, shown obvious—though slightly aggressive—concern, and was now offering to head back to town together since the sun had sunk so low.

Sure, he was quite offputtingly abrasive, but maybe that was more typical for dragonkind or mountainfolk. Izuku wouldn’t know, though he wouldn’t be surprised based on the stories he’d heard.

Izuku scrambled to pack away his things, feeling increasingly bad about his doubts and unfriendly stance.

Was he being unfairly suspicious? He’d heard a lot of scary, disturbing stories about some parts of mountain country. Dragons, bandit brigades, and old, old magic were just some of the things he’d heard of that lived among the rocks and in the crevices of the mountains up north.

Though… that didn’t tell him anything about this man for sure. Izuku shook his head, vowing to stop letting his fear of the unknown get to him.

When he straightened—weapons refastened and herbs packed away—the man stood at the edge of the clearing, watching him. Izuku met his eyes, and the man quickly looked away. Still, his expression made Izuku curious and uneasy in equal amounts; it was mostly blank, but sharply watchful.

It was nerve-wracking to have a figure so imposing and mysterious direct their attention at him. Izuku was plain by nature and tended to blend in with the crowd more often than he stood out. His clothes were also common, sun-bleached, and well-worn. Even his green hair and eyes weren’t uncommon, especially in wooded areas such as this. Plenty of people had the features as a mark of having treekind ancestors.

What did the man see when he looked at Izuku?

What could a man such as he possibly see when he looked at someone so plain and ordinary?

The man turned to go, and Izuku hurried to follow him.

Izuku quickly concluded that perhaps the man was new to these parts and found Izuku just as intriguing and foreign as Izuku did him. Maybe he’d never met anyone who wasn’t mountainfolk.

The walk back to Hillside was quiet as they moved downhill through the forest. The man moved fast and said nothing, and Izuku followed as he turned over everything in his mind.

It was dark by the time they reached the edge of the town. Soon enough, the dirt path grew sturdier and more traveled, before finally giving way to cobblestone.

Izuku’s time with his thoughts had only made him feel even guiltier and more uncertain about his prejudices, so he spoke up right before they entered town.

“Let me buy you a drink,” he blurted out, pretending like he didn’t feel the heat creeping up his neck at his own boldness.

The man abruptly stopped walking, turning to look at him with eyes narrowed in clear suspicion.

“Why?”

“Well, uh, just as a thank you!” replied Izuku, trying to smile in a friendly way. “You saved my life back there. Let me buy you a drink. Some food might be good too. I’m hungry!”

“It’s fine,” the man said lowly as he shook his head, eyes leaving Izuku’s face to trail around them as if bored. “Forget about it.”

He started to turn with the clear intention of continuing to walk. With absolutely no forethought, Izuku’s hand shot out and grabbed his arm. The man was taller than him, though not by much; his eye level sat just a bit above Izuku’s own. Izuku pulled him back, staring intently into his eyes as he spoke with as much sincerity as he could muster.

“You saved my life,” Izuku insisted adamantly. “A drink is nothing in comparison to that. Please let me thank you in this one way. I’m not sure how I would ever be able to repay a life debt, so allow me this small relief to my conscience.”

The man’s face was incredibly stoic, eyes flickering down to where Izuku still had a firm hand wrapped around his bicep.

There was a beat of silence and then Izuku startled, nearly flailing in his effort to back up. His face heated up in record time.

“Oh, s-sorry!” Izuku stammered out, shocked back to his feeling of terror before.

Izuku was mortified. Why would he grab this man so casually? He was not the sort of person to do that.

When he looked back at the man, his intense red eyes were staring at him, unblinking. His face was set in stone, and Izuku’s heart dropped further from dread.

Had he greatly offended him somehow? Dammit, he didn’t know much at all about people up north. Was it incredibly strange to touch someone like that who you didn’t know? Though, he knew that it was an odd thing to do in general.

He went on, “I don’t know why I did that. I—I—”

“Shut up,” the man cut him off, looking away. “Fine… a drink’s fine. Just stop with the life debt stuff.”

The grin broke out across Izuku’s face before he could stop it, and an unexpected thrill of victory sang through him. Though, his eyes widened slightly when he noticed that the man’s face had reddened; his face was partially turned and ducked out of view, but Izuku could make out the color on his pale skin even in the low light of the street lanterns.

Had Izuku made him that angry? Embarrassed him somehow?

He changed the subject quickly, “Great! I’m staying at a place near the port. Good food, nice owner, and the ale doesn’t always taste like dirty dish water!”

“Good enough for me,” the man muttered, still looking away.

Izuku felt oddly light as he led the way. He still didn’t know anything about this man, but he had so few friends in general that he found himself excited to share a drink all the same.

The genuine terror from the events of the goblin attack had faded to wariness as the minutes had gone by. And now? That feeling had given way to a different kind of nervousness; there was a jittery, excited feeling buzzing inside of him that almost felt like there were butterflies trapped inside his stomach.

Chapter Text

The tavern was very crowded.

It was well into the evening by now. Since the tavern was a popular joint in a central area of the city, everyone who’d concluded their workday had swung by for a drink… or five.

Most evenings would grow busy like this, and there would often be a bard or some other form of entertainment at the front of the room on a low stage, adding to the general din. It was a sort of dingy, dimly lit place with lanterns dotted sporadically around. It had a low ceiling that seemed to sag concerningly in some places despite the huge wooden beams all over the room that were clearly meant to be holding it up.

Izuku liked it because—despite being a loner—he never felt alone here. It was easy to strike up conversation over a drink or a meal. Hillside was a port city; everyone was from all over the place, so no one was out of place.

Well… except the man sitting across from him now, apparently.

Even with the diversity of the port city townsfolk, the strange man who’d saved Izuku’s life stuck out like a sore thumb in a way Izuku had never seen anyone do before. His bright red cloak alone was enough to draw eyes, but his build and demeanor were enough to have people sitting up a bit straighter and looking over at him.

Though the people could also be eyeing the massive broadsword that the man had leaned up against the wall. While Izuku had a room upstairs that he was able to go leave most of his belongings, the man didn’t have a room or seem to have any interest in parting with his weapons. Though since he didn’t appear to have many other belongings on him, Izuku figured he had a room elsewhere in the town.

On top of all that, the man’s startlingly good looks were even more apparent to Izuku now in contrast with the general population. If Izuku let himself think about it for too long, he’d grow flustered.

It would be generous to say that the man had put on a shirt as they entered town, seeing as said shirt covered very little of his chest and cut off before his abdomen. Even still, he’d covered up enough to where he wasn’t as likely to be accused of indecency.

It was a blue piece of tough fabric that covered his shoulders and wrapped around his ribcage, but over his chest it was held together by leather cords that crisscrossed over each other. It was as if he’d run out of fabric before he’d been able to connect the shirt in the middle and bridged the gap with the leather cords.

Izuku suspected that wasn’t the case, but he really couldn’t understand the point of such a shirt, as it left much of the man’s expansive musculature still on display.

Despite the stares that Izuku definitely saw people directing their way, the man seemed entirely uninterested in any of them. He barely seemed interested in Izuku or the food or their conversation. Generally, he seemed very unhappy. Almost angry… though that seemed fairly typical for him thus far.

They’d managed to grab a table on the wall opposite to the entrance. It was lined with small windows, but they were far too dirty to see much of anything outside. They sat across a rickety wooden table from each other, with Izuku facing the stage with the bard and the man facing the bar, though of course many crowded tables separated them from either one. Izuku was resolutely ignoring the fact that the table was so tiny that their legs could easily bump into each other if they weren’t careful.

Despite how boldly he’d grabbed the man’s arm not too long ago, Izuku now felt completely out of his depth. Though he had plenty of interaction with strangers and often liked engaging in conversation with new people in this very tavern, this felt… different, for some reason.

Izuku’s nervous energy had only built more and more on top of itself. Now, he felt fully anxious, though in a completely different way than before. The chaos of the room was making Izuku feel jittery and then adding the mystery man in front of him… well, Izuku wasn’t used to being the center of attention. He wasn’t used to any attention, really.

Though it was hard to tell what exactly was driving Izuku to this level of nerves.

Was it the man’s undeniable good looks?

Was it the mystery and intrigue that he drew in from all around him—including Izuku?

Since Izuku was no longer dealing with the fear of death, he was forced to accept the fact that this beautiful, mysterious stranger had rushed in to save his life in the nick of time. He’d really just swooped in and effortlessly killed that goblin and had been concerned in his own, aggressive way for Izuku’s safety.

Not to mention that, now that Izuku was sitting across the table from him… well, the man just looked unreal. Like a work of art.

Face to face, with no distractions, Izuku was horrified to find that he only found him more attractive. His red eyes looked darker, and the lines of his face seemed to contrast more sharply in the dim lighting of the lanterns.

In addition, his poor excuse for a shirt didn’t cover nearly enough; more than once, Izuku had to stop himself from staring at his unfairly toned chest and abdomen. Keeping his eyes on the man’s face was proving to be embarrassingly difficult. It didn’t make Izuku feel any less nervous, but it did make him feel like a creep, so he continued to do his best to keep his eyes on the man’s face at the very least.

There was so much happening. Izuku found himself increasingly desperate to speak with each second that ticked by. He felt almost awkward, despite how the man seemed like he could care less about anything Izuku did or said.

“So, what do I call you?” asked Izuku as he tore off too big a chunk of his bread.

Barely paying attention, he shoveled the entire thing in his mouth anyways. He hurried to take a swig of his drink to try and wash it down without choking. With the bread masking the taste, Izuku found the ale slightly more tolerable.

“Katsuki,” the man replied tersely, scowling down at his food.

Katsuki sounded like a given name, not a family name. It would be an incredibly familiar way to address a stranger, but maybe naming customs were different up in the mountains. Izuku chose not to question him about it.

“I’m Midoriya Izuku,” Izuku said once he’d managed to swallow his food.

He decided to offer both his names to allow the man to choose whichever he wished. While it would likely feel very odd to have someone he just met call him Izuku, he’d rather Katsuki do what made him comfortable.

Katsuki nodded curtly in reply to his introduction, though he didn’t look up from his plate, still glaring at it like it offended him. Then he abruptly snatched up his own pint of the tavern’s semi-questionable ale and took an impressively long drink before slamming it back on the table.

Izuku began to feel a bit bad at the extent to which Katsuki was clearly hating this. He really looked pissed off, but Izuku quickly arrived at the conclusion that the fact that he was here had to be answer enough. After all, Izuku wasn’t forcing him to be here.

Though it was a bit strange that Katsuki seemed to hate this so much but wasn’t leaving. Why did he bother staying?

Maybe Katsuki just always scowled like this.

“So, what’s the ‘I’ for?” Izuku inquired, making another attempt at conversation when he realized Katsuki wasn’t going to say anything more. “Your other name?”

At this, Katsuki finally looked up at him, squinting in confusion, though he still looked like he’d swallowed something bitter.

“Hah?” he drawled.

Izuku put his right hand over his own left shoulder and then pointed at Katsuki’s.

“Your tattoo,” he elaborated, slightly louder to try and make his words clearer over the noise of the tavern. “Is it a family crest?”

Katsuki’s face contorted into a grimace so quickly that Izuku had a hard time following the emotions of his expression, but it quickly settled on ire before his gaze dropped again.

“Ain’t your fuckin’ business, is it?” he bit out, glaring down at the table. His voice was so gruff so suddenly that Izuku realized that he must’ve offended him somehow. “Stop askin’ personal questions!”

“I’m sorry!” Izuku went red, shaking his head, and his hands flailing frantically. He hurried to try and diffuse the sudden tenseness and aggression that were radiating off Katsuki. “I’m sorry—I wasn’t thinking! I didn’t realize—I won’t ask again!”

“Tch,” Katsuki made an annoyed noise, before taking another impressively—almost concerningly—large drink of his ale. His face was still twisted into a deep scowl.

Izuku’s mind searched desperately for a change of topic.

In this new setting, without the fear of potential attack to cloud his perception, Izuku could very clearly make out the strange way that Katsuki spoke. It grew far more obvious when he got angry—or angrier at least.

It was an accent that Izuku couldn’t recall ever having heard before, though he supposed that was unsurprising considering he’d never met any mountainfolk before.

People often told Izuku that he talked like he was from river country, even though he’d never been. River country and mountain country overlapped in a lot of places up north, so he could see how people thought his own way of speaking was similar to Katsuki’s. He could hear the basic similarities in some of the emphases and cadences of their accents.

“You’re not from around here,” remarked Izuku, curiosity overtaking him and allowing the words to escape.

It occurred to him right after he spoke that this might also be too personal, but Katsuki didn’t snap at him this time. Instead, he just looked up at him. His scowl faded to something less twisted, more like the smoothed over indifference that seemed to be another one of his frequent expressions.

“Neither are you,” Katsuki replied, quirking one of his eyebrows slightly.

Izuku was surprised by how his heart jolted. He didn’t know why it did that, but he hurried to push it away and forget about it. He took a swig of his own drink, focusing on the foul taste rather than the way his heart was acting.

“True,” said Izuku. He laughed to try and dispel his own nervousness, but it came out sounding more awkward than he’d hoped.

Though… Izuku eyed Katsuki a bit curiously as he belatedly comprehended what he’d said a bit more. He wondered how Katsuki knew that with such certainty.

Unlike Katsuki, Izuku was plain with common features and an entirely unintimidating disposition. He was dressed similarly to many of the locals and generally looked a lot like them too. He liked to think he blended in quite well by now, but this out-of-towner saw through him right away.

Most likely, he just heard Izuku’s accent and wrongly assumed he was from river country or something.

“So, Katsuki,” Izuku began, trying again for a friendly, casual smile while he hoped desperately that his nervous energy wasn’t too obvious. “What brings you around these parts?”

The name felt bizarre on his tongue. Perhaps it felt too intimate and familiar for someone who was all but a stranger.

Izuku desperately hoped this question wouldn’t also cause offense.

Katsuki just stared back at him stoically for a moment. Then, he scoffed and something like a rueful smile twisted on his face as he reached for his pint again.

Looking somewhere past Izuku, eyes unfocused, Katsuki muttered, “Chasin’ ghosts, I guess.”

Izuku had very little idea what he meant by that. His brow furrowed as he stared blankly at Katsuki, unsure what to say in response to a statement so vague.

Katsuki drained the last of his ale, waving down the barkeep for another.

It just went to show how interested people were in Katsuki’s presence, because the barkeep sent one of the errand boys over with more ale right away. The boy didn’t even look at Katsuki, placing it down before running away.

Izuku was almost offended, having never been able to acquire a drink nearly as quickly when it was crowded like this. He turned slightly to follow the boy back to the bar with his eyes, gaping and mildly annoyed.

He turned back around and made eye contact with Katsuki, who snorted loudly at the expression on his face.

“What?” Katsuki asked, smirking in a slightly mean way that really shouldn’t have made Izuku’s heart thump faster at the sight.

Izuku shook his head slowly as his disbelief and shock lingered, but he decided it wasn’t worth going down that line of conversation. After all, it made sense… even if Izuku was a bit miffed.

“Nothing,” he said. “You were saying?”

Katsuki stared at him, hesitating as if he were going to protest but then just said, “I’m just kinda a nomad these days. Ended up here.”

“Oh!” Izuku lit up, smiling broadly. “Really? Me too!”

Katsuki lifted his eyebrows and lowered them once while the rest of his face remained lifeless, the smallest possible acknowledgement of the statement.

Unsure if he was being made fun of or if he’d again offended the man, Izuku shuffled his leg nervously. Almost immediately, it bumped into Katsuki’s leg and he was quick to draw it back.

“Sorry!” he rushed to say, wincing and glancing up at Katsuki.

Katsuki didn’t even seem to have heard him or noticed his error; instead, he was staring into his pint of ale with a deep frown on his face. Izuku wondered if he’d somehow already finished his second one.

Izuku felt another bout of awkwardness and a growing need to find at least one direction of conversation that was acceptable. This was going terribly, and he felt increasingly embarrassed. Though there was a chance that Katsuki wasn’t much of a conversationalist in general, he felt a strong desire to keep trying.

He felt an urge to somehow capture the attention of those sharp red eyes again.

“Though… I didn’t know dragonkind were nomadic,” Izuku said the first thing that came to mind in his desperation to keep talking.

Katsuki stared at him with an incredulous, slightly annoyed look. Then he again scoffed and said, “You think dragonkind have a hive mind or something? The hell does that have to do with anything?”

“A-ah, no, sorry!” Izuku sputtered immediately, heat flushing his face so much that he ducked his face. “That’s not what I meant!”

He barely resisted smacking a hand to his own forehead.

What the hell was that? He sounded so ignorant.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Izuku rambled nervously, flailing his hands as he tried his best to explain himself, unable to retain eye contact for very long as his humiliation washed over him. “I didn’t mean that you couldn’t—I just was sort of thinking out loud! I was just—I swear I’m very well-traveled, but I’ve just never actually met any dragonkind before. Really, I’ve never even gone up to the mountains before! I’ve never really wandered north at all. I like to travel, but it’s so unfamiliar to me and I have an old injury that hurts in the cold, so I—”

“How d’you know I’m dragonkind if you’ve never been up north?” asked Katsuki with narrowed eyes.

“Oh, uh…” Izuku’s face was still hot, and his eyes trailing down in the direction of Katsuki’s very toned torso did not help, so his eyes darted back up quickly. “Your red cloak for one thing. I know that that vibrant color comes almost exclusively from a flower up north—I, uh, forget the name—so it’s only dragonkind or, um, royalty that wear it. And, uh, your state of dress… it’s getting cold out, but you seem largely unaffected. Your accent is clearly from the north, and dragonkind live up north, mostly. I’ve heard that, anyways. Are you… not dragonkind?”

Izuku finished his ramble by trailing off lamely, looking at Katsuki hesitantly.

Though Katsuki didn’t smile, his face relaxed some, something like amusement shining in his eyes. Izuku flushed again, because was Katsuki laughing at him? Did he notice Izuku’s attraction that he was doing a terrible job of suppressing or hiding?

“Wow, we have a scholar on our hands,” Katsuki said dryly, making it sound insulting somehow.

Izuku ducked his head, rubbing at the back of his neck bashfully. “Uh, not really, no. I’ve actually—”

I’ve actually never attended school.

He cut himself off sharply, realizing that was not something he wanted to inform this highly impressive stranger. If he was already plain and mediocre in comparison to this man, announcing that he was uneducated would only make things so much worse.

Not to mention, if Katsuki asked why, Izuku would have nothing to say. Nothing except to admit that he was an invalid, which Izuku would rather bite his own tongue off than do.

“Um, I just like to read,” Izuku said, though his mood had sunk sharply at the reminder of his condition.

There was a pause as Izuku tried to force away the rising shame and pain that was trying to creep up and poison his mood. He didn’t have time for this right now. More than likely, this would be the last conversation he ever had with Katsuki. He wanted to make the most of it.

Katsuki huffed out a breath, cutting into Izuku’s mental struggle.

“Yes, I’m dragonkind.”

Izuku looked up, meeting his eyes and saw that the watchful gaze had returned to Katsuki’s eyes. Izuku’s heartrate picked up again.

“I guess your scholarly undertaking has paid off,” grumbled Katsuki, moving to stare into his pint again and swirling the cup around.

Izuku stared blankly at him. This time it didn’t sound like Katsuki was mocking him, but he still didn’t understand what Katsuki was doing.

The heavy weight in his heart hadn’t faded either.

“Thank you,” he replied quietly, taking up his own pint and draining the rest of it.

When he set it down, the errand boy reappeared, dropping two more pints off before running away quickly yet again. Katsuki pushed one in Izuku’s direction, snatching up the other for himself.

Before Izuku could comment, Katsuki said, “Scholar such as yourself, I’m sure you have questions for me.”

“Oh, I’m not actually a scholar, really,” Izuku winced, face falling further. Then the rest of the words slipped out, “I didn’t, um—didn’t go to school. T-to become one.”

Izuku’s face felt hot and he stared down at his food with gritted teeth. The urge to cry spiked up when he realized what his loose tongue had revealed.

He didn’t know why the hell he’d said that. It would be more accurate for Izuku to say he couldn’t remember if he’d gone to school, but he had no desire to draw attention to his malady. Already, he begged the fates that Katsuki wouldn’t ask more about this.

Sure, he hadn’t admitted he hadn’t gone to school at all, but why the hell was he staying on this subject? He needed to move away from this topic before he embarrassed himself irrevocably, but the chaos of the evening and the beginnings of an ale-induced buzz were clouding his thoughts.

“’Actual’ scholars are uptight, insufferable bastards, anyways,” Katsuki said, tone sharply derisive. Izuku glanced up and saw his shrug, before meeting his eyes. “I prefer you.”

Izuku’s eyes widened even as Katsuki looked back down at his drink and took another swig. His heart was racing so fast he could feel it in his throat. His stomach felt like it was fluttering, which made him feel even more jittery.

But… it felt good. All the feelings that Katsuki made him feel were almost overwhelming in their intensity, but still undeniably good.

Izuku ducked his head as his face heated the most it had done yet. It felt like it was burning. Embarrassingly, he couldn’t keep the smile off his face even as he hid his shaking hands under the table.

“Ah, thank you,” he managed to say.

To his horror, his mind had wiped completely blank in response to such a statement.

“I prefer you.”

What did that even mean?

Izuku’s knee was jostling rapidly under the table.

They’d just met. Did he give Katsuki the impression that he was smarter than he was? Oh no… what if Katsuki was disappointed by him the more this conversation went on?

They’d just met, and he didn’t think Katsuki even liked him, but he preferred him? Preferred him over who exactly? What sort of scholars had he met? Were northern scholars different than the ones here?

Izuku’s mind raced, and he knew he needed to say something but his body and mind both buzzed with white noise.

“Oi,” barked Katsuki, kicking Izuku’s foot under the table with his own.

Izuku startled, looking up.

“I’m giving you an opportunity to ask me anything you want,” Katsuki said, visibly annoyed though his eyes were still trained on Izuku’s intensely. “Are you gonna sit there and mutter, or are you actually gonna ask me anything?”

Izuku’s eyes widened. “Wha—anything?”

Katsuki shrugged. “You’ve never been north. I happen to be an expert on the north. You’re welcome.”

“Oh… wow,” Izuku said, in awe as he began to comprehend the opportunity. The light returned to his eyes as he visibly brightened, and he leaned forward eagerly.

Katsuki looked at him and then away, and his cheeks almost looked a little pink, though it was hard to tell in this light. Maybe the ale was finally getting to him; he was already on at least his third one after all.

Izuku grinned widely, mind racing and excitement bubbling in his chest.

“Is it true that you have dragons?”

As the hours passed, conversation flowed with surprising ease. The drinks flowed with significantly less surprising ease.

Izuku was having such a good time that he couldn’t even be upset that the evening’s drinks were most likely going to clear out a good portion of his money.

Honestly? It was beyond worth it.

Despite the fact that Katsuki was clearly very inebriated at this point, he also genuinely seemed to be having a good time.

The more he drank, the more exaggerated and detailed both his stories and his movements got. He went from answering in as few words as possible to going on and on about whatever topic, waving his hands for emphasis sometimes.

In short, Izuku was enthralled.

Katsuki had lived a very interesting life. Even avoiding most personal details, his stories spun tales of grueling training to be a warrior in the mountains and befriending his first dragon.

In contrast to Izuku’s highly uneventful life… well, Izuku could listen to Katsuki talk forever.

Izuku’s questions all burst from his mouth one after the other. To his surprise, Katsuki indulged him in conversation and answered almost all of them. He only refused or changed the topic a few times—usually when Izuku asked something very personal.

Asking about dragonkind marriage rituals was fine; they were known for being highly devoted and loyal partners to a level unmatched by any other culture. But asking about Katsuki’s experience with relationships and if he had someone had earned him an infuriated scowl and a “Mind your business!” that effectively shut Izuku up.

When the conversation strayed too close to anything related to Katsuki’s forbidden topics, he clearly veered away from them even when he was well past drunk. The only difference being that the more he drank, the more obvious his avoidance became.

“There’s this big glacier not too far from m’ hometown,” Katsuki explained, voice slightly slurred at this point.

Izuku was far too drunk himself to remember how they’d gotten to this particular topic, but he wasn’t complaining. Though he found everything Katsuki said incredibly interesting, he also really liked the sound of Katsuki’s voice. If Katsuki repeated himself, Izuku was hardly complaining.

“Runoff makes a big river that splits off and goes down two sides of the mountain,” Katsuki went on, holding his hands together and then pushing forward and shoving them apart to give a visual for his words. “But the water is fuckin’ freezing, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Izuku muttered in agreement, nodding from where he was leaning on his open palm, elbow propped up on the table.

“One of the last rounds of training to be a warrior is to conjure fire while standing in the river in the middle a’ winter,” Katsuki said seriously, eyes zoned out as he stared down at the table.

Right. Katsuki had been explaining the warrior trials in extreme detail for a little while now.

“You can conjure fire?” Izuku interrupted to ask, excitedly.

Katsuki was dragonkind, so it was probably obvious that he could. Still, Izuku was elated. Elemental magic was very difficult and thus not entirely common.

“Hah?” Katsuki’s voice slurred as he squinted across the table at Izuku. “Wha… yeah, a’ course I can. I’m the fuckin’ best.”

“You’re amazing,” Izuku murmured in awe, staring across the table at him. The drinks had made his eyelids heavy, but even still he forced them open so he could fully take in Katsuki with as much detail that his alcohol-addled mind could make out.

Katsuki stared back at him, and his face had gone a bit slack. After a moment, he looked down. He moved his forearms to rest on the table, slumping forward onto them and threading a hand into his hair as he ducked his head.

“’S just fire magic,” Katsuki grumbled. “Plenty a’ people can do tha’ shit.”

“I don’t know how to!” Izuku protested, wonder still making his voice light.

Katsuki was still slouched forward onto the table, but he moved his hand and tilted his head up to look at Izuku with a strange expression. He was again squinting at Izuku as if confused or uncertain, and his lips were turned downwards in something like a pout. His face was red enough to be seen even in the dim lighting.

“You don’t?” Katsuki muttered, staring and blinking slowly at him.

“No, I don’t,” Izuku shook his head. “I don’t know any magic really. I mean… I’ve always wanted to learn but I—”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore,” Katsuki said very suddenly, cutting Izuku off and sounding upset enough that Izuku’s heart jolted in distress.

Izuku was happy to change the topic and breathed a sigh of relief when he was able to quickly restore the good mood.

The night wore on, and they continued to talk and talk.

Izuku couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like this. Talking with Katsuki, he felt excited, enamored, and alive in a way he couldn’t ever recall feeling before. Sure, the man had a habit of speaking rather crudely and was more than a little loud and abrasive, but he quickly grew on Izuku.

It was easy to banter back and forth with Katsuki. They argued over silly things with passion and competitiveness that made Izuku’s heart thump in his chest. Katsuki shot back at anything Izuku said and Izuku felt so exhilarated.

It didn’t take long to realize that Katsuki hid a far more complex person underneath his brash exterior. His stories of training to be a warrior and of various battles showed how truly skilled and fearsome the man was. His stories of travel and magic showed how learned he was.

Izuku was a man of few friends—well, of no friends—but even so, he knew Katsuki was exceptional. Really, he’d do anything to keep talking to him. To talk to him again tomorrow. To talk to him again someday.

He had absolutely nothing to offer Katsuki in terms of impressive feats or grand battles, but he had a few tales of his own from traveling over the years. Though Izuku knew they had to be incredibly boring in comparison to Katsuki’s life, his blood sang every time he glanced across the table to see Katsuki hanging onto every word he said.

It was well into the evening by the time Katsuki seemed to finally be done drinking. He drained the last of his ale and didn’t signal the barkeep for another. Or maybe he simply forgot to in the depth of his inebriation.

Izuku had stopped drinking a while ago. Instead, he’d been basking in the haze of his own buzz for a while, staring openly at Katsuki’s unfairly attractive face. He didn’t usually drink due to his… precarious health condition. So admittedly, he was enjoying indulging in it for tonight.

Despite how Katsuki had drank more ale than Izuku had ever seen anyone drink, the man was impressively still upright and speaking coherently enough.

They were on the topic of their travels and had been for a while now.

Katsuki said, almost bragging, “I know everythin’ south of Ferryton by heart. I’ve trekked back a’ forth about a thousand times!”

“I have too!” Izuku shot back immediately, feeling light with the banter and meeting Katsuki’s challenge easily.

“What a coincidence,” Katsuki said dryly, rolling his eyes.

Izuku squinted at him, trying to think through the haze. He fought to follow the joke, but he didn’t understand why Katsuki was being sarcastic. He was effectively distracted and pulled from his thoughts when Katsuki went on.

“Anyways,” Katsuki slammed his pint down, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “I’ve got the south and the north memorized, so I win!”

Katsuki’s mouth split into a wide grin. It was undeniably pleased and gleeful, but it also looked a bit feral as his eyes shown with victory.

Izuku stared as his blood rushed under his skin, utterly captivated.

“Wait!” Izuku protested, a bit breathless when he hurried to respond. “Even though I’ve never been north, doesn’t mean I don’t know it! I’ve studied maps before!”

“Don’t count!” Katsuki countered sharply, sneering. “You’d be lost as shit there without a map! But me?! Drop me in there blind and I’d still know it!”

“Well, then I guess you’ll just have to show me!” Izuku clapped back, grinning so wide it was hard to talk past where it split across his face. “We’ll go north, and you can prove your skills to me!”

Katsuki’s expression fell so fast that Izuku felt like the floor had dropped out from under his own feet as he witnessed it. Almost instantly, the wide, cocky smile had dropped from his face. He stared at Izuku with his eyes half-lidded with drunkenness and still managed to look like Izuku had just admitted to killing his mother.

With a shock that was like a slap in the face, Izuku realized that he’d massively overstepped somehow. His hazy mind combined with the sudden drop in mood made it hard for Izuku to think. He couldn’t focus; he didn’t know what specifically he’d said that upset Katsuki so badly.

More than anything, he wanted to take it back. He wanted to go back to a few seconds ago, to the teasing back and forth and that invigorating feeling and how the air had simmered with a tension that was almost palpable.

“Wait, uh, no, I didn’t mean that, sorry!” Izuku squeaked out hurriedly, so desperate to fix it that he almost forgot to breathe before he spoke.

His face had flooded with heat, which only made him feel woozier because he’d already felt warm from drinking and the excitement of the evening. His urgent need to repair what he’d done was feeding into a confused, disconcerted stress that grew with each passing second that Katsuki only stared at him with that expression.

It was all inconveniently wiping Izuku’s mind completely blank. He could barely remember what he’d said, much less how to excuse the insult he’d caused.

He rambled on, words spilling out despite how jumbled his mind was, “Obviously, we wouldn’t do that! Haha… I just… I was just joking, of course! We’re both wanderers, anyways, right? I mean, I know that I myself have always been a loner, and I like it that way! I just… well, I meant I guess if I ever run into you up there, that maybe we could get a drink again, like this here.”

Almost frantically, he gestured to the table and tavern—the only approved setting where he’d been allowed Katsuki’s presence.

“On me, of course,” Izuku was still rambling, face on fire, unable to look at Katsuki as his mortification only grew. “I-in this hypothetical situation, it would be on me, I mean! One meal and some drinks couldn’t make up for saving my life, really. I know you said not to mention that, but I just—I really am grateful for that and—”

Izuku’s voice cut off abruptly when his eyes caught on Katsuki’s face. His heart dropped further, his panic only deepening the pit in his stomach.

Katsuki looked devastated.

Somehow, his drunkenness was more obvious now than it had been at all thus far. It was clear in the unfiltered pain that was on his face. His half-lidded eyes had started to shine as if with unshed tears, his brows were pulled together slightly as they started to furrow, and his mouth was gaped slightly.

For a moment, Izuku could only stare back.

Katsuki’s expression held more raw emotion and pain than Izuku could ever hope to understand. He didn’t know what he’d said or done to trigger it. He didn’t know why Katsuki was staring at him like Izuku had told him his entire family was dead.

Izuku’s heart sunk further and he ducked his head as emotions shoved up his throat. They were selfish emotions that didn’t deserve tears, not when Katsuki clearly had some very real pain that he was dealing with.

Izuku burned with shame and disappointment as he realized he’d ruined everything.

“I’m so sorry,” he apologized quietly, though he didn’t really know what he was apologizing for. “I—I’ll just go. I’ll leave extra at the bar if—”

“’S fine,” Katsuki cut him off immediately. “Stay.”

Izuku looked up at him in genuine surprise, blinking slowly as his brain continued to try and make sense of things.

Katsuki was staring down at the table now, slouching his weight heavily onto where his arms were crossed on the table. His face still looked agonized in a way Izuku simply didn’t understand.

Izuku was frozen, staring and uncertain what to do. Because he was apparently a selfish and cruel person, he was oddly captivated even by these expressions on Katsuki’s face.

The right thing to do would probably be to leave… but if Katsuki genuinely didn’t want him here, all he had to do was let Izuku walk away.

So Izuku didn’t move, despite feeling so confused and out of his depth. Truthfully, he didn’t want to go. He wanted to fix this, if only to a point where he could hope to have dinner with Katsuki again like this someday. He had no idea how, but he wanted to try.

“It’s—gah,” Katsuki started talking, but his voice was audibly thick with emotion, and he cut himself off immediately, shaking his head slowly. He lifted one of his arms and dug his hand into his own hair, ducking his head so Izuku couldn’t see anything but the downturn of his lips and his chin. His blond hair hung in his face and covered everything else.

For a long moment, Izuku just watched him with a furrowed brow and waited. He didn’t know what to say, so he just stayed still and silent.

Eventually, Katsuki’s lips parted and he rasped quietly, “I can’t go back up north.”

His voice was strained and ragged with emotions that Izuku didn’t feel like he could begin to understand.

“Of course! I—I was only joking!” Izuku hurried to assure him. “Like I said earlier, I don’t really want to go north, because it’s too cold and it makes my bones hurt because I used to break them a lot and—”

Izuku cut himself off when he saw Katsuki’s hand move from his hair down to wipe at his face with the back of his hand. His face was still ducked down towards the table.

Izuku’s heart thudded hard against his chest, and he felt far, far too drunk for this sort of thing.

Katsuki was… crying.

Izuku had absolutely no idea how to comfort him. It was all so incredibly unexpected. After all, when Katsuki had saved his life earlier that evening, Izuku never would’ve guessed that later he would be openly crying across a table from him.

As Katsuki seemed to struggle to get himself together—breathing slightly uneven and hand over his eyes—Izuku panicked, feeling horribly out of his depth. He wished that he didn’t. He wanted to make it better. He wanted to do something to get him to stop crying. Izuku wasn’t even sure the entirety of what Katsuki was exuding at the moment.

Regret? Grief? Sorrow?

Possibly, all of those things and more.

But even without knowing why Katsuki was so upset or the reasons he so obviously avoided anything related to his friends or family, Izuku knew with certainty that he wouldn’t be able to offer any helpful words of comfort.

For as long as Izuku could remember, he’d been alone.

He was an orphan with no family to speak of. He didn’t even have friends apart from frequent acquaintances in towns he passed through a few times a year.

The sad but true reality was… Izuku had never loved or been loved enough to relate to whatever Katsuki was crying about.

Katsuki was mourning something—a loved one, a home.

Izuku didn’t have any loved ones.

He’d never had a home.

He was an invalid with an incurable malady, left to wander the streets alone for as long as he could remember.

How could Izuku ever understand the intensity with which Katsuki grieved when he’d never felt a love to match it?

In spite of how out of his depth and embarrassingly naïve Izuku felt, he didn’t move. He shoved aside the feelings of sorrow he felt that rose to try and palely imitate Katsuki’s. He shoved aside the empty feeling in his heart that throbbed painfully from how vacant and unloved it was.

“I like the south more anyways, don’t you?” Izuku said anxiously, cringing even as he said it because he was sure that he wasn’t being helpful. Still, the silence was getting to him too intensely. “It’s warmer here. You know, if we ever run into each other here sometime, I also wouldn’t mind getting dinner like this again… if that’s ever… uh, if you ever wanted another free dinner, I guess…”

Izuku finished lamely, trailing off.

Katsuki’s head was still ducked, and he was very still.

A few seconds passed and Izuku realized with an even heavier sinking feeling.

Why the hell would Katsuki ever want to do this again? Izuku had made him cry and brought up shit he clearly didn’t want to talk about.

“Or… if you didn’t, uh, want to talk to me…” Izuku’s face was on fire, and he had no idea why the hell he didn’t just shut up, but the urge to fix some of what he’d messed up here was proving impossible to suppress. “I could just buy you dinner and leave. Or, um, I do know how to shut up sometimes—”

A sound from Katsuki had Izuku going very still, blinking sluggish, confused eyes over at him. It was a strange noise, but if Izuku didn’t know any better, he’d say it was a laugh.

“No, you don’t,” Katsuki said, voice just as thick as it’d been before but now it was also… undeniably amused.

Izuku gaped for a moment, before immediately ducking his head and covering it with his arms as if they could hide him from sight. The humiliation overwhelmed him.

How had he managed to screw this up so quickly?

Dammit, he’d almost—maybe, could’ve possibly—made a friend! He’d really screwed it up by not keeping his mouth shut?!

“Sorry,” Izuku muttered into his own arms, mortified tears burning at his eyes. “I’m so sorry. I—”

“Izuku.”

Izuku physically startled when Katsuki’s low voice broke through his spiral to say his name. It felt like he’d been struck by lightning. A strange feeling shot through his gut, and all the hair on his arms raised. A chill raced down his spine, and he was breathing harder just from Katsuki uttering one damn word.

As he reeled from the feeling it ignited in his body, Izuku realized that he didn’t think Katsuki had actually said his name until now.

Then he realized with an odd, surreal sort of empty feeling that… he wasn’t sure he could remember the last time anyone had called him by his given name.

Blinking rapidly at the shock and the sudden emotions that were trying to rise up, Izuku moved his arms slightly to peek over at Katsuki.

Katsuki’s eyes were still half-lidded and ringed in red. There was undoubtedly still a sorrow about him that Izuku would likely never be able to understand in any capacity. Even so, Katsuki was peering over at him with a focus and intensity that was impressive considering the hour and the number of drinks coursing through his bloodstream.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Katsuki went on, and his voice was low and oddly soft.

It made Izuku’s heart flutter.

“Oh,” Izuku said, wincing slightly.

He didn’t say it, but… how did he mean it then?

Katsuki practically read his mind, elaborating right away in a tone that was quiet and tired, but earnest.

“I didn’t mean I wanted you to shut up now. I was just teasing you because you’ve been yapping away all evening. Hell, even when we were walking here from the woods, you were muttering to yourself the entire time.”

“Oh,” Izuku repeated as he ducked his head sheepishly again.

Had he really? Oh no, what had he even said?

Had he talked about how hot Katsuki was? Oh god that would be so embarrassing.

“You’re doing it right now,” Katsuki smirked.

“What?!”

Izuku startled so hard he kicked the table leg, but he was so shocked that he barely registered the pain.

“Kidding,” Katsuki said as his grin widened; it was genuine, though it didn’t chase the sorrow completely from his eyes. “Gotcha.”

Izuku ducked back behind his hands with a groan. He was very embarrassed and definitely confused, and he was way too drunk for all this.

When he peeked back up, he caught a look in Katsuki’s eye that he struggled to recognize or assign a specific emotion to. There was a ghost of a smile on his face, a subtle mirth in his eyes, and a generally pensive look about him.

Izuku blinked slowly as he stared, wondering if he’d drank way more than he realized.

Though he wasn’t sure, because no one had ever looked at him like this before, for a moment, he could’ve sworn Katsuki looked…

Fond?

Endeared?

Izuku didn’t even know the right word to ascribe to the expression on Katsuki’s face. They’d only met a few hours ago. Izuku couldn’t recall anyone ever directing such a look his way.

Izuku looked away, heart racing. He grew quickly awkward again, incredibly out of his depth in this unfamiliar situation.

Despite his embarrassment, Izuku felt a light, almost crazed sort of giddiness rising in his chest. This was all so incredibly abnormal for Izuku’s boring life, and yet his first reaction was to grab onto it all and not let go. It was almost addictive for a reason he couldn’t place.

He didn’t want to lose whatever this was.

He didn’t want to go back to a life before he knew Katsuki.

Even if he only got to see Katsuki every once in a while, he’d take it.

As Izuku scrambled for something to say, the bard changed songs. Though Izuku hadn’t given the music or entertainment the time of day for hours, the tune swiftly caught his attention.

He recognized the song.

Izuku perked up, fully shifting to sit up for the first time in a while. He gazed in the direction of the bard, past Katsuki’s shoulder. Izuku zeroed in on him—a young, brown-haired man that sat on a stool, strumming a lute—as he began to sing.

“I first met you at the riverside,

Staring at me with bright green eyes,

Fearless and strange and new,

When I left, I told you, I’ll be seeing you.”

Izuku absently hummed along with it, leaning his elbow on the table as his eyes unfocused slightly. The music looped in his attention fully, and he gazed towards the stage even though his vision had gone hopelessly blurry.

Often, bards wrote their own songs, but sometimes they sung popular ones. Izuku had heard this particular song several times over the years, in various completely different locations.

“Since then, we were always side by side,

Everywhere I looked, those wide green eyes,

All that pain you saw me through,

The best of my youth, I owe to you.”

It was a beautiful song, all low, swinging notes and echoing lulls. It brought a strange sort of comfort to Izuku for some reason.

Once, someone had told him it had the style of a mountainfolk song. So, at some point over the years it must’ve drifted down from the peoples over there.

Izuku wondered if this one was popular in the place that it was from.

He hoped so.

“The day came when I left your side,

But the peaks echoed your cries,

It was then, my love, that I knew,

I’d do whatever it takes to keep seeing you.”

It was a love song.

More specifically, it was a horribly forlorn type of love song; the lyrics were heavy and inspired heart ache more than anything else. It told a tale of people far away who Izuku would never meet, and yet he felt like he could almost taste their pain within the words.

Of course, Izuku had never been in love. Still, he always stopped and listened to it whenever he heard it.

So what if sometimes he wanted to close his eyes, and imagine for a moment that he could relate to the song?

Was that really so bad to wish that he’d loved enough to understand the loss?

Was it really so bad to wish that he had someone to miss? Someone to miss him back?

“The riverside has long run dry,

You gaze ahead with blank green eyes,

Still fearless, still painfully strange and new,

You don’t look for me, but I’ll be seeing you.”

“You know this song?”

Katsuki’s low voice drew Izuku’s attention.

Izuku blinked out of a stupor he hadn’t realized he’d entered. His eyes found their way back to Katsuki, who was watching him with yet another one of those strange looks that he didn’t know how to properly decipher.

In the dim light, with the soothing music in the background and Izuku’s mind in a lingering, buzzed state, Izuku had a thought that was just as nice as it was pathetic.

Out of all the moments in Izuku’s long, dull life, this moment with Katsuki was perhaps the very best of them all. Undoubtedly, it was his favorite.

With a deep pang in his chest, Izuku realized that he would miss Katsuki greatly when they parted ways.

They’d met mere hours ago, but Izuku was a lonely man with not a whole lot of people to compare Katsuki to. He knew that he would miss Katsuki more than the family he couldn’t remember losing.

He missed his family in a vacant sort of way. Really, he knew that he had to have a family because he had to come from somewhere, but he hadn’t the faintest idea where that somewhere was. He didn’t have any sort of clue what it was that he was missing and could only miss the very idea of them. He could only feel the space inside him that longed to love something and be loved, but it was an aimless void.

While Katsuki… was very real. He was a solid presence that Izuku knew would be burned into his mind and heart even if they never saw each other again. Everything that happened tonight would be held firmly in Izuku’s heart.

Izuku missing his family was like feeling around in the dark for something unknown. Izuku missing Katsuki would be like reaching for something in broad daylight—something known and desired but completely out of reach.

“Huh?” Izuku said when he belatedly realized he’d simply been staring at Katsuki, not saying anything.

“The song,” repeated Katsuki, his eyes flitting back and forth between Izuku’s own. “You’ve heard it before?”

“Oh yeah, a few times,” Izuku nodded, yawning widely.

“You like it?”

Katsuki’s eyes were again trained on Izuku’s face with impressive attentiveness for someone who was completely intoxicated.

Izuku nodded again, tuning back into the song only for his heart to drop suddenly in disappointment. The bard was strumming the last, melancholic chords.

He’d missed the end of the song.

He sighed and slumped forward onto the table, leaning on his crossed forearms. He wished he’d heard the rest. He couldn’t remember the exact lyrics from the last time he’d heard it, months ago.

The ending was the saddest part, of course, but it was also Izuku’s favorite part. He wasn’t really sure why, because it definitely was a dismal and depressing sort of tale without any sort of happy conclusion.

Oh well. He was sure he’d hear it again soon.

When it got late like this, the bards always dipped into ballads. Many times, they’d pick this one. Izuku would just need to stay late at a bar again sometime soon.

“I do like it,” Izuku said, smiling thoughtfully down at the table. “It’s sad but… I don’t know. I think it’s a beautiful story. There’s… something I like about it, I guess.”

“Hmm,” Katsuki made a noncommittal noise and Izuku peered up at him curiously.

Katsuki’s eyes were again shiny with unshed tears, and he had some of the pain back in his eyes that Izuku had managed to chase away.

Izuku hesitated, but then tentatively went on when his curiosity won out.

“Do you know the song?” asked Izuku. “Or… did you know it? Before just now, I mean.”

Katsuki blinked slowly for a moment at him. He looked mildly startled, like he hadn’t expected Izuku to ask.

Then he simply replied, “Yes.”

“I think I remember someone telling me once that the style of song is from mountain country,” said Izuku warily, eyeing Katsuki in hopes he wasn’t overstepping again. “Is that true?”

Katsuki’s eyes widened, even though they were slightly glassy and unfocused with the lingering effects of alcohol. He looked pale—almost a bit sickly—in the lighting.

“You—you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, of course,” Izuku was quick to add when his hazy mind belatedly reminded him about how Katsuki had just been crying not that long ago. “I was just curious!”

“It’s… from the north,” Katsuki said, sounding a bit odd, like he was out of it. “The genre of song originated there.”

“Oh,” Izuku said, nodding along, appreciating the insight.

It was nice to think of the north in such a way. He knew it was cold and dark up there, and he’d heard many stories that were scary and unfamiliar.

But… they had loves that inspired such beautiful ballads.

“But…” Katsuki went on, and his face was tensing a bit. His voice was quickly fading to something even more pained, “the style of the song originated in river country, not mountain country.”

“Huh,” Izuku nodded some more as he listened intently.

He hadn’t a clue what river country looked like outside what he’d seen in books, but the landscape was stunning from what he knew. Wide rivers, prolific farmlands, and thriving forests.

Beautiful lands… and beautiful music.

Maybe Izuku would visit there one day. It was so far away, but he felt a distant draw to it when he let himself think about it for too long.

“I like it,” Izuku murmured, thinking of those pictures he’d seen. The song was over, but he turned the memory of the tune over in his head. “It’s slow, but not too much. Somehow… sort of homey. I don’t know how else to explain it.”

Thumbing contemplatively at his bottom lip, he slowly looked back over at Katsuki. He recoiled as horror twisted in his gut again.

Katsuki was leaning on his palm, elbow propped up on the table. He was watching Izuku with the most dejected expression Izuku had ever seen on a person. Tears were trailing out of his eyes, but he seemed to not notice them at all as he just stared at Izuku.

“O-oh no,” Izuku’s voice shook as his anxiety returned. “I’m sorry, Katsuki! I—did I upset you? What did I say? I—”

“Izuku, it’s fine,” said Katsuki, though his voice was thick again and heavily strained with emotion.

Izuku felt another jolt go down his spine at the sound of his name again. He couldn’t help but shiver, hoping Katsuki didn’t notice or at least that he paid it no mind.

“I’m—” Katsuki started, before putting a hand to his mouth and seeming to take a second to compose himself. He pulled his hand away, looking up at Izuku with watery eyes. “I’m really happy, actually.”

“Happy?” Izuku repeated, bewildered.

His eyes darted from Katsuki’s eyes down to the ignored tears on his cheeks and then back up to red, sorrowful eyes.

“Yeah,” Katsuki murmured lowly, his voice raspy. He gave a small smile despite the tears still in his eyes. One of his eyebrows quirked upwards slightly. “I’m really, really happy.”

Izuku nodded slowly, but he continued to eye Katsuki with a bit of caution.

If he was so happy… why was he crying so much? Why did his eyes look so sad?

Izuku didn’t exactly mind that he was crying, but selfishly he did wish Katsuki would stop soon. He didn’t know what to do with the depth of sorrow that was in Katsuki’s eyes.

Clearly, Katsuki was remembering something old and painful, and he was too drunk to realize just how much it was showing on his face.

But then Katsuki huffed out a breath that sounded very much like a laugh, and smiled so brightly that Izuku realized there really was so much he didn’t know.

Was it strange that he wanted so badly to learn about it all with Katsuki?

They stayed down in the tavern for a while longer.

They ran out of energy to speak about anything but complete nonsense, and still they lingered.

They ran out of drinks and energy and still, neither of them moved to get up. At some point, their legs had both stretched out and become partially entangled with each other. Despite how their legs were very obviously touching, neither of them moved. Izuku wondered if Katsuki was too drunk to notice. He pretended that he himself was too drunk to notice, if only so that they could maintain the contact for a little bit longer.

They stayed until the barkeep began ordering people out.

Izuku was completely exhausted, but his heart started to thud with anxiety as his gaze flitted over to Katsuki.

While Izuku had originally assumed Katsuki had lodging elsewhere, the later it got the more he got the impression that the man just intended to sleep here. Maybe Katsuki was just a man of few belongings.

Katsuki also looked completely beat, but he hadn’t left either or even made any move to go upstairs.

Maybe… maybe that could mean…

“We should probably head up to bed,” Izuku admitted sheepishly, followed immediately by a massive yawn.

The yawn meant that he almost missed how Katsuki’s eyes flew open wide and how his entire body tensed in reaction to his words.

Izuku looked at him in mild alarm. His heart was thundering so hard that—in combination with his heavily fatigued body—it almost made him feel faint.

Katsuki gaped back at him with a certain dismay in his eyes that Izuku didn’t understand. He looked like he was about to plead for his life.

Despite the intensity of his horror, Izuku tried to remain hopeful.

Maybe Katsuki didn’t want this to end… but for some reason he thought Izuku did.

“Well, uh, we’re both staying here tonight, right?” Izuku said, hearing the shakiness in his own voice and wishing desperately that it would go away. “We could… well, we’ll see each other in the morning, right?”

Katsuki’s expression didn’t change in the slightest, and he remained abnormally still. Izuku wouldn’t have thought he heard him except that his eyelids fluttered ever so slightly in response to Izuku’s words.

He didn’t even seem to be breathing.

“Katsuki?” asked Izuku cautiously.

Katsuki blinked slowly a few times. Though he still didn’t move, his eyes came into focus a bit more on Izuku’s face.

“We’ll… see each other in the morning, right?” Izuku repeated.

One of Katsuki’s hands on the table was slowly tightening into a white-knuckled fist. It tremored slightly.

“Right,” agreed Katsuki.

His voice was all but a whisper, and it sounded unsteady and strained.

Izuku scratched at the side of his head anxiously.

How did he make this clearer to Katsuki without massively embarrassing himself?

“Listen, I know we’re both wanderers and sort of loners,” Izuku began nervously, looking at the table. “But… I had fun tonight, and, well, if you did too… maybe we could hang out again? Go to the next town togeth—”

Katsuki stood up so fast that his chair was flung backwards and almost toppled over.

Izuku startled violently from the sudden movement. Alarmed, he looked up, but Katsuki was already snatching his sword from where it leaned against the wall and moving to step away from the table.

“Okay,” said Katsuki tersely as he left, sheathing his sword and not looking back at Izuku. “Goodnight, Izuku.”

Izuku gaped after him as he swept across the room towards the barkeep, presumably to ask about a room. His red cloak billowed behind him as he walked with impressive poise for someone who’d seemed both quite drunk and quite exhausted.

With a sigh, Izuku looked at all their dirty dishes on the table. He didn’t mind clearing it at all, he just wished Katsuki had been slightly clearer on whether or not his “okay” was “okay, yes let’s hang out again and go to the next town together” or “okay, enough talking, goodbye forever.”

As he cleared their dishes to the bin near the trash, Izuku chewed nervously at the inside of his lip. After a minute, he decided he would talk with Katsuki about it tomorrow. With any luck, they could at least part as friends.

Honestly, Izuku would be incredibly grateful to have a friend.

Chapter Text

As Izuku made his way over to the bar to pay their tab, he yawned so widely that his jaw popped.

The tavern was practically empty by now, save for one drunk guy passed out in the corner. It seemed that he and Katsuki had stayed far later than he’d realized.

Rubbing absently at his cheek, he stepped up to the bar and glanced around. The errand boy was long gone, but the barkeep had just been here. Frowning, he glanced around the vacant space wondering where she’d gone.

The bar was a long wooden, slightly elevated tabletop. Behind it, long, crooked shelves held massive amounts of alcohol in large barrels.

Izuku knew from his many years of coming here that trying to steal from the bar was nearly impossible. Any attempt to do so would get you thrown out on your ass by the barkeep. Not that he’d ever tried it himself, but he’d witnessed it on more than one occasion.

“Hello?” he called hesitantly to the empty bar, eyeing the doorway off to the side that led back into what he assumed were the storage rooms.

“One sec!” a voice called from the back.

Izuku nodded in response, even though no one could see him. He yawned again, leaning his exhausted body against the bar. He was careful not to lean his arms too far forward on it; the wood was visibly sticky and gross from many a spilled drink.

He intended to pay for their drinks and dinner of course, but he also hoped to pay for Katsuki’s room for the night too. Hopefully, Katsuki hadn’t yet paid for it.

Despite Izuku’s exhaustion and his desperation to just close his eyes and collapse, a certain level of unease kept his heart thumping palpably in his chest and his mind very awake.

Katsuki had cut him off with such an unclear statement.

What did it mean?

Izuku had been so sure the two of them had been having a good time talking with each other. Surely, that couldn’t have been only from his end. Katsuki had been fully engaged in the conversation. Izuku had made him cry multiple times, but the majority of the time he’d seemed to be enjoying himself.

Right?

Izuku chewed absently at his lip as he continued to wait.

Though he was so very tired and still tipsy, he didn’t know how he could sleep when he wasn’t sure what Katsuki would want from him in the morning.

What if… what if Katsuki only seemed to be having a good time because he was drunk?

Izuku’s eyes widened as his heart dropped. Maybe Katsuki liked the drinks, not the company. Maybe he just liked the attention, not Izuku specifically.

Chewing more at his lip, Izuku’s distress deepened.

Well… Izuku could get more money for more drinks. If Katsuki just liked attention, Izuku was more than happy to continue giving him attention. Though Katsuki hadn’t seemed to care that much about all the attention he got from onlookers. Still, Izuku was very willing to accommodate whatever Katsuki had enjoyed about the interaction.

The real trouble would just be how he could make that clear to Katsuki without seeming too pathetic or desperate.

“Hey, Midoriya!”

Izuku glanced over as the innkeeper appeared from the doorway and made her way over.

The innkeeper was a woman about ten years Izuku’s senior that insisted everyone call her Emi. She had long black hair that was always tied up in very messy ways, including right now. She wasn’t all that tall, but her gangly build made her appear taller. Izuku was always surprised when she got closer and was actually quite a bit shorter than him.

Izuku didn’t actually know her super well, seeing as she was usually managing the inn upstairs. He’d interacted with her plenty of times, of course, just not nearly as much as the barkeep.

From what he recalled, Emi liked to gossip and every time they had talked, he’d been unable to escape the conversation for a good long while. His exhausted body automatically slumped a bit at the sight of her, though he did his very best not to show it. He didn’t want to be rude. Other than her habit of talking on and on, she was nice enough.

He was fairly certain the barkeep and her were married, though the two of them didn’t interact all that much when Izuku was here. He was surprised that it was Emi down here at the moment, but he didn’t question it.

“Oh, hi!” replied Izuku, pushing off the bar to stand up straight and offer a polite smile.

“Say, thanks for going out and getting those herbs for Hisa earlier,” the innkeeper stopped in front of him, leaning on the counter without notice or regard for the stickiness of it.

Hisa was their cook. She was an older lady with hair that was well into being gray, and Izuku had met her on one of his first stays in Hillside. Back then, he’d been having an especially difficult time, and she’d sort of taken pity on him. Now, whenever he was in town he did small tasks for her in exchange for discounts at the inn for a few nights.

Izuku was pretty certain she didn’t need him to do any of the tasks, but he was so grateful for the kindness that he never questioned it.

“Do ya have them with ya?” Emi went on. “She went to bed a while back but told her I’d make sure ya gave ‘em to me.”

Emi was from forest country, and she talked like it too.

“Oh, yes!” Izuku nodded frantically, swinging his satchel around to dig through it for the carefully wrapped herbs. “Sorry, I meant to give them over earlier! I got distracted!”

Emi snorted loudly. “Yeah, I noticed that.”

“Huh?” Izuku blinked at her uncomprehendingly as he handed over the herbs.

Emi took them and moved them under the counter, wiggling her eyebrows at him teasingly all the while. “When I ducked down here earlier, I saw ya and the northerner over there.”

“Oh,” Izuku immediately felt heat creeping up his neck and he ducked his head sheepishly. “That was nothing. We were just sharing a few drinks.”

Emi fully chortled at this statement, letting out several snorting laughs that shook her whole body.

“Nothing?” she said, smirking at him knowingly. “I didn’t know Bakugou was capable of making any facial expressions besides that ugly scowl of his, but wouldn’t you know it—I look over and he’s grinning and laughing with ya like he’s having the time of his damn life! It did look a bit feral, but ya know how those mountainfolk are.”

Izuku didn’t hear most of what she said, instead stuck on one thing.

“Bakugou?” he parroted blankly.

Emi’s grin fell slightly as she eyed him, puzzled.

“Uh… yeah? The northerner,” she said. Then her confusion deepened. “Ya were the one talking to him, and ya don’t know his name?”

“No, I do!” Izuku protested quickly. “He said his name’s Katsuki!”

“Yeah, Bakugou Katsuki,” said Emi. Then she smirked again even wider. “He introduced himself to ya as Katsuki?”

The heat flooded from Izuku’s neck to his face, and he felt an urge to cringe away and hide from her teasing smirk.

“Um… yes?” he said it like a question.

“HA!” Emi chortled again, shaking her head and slapping the countertop in an exaggerated fashion. “Kaya’s gonna love this!”

Kaya—the barkeep.

Izuku was halfway tempted to ask where she was, in hopes that she might appear and allow him to pay his tab and escape this conversation.

Though… the other half of him was also anxiously curious about the implications behind what the innkeeper was saying.

“Love… what?” he said tentatively.

“Bakugou’s just such an asshole, ya see,” Emi laughed, shaking her head. “I hear about it from Kaya sometimes. He gets all the praise and glory because he’s always doing heroic shit, but he’s also normally a bit of a loner. People try to talk to him, and he ignores them or shuts them up. Midoriya, I think you’re special.”

Izuku’s eyes flew open wide, shaking his head rapidly and flapping his arms around wildly as his face grew far too hot.

“N-no, no, I’m really not! We just met today, really! He saved my life earlier, and so I wanted to thank him with some drinks!”

To his horror, Emi’s grin only widened further.

“Bakugou saves people’s lives all the damn time,” she said. “That’s like his whole thing. Sorta the main reason everyone tolerates his jackassery—besides the fact they couldn’t do shit to ‘im if they tried, I suppose.”

She tilted her head thoughtfully during her last statement, before continuing.

“Anyways, he’s always doing that sorta shit for people,” she went on. “He’s this gorgeous foreigner that never wears any damn clothes and he’s always doing heroic shit, so people love to gossip about ‘im whenever he’s in town. So even without trying, I’m always hearing about whatever he’s getting up to. Which is, more often than not, saving some poor bastard’s ass from one thing or another.”

Emi frowned then, eyeing Izuku thoughtfully. “Say, why don’t ya know any of this? Ya never heard of him before?”

Izuku winced slightly. “Uh… no? Does he come here a lot?”

“Every once in a while,” said Emi, shrugging. “He travels through here sometimes. But from what I’ve heard, he goes all around the southern region—pissing people off and doing heroic shit, mostly. So, I’m just a bit surprised ya never seen ‘im before.”

Izuku’s heart sank, though he tried not to show it too much. He knew he’d most likely never seen Katsuki before, because he was sure he’d remember that. But if he just heard rumors? Well… it wouldn’t be surprising if he’d forgotten.

There was a whole lot Izuku didn’t remember, after all.

“Oh! Right!” Emi exclaimed, eyes going wide as she snapped her fingers and then pointed at Izuku. “Like I was saying. Bakugou savin’ ya life don’t mean shit, Midoriya. He does that shit for people all the time. From what I’ve heard, he takes money, and favors sometimes, but never heard of him actually accepting an invitation of any kind. Plenty-a people have been trying to get a piece of that ass for years—despite his terrible personality—and I haven’t ever seen anyone get close!”

Izuku shifted uncertainly on his feet. He felt an uncomfortable upset bubbling up in his stomach at how she was talking about Katsuki. Sure, he’d just met the guy, but he didn’t like how she said he had a terrible personality. Izuku really liked his personality. Just because he came off intensely and perhaps had some questionable manners didn’t make him all bad.

Before he could find the words, Emi’s next statements stole his attention.

“Honestly, I’d always sorta assumed the stories about his lover were true,” she said, shrugging.

“Lover?” Izuku asked before he could stop himself.

Emi’s eyes locked on his and she grinned knowingly. Izuku looked away, ducking his head slightly in embarrassment.

“Yeah, well, until now I’d just assumed he was already married or mated or whatever term dragonkind use,” Emi said, waving her hand dismissively. “There’s a lotta rumors as to why a northerner is down south so often. Some say his hometown was attacked by the League of Darkness.”

Izuku’s eyes widened, fear gripping his heart just from hearing the name. He’d heard the legends; they told of ancient, dark magic and cruel, power-hungry sorcerers. He hadn’t considered that any of the stories were true… much less recent.

“That he lost everyone he loved,” Emi was still going on, as if talking about the weather. “That his dragon was slain, his family slaughtered, his lover cursed.”

Izuku felt a pit open up in his heart as horror hollowed him out more and more with each word she said. He could barely breathe, trying to reconcile such unfathomable tragedy with the man he’d been sitting across from for hours not too long ago.

Emi caught sight of his face and said, “They’re just rumors, Midoriya. There’s a lot of rumors about Bakugou, though. People say all kinda wild shit about him. A few years ago, some people were saying he called a dragon to help with the cold of the winter a few towns over to the east. Ridiculous, if ya ask me. If ya need help lighting a fire, why wouldn’t he just conjure it? People just love sayin’ random shit.”

Izuku couldn’t move.

Rumors. Just rumors. He tried to tell himself.

But he couldn’t get the look of devastation on Katsuki’s face earlier out of his mind.

Sure… just rumors, but… maybe some of it was true.

How much of it was true?

“If anything, I’d suspect ya would be the most likely to know what’s true and what’s not,” Emi said. “Ya were the one actually talking to ‘im!”

“We… we didn’t talk about any of that,” Izuku said, distractedly.

Emi shrugged. “Anyways, as I was sayin’. Usually, I assume the rumors are bullshit, but a lotta rumors go ‘round about his lover.”

Izuku looked back at her reluctantly, gut stirring with anxiety.

“I’m sure ya’ve heard about how dragonkind are about their partners, yeah?” Emi asked, though she didn’t wait for a response before continuing. “Only ever love one person—but like, to a pretty damn serious extent. So, since Bakugou never gives anyone the time a’ day—and I’ve seen some attractive people try to get his attention—”

Izuku shifted on his feet as his gut twisted further. His chest felt tight.

“—I always assumed the stories about his marriage at least were true. People say he’s down south because he’s looking for ‘em. There’s about a thousand different rumors about what the hell that means, but whatever.”

Izuku tried to breathe through the sudden writhing, furious feeling in his gut.

He’d just met Katsuki and didn’t even know if they were friends yet. He had absolutely no right at all to be upset at the idea of Katsuki having someone that he was apparently so endlessly devoted to. Someone who he was married to.

But he had heard about dragonkind marriage. He’d just talked to Katsuki about it a few hours ago. Dragonkind were known for their intense commitment to their partners. Marriage was a far more serious endeavor there.

Katsuki hadn’t elaborated on why exactly that was the case, and Izuku hadn’t been able to decide if it was too rude to ask. Izuku wondered if it had to do with being dragonkind; dragons were known for being possessive hoarders of treasure. Or was it simply a cultural thing? He wished Katsuki had offered the information, but since he hadn’t, Izuku hadn’t pried.

Katsuki had also refused to specify about his own personal situation, and that only made Izuku feel worse.

Why hadn’t he wanted to talk about it?

Was it because the rumors were true?

Izuku was so upset he started to feel vaguely nauseous. Even as he berated himself for being so upset—Katsuki and him had just met—he couldn’t stop the feeling.

“So… they’re alive?” Izuku asked weakly, trying not to sound too disappointed.

The moment he asked, he wanted to smack himself in the face. What was wrong with him?

Emi only smirked teasingly at him. “I doubt any of the rumors are true after seeing him with ya, Midoriya. The way he was lookin’ at ya? And I saw that piece-a shit trying to tangle your legs together. Ha! He wants ya bad, Midoriya!”

Izuku’s face went up in flames again as his heart thundered wildly in his chest. He shook his head rapidly, flailing his arms and sputtering, “No, no, no! I—I don’t—we just met!”

“Yeah, and he already wants some,” Emi chortled, reaching forward to pinch at Izuku’s cheek before he could react. “What’d ya do, Midoriya? How’d ya seduce the guy?”

“N-nothing!” Izuku stammered, mind racing. “I didn’t do anything!”

“Hmm, okay,” Emi just grinned, eyeing him doubtfully.

Izuku’s heart thumped away rapidly in his chest.

Could it be true?

Did it really seem like Katsuki liked him?

It was hard to tell with Emi. She seemed the type to exaggerate for the sake of her own entertainment. He didn’t want to dare to hope.

Plus there was…

“His lover, though,” said Izuku, the words rushing out almost jumbled together. “What do they say about them? I just… well, I’m curious.”

He immediately felt humiliated that he was engaging in gossip with Emi, but the woman was happy to oblige.

“I wouldn’t worry about it, Midoriya,” she shrugged. “Like I said, if he had someone, he wouldn’t be lookin’ at ya like that. All lovey-dovey and shit.”

Izuku wanted to hide under a table and never reemerge, but he pressed on. His mind felt latched onto the idea of Katsuki being married, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to rest until he had answers.

“B-but you said there were a lot of rumors. About him looking for them.”

Emi frowned pensively, nodding. “Yeah, well, I’ve heard a lotta different shit over the years. People say his partner was also a great warrior and sorcerer. There’s about a thousand contradictions about ‘em, but one of people’s favorites was that they were capable of wielding the Might Sword.”

Izuku’s mouth fell open, and his heart practically halted in his chest.

“What?!” Izuku gasped out, leaning forward unwittingly. “But—but that’s just a legend!”

“And it’s just a rumor,” Emi replied with a shrug. “People love to eat it up though. Story goes that there was some big battle up north years ago. Really far north—like where mountain country intersects with the unknown lands up there. As it goes, Bakugou and the wielder of the Might Sword were on the front lines to keep back the League of Darkness.”

Izuku could only gape at her, as his heart thundered away.

A thousand thoughts consumed him, and he struggled to comprehend what he was hearing.

Katsuki…

Izuku had spent all of today in the presence of someone who’d saved the world from the actual League of Darkness?

He felt almost dizzy with the realization, unsure how Katsuki could stand sitting making such boring conversation with someone like him when he’d done things like that.

A more selfish part deeper inside of him was screaming in agony.

Even assuming Katsuki had any level of interest in him, how in the hell was Izuku supposed to live up to someone powerful enough to wield a mythical sword gifted to humankind by the gods?

The Might Sword was a story told to children. Legend said that one slash of the sword could cut through a mountain and fell an entire army. Some even said that it could change the weather by kicking up the wind enough to blow around the clouds.

It was something of legend for a reason.

Most people couldn’t lift the sword, much less wield it. Conduct any power from it without reducing themselves to dust? Impossible.

Izuku braced his hands on the edge of the counter, trying to breathe. His mind fought to comprehend this.

How had everything been turned upside down today?

Every mundane day of Izuku’s life was so incredibly uneventful that one day with Katsuki was proving to be the most exciting of his life. All of a sudden, legends like the League of Darkness and the Might Sword were so close they were almost real.

Even as he struggled to breathe and comprehend this and accept his own inability to measure up, Izuku desperately wondered if he could somehow convince Katsuki to stick around. Or rather, if he could manage to see if Katsuki would be willing to have dinner if they ever saw each other again.

It was looking more and more likely that Katsuki had only indulged him in conversation for the drinks or the praise, but Izuku realized with increasing desperation that he would definitely just keep buying Katsuki more drinks and listen to him talk if that was the only reason he’d been willing to stay in Izuku’s company.

Izuku tried to focus on that idea and not the absolutely, increasingly unattainable concept of anything else from Katsuki.

Not that Katsuki was ever attainable for someone like Izuku. Still, he was almost trembling with the realization that if he wanted Katsuki in any sort of way, he was firmly placed in line far behind so many others that had much more to offer. So many very attractive strangers, according to Emi.

Not to mention, at the very front of the line was the wielder of the Might Sword.

Izuku felt his body start to shake and decided it was really time to head to bed. He looked up with the intention of finally interrupting Emi to pay his tab, when the barkeep finally rounded the corner.

“Emi, have you seen—oh, hey, Midoriya!” the barkeep said.

The barkeep was a short, somewhat stocky woman called Kaya. She was around Emi’s age, with a wide, welcoming smile and brown hair that was usually braided back in one way or another.

Though, as friendly as she looked, Izuku had seen her flip men three times her size right onto their asses for fighting in her tavern. He’d seen her nearly break a man’s fingers once for trying to snatch a pint of ale that wasn’t his before promptly throwing him out the door.

“H-hi,” Izuku’s voice came out shaky despite his best attempts at a friendly smile; he was still processing all the information that Emi had thrown at him.

He still leaned on the counter, feeling woozy and almost lightheaded with all his newfound knowledge. He still struggled to breathe.

Rumors or not… Izuku had no doubt that Katsuki did have many impressive feats. Though he’d spent the evening hearing tales from the man himself, somehow hearing the way in which others talked about him drove home the massive difference between the two of them more than anything Katsuki had said.

“Shouldn’t you be heading up to bed?” Kaya asked, stopping across from him and next to Emi, leaning back against the shelves behind the bar. “It’s really late.”

Izuku nodded, forcing breaths in and out and trying to stand up straighter. He just needed to catch his breath enough to ask for the tab.

“Say, Kaya,” Emi turned so her side was facing Izuku, half-facing both Kaya and him, “ya know that Bakugou guy, right? The northerner with the red cloak?”

Kaya’s eyebrows quirked in question, glancing back and forth from Emi to Izuku. “Yeah, of course. What about him?”

“Midoriya here is askin’ about ‘im,” Emi said, jamming her thumb in his direction.

Izuku felt heat flooding his face and frantically wanted to insist that he was not, but Kaya’s response immediately stole the limited breath he had.

“Again?” asked the barkeep, puzzled as she looked at Izuku.

“Huh?” Izuku squeaked out, blinking vacantly at her.

He must’ve misheard.

“You asked me about him last time,” Kaya said, looking at him funny.

Izuku slumped forward again, putting his weight on his arms as his head spun. His wooziness rose up until the room faded out of focus a bit. Things suddenly felt strange and distorted in a way that he could only ever recall feeling before in fever dreams.

When had he fallen asleep and started walking around in his nightmares?

“What d’you mean?” he managed to ask. “What… what’s ‘last time’ mean?”

“You been drinking, Midoriya?” Kaya frowned, eyeing him closely and glancing over at Emi in confusion. “Maybe some water and bed, yeah?”

“Me?” Izuku asked, heart hammering impossibly fast as he fought to comprehend yet another thing. “I asked about him? Guy with spiky blond hair? Red cape?”

“Yes,” she said, sounding a bit exasperated like she thought Izuku was messing with her. “You asked about him a few weeks back. The two of you shared a few drinks, though it wasn’t for nearly as long as today.”

Izuku stared at her, mouth slightly agape. He wasn’t quite sure what to do with that information. He wanted to ask again, to be sure. Maybe she was pulling his leg? But she’d already been pulled into an argument with Emi.

“Ya can remember that, but not what my favorite flower is?” asked Emi, affronted.

“I only remember so well because Bakugou’s such a renowned guy!” Kaya protested. “And I like Midoriya!”

“Ya don’t like me?”

“That’s not what I meant! I meant he’s a nice customer! Always very polite!”

Their arguing didn’t even really register to Izuku. He was trying to think, but his brain kept coming up short.

Izuku had met Katsuki before?

They’d shared a drink before?

Was it a shapeshifter? Some sort of illusion?

But why would anyone go through the effort? Why would they want to be Izuku?

And why would they go through the effort of such a thing, just to talk to the barkeep about Katsuki?

The worst idea of them all was forming in the back of Izuku’s mind… and it made him sick. He really, really didn’t know what to do with the idea of it. He didn’t know how to comprehend it, and it was so overwhelmingly disappointing that he felt like the urge to cry was climbing up his throat.

“I’d like to pay my tab now, please,” he said, his voice sounding oddly monotonous and detached even to himself.

Almost numbly, he dug around for his stash of money. It was carefully folded in a small pouch and tucked away in a small compartment of his bag. He didn’t have a whole lot of money, seeing as he only worked odd jobs as he traveled.

Still, he was happy to spend all of it in exchange for tonight. He’d do it again for another night like this.

Another night where he didn’t have to feel so lonely. Where he could feel alive.

Izuku’s hands shook slightly, and he tried so desperately not to entertain the idea forming in his mind. He tried not to think about what he’d just learned.

When he looked up, the two women were looking at him.

Kaya was frowning pensively down at the pouch in his hands, but she shook her head, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh, no, Midoriya, you’re good to go. You’ve been paid for.”

“What?” asked Izuku, bewildered. “By who?”

He didn’t know how much more of this he could handle. He was exhausted, and his head was spinning. He felt increasingly nauseous.

“Bakugou paid for it before he headed up.”

Izuku’s mouth dropped open as he reeled back slightly. Immediately, his cheeks burned from utter humiliation.

This dinner and the drinks… he said he’d pay for it. It was his idea.

Did Katsuki think he couldn’t afford it?

Had Izuku somehow made it seem like he couldn’t?

This was supposed to be on him! Katsuki saved his life!

Izuku felt the emotions shove up his throat yet again, and his eyes burned as they threatened to fill with tears. He couldn’t breathe and his stomach lurched with nausea.

The idea that he didn’t want to think about was growing increasingly more difficult to ignore.

Katsuki and he had already met.

Katsuki had dinner with him even though he usually didn’t like to talk to anyone.

Katsuki paid for all of it.

Izuku covered his mouth with a badly trembling hand as he stumbled back a few steps.

“Midoriya?” Kaya asked cautiously as she pushed off the shelves and took a step towards him. “You okay?”

He nodded frantically, but he was so incredibly far from okay.

Barely present in his body, Izuku tried to pretend he didn’t hear when Emi told him that Katsuki was staying in the room next to him. He stumbled for the stairs, using the wall for support the moment he was able, gasping in breaths.

He didn’t… he didn’t remember.

How could he have forgotten meeting someone like Katsuki? How?

Even worse…

Katsuki already knew him, and he’d said nothing.

As a rule, Izuku had a poor memory. Often, his head was fuzzy, missing gaps of time. A healer had told him he had some sort of defect that they couldn’t do anything about, and that he would have to make do. Sometimes, people’s minds weren’t kind to them. Tough luck. It was how things were.

The healer had suggested that perhaps Izuku had been a terrible person in his past life, and Izuku had left quickly after that.

It was why he couldn’t hold down a long-term job. It was why he couldn’t remember his family or where he was from. It was why he couldn’t remember if he’d ever attended school, and why there was no hope of ever doing so now.

He barely remembered anything from his entire childhood, and since then the gaps in his memory were inconsistent. Some mornings, he woke up dazed, confused, and missing a chunk of time.

Even if it happened far less often these days than it used to, Izuku couldn’t attend school with that sort of inconsistency. His best hope had always been to teach himself through reading and asking around. At least he could read, and each day he desperately prayed to the gods that they didn’t take that ability away from him.

It was Izuku’s greatest shame.

It made him an invalid, and anyone who found out often treated him like a child or talked slowly to him. He spent so much time and energy trying not to let any of his acquaintances find out about his condition.

Izuku paused halfway up the stairs, panting hard and tears flooding his vision. He felt like collapsing into sobs right then and there.

Katsuki had already met him and said nothing when Izuku didn’t recognize him earlier that evening.

Which meant that Katsuki knew about his malady.

Izuku gripped at the fabric over his chest, trying not to sob. It was too late at night for that; people would hear his cries.

It was difficult. Izuku felt more humiliated than he could ever recall being in his entire life. He’d really allowed himself to think he was some sort of exception. That Katsuki maybe did like his company or something.

The truth was…

Katsuki pitied him.

Izuku choked on a sob, shoving himself up step by step to try and get to his room. If he could just get there, he could muffle his cries in his pillow.

Katsuki seemed to be an intense and mean guy on the outside, but Izuku knew the truth. He hid a lot of goodness in his heart, and apparently, indulging invalids was one of his great acts of service.

Izuku couldn’t bear it.

It hurt so much that he couldn’t breathe.

Katsuki felt bad for him. He wasn’t interested or enjoying Izuku’s company. He was just being nice.

Mortified, Izuku distantly recalled how Katsuki had seemed surprised at Izuku’s reaction after he’d first saved his life earlier that evening—how he’d seemed surprised when Izuku was wary of him. Katsuki had scolded him and seemed far too concerned.

He was surprised that Izuku didn’t remember him, but not too surprised. He’d scolded Izuku like a child because that’s what everyone did when they found out.

Izuku, the forgetful little invalid.

Izuku, can’t take care of himself because he can’t remember anything.

Izuku, who’s too much of an idiot to hold down a job.

Stumbling forward, he made it to his door, struggling to put in the key.

He tried to tell himself that he was used to this. He was used to people treating him like this.

It wasn’t working, because for some reason the idea of Katsuki doing the same as everyone else was so mortifying. It wasn’t like he’d ever thought he and Katsuki were on the same level at all, but realizing that Katsuki was giving him attention not out of wanting to but as a form of charity or something was…

Izuku finally got the key in and practically fell into the door and closed it behind him. The moment he did, he let out a sob as the trembling in his body intensified. His misery spread like wildfire, weighing down his body and compressing his chest.

When he turned to step towards his bed, he only made it halfway there before he stumbled and fell heavily onto the ground. He barely registered the pain of the impact. He let out another few sobs, even though he slapped a hand over his mouth to try to muffle them.

It was all far, far too much.

Katsuki pitied him.

Not only that, but Izuku simply couldn’t comprehend the idea that he’d fully met Katsuki before and forgotten completely.

Katsuki was so incredibly memorable. Not that long ago, Izuku was so certain that he would remember Katsuki for the rest of his life, and yet they’d already met.

And he remembered nothing.

Izuku pressed his forehead to the wooden floor, hands braced on either side of his head as if to push himself up, though he lacked the strength to do so yet.

His memory was getting worse again, wasn’t it?

He’d allowed himself to think it might be getting better, but he’d been so very wrong.

Izuku cried quietly, struggling to breathe as his chest spasmed from sobs.

What had he possibly done in his past life to deserve this? What unforgivable acts had he committed? Why was he like this—born with an incurable malady that isolated him from everyone around him?

All he wanted was to love and be loved.

All he wanted was to be considered just as intelligent and capable as everyone else—but he wasn’t. He wasn’t, and no amount of reading or studying or asking questions would free him from that.

Izuku was an invalid. He would always be an invalid. He was such a fool for entertaining the idea of anything else this evening.

He felt his nausea rising when he recalled how Katsuki had effectively distracted him when he brought up his lack of schooling. How Katsuki had offered to let him ask questions, despite apparently hating talking to strangers.

Katsuki was being kind, and Izuku couldn’t bear it.

Izuku gasped as he searched around for something to vomit into as his stomach rolled dangerously. He spotted a wooden bucket by the side of the bed—clearly meant for drawing water downstairs at the water pump—and started to crawl over.

Izuku didn’t understand how Katsuki knew.

Had he really told Katsuki when they met before? Had it come up somehow? He usually tried so hard to avoid bringing it up or show any of his shortcomings, so how did Katsuki know?

Just as Izuku reached the bucket, his stomach lurched and he scrambled to lean over it. He vomited violently, gasping and crying, no longer capable of being quiet. If there were complaints, he’d apologize later.

After a moment he paused, panting wildly and tears streaming out of his eyes, staring down in the dark as the foul smell filled his nose and the sour taste burned his tongue and the sides of his throat. His ears were ringing as vertigo tilted the room around him.

There was a sharp knock at his door.

“Izuku?”

Izuku fought back a sob at the sound of Katsuki’s voice, collapsing onto his side to lay next to the bucket.

“’M fine!” he called, hoping his strained voice could be written off by the late hour.

There was a pause, and Izuku breathed shallowly, staring blankly ahead as he tried to will the sick feeling away.

His stomach lurched, and he shoved up to vomit into the bucket again.

The door slammed open.

Izuku was still panting, leaning over the bucket, trembling.

“Shit, it’s dark in here,” Katsuki grumbled.

Izuku moved his tired, aching eyes to look over. His limited breath was stolen as he watched Katsuki go to the candle on the bedside table and effortlessly conjure fire from his hands to light it.

It was so amazing that Izuku forgot to breathe until his head swam again and he collapsed onto his side on the floor.

“Shit,” Katsuki said, rushing over to him and falling onto his knees in front of him.

Izuku numbly looked up at him, breathing shallowly past the enduring nausea in his gut.

Katsuki’s cloak was gone, and he was wearing only long, thin white sleep pants. In the low light, the defined planes of his torso were still horrifyingly apparent. Without his cloak, Izuku could see the full, broad width of his shoulders.

Izuku closed his eyes, turning his face down towards the ground and cringing.

He felt like a child crushing on an adult despite how they were around the same age, if only because he knew that’s how the world saw him—naïve, stupid, in need of care. He felt disgusting and unhappy in a way that wasn’t helping his nausea in the slightest.

“Guess you drank too much, hah?” Katsuki muttered quietly. “You done puking yet? Ready to get in bed?”

Izuku’s face contorted into a grimace as he let out an involuntary sob.

“What’s wrong?” Katsuki said more urgently, and Izuku heard him shuffle around. “Talk to me. Are you hurt?”

Izuku shook his head as he felt his body start to tremble again. He didn’t want to open his eyes to see Katsuki—to have to face someone that he found so unbearably attractive while in this state.

To have to face him, knowing that he knew.

“Okay, that’s good,” Katsuki said lowly. “Come on, I’ll help you to bed.”

“’M fine,” Izuku murmured quietly. “Thank you though.”

“Don’t be stupid,” Katsuki snapped, voice immediately frustrated though still quiet. “Izuku, let me help you.”

Izuku couldn’t move, because he felt like he was about to burst. To start crying, to start begging, to start asking questions.

“Oi, don’t ignore me,” Katsuki ordered, sounding irritated.

At that, Izuku forced himself to peel open his eyes.

The sight was just as unbearable as he was expecting. Katsuki was still there, all shamelessly half-naked, kneeling next to him on the floor. He had a hand braced on the floor and his head was tilted sideways slightly as if to put it more in line with Izuku’s where it still lay on the floor. His eyes were so bloodshot that Izuku could tell in the low light, but the expression of obvious, serious concern was the worst of it all.

“Just get into bed and sleep it off,” Katsuki murmured when they made eye contact.

Izuku’s eyes flitted back and forth between his.

“We’ve met before.”

He said it before he’d fully meant to. In fact, he really hadn’t meant to. But as he said it, he realized that—underneath all the other awful feelings—Izuku felt incredibly offended.

He’d barely noticed it on top of everything else, but as he spoke he realized that he’d really, genuinely had hope that Katsuki and he could be friends. As stupid as it was of him to ever think that, Izuku found himself so excruciatingly offended that Katsuki just pitied him like everyone else.

Katsuki went very still, his eyes flying open wide in a very obvious state of shock. Izuku’s heart thudded uncomfortably hard in his chest as that all but confirmed his worst fears.

“You and I,” Izuku rasped out again, “we’ve met before, haven’t we?”

“What’re you talking about?” asked Katsuki in a hoarse whisper, his brow furrowing. He moved from his knees to sit back on his ass. He left one of his knees propped up and leaned his elbow on it, staring at Izuku with unblinking, wary eyes.

Izuku winced as he realized he’d effectively backed himself into a corner, but he couldn’t seem to stop. The haziness of his head reminded him that there was definitely still alcohol in his system, but it wasn’t enough to deter him in the slightest. He needed to know that Katsuki had really done this to him. That he was truly just pitying him.

“I…” Izuku’s face contorted into a grimace again and he had to look away, turning his face back towards the floor. It was hard to speak past the sobs that wanted to break free. “I have a bad m-memory. Sometimes, it—it fails me.”

He started to curl into himself more, though he was quick to startle away from the contact when his leg accidentally brushed Katsuki’s.

“The barkeep said you and I have been here before,” Izuku whispered out, voice strained with misery. “She said I talked to her about you. She saw us getting drinks together.”

The silence was suffocating. Izuku’s heart beat so hard he was certain that it was about to beat right out of his chest.

When the seconds ticked by, Izuku took a deep breath and peeled open his eyes to look up at Katsuki.

Katsuki was staring down at him, frozen. He looked completely at a loss, mouth slightly agape, looking as if he had absolutely no idea what to do.

But he didn’t look confused. He just looked… indecisive.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Izuku asked, and it came out imploring.

He knew the answer, but he asked anyways. He knew that it was pity, that it was kindness for what Katsuki saw as a person in need. He knew that, and yet he still asked.

Katsuki looked away so sharply that it almost startled Izuku, shaking his head but still not saying a word.

Izuku’s heart sunk. He couldn’t see Katsuki’s face like this. He was partially twisted to the right, so his left shoulder was twisted to face him more. It was impossible not to look at the tattoo that covered it.

Izuku stared. As he’d seen a glimpse of before, it depicted an “I” with thick black linework all around it, covering his upper left arm and onto his shoulder.

Katsuki already had someone.

He and Izuku weren’t both lone travelers in the way he’d thought they were.

Izuku’s lower lip quivered. His eyes trailed over to try and look at Katsuki’s face. The man was still facing away, and his entire body was tense.

Why did Izuku ask questions he already knew the answer to? He knew Katsuki was just being nice. That’s why he hadn’t said anything when Izuku’s brain messed up and forgot who he was.

Suddenly, Izuku hiccupped out a sob as his tipsy brain caught up. Katsuki knew he was an invalid. He knew. He knew.

Izuku didn’t want Katsuki to think of him that way. Without any further thought, he started to speak out of frantic desperation.

“I mean—I know I—I’m sorry I don’t remember,” Izuku’s voice was still beseeching, but it grew thicker and more uneven as he began to cry again. “I’m not—I try my best, really. It’s—”

“Stop,” Katsuki said hoarsely, still facing away.

“I k-know this makes me look like an idiot,” Izuku felt a desire to reach out and grab onto Katsuki to ground himself, but didn’t indulge such a ridiculous thing. “I know that I—I’m an invalid but—”

“Izuku, shut up,” Katsuki gritted out harshly, shifting to face more away and one of his hands coming up to cover over his eyes. “I didn’t say you were.”

Izuku looked up at Katsuki’s turned face, only able to see part of it. Mostly, his wild blond hair was all he could see. He shuddered in a breath as he comprehended the statement.

Katsuki really was kind, wasn’t he? He knew about all this, but he was so much kinder about it than anyone else was.

With each passing second that Izuku stared, he realized more and more that… he didn’t mind the way Katsuki treated him. Even if he was just indulging him, he did it in a way that’d never indicated to Izuku that he pitied him. Izuku never would’ve guessed that’s what he was doing if the barkeep didn’t say something.

Miserably, Izuku realized that he was so lonely that he really, really didn’t mind. He didn’t mind if Katsuki pitied him. He still wanted to see him. He still desperately wanted his attention, even if Katsuki saw him as this helpless thing that was in need of care.

It’d been shocking to realize, but Izuku could stomach it. He’d rather stomach it than be left alone. He’d rather follow Katsuki around on his quest to find the wielder of the Might Sword—follow Katsuki around so that he could love someone else—than be left alone.

Anything to not be left alone.

If Katsuki was willing to indulge him like this even every once in a while… Izuku’s heart jolted as frantic desperation consumed him further. He wasn’t above humiliating himself. He wasn’t. He wasn’t above making this clear to Katsuki. He wasn’t above anything, and if Katsuki already knew about his malady, why try to keep up appearances?

“I didn’t mean to forget you,” Izuku sobbed out, practically gasping with the effort. “I—today, when we were talking—I thought that I’d remember you forever. I thought you were so amazing that I would think of you even if we didn’t see each other again. So—so, I swear it’s not personal. I can’t control it. I’m so sorry.”

“Stop,” Katsuki said the word so strained it sounded painful and collapsed down onto his hands. He was facing away from Izuku still, though his legs and hips still faced Izuku. He was still sat on his ass but had twisted and slumped halfway towards the floor as if there was a weight pressing him towards it.

Izuku’s eyes widened when he realized that Katsuki was trembling. His heart fully stopped when he realized that Katsuki was crying.

“O-oh no,” Izuku muttered, shuffling to try and move his uncooperative body a bit. “What did—I’m—”

Katsuki let out an anguished cry, a sob half-screamed out through his teeth, before he shook his head rapidly and jerkily. He was panting as if he’d been sprinting, trembling so badly that Izuku was very worried that his arms might give out.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku whispered, though he wasn’t entirely sure what about his words was so upsetting. He’d meant them as a compliment, to be reassuring. “I—”

“It’s fine,” Katsuki cut him off, voice terse and quiet. He cleared his throat roughly, shaking his head again jerkily. From his limited view, Izuku saw how he kept clenching and unclenching his jaw. Then he continued, his words bit out forcefully, “Stop apologizing. It’s okay. I get it.”

Izuku watched him. His chest felt tight for reasons he couldn’t entirely articulate. He was feeling his tipsiness again as he fought to recall what exactly he’d said that could’ve caused this reaction. He searched for words of comfort and failed to find any.

Katsuki sniffed, shifting slightly though his entire body remained tense. He was taking deep, measured breaths that Izuku could hear him loudly inhaling and exhaling in the otherwise silence of the room.

“Let’s just… go to bed,” Katsuki said finally, voice very low and monotonous. “We’ll talk about it in the morning.”

Izuku’s eyes widened. Katsuki at least planned to talk to him tomorrow but… his desperation to not be seen just as someone with an incurable malady remained.

“Wait, wait,” Izuku gasped out, reaching forward to grasp at Katsuki’s loose pantleg nearby his knee. When Katsuki practically flinched, he immediately let go. “I… I swear even though I—I can’t remember the last time we met, I swear I’m not stupid.”

Katsuki spun to face him so abruptly that Izuku winced slightly from shock. Katsuki’s face was red and twisted, a pained agony very clear on his face.

“Shut up,” he hissed, leaning closer to Izuku as he gave off an almost threatening aura. “I know that. Stop talking about this shit that I never said.”

Izuku was panting audibly at the proximity, unable to catch his breath. His shock from Katsuki’s sudden movement had only transitioned into shock at having Katsuki’s eyes on him again. His narrowed red eyes were pissed off as they glared, but there was still a tense, pained hardness to his expression. Since he was leaning forward slightly to more effectively get mad at Izuku, bending at the waist, it put him far closer to Izuku than they’d been yet.

“Just… I need you to know that,” Izuku managed to say, a bit breathily.

“I do,” Katsuki bit out. He sounded frustrated, but earnest.

“I… I do know a lot of things,” Izuku pleaded with him to understand. “I’m useful in a lot of ways.”

“Why’re you still talking?” Katsuki spat out, reaching forward to angrily grab at the front of Izuku’s shirt. Izuku startled from the movement and fell onto his back, but Katsuki only shifted upwards to lean over him, hissing out, “Shut up!”

“Please, I—I know a lot from reading on my own,” Izuku rambled, tears blurring his eyes again. “I do remember a lot, even i-if not about my own life.”

“Why’re you telling me this?!” Katsuki asked, and his otherwise angry tone had started to strain again with pain and something like pleading of his own. “Stop talking. Let’s just go to sleep, for fuck’s sake!”

“I want to see you again!” Izuku gasped out, the words bursting from his throat as if they couldn’t stay trapped within for a moment longer.

They both stilled, staring wide-eyed at each other. The only sound in the room was their breathing, a little too loud and fast to be normal.

Izuku took a shuddered breath but steeled his gaze, looking up into Katsuki’s eyes.

“I know you said we’ll talk in the morning,” Izuku went on, still a bit breathily despite his best attempts. “I trust that we will but… I want you to know in case I forget or—or even if I’m too hungover to remember everything we talked about.”

Katsuki winced and started to move away but Izuku reached out and snatched his wrist without thinking before he could let go of his shirt. They both seemed surprised at the action, but Izuku only tightened his grip.

“I want to see you again,” Izuku repeated, doing his best to sound as adamant as he was capable of. “I—I know I’m not much and I’ve got my issues, but I swear to you, I hold my own. I know you had to save my ass today, but I’m not helpless. If we… if we ever did travel together or see each other again, I don’t need you to take care of me. I’m not helpless.”

Katsuki was staring down at him, gaping at him in open horror as if he was saying something incredibly gruesome or disturbing. Izuku looked down at his own hand where it was wrapped tightly around Katsuki’s wrist, heat starting to flood his face as he caught up to his own boldness. He knew he sounded pathetic and desperate but… well, he was.

“I just… well, I swear, despite the impression I gave off today,” Izuku gritted out even as his emotions threatened to push their way up again, “I would be just like any other friend. I wouldn’t… I just want to be friends. I wouldn’t be a burden to you. We could… we could just get a drink again or something, even. I just… really, I just had a good time, and I want to be friends.”

Izuku jolted when something splattered on his cheek and he looked back up only to see that Katsuki was crying yet again, looking at Izuku with wide, pained eyes.

When they made eye contact, Katsuki visibly tensed, his face screwing up into somewhere between a grimace and a scowl. Another tear fell from his eye onto Izuku’s cheek, and Izuku barely registered it.

Izuku hurried to go on; the words were all tumbling out more and more. He didn’t know why he couldn’t stop talking. It was like there was something he desperately needed, and he couldn’t stop talking until he got there.

He felt like he desperately needed Katsuki for some reason, and he didn’t want to let him go without knowing that Katsuki would accept him in any sort of way.

“I know I can’t measure up to anyone you’ve lost,” he went on.

Katsuki fully jerked as if Izuku had slapped him, mouth falling open. His voice came out so strained it nearly cracked, “What? What’re you talking about?”

“I’ve never had any friends or family,” Izuku explained and watched as Katsuki’s eyelids fluttered and he reeled back slightly at the statement. “So I can’t… I can’t understand anything about what happened to you.”

“Huh?” Katsuki squeaked out.

“Your… well…” Izuku winced, his eyes darting back over to the tattoo on Katsuki’s shoulder. “Your partner. The Might Sword wielder.”

“What?” Katsuki’s voice was so raspy it was barely there. He stared at him as if he’d grown a second head. “How do you even know about that?!”

Izuku tried to ignore how his gut twisted painfully at the confirmation of that rumor.

“I know I can’t be them, or any of the people you’ve lost,” Izuku cried, finally releasing Katsuki’s wrist to press his hands to his eyes to spare himself the embarrassment of looking at Katsuki as he spoke. “I know we’ve only met a few hours ago, and I’m acting like a crazy person right now. But… but… if you could ever find use for an extra friend, I liked talking with you tonight.”

Katsuki didn’t say anything, but Izuku could feel the heat of him where he was still leaning over him.

“I—” Izuku began again, forcing himself to uncover his eyes.

“Please stop,” Katsuki cut him off immediately in a hoarse voice and sounded like he was fully begging now. Izuku went very still when Katsuki hung his head, his forehead almost touching Izuku’s chest—where his heart was pounding away underneath. “You don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Stop.”

“I’m sorry,” Izuku said quickly.

He knew it was true. He knew he knew jack shit about Katsuki’s life or his pain or what he’d lost. He really hadn’t been trying to seem like he did. Heat flooded his cheeks.

Katsuki shuddered, clearly trying to keep his sobs at bay as his chest spasmed. Izuku stared at the top of his head, regretting massively that he’d brought up Katsuki’s friends and family.

After a pause, Katsuki pushed back shakily onto his haunches. Quietly, monotonously he said, “Think you can sit up without puking?”

Izuku tried to catch his eye, but he wouldn’t look at him. “Um, yeah. I think so.”

Katsuki wordlessly held out his hand. He still wouldn’t look Izuku in the eye, so Izuku just took his hand, allowing Katsuki to help pull him into a sitting position. Izuku used his free hand to support himself a bit.

Even so, Izuku panted from the effort. His head spun a bit, and he hunched forward slightly once he was fully upright. Sitting up straight wasn’t doable at the moment.

“Katsuki,” Izuku breathed out, peeking up only to see Katsuki still not looking at him. “I’m sorry.”

“Shut up,” Katsuki said curtly, though there was an exhausted slump to his shoulders now.

“If you’d ever want to—”

“Yes,” Katsuki cut him off, finally looking at him to offer him an almost exasperated look. “Yes, okay? Whatever the hell you want.”

Izuku’s brow furrowed. Unease stirred in his gut. What did that mean?

“Can we please just go to bed?” Katsuki huffed, running his hands through his own hair roughly. “Not sure why the hell you’re so insistent upon talking about this right now but I’m really fucking tired and—”

He cut himself off to draw in a long breath and started to sigh it out slowly.

“It’s just that I’m lonely,” Izuku admitted quietly.

It was a whisper that was barely there, but he almost slapped a hand over his mouth after he said it. He must still be tipsier than he realized. That was supposed to be an in-his-head thought.

Katsuki’s head snapped up and he met Izuku’s eyes so suddenly that Izuku flinched. Their faces were so damn close and Izuku’s entire face was suddenly on fire.

Why was Katsuki sitting so close again? Up close Katsuki was somehow even more overwhelming, and Izuku held his breath, for the first time becoming distantly aware of the fact that he’d vomited not that long ago and probably smelled like it.

Katsuki looked like he’d been slapped. Hard. The blood had drained from his face, and his eyes had again blown wide. Izuku’s eyes were blown equally wide, instinctively copying his startled expression.

“You… are?” Katsuki asked hoarsely.

“Uh, yeah, sometimes,” Izuku cringed, looking away and back from Katsuki’s face, wishing he could hide somehow. “Like I said, um, I don’t have any family or friends. I’m not… well, I know that sounds bad and I’m not asking you to feel bad for me, but… I don’t know. Like I said, I had a good time talking to you. You… you’re also a lone traveler. I thought maybe we could… be friends or something. I’d like… to have a friend. So I just… I just didn’t want us to part ways until you knew that.”

“Dammit, Izuku,” Katsuki sobbed it out, covering his face with his hands as he fought to control himself. For a moment, he fully failed and sobbed into his hands and Izuku stared at him wide-eyed. “Are you trying to kill me? Fuck.”

His last words were so quiet that Izuku barely caught them.

Was he really that pathetic sounding? He cringed when he realized he definitely was. Somehow, his desperation made him sound so lonely and pathetic he was guilting Katsuki to tears. Shit, this whole evening was a mess. He wished Katsuki hadn’t come to check on him when he’d vomited. They should’ve had this conversation when Izuku was rested and sober.

He wanted to comfort Katsuki. He wished desperately that he knew how.

Before he could, Katsuki rasped, “S-shit, I’m sorry.”

As he spoke, he reached forward, grabbed the front of Izuku’s shirt, and yanked.

Izuku eeked out a surprised noise as Katsuki moved closer and then circled his arms around Izuku’s back. He went very still as Katsuki wrapped him in a hug that was almost painfully tight. Both his arms were wrapped around Izuku’s upper back, one hand flattened on his back and the other cradling the back of his neck.

It was unexpectedly… intimate.

Izuku had to remind himself to breathe, paralyzed with uncertainty. He didn’t mind the hug in the slightest, he just had no idea what to do.

Like many things, Izuku couldn’t remember the last time he’d been hugged. He was sure that he’d been hugged only because he assumed someone must’ve hugged him at some point, but he had no recollection of it.

Slowly, Izuku moved to hug him back, wrapping his arms around Katsuki’s back far more loosely and hesitantly than the ones holding him. He hoped Katsuki couldn’t feel the trembling of his hands, though it was almost certain that he could; Izuku’s hands were on the bare skin of his back, after all.

“I’m so sorry you’re lonely,” Katsuki sobbed the words out right next to Izuku’s ear.

Izuku’s eyes widened from hearing Katsuki’s voice so close, and his face heated as he involuntarily shuddered from the feeling that shot down his spine. He stared sightlessly forward in horror. There was no way Katsuki hadn’t noticed that, seeing as their torsos were pressed together.

Despite his mortification, Izuku didn’t move. Katsuki had started to cry harder.

“I’m so, so sorry,” Katsuki said.

Izuku felt increasingly out of his depth. He wanted to help, but he had zero idea what to do. He could feel the words rumbling through Katsuki’s chest where it was pressed against his own. It was so deep, so raw, so pained. He could feel the shuddering of Katsuki’s uneven breath and gasping sobs with such intensity that he almost forgot that he had his own lungs. He almost forgot that he had to breathe for himself. He almost forgot how.

“I didn’t know,” Katsuki mumbled, shifting to somehow hold him tighter, pressing the side of his head into Izuku’s. “I didn’t know. I’m so sorry. You never told me.”

Izuku’s embarrassment made way a bit for confusion.

Was… was Katsuki talking to him?

He definitely was even if he was muttering sort of quietly, but he wasn’t really making a whole lot of sense.

“Uh, it’s okay,” Izuku replied quietly, trying to awkwardly rub Katsuki’s back but feeling so uncertain as he did it. “You… well, we’ve only really just met. And, um… well… we’re friends now, I’ll be okay!”

Izuku’s heart jolted and his eyes flew open even wider when this only seemed to upset Katsuki more.

Powerful sobs wracked through Katsuki’s body. With their chests pressed together, Izuku could feel every spasm of his lungs and clench of his muscles. Katsuki was slightly taller and far bigger than him, so he sort of shook Izuku’s entire body with the force of his cries. He felt Katsuki’s hand fist into the shirt of his back, grabbing hold of it. His other hand flexed on his neck, shifting it but not releasing him for a second.

Izuku’s heart thundered. Horrified at how he only seemed to be worsening things, he stared vacantly ahead with his hands still awkwardly placed on Katsuki’s shirtless back.

Katsuki had him so solidly locked in his hold, seeming to draw some kind of comfort from this. So despite his awkwardness and uncertainty, Izuku let him keep holding him.

How did I get here? Izuku wondered, panicking for many, many reasons.

Being hugged by one of the most attractive people he’d ever seen—who was shirtless—as they both cried?

Was this what friends did? He supposed so, but he couldn’t know for sure.

What an odd scene, Izuku thought as he continued to go back and forth between uncertainly patting Katsuki’s back and just staying incredibly still.

What a strange, strange day this had been.

Izuku wanted to enjoy the hug, but he couldn’t stop freaking out about it. He couldn’t focus, he couldn’t stop thinking about if he was doing the right thing.

He didn’t know what the hell he was doing and Katsuki’s body was touching him everywhere and it was massively overwhelming.

Katsuki moved again, this time tilting his own head downwards and inwards… pressing his face to Izuku’s neck as he continued to cry. Izuku stilled further, letting out the tiniest of gasps that Katsuki didn’t seem to notice; it was drowned out by Katsuki’s own sobs.

Izuku was very certain that no one had ever touched his neck before and was mortified to feel his skin lighting up with hypersensitivity. He could feel Katsuki’s breath on his neck. The feel of it and the heat of his skin and his body that entirely encompassed Izuku’s own…

Izuku was incredibly overwhelmed.

Every time Katsuki moved in the slightest, he could feel it. He could feel Katsuki’s face against his neck. Katsuki shifted and Izuku barely resisted shuddering again when he felt the ghost of Katsuki’s lips on his throat.

Izuku wanted to fall through the floor and sink right into the earth when he realized what the responding surge of something very low in his gut meant.

Oh no.

Izuku grimaced, swallowing heavily and trying not to freak the fuck out.

Not the time!

Quite possibly the worst most inappropriate time for such a thing.

Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

What the hell is wrong with me? He berated himself frantically.

His face had never been so hot in his entire life. Because why the actual hell was his body reacting like that in this sort of situation?!

As much comfort as this seemed to be giving Katsuki, it was about to be extremely awkward if Katsuki kept insisting on pressing his entire shirtless body along Izuku’s and pressing his face—including his lips—to Izuku’s apparently really, really sensitive neck.

“Um, Katsuki,” Izuku said, extremely awkwardly, wiggling as much as he was capable of in Katsuki’s impressively iron hold. “S-sorry, but—”

Katsuki released him so suddenly and so entirely that a small gasp escaped Izuku’s mouth. He might’ve just collapsed from being so suddenly released except that as Katsuki shoved them apart, he really didn’t go far and kept a hand on Izuku’s shoulder, so close to his neck that it was practically on it. It kept Izuku steady while he adjusted to the change.

Izuku shuffled his legs a bit, wishing desperately that Katsuki wasn’t between them so that he could close them or adjust himself or anything. All he could do was beg the universe that Katsuki didn’t look down or look closely.

Luckily, at the moment Katsuki was wiping at his eyes, and they were covering his vision.

“Sorry, oh fuck… I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that,” Katsuki huffed out, sounding genuinely bewildered and put off by his own behavior. He withdrew his hand from Izuku’s shoulder and Izuku’s chest unexpectedly ached from the loss of the last bit of contact. “I meant to—dammit, I’m sorry, Izuku. Really.”

“It’s okay!” Izuku squeaked out immediately, waving it off. His face was on fire still. It was impossible not to stare at his lips when they were this close. In his defense, Katsuki was covering every other part of his face and his lips were slightly parted as he panted slightly and…

“I just meant to say,” Katsuki said, evenly. “That I’m sorry. For everything.”

He finally removed his hand from his eyes and Izuku’s heart dropped in panic, but Katsuki immediately looked up to meet his eyes rather than look anywhere else, thank god.

“You said that already,” Izuku said shrilly, awkwardly laughing slightly to try and dispel the impossibly thick tension, too overwhelmed to dwell on the fact that he sort of had no idea why Katsuki was apologizing. “And, uh, it’s okay, I promise. I’m okay! It’s all okay!”

Katsuki didn’t look remotely comforted by this and instead stared at Izuku with tired eyes that held far more emotion than Izuku could ever hope to identify, much less relate to.

Izuku stared back, feeling trapped by his gaze. He remained captivated by Katsuki as he watched those red eyes trail down his face… to his lips.

Izuku’s heart felt like it was going to burst from how quickly it was racing. He didn’t even breathe, horribly confused and thrown off and tired and probably still far drunker than he realized.

Was… was Katsuki about to kiss him? Like… on the lips?

Then Katsuki looked away, sitting back and shaking his head. Izuku struggled to catch his breath and restart his heart, seeing as both his lungs and heart had chosen to pause for a long moment in anticipation of being kissed.

“Let’s get some sleep,” Katsuki muttered out, voice hoarse and barely there.

“Okay,” Izuku agreed right away, nodding jerkily, breathless.

A strong desire was burning through him. He’d never experienced the feeling even close to this intensity. He’d only ever read about it. An irrational part of himself wanted to stay here, but he had no idea at all what he’d even do.

Well, he knew what he wanted to do, but it was entirely and completely not the moment right now.

Plus, with a belated rush of misery, Izuku remembered that Katsuki already had someone.

Katsuki pushed himself slowly to his feet. Izuku scrambled to move his legs closer together as Katsuki looked down to offer his hand. He had no clue if anything was even visible, but the nonzero possibility was already too embarrassing to handle.

“You okay to stand?” asked Katsuki.

“Uh, yeah, I think,” Izuku said, grabbing Katsuki’s hand and trying not to be too distracted by the heat of it.

Once he was up, Katsuki let go and Izuku partially staggered over to his bed, collapsing into it. As he got situated, Katsuki stepped back and slowly moved towards the door.

“Thanks, Katsuki,” Izuku called lowly towards him, watching him go. “Goodnight.”

“’Night,” Katsuki muttered in response, opening the door.

“See you in the morning,” Izuku said, eyes taking in Katsuki one last time, and trying not to feel too giddy about how he’d made a friend despite how strange and chaotic and emotional the night had been.

Katsuki paused, halfway out the door. He turned partially back to look at him. His face was smoothed over into something somber, and he practically radiated exhaustion.

“I’ll see you then,” Katsuki murmured the words with the intensity of a promise.

A strong pull—a sense of longing—surged up in Izuku’s heart.

He’d been too stressed out to fully enjoy the hug. Admittedly, he was excited to hug Katsuki again sometime. Maybe he could get used to it and actually be able to relax and draw comfort from it.

Katsuki’s eyes lingered on Izuku’s for a few more moments. There was still such a depth of pain in his eyes that made Izuku desperate to chase it away. To learn how to chase it away, even if it took his whole life.

Then he closed the door, and Izuku’s eyes lingered on it until they grew too heavy to keep open.

He blew out the candle and then fell asleep with the ghost of a smile on his face, elated for what the future would bring with Katsuki as his friend.

Chapter Text

When Izuku awoke the next morning, his head ached badly.

It felt like it was stuffed full of cotton, leaving him feeling sluggish and sickly. A dull pain radiated throughout the entirety of it.

Groaning, he rubbed his eyes and peeled them open slowly. The dim gray light coming through the window immediately made him wince and squint his eyes as a sharper pain stabbed through his skull. Slowly, he blinked and tried to let his eyes adjust. His vision was blurry from the heavy sleep, but it slowly cleared up as the seconds passed.

Izuku continued to rub at his eyes and head absently as he looked around the room.

At least I recognize this place, he thought with a pained grimace as he pushed himself upright, swinging his legs over the side of the rickety wooden bed.

He recognized the old wood paneling and crooked, slightly dirty windows of the inn. He was still in Hillside. Even though his memory was failing him, he was beyond grateful to at least know where he was.

With a sigh, he combed his fingers through his tangled, messy hair for a few seconds before giving up on it entirely. He smacked his lips a few times. His mouth tasted horrible. Even considering how he usually felt when his memory decided to just cut away a whole chunk of time, he felt terribly ill.

Had he been drinking last night? He usually tried to avoid it, as he already had a head-involved malady.

Why had he done that? Dammit, he didn’t remember a thing from the evening. Really, the last thing he remembered was gathering herbs out in the forest.

Izuku sighed and tried not to let the aching pain in his chest weigh him down.

Even with a lifetime of dealing with this issue—or as long as he could remember, he supposed—it was still so unsettling to simply be missing a chunk of time like this.

How had he gotten back here?

Had he given the herbs to Hisa? He must have, if he was here.

Izuku only let himself lament over things for a minute. Then he shook it all from his mind, telling himself that at the very least, he wasn’t lost. There’d definitely been times when he’d woken up some place unfamiliar and had to try and decipher his location without giving anything away to the locals.

With a sigh, Izuku forced himself up and started packing up his meager belongings. He straightened his shirt, swinging his brown leather satchel over his shoulder, and pulling on his increasingly threadbare, green cloak. Carefully, he strapped his swords to his hips, fastening his knives into their various places as well.

His weapons were arguably the nicest things that he owned. He had two swords—one longer sword and one shorter one—both with gold hilts and grips that were a very faded red color. His knives were various sizes, but in a similar style.

He received them a long time ago while traveling through forest country. A blacksmith gave them to him a few years back. He said they were faulty and wouldn’t sell anyways.

Izuku had originally tried to turn them down out of shock and disbelief, but the blacksmith had seemed oddly desperate to get rid of them. It was almost enough to make Izuku suspicious, but eventually he accepted them.

Despite what the blacksmith had said, Izuku never had any trouble with them. If anything, he found them to be incredibly reliable.

Being given his weapons was one of his earliest clear memories, though that wasn’t saying much. It was years ago now, but it was still during adulthood.

Izuku glanced around his room one more time to make sure he had all his belongings. He frowned when he noticed the usual bucket for water was missing. He would just have to grab some downstairs before heading out.

He also recalled that he was planning on heading to Westport next. It was a bit of a ways, but there was a mural there painted on the side of a building by the sea that he loved to look at. He liked to go see it every once in a while.

Though he’d originally planned on staying in Hillside for a few days, this new gap in his memory changed things. From experience, he knew how his next few days would go. His head would ache pretty much the entire time, though varying in intensity. He would be far more tired than he normally would be.

Then there was the restlessness.

Izuku could already feel the uneasiness eating away at him under his skin. Sometimes getting out of the city and walking around helped clear his head, so moving on to Westport was the best option.

Years ago, he’d seen a healer. After being given no help, he’d given up and left. Not to mention the shocking and insulting suggestion of how he’d potentially been a terrible person in his past life.

Any other physician or healer that he’d spoken to over the years—even just about getting terrible migraines following the memory loss—had been similarly unhelpful. Usually, it was just another version of telling him that he had an incurable ailment involving his memory.

A few asked if he’d offended any gods. One had suggested he’d been cursed. Izuku had assured them all that he lived an extraordinarily ordinary life, far from any gods or curses.

They’d all told him that he just had poor luck then. It just happened sometimes. People’s memories started to fail them.

Some told him to settle down with his loved ones. Find someone to look after him in case his memory got worse.

Izuku had no one, so he continued on as he always had.

Moving from place to place, a wanderer seeking something he wasn’t sure of.

A bit lethargically, Izuku packed his things, returned his key to the front, grabbed a drink of water, and headed out. It was early enough that just a tired-looking errand boy was sleeping on the front desk; he barely acknowledged Izuku handing off the key.

As much as Izuku wished to speak to Hisa—the inn’s cook, who was a kind woman he’d met a few years back—one more time before he left, the restless feeling under his skin was only growing by the second. He felt incredibly ill, but the idea of staying still for another second only made him feel worse.

He would just have to return to Hillside sooner rather than later to say hi to her again.

As Izuku made his way out of the inn, the dimness of the gray light told him that it was far earlier than he’d realized. Normally, he slept in a lot more than this, but the new bout of memory loss changed things. The fuzziness in his head didn’t want to fade, the exhaustion dragged at his bones, and a vague sense of fatigue wasn’t fading very quickly. Even so, he wanted to get going.

The restless feeling happened to him often. It was rare that he didn’t feel it in some way, but it intensified tenfold on days like today. It was a huge part of why he wandered from place to place so endlessly.

It was the sort of uneasiness that came from being certain there was something he was supposed to remember.

There’s something he’s supposed to do, somewhere he’s supposed to go, someone he’s supposed to look for… he had no idea which one it was.

It was a feeling that there was something he’d forgotten.

Of course, Izuku knew this was likely a side effect of whatever ailment he had. His memory was terrible, so he had forgotten a good many things.

Many years of this life had taught Izuku that he would never remember anything that he’d forgotten. The only way he could hope to stave off the feeling of uneasiness was to wander.

It felt almost like searching somehow, though Izuku had absolutely no idea what he was searching for.

It was a nice compromise between his body and mind. Izuku could feel the restlessness under his skin and some sort of instinct to do something but he knew his mind and memory would always fail him. When he wandered, his body was sated with the idea that progress towards that something was being made, even if the wandering was aimless.

Izuku’s pack was far too light; he sighed when he realized he was in need of provisions. Though he was good at finding edible plants and knew how to set a decent trap, Izuku always ensured to have some food with him before he began the journey to a new place. Just in case.

Making his way to the open market that he knew was near the center of the town, Izuku greeted and smiled politely to the people he passed. There weren’t that many people that were out this early. Since Izuku was usually not one of them, he was sort of intrigued to see who was; mostly, it was people headed to work down at the port.

Izuku was almost there when he stopped short, heart dropping to his toes.

A whole block of buildings was burnt halfway to the ground.

There were a few people picking through the debris, sorting through and moving charred remains of things into piles.

Izuku gaped in horror. This hadn’t been there the day before. He’d walked around yesterday morning and hadn’t seen it. The uneasiness inside him spiked unbearably until he felt even more nauseous than he already had.

He had no recollection of the evening or night.

Had something happened that he didn’t remember?

Gasping in breaths quicker, Izuku could only stare and wait, pointlessly, for a memory to surface. Trying so intensely to think of the night before only made his head protest sharply, and he winced, needing to shut his eyes for a moment.

What if he’d been involved?

What if he’d been here?

What happened?

He hated missing gaps of time. He hated it so much.

Izuku’s face scrunched up in pain and frustration, shaking his head and trying not to burst into tears. More likely than not, he wasn’t involved but he just felt so sick and he was so upset that he couldn’t know for sure.

“You okay there, kid?”

Izuku jolted in surprise when one of the men picking through the debris called out to him.

“Wha—oh, yes!” Izuku nodded, quick to offer his best attempt at a reassuring smile. “S-sorry! I was just—” He hesitated, glancing around. “What happened here?”

The man scowled deeply but walked closer. He was a lanky man with short black hair that was visibly graying. He had frown lines, which he was utilizing now. In general, he didn’t look like the friendliest person, but Izuku wasn’t too put off. Most of his attention was still on the burned remains of the buildings.

“What—were you passed out drunk last night or something?” the man asked, tone clearly indicating his judgement. He eyed Izuku warily, dropping the stuff in his hands into a pile nearby.

“Uh…” Izuku stared at him vacantly, indecision momentarily freezing him in place. “Yes?”

The man scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You must’ve been hammered out of your mind to not hear a damn thing.”

Izuku cringed. Truthfully, he had no clue.

“Band of thieves were making their rounds,” the man grunted, glaring at the wreckage disapprovingly.

Izuku stared blankly at him. He glanced at the destruction and back. Tone strained with horror, he asked, “A… band of thieves did this?”

“While they were trying to escape, yes,” the man replied. “They got their hands on a lot of our shit before any of us heard them. But eventually they woke someone up—then the yelling woke me up. Fight broke out from there.”

Izuku stared, wide-eyed. “Oh no… did they get away?”

“No,” the man said, but he sounded far from happy about it. He shook his head, fuming even more. His next words were bitter, hateful, and bit out through his gritted teeth, “That dragonkind barbarian is in town.”

Izuku blinked at him uncomprehendingly. “Who?”

Dragonkind? His mind spun. Despite the man’s tone, Izuku couldn’t help but listen a bit closer.

The man looked at him, raising an eyebrow skeptically. “You a northerner, too? You got a funny accent.”

“No, no,” Izuku shook his head rapidly, uncomfortable with the line of questioning. “I’ve honestly never even met one. Er, not any dragonkind, at least. I’m surprised there’s one of them in the area. Normally, they stick to the mountains, right?”

He knew he was generalizing a bit, but he also was honestly curious. Why would someone who was dragonkind be this far down south? It was uncommon, to say the least.

For all of the traveling Izuku had done, he’d never gone up north much at all. He’d never met any dragonkind before and had only heard the stories. Excitement bubbled up within him. Maybe he’d get a chance to meet this man while he was still in town.

“Yes, he’s been down south for years now,” the man said, back to sounding incredibly unhappy and disapproving. “You haven’t heard of him?”

Izuku shrugged, smiling awkwardly. He preferred to avoid bringing up that there was much he didn’t know. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, he’s one of those mountainfolk barbarians,” the man went on sullenly. “A bit feral-looking, never wearing any clothes. Very uncivilized.”

Izuku shifted uncomfortably at the man’s sharp criticism, but before he could make an excuse to get away from the conversation, a kid ran up to them out of the wreckage. It was a little boy with a dirty cap that was askew and a missing tooth. He dropped some stuff in the same pile as the grumpy man had, then looked up at the two of them with wide eyes.

“Are you talking about the northerner?” he asked, excitedly.

“Back to work, son,” the man replied immediately, sharply dismissive.

“The thieves set fires, and the northerner grabbed all the fire and swirled it around like a cyclone!” the kid ignored his father and cried out, moving his hands in wild, enthusiastic circles. “He fought all the bad guys off himself!”

“A cyclone?” Izuku asked, now also wide eyed and hanging onto every word. “Made of fire?”

Dragonkind were known for many things, but their proficiency with magic—especially involving fire—was well-known. Izuku’s blood rushed with excitement as he tried to reel in the wide, childlike smile that pulled at his lips.

Magic. The northerner knew magic. Not just the basic, everyday stuff that was more common, but he could use it in battle.

A cyclone made of fire? Izuku hadn’t ever heard of such a thing.

“It was excessive,” his father said, sharply disapproving.

“Daaad!” the kid complained, pouting. “It was amazing! He was like a hero from one of the stories you’ve told me!”

“No, he certainly was not,” his dad spat, pointing at the wrecked buildings. “Look at all his destruction, son!”

“But that was the thieves that—”

“Run along, son,” the man said, and this time his tone was so harsh that even Izuku winced slightly.

The kid pouted even more but did as he was told. Izuku watched him go, disappointed if only because he wanted to hear more about the cyclone of fire.

“There’s something wrong with that northerner,” the man criticized sharply before Izuku could excuse himself. “I say it’s madness.”

“Madness?” Izuku parroted as he took a step back in alarm.

“Don’t spread rumors,” a woman—short and thin with a long, dark-haired braid down her back—berated as she walked up and dropped her own scraps on the pile. Presumably, it was the man’s wife.

The man shook his head, still scowling deeply. He countered, “It’s not a rumor. I was there! It was disturbing.”

“He saved our lives,” she scolded lowly as she stepped closer, glancing around them even though it was still early enough to be pretty deserted. “The fire trapped a lot of us inside, and we might’ve burned or perished if he hadn’t been there! And he got all our belongings back!”

“We could’ve handled it without him,” the man only continued to shake his head, staring at the wreckage as he spoke bitterly.

“You don’t know that!” the woman argued back. “Not to mention, if the northerner hadn’t been there to control the fire, the entire city could’ve gone up in flames!”

Izuku shifted uncomfortably.

How had he gotten caught up in this lover’s spat?

How did he get away without being rude?

“Oh please,” the man scoffed, biting out his words testily. “We would’ve handled it!”

Izuku took a step back, about to turn to go. “Excuse me but I—”

“Listen, I’m glad those thieves are behind bars where they belong,” the man cut him off, turning to him with a tone heavy with spite. “But that northerner… he walked into that battle with a visible rage. He’s not even from here, and he was so wrathful… it was like nothing I’ve ever seen.”

Izuku just stared, wide-eyed, as the husband ranted furiously.

“I mean it literally simmered around him,” the man went on. “The air looked very strange—distorted somehow. It was like that when he walked up, and then he unleashed his fury on the thieves. He was shouting at them, fighting them with unnecessary brutality.”

“Keep your voice down,” his wife hissed, looking around again. “He saved us.”

“At one point he was laughing,” the man went on as if his wife hadn’t spoken. “The sound of it… it was madness, I tell you! He had a savage look in his eye. Those mountainfolk… gah, I wish those barbarians would keep to themselves. They’re normally pretty good at it! I don’t know why he’s even here!”

Izuku tensed, more than uncomfortable at the turn of conversation by now. The man’s tone gave Izuku a bad feeling in his gut—a writhing, sick feeling on top of his existing symptoms. He didn’t know what to say, or even how to escape the conversation without seeming rude.

“That’s enough,” the woman said in a harsh whisper, frowning deeply in disapproval. “He saved us! We owe him a life debt.”

“Like hell,” the husband countered tersely. “We didn’t ask him to do that!”

“You know that’s not how it works,” the woman argued back, affronted. “There’s only one exception to life debts and you know that!”

“Well, life debts are treekind superstition anyways!”

“You know that my grandmother was river country treekind!”

“Don’t mean I gotta care about that shit!”

Though Izuku didn’t have any real memory of his family or origin, his green hair and eyes made his treekind lineage undeniable. Because of this, he’d spent many hours reading up on all kinds of treekind lore over time. It varied depending on which country the treekind people lived in but there were some commonalities.

Life debts and how seriously they were taken were one of them. A life debt could be repaid most easily by returning the favor of saving their life, but in most cases it was simply a recognition of respect. It was repaid throughout life by the sharing of resources, kindness, or any other way someone could manage.

The suspected origin was due to the longevity of the oldest forests. Treekind were people who were known for a high proficiency in nature magic and a greater connection to plant life. They placed great value in the old forests in forest and river country, and thus life and longevity held great value amongst any treekind.

For a moment, Izuku wasn’t certain what exception the woman was speaking of. Then he recalled that he read a while back that there was one specific instance—outside of immediate family members—when life debts were never owed.

Between two life partners. Married, soulmates, lovers… there were many terms used, but the idea was the same.

To save a life that was an extension of your own was expected, not worthy of praise or reward. Rather, a failure to save a life that was an extension of your own could be cause for great shame.

From what Izuku had read, the specifics of such life debts were significant only to treekind. Everyone who used the term “life debt” other than treekind didn’t tend to hold to it as seriously. It was a term thrown around far more casually.

He could’ve guessed by the seriousness of the woman’s tone that she had treekind family. Life debts were serious to treekind riverfolk, so her insistence upon it even in the face of her husband’s disapproval made a lot of sense to Izuku.

“Just—hush!” the woman glanced around one more time, frowning deeply. “The northerner didn’t have to save us, but he did. Show some gratitude!”

“Whatever,” the man continued obstinately, spitting the words out. “He looked more like the bad guys than the good ones to me. That’s all I’m saying! No hero should look like that. Cackling and yelling like a madman while effortlessly fighting off a half dozen men. It was disturbing, I tell you.”

“Get back to work,” his wife ordered, marching right up to him, stabbing him in the sternum with her pointer finger. Quietly, she hissed, “If you keep speaking ill of the northerner, we might be shunned. You know he does a lot of good, no matter how you feel about northerners. He’s viewed favorably, and you’d do well to remember that.”

“I think it would be better for everyone if he just went back to where he came from,” the husband argued back lowly.

“Well, certainly not better for us,” the wife raised an annoyed, challenging eyebrow. “Seeing as he saved our lives, got all our stuff back, and put those thieves in the town prison. Now stop using gossiping as an excuse to slack off and get back to work!”

“I’m not gossiping, woman!” the husband glowered at her but finally stomped off.

“Sorry, dear,” the woman offered Izuku a friendly, though tired smile. “He’s had a rough night. We really are grateful to the northerner—if anyone asks.”

Izuku was certain that no one would be asking him about it, but he just nodded. The woman followed her husband before Izuku could say anything more.

Once they were out of earshot, Izuku let out a long breath. If he’d realized asking the man one question would’ve resulted in that conversation, he wouldn’t have bothered.

Still… he did learn a few interesting things.

With one last glance at the destruction, Izuku continued on to the market. There was a ghost of a grin on his face as he thought of the mysterious dragonkind northerner that could bend fire itself to his will.

The market was far busier than any other part of the town this early in the morning.

It was on one of the widest cobblestone streets, with stalls packed densely together and lining either side, as well as crammed in the middle. The stalls here sold items from all over; Hillside’s port meant that traders and merchants stopped by frequently and with ease.

Izuku made his way through, looking around. It was bustling with activity, overlapping conversation and loud haggling adding to the chaos. People walked quickly from one end to another, shouting across the entire market when they saw someone they knew. Besides the stalls lining the streets, the rest of the ones set up in the middle were sporadically and sometimes inconveniently placed.

Izuku was quick to buy some provisions from a few of the food stalls, carefully packing them away. He winced at the remaining money he had. It wasn’t much and not nearly enough to feel comfortable. He knew he’d have to find work soon. Luckily, on the way to Westport was an old acquaintance of his. He knew that they at least would take him on for some odd jobs.

As he carefully tucked away his dwindling savings, Izuku glanced around the market in a last once-over before turning to go. When he did so, his eyes caught on something.

The market was a place of many different goods, colors, sights, and smells. It was easy to lose things in the crowd, and the chaos ensured most everything blended in.

And yet, the bright red color of someone’s cloak further into the market stood out.

Firstly, it was generally a more vibrant color than most of the colors in the market. Secondly, that hue of red was far from a common one.

Izuku’s heart thundered as he started to push through the crowd towards it.

That bright red color… it meant that the wearer was either incredibly rich to be able to afford the dyes…

Or he was dragonkind.

Izuku was almost shaking with excitement as he sidestepped stalls and people shouting. He glanced at the cloak again and hardly dared to hope.

What was this luck? That he’d simply see the northerner at the market by chance?

His feet continued to carry him closer, until he could see the man with the cloak more clearly.

Assuming this was the northerner—which Izuku thought was a fair assumption, even with his limited knowledge—he was facing away from Izuku and towards one of the stalls. Izuku could make out his light blond hair that seemed to spike outwards from his head. That hair color was also something that wasn’t very common in these parts; to his understanding, it was more common up north.

Izuku nearly stumbled over his own feet as he gazed wide-eyed at the back of the northerner’s head. His heart thumped away quickly in his chest. He really had no idea what he was doing or what he hoped to say to the northerner, but everything that the family he’d just spoken to had told him sat at the forefront of his mind.

“The northerner grabbed all the fire and swirled it around like a cyclone! He fought all the bad guys off himself!”

“I mean it literally simmered around him. The air looked very strange—distorted somehow.”

If Izuku was a more cautious man, the husband’s warnings of madness and brutality would’ve held more weight. But as a general rule, Izuku was a good deal more curious than he was cautious.

He was more drawn to the idea of fire magic and dragons and all these concepts that felt so entirely foreign. Though he’d never met anyone who was dragonkind, there were endless stories and legends about them.

It was also a bit difficult for Izuku to take the husband’s criticisms seriously; he’d sounded like he disliked northerners or dragonkind in general. How was Izuku to trust his word on what the northerner was actually like?

As far as he knew, Izuku had never even met a northerner before. He’d never wandered much further north than the very beginnings of plain country, and he’d only read about what it was like up there. He was curious, to say the least, and the imagery of being able to bend fire to your will and swirl it into a fiery version of a cyclone… Izuku couldn’t help himself.

His life was so incredibly mundane that the rare draw of someone who commanded fire like a warrior out of a legend was impossible to ignore.

Besides, this was the middle of a market. If the husband had been correct about the madness, it wasn’t like the northerner would just openly attack him here, right?

Even if he did, Izuku’s swords hung at his sides. Though he doubted he could win against the northerner, he told himself that he could hold his own long enough to not get killed. He felt confident enough to approach, at the very least.

Izuku continued to walk closer, sidestepping a small group of people standing in the way, eyes quickly finding the northerner again.

The northerner shifted as the shopkeeper pointed out something on the edge of his stall. Izuku could make out the side of his face now. He was fair-skinned with a tense expression on his face. He was very attractive, almost uncommonly so. His jaw and cheekbones were sharply angled and only added to the general intensity that the northerner gave off.

Izuku realized he was nearly there. The northerner was less a distant red dot and more very much right in front of him.

He glanced at the stall the northerner was standing in front of. It was a stall that sold clothing, and Izuku recognized the short and burly bald guy that manned it. From word of mouth, he knew that the shopkeeper made some of the highest quality clothing in the whole region.

Not that Izuku himself had ever purchased any, but he’d heard many people rave about the quality of clothing the shopkeeper sold. Sturdy, well-made, and… magic. The shopkeeper was known for infusing the clothing with various spells and enchantments.

It was getting chillier, even this far south. Izuku’s old cloak had begun to fray at the edges. It was thinned out and stained by the sun after many long years of outdoor travel. Not to mention, Westport sat on stormier and wider seas than Hillside or any of the internal port cities.

Despite how Izuku knew deep down that he wouldn’t be buying anything—because he certainly could not afford anything here—he roamed closer with the flimsy excuse of browsing for warmer clothing in mind.

Finally, Izuku came up behind the northerner. His heart was racing, and he suddenly realized he had no idea what the hell he was doing. He’d followed his curiosity but was now faced with the fact that he had absolutely no idea what to say. There was absolutely nothing about himself that might catch the northerner’s attention, and he was completely at a loss for how to start a conversation.

Despite his current conundrum, Izuku had no intention to just turn around and leave. Thoughts of magic and fire and effortlessly beating half a dozen men kept Izuku rooted to the spot and staring at the northerner with wide eyes and a potentially creepy, gaping expression.

This resulted in Izuku simply standing awkwardly still—slightly behind the northerner but off to the side. As if he were looking at the stall too, except from way too far back.

Izuku found himself glancing quickly from the clothes to the northerner in a very unconvincing attempt to disguise his staring. From this angle, Izuku couldn’t really see much of his face—only his fair blond hair that spiked out from his head and his ear, which was pierced with a large red, fang-shaped earring that dangled from it.

At least from here he could clearly overhear the conversation the northerner was having with the shopkeeper.

“And how is the road to Westport these days?” the northerner was asking.

Izuku’s first thought was that he had a nice voice, though an unfamiliar accent. His second thought involved his heart jolting in excitement at the word Westport.

Izuku was also going there!

His nervous energy ramped up, too. This was a potential conversation starter, but that meant Izuku would actually have to say something.

Unfortunately, the pain in his head was also ramping up too, but Izuku was determined to ignore it at any cost.

“I’m sure you’ll have no trouble, sir!” the shopkeeper replied with a loud, boisterous laugh.

“Tell me anyways,” the northerner said immediately, sounding impatient.

The shopkeeper looked up at him with an inquisitive frown but nodded and tapped his chin thoughtfully.

After a moment, he said, “It’s generally well-traveled. Definitely much safer closer to the cities. There’s been some report of more bandits through Veera Pass, but always at night. Crossing through in the day should be fine, and those sorts of criminals pray on the weak and unassuming. They would steer clear of someone like you!”

The northerner didn’t say anything for a moment and then asked, “What else?”

Izuku was truthfully put off by the intensity of his questioning. He himself had made this trek quite a few times over the years and had never encountered any problems. Was the road known for being unsafe and he’d never realized?

The idea made him uneasy. Izuku had his weapons and was decent with them, but he so rarely had to use them that he wasn’t entirely confident in his ability to fight off an entire group of bandits. His nervously excited energy began to morph into genuine distress and anxiety.

“Uh,” the shopkeeper scratched at the side of his bald head, “the usual beasts when you cross through the forests. Centaurs in Trekwood, sirens off the coast of Bracket Point, all that stuff.”

“That all?”

The shopkeeper tapped his chin. “I can’t think of anything else but ask that lady—the hell was her name again—gah, that lady who sells all those magical oddities at the end of the market.” He waved his hand vaguely in that direction. “She travels even more than I do. Probably has heard something if there’s anything to know.”

The northerner nodded curtly.

“Excuse me?” said Izuku as he stepped forward. To his embarrassment, his voice came out tentative and slightly higher pitched than usual.

The moment he spoke, the northerner’s head snapped over to look at him so abruptly that Izuku flinched in surprise. At the same time, a searing pain shot through Izuku’s head that he did his best to ignore.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” Izuku said, awkwardly, assuming he’d startled him. “Um… is it usually dangerous on the way to Westport? I’m headed there myself, and… well, I’ve made the journey before but never had any issues. You seem concerned, so, uh…”

Izuku trailed off when the wide-eyed, gaping look didn’t fade from the northerner’s face.

The northerner was even more strikingly handsome up close. His eyes were red to match his cloak, his face was carved from sharp stone like a statue of a god, and his… well, he wore a shirt, but it hardly covered much at all. His shoulders were broad—broader than his waist—and his muscles were uncommonly defined. Izuku did his best to not look back down after the first glance. Even not knowing the customs of mountainfolk, openly staring at his bare torso felt very inappropriate.

For a moment, they just stared at each other. Izuku, because he was waiting for a reply, and the northerner… well, Izuku had no idea why he was looking at him like that.

His eyes were wide, his lips slightly parted as if he was halfway to speaking. Oddly, rather than recovering from the initial shock, he still looked startled and horrified. He was staring at Izuku as if he’d said something incredibly offensive.

The silence stretched and Izuku shifted on his feet, tempted to look down at himself or around in hopes they would provide an answer as to why he was receiving such a reaction from a man he’d never seen before in his life.

Was there something on his face?

Was something about him offensive? Had he managed to do or say something offensive in such a short amount of time?

“Travelin’ to Westport’s usually no more dangerous than any other trek around these parts,” the shopkeeper chimed in when the northerner seemed inclined to just stare at Izuku.

“Oh,” Izuku nodded, brows furrowing in thought.

It was hard to focus on anything when the northerner was looking at him so strangely. Izuku felt heat creeping up his neck, and he couldn’t stop shifting around self-consciously.

“Bakugou just likes to be thorough,” the shopkeeper continued, gesturing to where the northerner still stood. “Always asks for news whenever I see him.”

Bakugou… that was the northerner’s name.

Izuku looked back over to see Bakugou’s face had shifted from shock to something else. Unfortunately, it made little more sense than the previous expression. He looked distressed, almost uneasy or disturbed. It was really hard for Izuku to tell, and he hadn’t the slightest idea why he was receiving any sort of reaction other than dismissal, boredom, or even irritation.

What was happening?

Izuku wanted to inquire further, but Bakugou spoke before he could.

“What’re you doing here?” Bakugou blurted out, his words rushing out in a manner so unlike how he’d been speaking to the shopkeeper.

He was looking at Izuku with an increasingly frantic expression, eyes darting back and forth across Izuku’s face and down his body in a way that was making Izuku want to hide.

This time, once he comprehended the words, Izuku did turn to glance around himself and found that there was no one else close by that Bakugou could be speaking to.

Did Izuku seem like… someone who wasn’t allowed to go to the market? Why would the northerner ask him that?

Thoroughly bewildered, he answered, “Um… I came to buy some provisions. Like I mentioned, I’m headed to Westport, too.”

He’d been hoping their common destination would be a bonding moment, but the more that Bakugou stared at him with these varying and perplexing expressions, the more generally uncomfortable and anxious Izuku became.

This was a very bizarre interaction.

Izuku realized something he’d done or said or was wearing must have been massively offensive to Bakugou somehow. He wished he knew what it was, but he’d never been to the north and certainly never met anyone like Bakugou.

“It’s… really early,” said Bakugou, sounding stilted.

Izuku frowned and blinked vacantly at him. He glanced over to see the shopkeeper’s equally puzzled expression and then to the bustling market. While Izuku himself wasn’t an early riser, it wasn’t really that early. There were plenty of people awake.

“Uh, yes, I suppose,” Izuku replied awkwardly, offering a weak but hopefully friendly smile.

Bakugou glanced away, down to the ground. His eyes were still too wide, giving him a look of uncertainty, dismay, and alarm that Izuku simply couldn’t understand.

Izuku was having a difficult time with the fact that he’d somehow managed to mess up this interaction so thoroughly in such a short amount of time. He’d been so excited and hopeful that he’d get to speak to someone from somewhere he’d never been, but now things were not looking up.

His temples were also throbbing with the enduring pain of his headache, but Izuku was determined to not let that get in the way of things today. Not now.

“I’m sorry, sir, have I done something to offend you?” Izuku could no longer resist the temptation to ask.

Bakugou’s piercing red eyes cut back to his immediately and his face hardened into stone right before Izuku’s eyes. Within seconds, he’d straightened up and an intense, stoic look had overtaken his expression.

Izuku watched in real time, more confused than anything else, as Bakugou seemed to snap out of whatever daze he was in.

Perhaps… the northerner was a bit mad.

“No,” he said shortly and turned away from Izuku back to the shopkeeper. “The cloak.”

“Of course,” the shopkeeper offered one last glance in Izuku’s direction before he focused on his customer. He turned to look for whatever it was that Bakugou wanted.

Izuku tried again, nervous and still quite upset that this interaction had gone so poorly, “Have we met?”

He knew they hadn’t. Even with his poor memory, he surely would’ve remembered that. It was more likely that Bakugou was confusing him with someone else. Izuku had extremely common and plain features, so it was feasible.

“No,” Bakugou replied without so much as glancing over at him.

Izuku’s face fell further, shifting on his feet more as he desperately tried to think of some other question to ask. Before he could, the shopkeeper turned back around, addressing the northerner.

“This one, right?” the shopkeeper unraveled it, showing it off.

Izuku’s eyes were briefly drawn by the cloak, then he did a double take. His eyes widened. It was a long, pale green cloak with a gold clasp. It was thick and well-made, double lined with some sort of fur.

“The clasp is what activates the spell,” the shopkeeper said, tapping said clasp. “Once it’s latched, there’s a low-level stealth spell on the wearer.”

“How low-level?” asked Bakugou, narrowing his eyes.

“You said it’s for your spouse, right?” the shopkeeper asked, glancing with prying eyes at Bakugou.

“I didn’t say,” Bakugou replied cooly.

The shopkeeper frowned in obvious disappointment but went on, “The cloak trades quality of spell for duration. Since it’s permanently infused with the spell, it’s not very strong. If someone is not looking for the wearer and doesn’t know they’re there, it’ll make it so people will look right past them as if they’re not there. It doesn’t disguise a lot of sound though, so any louder or abnormal noise could draw people’s eyes. Once they notice the person, the spell can’t do much.”

“No stealth spell is permanent,” Bakugou said, still sounding peeved.

“Right,” the shopkeeper frowned for a second but then nodded. “It should last several years at least. If you bring it back to me, I’ll renew it free of charge.”

“Hmm,” Bakugou frowned pensively, eyeing it.

Izuku was also eyeing it. Admittedly, he really liked it. The color was very nice, and it looked warm. The bonus of a stealth spell sounded nice, too. There was no way he’d ever be able to afford a spelled cloak, though. He didn’t even want to know how expensive it was.

When Izuku glanced back at Bakugou, his heart jolted almost painfully hard from shock when he saw that the northerner was already staring at him.

Bakugou’s body was still facing the stall, but his head was tilted, and he was looking at Izuku’s face with a watchful intensity that had Izuku’s face immediately heating up. When they made eye contact, Bakugou’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Izuku felt the urge to apologize, though he still didn’t really know what he’d done to get on Bakugou’s bad side. He shifted on his feet uncomfortably yet again, tugging absentmindedly on his clothing just to give his hands something to do.

The northerner spoke before he could decide what to say.

“What do you think?”

Again, Izuku turned to glance around himself to see if Bakugou was addressing someone else.

Now Bakugou… wanted his opinion?

“Yes, I’m talking to you!” Bakugou snapped, exasperated.

“O-oh, uh,” Izuku’s face was on fire and he glanced from Bakugou back to the cloak and the shopkeeper—who again was watching in clear confusion. “It’s nice!”

Bakugou made a face, looking mildly irritated. “And? Would you wear it if it was yours?”

Izuku gaped. He lifted a hand up and pointed at his own chest. “Me?”

“Yes, you!”

“Um, yes?” Izuku’s reply sounded like a question even as his eyes trailed back to the cloak longingly. His nerves made him ramble a bit in his reply. “I… well, the color is really nice. Not as many people wear it in this part of the country, but treekind often wear that shade of green and I’ve always really liked it. It, uh, looks warm too which would be good for the upcoming winter! N-not sure who it’s for, but I’m sure they’ll like it!”

Bakugou was frowning at him, but with lessened intensity now. It was more of an attentive face than anything else.

Izuku felt the tiniest bit of hope bloom in his chest. Maybe he was finally getting on the northerner’s good side?

“You’re a traveler,” Bakugou said. “What do you think of the stealth spell?”

“I think it’s a good idea,” Izuku said honestly. “Especially for traveling alone. I would get one myself if I could afford it!”

As soon as he said it, his face heated up even more. Why was he sharing his unstable financial situation with these people? It was so inappropriate, not to mention embarrassing! Clearly, Bakugou intended to purchase this for someone and Izuku was here saying such awkward things.

He flailed his arms out as he quickly stammered, “I mean, uh… I don’t know, sorry. That was a weird thing to say! I just—yes, the spell would be good for traveling!”

When his nervous gaze flitted back over to Bakugou, Izuku was in for yet another surprise. Bakugou’s face had softened to something else—lighter eyes and the ghost of a smile. He almost looked… amused or maybe even smug. Izuku stared, baffled all over again.

This interaction was all over the place in a way that Izuku wasn’t following at all.

When they made eye contact, Bakugou’s stoic expression returned as he turned to look at the shopkeeper.

“I’ll get it,” he said simply.

“Great!” the shopkeeper schooled his face from his own bemused expression to smile at Bakugou. “Want me to wrap it for you?”

“Yes. As tightly as possible.”

“M’kay,” the shopkeeper nodded as he set about doing that. “That’ll be five gold rupees.”

Izuku’s eyes widened. That was far more expensive than he’d even guessed.

Had he ever even seen one gold rupee?

He watched as Bakugou swung his bag around and withdrew the money. The gold coins were shiny, and Izuku watched as he handed them over. He did his best not to gape openly at them.

“Safe travels, Bakugou,” the shopkeeper said as he offered the tightly packed cloak across the stall’s table.

Bakugou nodded once in acknowledgement as he took it and tucked it into his bag. As he turned to leave, he did so in Izuku’s direction, placing him just that much closer to him. From here, Izuku could clearly see that the northerner was slightly taller than him.

Izuku startled slightly when Bakugou made eye contact with him and quirked his eyebrow slightly.

“Thanks for your help,” he said, again sounding almost amused. His lips were visibly upturned now. Though it wasn’t a wide smile, it was undeniably there.

Izuku’s face flushed, entirely missing whatever joke Bakugou found so hilarious. He desperately wished that he knew, but he was entirely too thrown off to gather his thoughts enough to ask.

“O-of course,” Izuku managed to stammer out as Bakugou was already striding away.

Following him with his eyes, Izuku watched as Bakugou strode quickly through the market away from them. Unlike with Izuku, people parted the way for him to pass, many of them gaping at the northerner as he passed by.

Izuku felt a reflexive urge to follow him, but rationally he knew that was a terrible—and frankly quite creepy—idea.

Slowly, he turned to look back at the shopkeeper, who was also watching Bakugou leave.

“Is he… always like that?” asked Izuku awkwardly.

The shopkeeper looked over, snorting out a laugh. “Never seen him do like half of those facial expressions before. I didn’t know it was possible to startle him! Never seen him smile either.”

Izuku frowned, rubbing the back of his neck absently. “Huh.”

“Maybe you remind him of someone,” the shopkeeper suggested with a shrug. “He probably thought you were someone else for a second.”

Izuku nodded. He’d considered that himself, and it made the most sense out of anything he could think of. Still, Bakugou had stared at him for a while, so he’d have to be that person’s twin.

It would make sense why he asked for his opinion though, if Izuku looked or maybe acted similar to whoever he was getting the cloak for.

Izuku felt the hollow loneliness that never left his chest hollow out just a bit more.

With the distraction of the northerner gone, his persisting headache grabbed a good chunk of his attention again. His temples ached badly, reminding him of the presence of his malady. The noise and chaos of the marketplace seemed to have done a number on it, and it’d worsened significantly in his time here.

Mood a bit lower than before, Izuku offered a goodbye to the shopkeeper and wandered off. With a great deal of reluctance, he sought out a stall that sold remedies. Though he could likely manage the headache, it would make him move slower and take away from the pleasantness of his journey at this rate. Purchasing one would leave him with very little money to spare, but his options were limited if he wanted to get going today.

As Izuku drained a pain-dampening concoction that he’d shelled out most of his remaining savings for, he finally left the market. He made for the edge of town and told himself that he was just enjoying the sights and wasn’t looking around for a very specific shade of red.

Despite how strange that entire interaction had been, Izuku still found himself thinking of the northerner and wishing he had someone to buy him gifts. Someone who he could buy gifts for.

With a deep, dull ache flaring in his lonely heart, Izuku realized that he couldn’t remember ever having received a gift.

Chapter Text

Hours passed as Izuku walked.

Miles and miles went by, and the landscape alternated between woods and open meadows and villages so small they were hardly more than a few homes. This was right in the heart of hill country, so unsurprisingly the way was filled with many, many hills.

By the late afternoon, Izuku had grown incredibly frustrated about his inability to get the northerner off his mind.

No matter how many times he turned the conversation over in his head, he couldn’t make any sense of it. Even considering that he might look like someone Bakugou knew, Izuku still couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Really, he’d only grown even more curious. In addition to all his questions about dragonkind and the north, Izuku now wondered about who it was that he looked like.

Was it an old friend? Someone he hadn’t seen in a while? Was it someone he disliked or thought of favorably?

Izuku had hoped to see Bakugou on the trail at some point, but he hadn’t seen him in front of or behind him this entire time. He’d seen quite a few people walking in either direction, but none of them were the northerner.

For a while, Izuku had walked purposefully quicker in hopes of catching up with him. Though when the hours passed without the slightest sighting of a red cloak, Izuku wondered if the northerner hadn’t left right after he’d left the market. Maybe he was somewhere behind Izuku… or not leaving today at all.

His mind also kept drifting back to the cloak Bakugou had bought with increasing jealousy. A cloak with a stealth spell that cost five gold rupees? Izuku tried not to dwell on it, but his mind kept going back to it.

Was Bakugou traveling with whoever he bought that cloak for?

Had they liked it?

Izuku’s loneliness was so intense it grew sharp and bitter at the edges as the miles went by.

Rationally, he knew it was unproductive and pointless to resent the lot in life he’d been given. Dwelling on how his memory didn’t work properly would not restore it to perfect condition so generally he did his best not to do so.

Despite this, in moments like these Izuku found it difficult to completely shove it aside; moments when he was confronted so clearly with the lives those around him lived. Lives full of love and gifts and devotion and memories.

Still, Izuku didn’t feel equipped to handle confronting these negative feelings head on. So many of the times he felt himself growing too upset, he forced himself to think of something else. He would think over books that he’d read or continued to plan out his next few weeks.

At this point in life, Izuku was fairly good at avoiding thinking about his problems.

And yet, for some reason… he didn’t seem to be very good at avoiding thinking about Bakugou.

It was early evening by the time Izuku reached one of the only major towns on the journey to Westport.

Really, it was still more of a village than a town and it was major only in that it had a real name that was sometimes on maps; it was called Veera. Izuku didn’t know which was named first, but it shared a name with the nearby Veera Pass. Veera Pass was a trail that led the quickest route through some of the tallest hills in the region, and he’d traveled it many times before over the years.

Izuku sometimes stopped to stay the night in Veera, but he couldn’t do so now. The restlessness was somehow still buzzing under his skin as intensely as ever. Despite the exhaustion dragging at him from the long day of walking, the thought of stopping just yet made Izuku feel antsy.

Even more than that, Izuku couldn’t afford to. Even if he’d had some savings left after his trip to the market that morning, he was hardly that far into the village before an older man limped by him and asked him if he had any money to spare for food. Izuku had been quick to give him some, though of course that’d left himself with almost nothing.

It wasn’t ideal, but Izuku’s acquaintance lived in a village just on the other side of Veera Pass. He knew that he could sleep there for free and earn some money in the next few days. He would just have to trek on and make the crossing. He knew if he went quickly he could make it through before it got too late.

Izuku only hesitated slightly on the edge of town when his eyes caught a flash of red in his peripheral. Turning his head, he caught sight of Bakugou ducking into a building down the street.

His eyes widened, staring at the place that the northerner had gone.

So Bakugou had been in front of him.

Had he run here?

Izuku’s heart was thumping away in his chest as he continued to hesitate. His curiosity was screaming at him to follow and strike up conversation again. To get some answers to his questions. Over the years, he’d read a great many books and heard so many stories of the people up north—especially of the dragonkind of mountain country.

Sure, he’d heard a lot of scary, disturbing tales about some parts of mountain country. Tales of dragons, bandit brigades, and old, old magic were just some of the things he’d heard of that lived among the rocks and in the crevices of the mountains up north. Still… Izuku knew that didn’t tell him anything about this northerner for sure. To Izuku’s curious mind, this was an opportunity that he would be foolish to pass up.

Oddly enough, a flash of memory at Bakugou’s small smile from this morning also appeared in his mind.

But after a moment, Izuku’s shoulders slumped, and he turned back to the path ahead. Maybe he would see Bakugou again in Westport, but for now he didn’t have the time or money to stop.

As he went onward, he did his best to pick up the pace and not look back, wishing he didn’t feel strangely like crying. He faced forward and pretended he didn’t notice how his mind kept trying to drift back to the northerner.

Resolutely, he ignored how his heart ached from how empty it felt.

Izuku had been walking for not half an hour before he reached the start to Veera Pass. It was little more than a fork in the road, with Veera Pass heading west and the other way splitting off to the south.

He turned and started west, pausing around the first bend when the trail led into the trees that covered the trail here and there all across these hills.

What had the shopkeeper said?

Bandits at night?

Izuku drew in a deep breath, putting a hand on the hilt of one of his swords as he stared at the path ahead. The trees provided cover, in some ways… but they also provided cover for potential bandits.

He breathed out slowly as he tried to force the slight anxiety twisting his stomach into knots to relax. He just had to keep his eyes especially peeled. Even though he’d never had any trouble here, it didn’t hurt to be extra cautious. If he hurried, he could cross through and make it to the town on the other side not long after it was dark.

Izuku squared his shoulders and made to begin walking again when someone grabbed his arm and yanked.

“AH!” Izuku cried out in shock, not having so much as heard someone approach.

His sword was halfway out of its sheath when his eyes caught on the bright red of Bakugou’s cloak.

“Oh, it’s you,” Izuku sighed out in relief, moving his hand from his sword to put it over his wildly beating heart. “I thought you were a bandit.”

“What’re you doing?!” Bakugou barked in reply.

Izuku was still recovering from how badly he’d been startled, trying to get his breath back. He straightened up, eyeing the northerner in confusion.

“Huh?”

“Where the hell do you think you’re going?!” Bakugou growled, stepping closer into his space. He still had a hand wrapped around Izuku’s upper arm; his grip was almost painfully tight.

Izuku’s heart jolted with alarm as he belatedly comprehended the look on the northerner’s face.

Bakugou was heaving in massive breaths like he’d been running, and sweat was trickling down the side of his face. His expression was a twisted, enraged glare, and his red eyes with all their intensity were currently locked on Izuku.

The utter fury displayed on the man’s face was more than alarming, it was terrifying.

That was when Izuku’s jumbled mind noticed that the hand on his arm was oddly hot.

Dragonkind.

Fire magic.

Izuku immediately wrenched his arm free, stumbling back a few steps. The unease and anxiety quickly stirred back to life in his gut. He moved his hand back to the hilt of his sword where it was partially hidden under his cloak.

Dragonkind were known for a few things—besides their ability to communicate with dragons, of course. Their fire magic, their possessiveness and loyalty, and their ability to fight.

In a thousand years of empires and kingdoms and wars and powers exchanging hands, no one had touched the dragonkind that lived in mountain country. They commanded dragons, they bent fire to their will, and they defended their home and their families with a terrifying intensity. Izuku had heard of and read many of the stories of their might. Even the weakest of their warriors could bring most knights to their knees.

That’s right. While Bakugou wasn’t a bandit… that didn’t mean he was necessarily a friend. Izuku’s daydreams of the northerner and whoever was to receive the cloak had apparently lured him into a false sense of security.

In the fading light of the evening, completely isolated from anyone else, Izuku felt something like terror start to freeze the blood in his veins. Here and now, Izuku’s mind chose to recall all the most frightening things that he’d heard about the northerner.

“He unleashed his fury on the thieves. He was shouting at them, fighting them with unnecessary brutality.”

“At one point he was laughing. The sound of it… it was madness, I tell you! He had a savage look in his eye.”

Izuku had no idea how truthful any of it was, but as he stared into Bakugou’s snarling face, he could certainly understand some of it.

“I—” Izuku took another half step backwards, fear tightening his throat and wiping his mind blank.

His heart thundered, and he adjusted his grip on his sword, ready to fight if need be.

In the slanted golden light of the approaching evening, completely alone with a potential madman who was currently very angry... Izuku realized that in this new context, everything was different. While he’d been confident enough to approach the northerner in public in the middle of the town, this was different. While he thought he could hold his own in a fight then with others around to potentially back him up, this was different.

Bakugou was a conjurer skilled enough to use magic in battle. Based off the stories Izuku had heard of mountainfolk warriors, he’d likely win even without magic. Not to mention, he was taller and appeared physically stronger than Izuku.

Whether or not the northerner was respected by so many of the people in Hillside, Izuku didn’t actually know who he was or what he wanted. If he attacked for any reason, Izuku wasn’t certain he’d survive.

“I don’t—” Izuku tried to speak past the horror of his sudden realizations as he instinctively started to shift further towards a fighting stance.

It was hard to find the words. He didn’t understand what was happening or what Bakugou wanted.

“It’s almost dark,” Bakugou’s tone was sharp and critical. “You’re about to go into Veera Pass.”

“Uh, yeah,” Izuku replied, voice wavering slightly as he shifted back another half step. “I’m staying at a town on the other side.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed.

Izuku’s grip tightened around the hilt of his sword. He hesitated to draw it, if only because Bakugou didn’t have any weapons drawn himself. If he did so, the northerner might see it as hostility and attack.

“Didn’t you hear that shit about the bandits?” Bakugou rebuked. “It’ll be dark soon, and you’re headed right into bandit territory!”

Izuku forced himself to breathe around the fear that held him in a vice grip. It was hard to see past the northerner’s infuriated expression and scathing tone, but if he tried…

It almost seemed like Bakugou was warning him.

“Oh, uh—” Izuku stammered out, resisting the urge to glance away to check how far the sun had set. He knew he shouldn’t take his eyes off Bakugou for even a second. “I was going to move fast. I should get to the other side not long after dark.”

“If you get attacked, you think you can hold off an entire group of bandits?” Bakugou was spitting mad. “In the dark? In territory they know and you don’t?!”

Izuku worked his mouth for a second as words failed him. Then he managed, “Sorry but… it’s my only option. I should really get going. T-thank you for the warning, though.”

“The hell does that mean?”

Izuku gaped at him. “I… well, I don’t have lodging in Veera.”

“There’s an inn!”

“I—” Izuku panicked internally. His mind had gone a bit fuzzy with fear, and his headache had picked just now to start flaring up again sharply.

Was it safe to tell Bakugou that he didn’t have any money? Normally, telling someone you did have money was a bad idea, but he couldn’t decide if the opposite was also bad for some reason.

He couldn’t think.

“I don’t have much that bandits would want anyways,” Izuku managed to say.

“Don’t be a fool!” Bakugou snapped back immediately. “You’re alone and carrying weapons worth a small fortune. If they disarm you of them, they’ll take everything you have. And some of those bastards are fucked up—they might beat you half to death just for trying to fight back!”

Izuku stared at him in wide-eyed shock. When the hell had Bakugou gotten a good look at his weapons? They were all sheathed and most of them were well hidden by his cloak.

“I’ve… I’ve never had any trouble on this route before,” Izuku stammered.

“That’s because—GAH!” Bakugou immediately started to retort and then abruptly cut himself off with a frustrated yell that was so loud Izuku’s heart rate spiked in alarm. He started again, “Then you got lucky. And like that old man said, there’s been an increase in bandits in the area recently.”

Izuku tried again, “Thank you but—”

“I’ll pay for you to stay at the inn,” Bakugou cut him off sharply. “It’s safe back there, come on.”

Izuku didn’t move. “Thank you, but I can’t accept that.”

Even if Bakugou was offering, Izuku had made his decision. He didn’t want to backtrack, and he didn’t want to be stuck anywhere without money. Now that he had practically none at all, he wanted to keep moving. He also didn’t like the idea of taking money from a complete stranger for no reason, no matter the circumstances.

He went to step backwards again but let out a sharp gasp when Bakugou surged forward and yanked on the front of his shirt. It all happened so quickly, and then Bakugou was snarling in his face.

“Why the hell not?!”

Bakugou was far too close now for Izuku to draw one of his swords, so he shifted one of his hands around the back of his belt to discreetly feel around for one of his knives. He moved slowly and carefully, hoping his cloak would conceal him well enough and that the northerner wouldn’t notice the movement.

“I don’t know you, and I won’t take your money,” Izuku said, keeping his voice as firm and even as possible.

“I have plenty of fucking money! It doesn’t matter!” said Bakugou, exasperated.

“I—” Izuku stammered as his hand fumbled around, searching blindly for his knife and somehow missing it with how his hand shook.

“The inn has a healer—the old lady married to the owner,” Bakugou cut him off yet again. “There’s no one else for miles! I know there isn’t one on the other side of the Pass for another half a day’s walk.”

Izuku paused momentarily in his search as his entire body froze, and he eyed Bakugou warily.

A healer?

What the hell did that have to do anything? Did Bakugou think he was injured? Had he seen him buy that remedy this morning and made assumptions?

“I have no need for a healer,” he replied stiffly.

“You—” Bakugou cut himself off again, and he was practically panting from frustration and fury. When he continued, his voice was low and strained, “You need to rest! You’ve been walking all day!”

Izuku gaped at him. There was a moment where Bakugou’s expression faltered. He looked momentarily uncertain, like he was well aware that what he was saying made no fucking sense and was none of his damn business. Then it bled into desperation and back into rage.

“Why’re you taking unnecessary risks?!” Bakugou shouted, still in a strained voice. “Why’re you doing this?! Just let me pay for your shit!”

Izuku stared at him and listened to his words and concern that didn’t match up with the situation. Again, he remembered what he’d been told that morning.

“I say it’s madness.”

His hand finally curled around the hilt of his knife.

His heart thundered in his chest.

“Don’t be stupid,” Bakugou went on. “Come on.”

“Why?” Izuku asked, bafflement momentarily breaking through even his mind-numbing terror. “We don’t know each other! You have no obligation to ensure my safety!”

That statement made Bakugou’s eyes flash with rage and he shifted his grip on Izuku’s shirt to pull him closer, snarling in his face.

“And you’ve got no fucking obligation to walk right into danger when there’s another damn option!” he yelled. “If you go in there, I’ll just have to go with you to save your ass! And tomorrow when you—fuck! If you need a fucking healer, there won’t be one nearby!”

Izuku’s eyelids fluttered from surprise. He was breathing quickly, and his entire body was tense.

Bakugou had definitely mistook him for someone else this morning, and Izuku was increasingly certain that he was doing it now too. Though rather than mistaking Izuku for someone else at first glance, it seemed that Bakugou was fully failing to tell the difference between Izuku and whoever it was that he resembled.

Izuku’s knees felt weak, his head was throbbing with pain, and he was so scared that he couldn’t immediately find the words to reply. Instead, he was using the entirety of the available space in his mind to try to work himself up to actually using the knife. Behind his back, he was slowly working it out of the sheath.

“What I do isn’t any of your business,” Izuku managed to say obstinately, even as his voice tremored slightly.

“You know what?” Bakugou snapped, voice strained with frustration and something deeper. A worry or pain that Izuku also attributed to his madness. “Fuck this. You’re going to take your stupid ass back to the village or I’m going to drag you!”

Izuku heaved in another deep breath. And another.

“So, what’s it gonna be, I—” Bakugou began.

Izuku moved as quickly as he was physically able to. One of his hands shot forward to grab the thick leather cords that made up the front of Bakugou’s shirt to yank him downward. At the same time, the knuckles of his other hand practically slammed into the side of Bakugou’s neck in his hurry to get it in position. As soon as it was there, Izuku adjusted to press the metal to the skin of his neck, rotating so the blade of his sharpest knife was right against the northerner’s throat.

“Hands where I can see them!” Izuku half-shouted.

Bakugou’s reaction to everything was immediate. He flinched violently at the initial movement but then went incredibly still. His eyes flew open wide as all hint of expression other than complete shock dropped from his face as he did what he was told. He released Izuku’s shirt and put his hands up and slightly off to the side, visibly away from his weapons and Izuku’s own hands and knife.

Izuku was slightly shorter than him, but he made sure to firmly pull him downward by his poor excuse for a shirt at the same time as he pushed upward into his neck with the knife. He was trembling, and he was sure that Bakugou would be able to tell, but he had to hold his own or he would probably die. Now that he’d drawn a weapon, it invited challenge.

“I have no quarrel with you,” said Izuku in the calmest and firmest tone that he could manage. “I have no desire to fight you.”

Bakugou’s eyebrows furrowed ever so slightly at his statement, but he otherwise remained completely still.

“But I’m not the ‘weak and unassuming’ that the shopkeeper was talking about either,” Izuku said, forcing out an assertive tone to cover up his terror. “I don’t want to fight you, but I won’t be pushed around either. Not by any bandits and not by you.”

Bakugou wasn’t moving except for the visible heave of his chest as he breathed hard, his hands still held aloft and visible. He just stared at Izuku.

Izuku’s heart ached slightly at the expression on Bakugou’s face. His wide eyes had almost immediately taken on another look in addition to shock. There was an odd, almost youthful innocence about his face that made absolutely no sense other than to be a trick. He looked surprised in a way that was mixed in with some other form of hurt, betrayal, and distress. As if it genuinely hadn’t occurred to him that Izuku might attack him.

Since Izuku was going to assume that Bakugou wasn’t naïve when it came to confrontation, he could only assume that he was trying to deceive him… or return to the previous conclusion yet again.

Madness.

Izuku couldn’t afford to fall for it either way.

“What I do is my business. Do you understand?” he demanded.

“Yes.”

Bakugou’s answer was instant, but it was little louder than a whisper and strained.

“If I remove this blade and you don’t attack me, I won’t attack you,” Izuku vowed. “We can go our separate ways without any issues.”

Bakugou just stared at him with that same expression.

“Deal?” asked Izuku.

Bakugou didn’t move or speak, and instead his eyes just darted back and forth between Izuku’s. With each passing moment, he only looked more and more upset.

Izuku could feel how his weak heart wanted to fall for it. The desire rose to release Bakugou and ask if he was alright. He could feel how, deep down, he’d begun to feel bad for attacking, as if he hadn’t felt threatened first.

Despite the rising urge to be sympathetic, he held his ground.

“Bakugou!” said Izuku sharply.

Bakugou jolted hard enough that the blade of the knife dug into his skin. Izuku whipped it away quickly, stumbling back to get away as a fear more intense than anything he’d felt thus far took hold of him.

For half a second, Izuku stared at the knife in his hand with complete bafflement. Though he hadn’t wanted to hurt Bakugou, he still found himself momentarily shocked that his instincts had led him to getting away from Bakugou rather than attacking. When Bakugou had moved, he could’ve been moving to hurt him and Izuku knew that. Yet, rather than slicing the knife already pressed to his throat or even just flinching or anything else, Izuku’s mind had whited out with terror at the idea of hurting him.

His eyes were on Bakugou a moment later, but the northerner hadn’t moved in his direction. Really, he’d only startled slightly when Izuku had said his name and hadn’t seemed to be making any sort of move to attack.

Izuku shot another glance down at his own knife, utterly bewildered. His reaction had nothing to do with his intentions or how he’d been scared. His heart had jolted so violently with terror at the idea of him hurting Bakugou rather than the idea of Bakugou hurting him. It’d been a subconscious reaction that was almost painful in its intensity. An instinct that had made him move before he could even think.

Izuku couldn’t understand why the hell his instinct would be to get the knife away rather than attack. In that moment where he was so consumed with fear, he almost would’ve expected to accidentally use the knife reactively to attack despite how he didn’t actually want to cause the northerner any harm.

Izuku stared at the knife, because while he’d consciously not wanted to hurt Bakugou he couldn’t believe his own instincts were to act so completely and directly against his own self-interest.

The feeling left Izuku so bewildered that it took him far too long to draw his sword and fully face Bakugou. Really, if Bakugou had been attacking him, he would’ve been screwed.

As it was, Bakugou still hadn’t moved in the slightest in his direction. Instead, he was staring at Izuku with an increasingly twisted expression with a hand wrapped around his own neck where the knife had just been pressed.

Izuku stared at him, hearing his own heartbeat in his ears and feeling the throbbing ache in his head. It wasn’t lost on him that Bakugou hadn’t reached for his weapons, though it was hard to get himself to relax completely.

“Do we have a deal?” asked Izuku again, though his voice sounded far too unsteady for his own liking. He still felt too off-kilter from his own reflexes betraying him, and it bled into his voice.

For a moment, Bakugou just stared at him. The hand wrapped around his own neck was visibly shaking. His shoulders rose and fell visibly as he heaved in large, slightly accelerated breaths.

Then he said, “I won’t hurt you.”

Izuku gaped at him. The words were heavy in a way that he couldn’t properly put his finger on. Like everything else involving the northerner, they made no sense.

A moment later, Bakugou added in a quieter, weaker voice, “I would never hurt you.”

Izuku reeled back slightly, mouth falling open further even before he’d found the right words to reply with. He stared at the raw agony and dismay on Bakugou’s face before he finally, finally was able to think completely past his own fear.

Bakugou was confused.

He’d confused Izuku with someone else in the market earlier, and he was confusing him with someone now. It was also clearly causing him a great deal of distress.

Yes, it was terrifying and Izuku still wasn’t sure if he’d suddenly attack. But Izuku turned over the limited knowledge he had of the northerner in his mind and arrived pretty quickly at a conclusion.

In one way or another, the northerner suffered from some sort of insanity. The unpredictability of madness was always what made it scary, but now that Bakugou wasn’t shouting in his face he could think a bit clearer and put aside his own terror.

Really, Izuku was only a few steps away from madness himself. He too was frequently thrown into confusing situations by his unpredictable malady. He too couldn’t rely on his own mind.

Madmen and invalids were all the scorned members of society in one way or another. Few people showed the insane or the broken any genuine kindness. They didn’t understand, and they feared and looked down on what they didn’t understand.

But Izuku…

Izuku understood madness as much as someone who wasn’t mad themselves could. In this way, he knew that they had something in common.

Despite his best attempts to stay strong, Izuku’s heart cracked in half. It hurt deeply for Bakugou, if only because the man was clearly in a lot of pain right now. As scared as he was, Izuku felt increasingly desperate to show Bakugou some form of kindness.

When Izuku replied, it came out more breathless and shakier than he would’ve liked though he tried to keep his voice as gentle as possible, “Well, I’m sorry. I… I don’t know you. How was I supposed to know you wouldn’t hurt me?”

Bakugou was still clutching at his neck, breathing hard. He averted his gaze and stared at the ground with slightly widened eyes that looked a bit wild and disturbed.

The silence stretched.

Izuku shifted on his feet, lowering his weapons slightly. “Are you—”

“You don’t.”

“W-what?”

“You’re right,” said Bakugou lifelessly. “You don’t know me.”

As they stood there, Izuku realized that the light was fading as the sun set more and more. It was making him nervous. Even if Bakugou had shown up here out of some sort of misplaced concern, he’d inadvertently made things a lot more difficult and dangerous for Izuku.

“I’m sorry,” Bakugou gasped out abruptly as he fell to his knees. “I’m so sorry.”

He was still holding his neck and a whole different sort of fear surged through Izuku.

Had the knife cut deeper than he’d realized?

“A-are you alright?” Izuku took a step forward before he halted. He didn’t want to seem like a threat, though Bakugou hadn’t reacted to his movement. “I-I’m sorry, I wasn’t actually trying to hurt you. I just—”

Izuku cut himself off and gaped as tears welled in Bakugou’s eyes. He was staring forward with a lifeless expression as they trailed down his cheeks, ignored.

It felt like someone had grabbed hold of Izuku’s heart and squeezed.

With the fear increasingly fading from his system, Izuku now comprehended that Bakugou really hadn’t intended to hurt him either. He’d likely thought that he was protecting him. Maybe he even thought that he was protecting someone that he knew.

Bakugou’s hand dropped from his neck, and even in the fading light Izuku could see that he’d barely nicked him. He breathed out a sigh of relief, though his attention immediately shifted to the look on Bakugou’s face.

He was still on his knees, slumped as if something heavy sat on his shoulders. His face was still disturbingly expressionless as he silently cried, and he stared vacantly at the ground.

Maybe if Izuku was a crueler or even slightly less compassionate man, he might’ve taken this opportunity to run. As it was, he knew he couldn’t leave the northerner like this—fierce warrior or not.

Izuku desperately wanted to help him somehow and to offer him any sort of understanding. Slowly and carefully, he tucked his weapons away, though he made sure to remain wary of Bakugou’s weapons or a change of behavior.

“Bakugou?” said Izuku softly.

Bakugou winced and then slowly dragged his eyes up to meet Izuku’s. His expression was nothing short of devastation.

Izuku’s chest physically ached for the northerner, who’d clearly been trying to look out for him in his own way. He wished he had any real idea of what to do in this situation. As it was, he could only try to look as non-threatening as possible.

“Listen, I don’t mean you any harm,” Izuku said quietly. “I just… I got scared. I don’t want to fight, okay?”

“Fuck,” said Bakugou in a hoarse whisper, grimacing and putting a hand over his eyes as his shoulders sagged even further. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry.”

He looked so overcome with agony and regret that Izuku reflexively took a step or two closer to him.

Izuku shook his head, waving his hands around frantically as if he were wiping away the very idea of his apology. “It’s fine! It’s fine, I promise! I was just a bit jumpy already because I knew there could be bandits and so I was already on edge, but—but I know now that you meant no harm!”

Bakugou didn’t move for a long moment, and then his hand dropped from over his eyes. Staring forlornly at the ground, he muttered, “You remind me of someone. I… forgot you weren’t him for a second. Fell into habit and didn’t think about how I was coming across.”

Even though Izuku had suspected this to be the case, the confirmation made his chest compress painfully. He had absolutely no idea what to say or how to comfort him, but that didn’t mean he felt okay just leaving him like this.

“It’s okay,” Izuku said quickly. “I understand.”

To Izuku’s immediate alarm, Bakugou smiled in response to his words.

It was nothing like the smile from earlier, but rather it stretched, twisted and rueful, across his face. His eyes widened to a slightly more crazed expression, even as tears still slipped out of his eyes.

“Of course you do,” Bakugou said, letting out a laugh. The laugh was just as strange. Humorless, strained, disbelieving. “I bet you feel bad for me, don’t you? Tryna figure out how to fix me?”

Izuku blinked slowly as he witnessed the change. He grew warier as Bakugou’s expression approached something more crazed and similar to what the man this morning had warned him about.

“Cackling and yelling like a madman while effortlessly fighting off a half dozen men. It was disturbing, I tell you.”

For a moment, Izuku couldn’t think of anything to say. He could only stare with wide eyes and a furrowed brow, indecisive on what to do next.

Bakugou was correct in his assumptions, but was it just a wild guess? Was it him confusing Izuku for someone else and it was a coincidence? He didn’t want to play into Bakugou’s delusions if it was the latter.

“I… I’m sorry if I remind you of an old friend of yours,” said Izuku cautiously. “I do want to help you, but… I’m sorry but we don’t know each other. I’m not him. I’m not the person you’re thinking of.”

“HA!” Bakugou barked out a sharp, loud laugh this time. It was more amused now, but still in an off, uncanny sort of way that unsettled Izuku deeply.

Bakugou laughed some more as his hands came up to the sides of his head and he sat back onto his haunches. He threaded them into the hair at his temples and gripped hard. His laughter sounded almost incredulous. The sort of sound one makes when things are going wrong in a comical way.

Izuku stared at him, wondering if he should run after all.

“This is so messed up,” muttered Bakugou as he shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut. The action forced tears to trail out of his eyes, which he continued to ignore. It seemed like he was speaking more to himself than Izuku. “I… shit… what have I done to offend the gods so? Haven’t I given enough? Haven’t we given enough?!”

He laughed some more, though it sounded even more crazed and his voice was thicker with emotion. Enough like a sob that someone who happened upon the scene might not be able to tell the difference. He hunched forward until he was practically curled in on himself, face ducked towards the ground.

Izuku hadn’t meant to trigger his insanity and make things worse. He’d been trying to remind Bakugou of reality in hopes of grounding him.

Desperately, he tried again. “Bakugou, I—”

Izuku’s heart lurched when Bakugou let out a pained cry, followed by a few loud sobs. He wasn’t laughing at all anymore, and his sobs were gut-wrenching.

“I can’t—” Bakugou gritted out the words, muttering them in a quiet, hoarse voice. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”

He gasped out more broken sobs, and Izuku’s chest instinctively ached for him even past his own fear and uncertainty. For a long moment, he cried and Izuku tried to think past the chaos in his own mind to figure out what the hell to do.

The light had faded even further now, and no matter what they did, they were vulnerable here and couldn’t stay for too much longer. Izuku knew they’d just have to go back to the village, but he didn’t know how to approach saying that. He didn’t want to interrupt Bakugou’s obvious breakdown and somehow make things worse or incentivize him to attack.

“He wasn’t my friend,” Bakugou sobbed out.

Izuku’s eyes widened. The increased volume of Bakugou’s words made him think that he was again speaking to him rather than to himself. He also didn’t miss the past tense in Bakugou’s words. His heart dropped at the raw grief tearing apart Bakugou’s voice.

“I’d known him my whole life,” Bakugou went on, lowly and brokenly. “We played together as kids. We… we were inseparable.”

Izuku gazed down at him, shifting awkwardly on his feet. As much as he ached for the northerner, he felt uncomfortable as well. He didn’t have the slightest idea what to say or do.

For as long as Izuku could remember, he’d been alone.

He was an orphan with no family to speak of. He didn’t even have friends apart from frequent acquaintances in towns he passed through a few times a year. The sad but true reality was… Izuku had never loved or been loved enough to relate to whatever Bakugou was crying about.

Bakugou was mourning someone he’d known his entire life. Someone he’d played with as a kid.

Izuku couldn’t remember much of his life. He remembered almost nothing about being a kid, and definitely not if he’d had any friends back then. He was an invalid with an incurable malady, left to wander the streets alone for as long as he could remember.

How could Izuku ever understand the intensity with which Bakugou grieved when he’d never felt a love to match it?

“He was my partner, my best friend, my…” said Bakugou. He collapsed further, falling forward onto his hands, trembling as if holding himself up was a great challenge. “My everything.”

He let out a few sobs that were muffled as he clearly tried to suppress them.

“He was the love of my life,” he managed to say. The words were so strained that they were little more than hoarse whispers. “And… I failed him.”

Dragonkind were known for the intensity of their devotion. Izuku didn’t know if it was cultural or it had to do with their nature—dragons were known for being possessive hoarders of treasure. Either way, marriage and partnerships were taken very, very seriously.

As the stories went, dragonkind only ever had one partner. At the moment, Izuku couldn’t recall exactly what happened if one of them outlived the other, but he knew they only ever loved one time. No matter what it was, simply from having heard the stories, the massive well of agony inside Izuku that was echoing Bakugou’s flared up even worse as he realized that the northerner was talking about his partner.

Bakugou was talking about his person. His one person.

Even without knowing or understanding the full extent of what that meant, Izuku felt horrible as he listened to Bakugou’s sobs.

Though Izuku couldn’t know if this was the case… if losing his partner was what drove the northerner mad, he understood.

“I can’t—” Bakugou spoke again, painful-sounding sobs ripping through his chest. “I can’t fail him again, but I’m—I’m—”

Izuku again shifted uncomfortably on his feet. Bakugou’s voice had gotten a lot quieter and it had an odd note to it again that made it hard for Izuku to tell if he was speaking to him or just talking to himself.

“I failed him,” Bakugou managed eventually, fingers flexing on the dirt. “I left his side in battle, and our life together was stolen while I wasn’t watching his back. I should’ve been there!”

Left his side…

Life was stolen…

Izuku stared down at him in horror as tears sprung from his own eyes so abruptly that he surprised himself. Slowly, he touched his own cheek and looked at the wetness of the tears shining on his fingers in the dying light.

He was almost bemused at the sight of them. Though he felt sad for Bakugou… he rationally knew that he couldn’t understand his pain. And yet it seemed that witnessing Bakugou’s agony alone was enough to bring him to tears. It was like all his emotions were responding in kind. Unbidden, an echo of grief was tearing apart his own chest.

Izuku knew that he had no way of conceptualizing or understanding such a level of grief, and yet the echo in his own chest had grown so physically painful that he was tempted to fall to his knees and curl in on himself as well.

Nothing was helped by the fact that his headache had worsened to the greatest level of anguish it had been yet. The dull ache became a much sharper pain that made Izuku grimace and squeeze his eyes shut, clutching at the side of his head as he tried his best not to cry out.

“He never failed me,” Bakugou was speaking now with a furious sort of intensity and determination.

It was hard for Izuku to process any of what he said around the pain in his head and the ache in his chest. Luckily, from how lowly Bakugou was muttering, Izuku assumed that he was speaking to himself anyways.

“Not once did he ever fail me, but all I ever did was fail him again and again and again,” said Bakugou and then he let out a muffled cry of frustration through his teeth. “If our places were reversed, he would be strong enough. He would never fail me. I can’t fail him. I have to go on.”

Izuku’s eyes were streaming tears continuously now and his eyes were still squeezed shut. He gripped at the hair on either side of his head and willed his headache to go away. Frustration was building inside him. He could barely hear Bakugou’s muttered words and he couldn’t really comprehend them either. He needed the headache to go away. He was no good to Bakugou like this. He wouldn’t be of any help if this pain kept up.

Luckily, after what felt like an eternity but was likely only a minute or so, the pain faded back from the unbearable level it was at. Izuku forced himself to take deep breaths, focusing back on Bakugou who was still collapsed on the ground and muttering to himself.

Izuku couldn’t see Bakugou’s face, only the top of his head where it hung limply as if it was too heavy for him to hold up.

“Deku could do it,” Bakugou was murmuring almost inaudibly now. His hands that were still pressed to the ground curled into fists. “You know Deku could do this. Nothing would stop him. Nothing. He’d never leave you to go it alone. Not even if the gods themselves tried to stop him.”

His voice had hardened even further and grown even stranger in tone. He sounded as if he were trying to convince himself of something, Izuku just wasn’t entirely sure what that something was.

Deku? Izuku thought, wincing when his head flared up in pain for a moment before it settled back down again.

Was Deku the name of the person he’d lost? The person he was mistaking Izuku for?

Bakugou went on muttering, “You have to… you have to… he’s hurting too, even if you can’t see it. He’s lonely. He’s lonely. You can’t leave Deku alone. He needs you, even if he doesn’t show it. You can’t break. Come on… get up, Kacchan.”

Kacchan? Izuku thought.

Was Bakugou talking to himself? Referring to himself as Kacchan?

He had no idea what Bakugou’s full name was. Kacchan sounded like a cutesy nickname that he never would’ve guessed belonged to the man in front of him. But maybe… it was a childhood nickname? If this whole situation involved a childhood friend?

Izuku had not encountered madness very many times in his life. He still couldn’t move through his conflicting feelings and indecision. He wanted to help. He could practically feel the weight of Bakugou’s pain and distress, but he just didn’t know what to do.

“You’ll see him soon,” Bakugou was still mumbling away. His whole body was trembling slightly. “You’ll see him soon. Come on, Kacchan. You can’t fail him again. You can’t, dammit. Get up.”

With that, Bakugou shoved himself up all at once, moving so suddenly that Izuku startled back a step. The northerner didn’t appear to notice, though. Instead, he was dusting himself off and schooling his expression as he forced a few loud deep breaths.

Then he turned to Izuku. Involuntarily, Izuku tensed and stared at him with wide eyes.

Bakugou met his eyes with a lifeless, exhausted expression. Even in the fading light, Izuku could see that his eyes were bloodshot.

For a long, long moment, the two of them just stared at each other. Izuku’s heart raced. Frantically, he searched for something to say—anything. But unhelpfully, he couldn’t think of a single damn thing.

He hesitated for too long, because the northerner spoke first.

“I know you don’t know me,” said Bakugou lowly. “I know to you I must seem like a madman.”

Izuku didn’t deny it. In fact, he didn’t do anything. He remained so still that he didn’t so much as blink.

“Even if I have gone mad, I’d bet I’m a great deal saner than any other bastard would be in my position,” Bakugou spat out challengingly, a slight glare making its way onto his face.

Izuku didn’t deny that either. From his limited knowledge, Bakugou’s life seemed extremely messed up.

Bakugou’s expression melted back into exhaustion, and he looked back at Izuku. His tone was tired and openly beseeching now. “All I ask of you is to allow me to pay for you to stay in safety for one night.”

“But… why?” Izuku murmured, lost enough that an imploring tone snuck into his own voice. “I’ll… I’ll go with you, but I don’t understand.”

He knew that he looked like Bakugou’s lost lover but… Bakugou seemed aware that he wasn’t him at the moment.

Just how mad had Bakugou been driven by his grief?

Though Izuku wanted to help, he was growing increasingly worried that Bakugou might latch onto him in a scary way.

Did he think that he needed to save Izuku in order to not fail his lover?

Was he convinced that Izuku was someone he needed to take care of—simply because he looked like someone that he used to know and love?

Izuku was torn by that idea. He was a lonely man, and the idea of companionship was never usually unwelcome. On the other hand, this situation was so odd that he didn’t know what to feel. Bakugou didn’t appear to intend him any harm, but he’d still been scary when he was up in Izuku’s face.

For a moment, Bakugou didn’t answer, eyes flitting back and forth between Izuku’s. Then he said, quietly, “It would offer me peace of mind for one night in an otherwise hellish life. It’s as simple as that.”

Izuku stared at him with his brow furrowed. The statement was heavy and—like with everything else—he hadn’t the slightest idea of what to say in reply to it. Why would Izuku’s guaranteed safety offer him peace of mind? His fear and unease that Bakugou’s madness would cause him to latch onto him grew a bit.

But more than anything, at the moment he had no interest in messing with the tentative state of the northerner’s sanity. So in the end, Izuku decided not to push it any further despite how he was very certain that there was nothing simple at all about any of this.

“Alright,” said Izuku hesitantly. “Let’s… let’s go back. I’ve lingered here for too long anyways. It’ll be fully dark here soon.”

Bakugou nodded, not meeting his eyes as they turned to go.

Despite how intensely Izuku had wanted to push forward through Veera Pass, he relented and turned his back to it for the night.

They started forward in silence, walking side by side but further apart than two friends might. Izuku could sense Bakugou’s desire to take up the rear, but he slowed to match his pace any time that he tried to do so.

Izuku didn’t want to cause any offense, but he simply couldn’t trust Bakugou to watch his back. The northerner was unpredictable at best, and they didn’t know each other. At least Bakugou never said anything about it. Despite his repeated attempts to slow down and watch Izuku’s back, he never verbally protested Izuku’s actions.

So they walked side by side back towards the village in silence.

Izuku’s mind drifted back to what he’d heard of Bakugou’s ramblings.

Deku.

It was sort of a strange name. For some reason, Izuku was inclined to think the word was an insult, though he couldn’t recall ever hearing it being used. Maybe it was an insult up north somewhere? And he’d read it in a book once?

Though why Bakugou would use an insult to refer to his life partner was beyond Izuku. Maybe it was an inside joke?

They were halfway back to the village when Izuku spoke again. He knew that he probably shouldn’t bring it up again, but he wanted to offer his condolences and Bakugou seemed calm enough at the moment. It was as good a time as any. Though Izuku had no real words of comfort, he wanted to be clear that he recognized the extent of the man’s grief at the very least.

“I’m so sorry for your loss,” Izuku said quietly.

Bakugou stopped walking, and Izuku immediately tensed all over, wide eyes flying to meet his as he also stopped.

Bakugou was staring at him with such intensity that it made Izuku want to squirm. His red eyes were sharp and intimidating, and Izuku found it hard to retain eye contact without looking away.

Izuku’s heart pounded as he shifted nervously from foot to foot. He immediately began to regret bringing it up, even if he’d just been trying to be kind.

But then Bakugou only looked away and started to walk again. Izuku hurried to follow suit.

“He’s not dead,” Bakugou replied lowly after a long pause. “He was cursed.”

Izuku’s heart dropped to his toes from horrified shock, and then he promptly tripped over his own feet. He yelped out a surprised noise and started to fall.

But before he could even begin to move his arms out to catch himself, Bakugou shot forward, caught his arm, and righted him. Sure, he was rather rough and aggressive about it, but Izuku hardly cared about that. He was just grateful he didn’t break his face on the rough pathway, and mainly his mind was still caught up on what he’d just heard.

“Oi, watch where you’re going!” Bakugou barked, voice sharp with irritation.

“T-thanks, sorry,” Izuku stammered out, before immediately whipping his head over to look at Bakugou, eyes wide. “Cursed?!”

Bakugou just glanced at him with an annoyed expression still on his face and then away, not seeming to think the repetitive question worthy of an answer.

“Cursed?” Izuku said yet again, squeaking out the word quietly to himself as he wrung his hands nervously. Then he looked back over at Bakugou, “Where is he?! Are you—why are you not together?!”

Bakugou glanced at him again, though his expression had faded to something more smoothed out and somber. He quickly glanced away again, huffing out a long sigh that sounded almost exasperated.

“It’s a wasting curse,” he said, staring lifelessly at the ground in front of their feet. He sounded somewhere between defeated, exhausted, and pained.

Izuku’s eyes widened.

Though he didn’t know how to use magic himself, he’d read quite a bit about it over the years.

Curses were already a complicated and cruel bit of magic. They existed solely to cause harm, after all. There were a wide variety of them and—from what Izuku had read—wasting curses were widely accepted to be one of the cruelest.

It was exactly as the name said, it wasted away the person cursed. The most general form of it wasted away a person completely; within days, the curse wasted away the body and then rotted away the flesh. Often, the person was alive for far too much of it.

It was a fate far worse than death, and the books he’d read implied that those cursed with it did choose death before they had to endure the extent of the curse.

Izuku didn’t ask what he wanted to ask.

If Bakugou’s partner was cursed… how was he still alive? How long ago had it happened? Why wasn’t he with him then?

He didn’t ask, but after Bakugou let out another long sigh that sounded even more tired than the last, he went on unprompted.

“Specifically, it’s a wasting curse of the mind,” Bakugou said lowly, staring at the ground. “The nature of it means that my being with him—” His voice grew thick, and he paused a moment, jaw clenched tightly. Finally, he gritted out, “It makes it worse for him.”

Izuku’s gut twisted itself into knots from the strength of his anxiety. The situation seemed so irredeemably horrific. If he didn’t know what to say before, he definitely didn’t now.

Wasting curses of the mind were far more complex and even crueler than the ones of the body. They could be detailed, intricate, and specific. It took a very skilled sorcerer to even cast one but…

From what Izuku knew, they killed the person even faster than a wasting curse of the body. Or at the very least, tore their mind or memory or personhood to shreds so quickly that even if they weren’t dead, they were basically braindead. Eyes open and heart beating, but completely unreactive.

Izuku felt almost nauseous with the strength of his horror.

Was Bakugou’s partner braindead? Izuku couldn’t see how that would mean that Bakugou’s presence would make it worse, but it could explain why Bakugou wasn’t with him. If it was hard for Bakugou to see him like that… maybe that could explain it.

Izuku had so many questions, but he was not remotely under the impression that it was acceptable to ask them.

Though as his mind spun at a thousand miles an hour, a question did tumble out of his mouth. It was on the topic of solutions rather than the nature of the curse, so Izuku’s desperation to somehow help or redeem any part of the situation allowed it to slip past his lips.

“What… what about true love’s kiss? Isn’t that supposed to break curses?”

Bakugou visibly slowed and he looked so deeply miserable that Izuku immediately regretted opening his stupid mouth.

Maybe that was just a rumor anyways or maybe they weren’t “true” lovers and it hadn’t worked or something. It wasn’t like that term offered a specific set of parameters anyways, so maybe that was far rarer than even the stories said. Dammit, why had he said anything?

“S-sorry, forget I—”

“He was cursed with a darkknife,” Bakugou’s voice was quiet and helpless.

“Wha—those are real?!” Izuku’s mouth fell open as horror once again made his heart feel like it dropped right to his toes.

A darkknife was yet another thing that Izuku had only ever read about. He knew even less about them than he did about wasting curses, and most books listed them as legend rather than fact.

Bakugou didn’t seem to dignify that question as worthy of a response either.

“How—what—” Izuku struggled, uncertain of what to ask next. “So even true love’s kiss doesn’t work?!”

“It works,” replied Bakugou stiffly, not looking at him. “Just… not permanently. It breaks the curse on the mind, but since a darkknife carves the curse into the soul, it always… comes back.”

The silence was heavy and Izuku didn’t know what to say. As he turned over all this new, horrible information in his mind, he eventually decided again that saying nothing was the best way to go. He couldn’t seem to find any words that would do any good. In fact, he was fairly certain that such words didn’t even exist.

So Izuku just faced forward and tried to breathe through the heavy sorrow that he could feel practically radiating from the man walking next to him.

It wasn’t until they were almost to the village limits that Bakugou spoke again.

“One day,” he said, “I’ll figure out how to break it. I’ll free us from this hell.”

Izuku felt like he’d been struck by lightning. A strange feeling shot through his gut that raised all the hair on his arms. A chill raced down his spine, and he couldn’t help but turn to stare at the side of Bakugou’s face.

Even though the northerner wasn’t looking at him but instead was staring down at the path in front of them, Izuku couldn’t look away. His face was set in stone, smoothed over and solemn with a burning passion in his red eyes.

The way in which Bakugou spoke made the depth of his resolve undeniably clear. His words were an oath that Izuku had no doubt he’d swear on the gods themselves. There was something about his tone, his intensity, and just him that made Izuku’s blood suddenly rush through his veins.

Izuku’s heart rate picked up as he stared, overwhelmed far beyond words simply from witnessing the devotion, the promise, and the determination with which Bakugou loved another. He had to force himself to breathe around the sudden flood of feeling. His own empty, unloved heart ached, right in the middle, so deeply that he almost reached a hand up to grip over it.

Just as before, Izuku failed to find words.

Even if Bakugou’s emotions and grief and love were so intense that even the echoes of it caused Izuku such immense pain, Izuku knew that that was not at all the same thing as actually enduring it. He could never hope to understand. Nothing he could say could ever fix or help or even comfort someone in such a situation.

Such words didn’t exist, he knew for certain now.

As the legend went, the wound of a darkknife could not be undone. Bakugou was vowing to do the impossible to save his lover. It was admirable, but Izuku also had never felt so horrible for another person in his entire life. Never before had he so desperately wanted to help someone, and yet knew deep in his heart that he could do absolutely nothing for them.

While he would never know what it was like to be Bakugou, Izuku wouldn’t blame him if he were going mad. He agreed with his readings.

Death likely would’ve been kinder than this fate.

Chapter Text

The inn in the village of Veera had a little yard stretching out behind it with grass that was mostly dead and a rickety wooden fence that surrounded it. It was mostly barren, though there was a fire pit in one corner.

Once they’d dropped off their belongings, Bakugou bought a large bottle of mead and some food for them from the old couple who worked inside the inn. They ended up out at the deserted old fire pit with their food.

The firepit wasn’t all that impressive. It was little more than some charred wood surrounded by a ring of stones of various sizes. A tall stack of firewood sat against the side of the inn that Izuku grabbed a few logs from. Though when he returned with the intent to make the fire, Bakugou was already crouching over the firepit and only held out his hand for the wood.

Izuku relented, if only because Bakugou had the sort of scowl on his face that could just mean he was exhausted… or that he was extremely annoyed. He had no interest in testing the man’s patience.

Instead, he turned and sat on one of the dried-out logs that was placed around the fire pit. There were four of them; if they weren’t slightly haphazardly placed, they would’ve formed a perfect square around the fire. There was also an old, abandoned lute leaned up against the end of Izuku’s log—though it looked crudely made and was probably out of tune, at best.

Izuku took his share of the food and just watched in silence as Bakugou built the fire.

Though almost immediately, his distracted observations morphed into fully captivated attention. While Bakugou stacked the wood normally, he set the fire with his hands. Eyes wide, Izuku gaped as Bakugou crouched before the wood, his hand making a small popping noise and sparking—as if he were striking flint and steel, though he held nothing—until the wood caught fire.

“Wow,” Izuku breathed out as Bakugou moved to sit back from the now thriving fire. “That was amazing.”

Bakugou didn’t respond and sat on the ground in front of the log to Izuku’s right. He leaned back against the log and kicked his legs out in front of him. This did place him quite close to the fire, though Izuku suspected that Bakugou had little to fear from an element that he could command with ease, so he said nothing about it.

Though it did also mean that Bakugou sat more on the left side of his log, which placed him closer to Izuku and meant his legs stretched out in Izuku’s direction as well. Izuku wasn’t sure yet how he felt about the proximity, but it definitely wasn’t relaxed.

Bakugou dug around in his pocket and pulled something out, leaning forward to hand it to Izuku.

Izuku reflexively took it from him and glanced down at it in confusion.

“Got it from the old lady,” Bakugou offered in explanation.

Izuku read the inscription on the tiny bottle. It was a pain relief remedy. He blinked vacantly at it and then up at Bakugou.

“Why did you get this for me?” he asked, genuinely puzzled.

Sure, his head still ached slightly, and it had flared up a bit not too long ago, but how did…

“Heard you muttering about your head,” Bakugou grumbled as he glared into the fire.

“Oh,” Izuku looked back down at it.

…when?

When had he been muttering about it? Was it at the market this morning somehow, and that’s why Bakugou thought he needed a healer earlier? Was it just now as they walked back or something?

In the end, Izuku glanced back at Bakugou and saw the weariness on his face. They were both worn out, and honestly, he appreciated it. His head did hurt, even if the ache was less than before. Maybe in the morning he’d be more bothered by it and could interrogate Bakugou, but at the moment he just pulled out the little cork.

“Thank you,” he said, before downing it.

Bakugou didn’t acknowledge his statement and instead took a large swig of the bottle of mead.

They were quiet for a while, staring at the fire. It was fully dark by now and out in a rural village like this, the lighting was few and far between. Really, apart from the fire, it was just the occasional lantern hanging outside someone’s home and any light that came through people’s windows. It was sort of cold as well, though the fire was burning nicely and giving off quite a bit of heat.

A few minutes into eating, Bakugou offered him the bottle of mead wordlessly.

Izuku hesitated for only a moment before he took it. He knew he shouldn’t drink much, because it would make him feel poorly in the morning and he was already unwell. But for the moment, there was a knot of anxiety in his gut that he’d rather get rid of. That was worth another hangover, in his opinion.

They ate in silence, Bakugou drinking most of the mead with Izuku only having the occasional swig.

The silence wasn’t awkward, but it wasn’t completely comfortable either. It was slightly heavy, though Izuku didn’t know in what way.

Bakugou was visibly exhausted in a way that Izuku definitely related to; today had felt incredibly long. His face was mostly stoic and solemn, with a hardness around his eyes that faded slightly the more that he drank.

Izuku didn’t really know what to do or what to say to him. He’d only met him this morning, and it was fair to say they’d had a variety of interactions that were more bizarre than anything else. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt about him in this moment.

There was a part of him that remained undoubtedly intrigued. Bakugou was a new person, from a completely different part of the world who was surrounded by mystery and stories of battles and magic and curses. Izuku had so many questions that still spun around in the back of his mind.

The larger part of Izuku was still affected by witnessing Bakugou’s agony. His cruel existence, his cursed love, his unpredictable madness. From everything he’d heard and witnessed of the northerner, Izuku was beginning to form a picture in his mind of who Bakugou was.

For one thing, despite the rumors and ridicule Izuku had been told this morning, it seemed that Bakugou was mainly known for being something of a hero. The woman from this morning had scolded her husband for speaking poorly of him, as if that would get their family shunned. Bakugou had also walked with ease through the market, a commanding and largely respected presence.

If Izuku looked past the terror he’d felt, Bakugou had seemed to largely show aggressive concern for his safety. He’d been frustrated and overwhelmed, but clearly his madness was playing some part in things.

And… the fact remained that Izuku felt a growing sense of kinship with Bakugou on that ground. Izuku found that a usual portion of his anxiety was remarkably absent as they ate side by side. There was no fear of judgement or sudden cruelty. Whatever the extent of Bakugou’s madness, Izuku felt that there would likely be a level of understanding between them.

If Bakugou were to find out about how Izuku was an invalid, for once Izuku wasn’t afraid. If anything, he felt called to share it, if only because maybe for once he could tell someone who wouldn’t look upon him with scorn or judgement.

Still, Izuku hesitated to speak. He didn’t know where to begin and he didn’t wish to make things worse for Bakugou mentally. He had so much to say but couldn’t even decide if he should say anything at all. So he ruminated on it all and instead focused on eating his mildly stale bread and meat that was slightly too salty.

In the end, it was surprisingly Bakugou who broke the silence first.

“I really didn’t mean to frighten you earlier,” he said lowly.

Izuku looked at him in surprise. A part of him had been certain they wouldn’t speak to each other again tonight, and he certainly hadn’t expected Bakugou to say anything unprompted.

“I was a fool,” Bakugou said as he stared at the fire with something of a weary expression. “I knew that you only just met me this morning, and you seemed more intrigued than anything else. It really just didn’t occur to me that you would see me as a threat.”

Izuku chewed slowly, staring at him as he spoke. Bakugou stared at the fire and then he drew in a big breath and audibly sighed it out.

“Maybe I am a bit mad, after all this time,” Bakugou murmured and tilted his head back, looking up at the sky where the stars dotted overhead by the thousands. His voice was low and even.

He blinked in a slow and exhausted manner as he gazed up at the sky. Izuku stared at him, the sharp cut of his jaw and the increasingly hazy look in his eyes—though whether it was from tiredness or the alcohol, he didn’t know.

“But I knew who you were,” Bakugou went on with his explanation. “I knew you didn’t know me when I followed after you, I just thought…” He trailed off, brow furrowing slightly, then he shook his head, head moving downward in a slow manner that almost looked like it required effort as he went to meet Izuku’s gaze. The fatigue was written all over his expression. “I’m sorry.”

Izuku tried not to react with too much visible surprise even as he felt completely thrown off. Not only had Bakugou already apologized, but as he did so now there was such smooth, obvious sincerity in his voice.

“I saw how much I frightened you,” he said. “If you can believe it, that wasn’t my intention at all.”

Izuku’s heart again squeezed painfully at the raw sadness and remorse that added weight to his tone.

“I believe you,” Izuku nodded quickly, trying to offer a reassuring smile.

Bakugou studied his face for a moment, and then his lips stretched sideways into a smile that didn’t even get close to reaching his eyes. It was more of a rueful twitch of his lips than anything else.

“I’ll take some of the blame,” Izuku added, a bit sheepishly.

Bakugou’s brow furrowed slightly. His face and demeanor remained more exhausted than anything else, but there was obvious question in his eyes as he clearly was waiting for Izuku to go on.

“This morning, I heard about what you did with those thieves,” Izuku elaborated, rubbing at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I saw the destruction and heard from some of the locals.”

Bakugou didn’t react to this, staring intently at him with an expression so tired Izuku wouldn’t be surprised if he started to drift off soon.

“They were impressed by your fire magic and fighting ability,” said Izuku. “So, I knew you were a good fighter and conjurer. They also mentioned you’ve helped a lot of people, so I knew that you usually helped people out.”

Bakugou’s eyes narrowed slightly. He was waiting for the catch.

Izuku winced, looking away as his cheeks heated with shame. His eyes flicked back and forth between the fire and Bakugou.

“But… one of the men didn’t seem overly fond of you,” he said weakly. “He said that you fought like a madman. I didn’t really trust much of what he said and didn’t take it to heart, but… well, back there when you were in my face and… maybe a bit confused—” Izuku said the words quickly and casually, trying to show that he wasn’t judging. “The man’s words kept echoing in my head. I was afraid that you might be a bit mad. That you might attack me as you did those men. I don’t know. I’m sorry too. It… I believe my fear was largely influenced by the man’s rumors.”

Izuku winced again, looking over to offer Bakugou an apologetic look.

Bakugou was staring back at him, frowning ever so slightly. “What does ‘fought like a madman’ mean?”

“Oh, uh…” Izuku glanced away and at the fire. “He just said you seemed very angry. That you were overwhelmingly cruel and… uh… laughing and stuff. I’m sure you had your reasons, though. And you saved them! So that’s good.”

“Tch,” Bakugou made a soft noise of annoyance, shaking his head and slowly again moving his head back until he was gazing sleepily up at the stars.

Izuku again glanced between Bakugou and the fire, waiting for him to go on. For a long moment, he didn’t seem like he was going to.

Then the northerner said lowly, “I was angry.”

Izuku peered at him carefully. Bakugou glared up at the sky, though it was muted and not as expressive or intense as it had been earlier.

“I was so goddamn angry,” Bakugou spoke in nearly a whisper, clenching his jaw once the words were out.

Izuku again waited as he practically could feel the emotion radiating off Bakugou because of how intense it was.

It wasn’t the volume of Bakugou’s words or any part of his expression, it was simply that his frustrations and pains and sorrows seemed written into everything that he was. Izuku could sense it with something beyond words.

Izuku eventually averted his gaze and stared at the fire, eating the last bits of his food and waiting.

But Bakugou didn’t go on. Instead, they returned to eating in silence, and Izuku was left to wonder about the source of the northerner’s anger.

Was it related to the thieves?

Was it related to his cursed love or his messed-up situation?

Was it everything—all the messed-up parts of life—building up and reaching a peak all at once until Bakugou seemed terrifying and unhinged when he was only reacting as any human would in his shoes?

Izuku replayed the day in his mind, thinking over all the strange pieces of information he’d gathered on the northerner.

The largest indicator to Izuku that Bakugou had a good heart somewhere under his terrifying rage was the very thing he’d seen him doing that morning at the market. He was buying a gift for someone else, and Izuku remembered how Bakugou had seemed very particular about it.

“Can I ask you something?” Izuku broke the silence with a hesitant question before he could lose his nerve.

“Mm,” Bakugou didn’t move or look at him, only making a quiet noise of confirmation and then moving to drink more of the mead. Once he’d done so, he returned to his position, staring up at the stars.

“That cloak you bought… it’s for him?” asked Izuku quietly.

Bakugou’s cursed partner…

“Yes,” Bakugou replied, in much the same tone and volume of voice.

He shifted to lean back further, lifting an arm up to prop it back on top of the log. It shoved his cloak out of the way partially. He reclined, shifting and crossing his legs out in front of him. He still stared up at the stars as if he were trying to decipher something written there.

Long, toned lines of his body were stretched out. He was a very built man, far more so than Izuku could ever remember seeing on anyone in real life. He was very, very attractive.

In the firelight, Bakugou looked like some sort of god. Izuku really wouldn’t be surprised if he walked into a temple and saw a statue of him, front and center.

Izuku felt heat creeping up his neck and he forced himself to look away when he realized he’d been staring. Almost immediately, he felt shame stir inside his chest. They’d just been talking about Bakugou’s life partner, and Izuku was here staring at him?

He tried to shake it off, instead trying to continue the conversation.

“So, you get to see him sometimes?” Izuku asked carefully, because his curiosity was growing and Bakugou hadn’t yet indicated that he didn’t want to talk about this. “I mean… so you can give him the cloak.”

Though it clearly hurt him, Izuku wondered how often Bakugou got to talk to anyone about his situation. Maybe Izuku could offer him an outlet in this one way, if he wanted it.

“I see him all the time,” Bakugou replied tiredly. “I just can’t let him see me.”

Izuku blinked, turning that new information over in his mind.

So… it was a spell of perception.

“The nature of it means that my being with him… it makes it worse for him.”

Izuku felt his gut twist unpleasantly as something like dread started to grow within him. Did the curse have to do specifically with Bakugou? It was activated by his lover’s perception of him?

With a cold feeling of horror growing within him, Izuku realized that it could make sense. If Bakugou’s lover wasn’t dead or even braindead, did that mean that the curse was limited to specific instances or people? Did he survive simply by avoiding said instances or people?

Izuku wished he’d read more about curses. They all seemed so complex, and they had a vast range of types and severity. In this moment, he wished he’d put in the effort to learn more.

Izuku struggled to comprehend all he was learning. Bakugou got to see him… but he couldn’t actually go to him. If the curse was tied to his lover’s perception, it would mean that Bakugou being nearby didn’t matter though he could never get too close.

It sounded like a lonely life for both of them.

Izuku wanted to ask how he intended to give him the cloak without being seen but decided he really didn’t need to keep prying. He could see how the misery had made Bakugou’s expression only hollow out further until there was a look in his eyes that was beyond exhausted. No living man should look such a way. Izuku decided to move on from discussing the nature of the curse for now.

It was quiet for a while as they sat and watched the fire burn, and Izuku’s thoughts wandered more. He tried to piece together more about this curse without prying and making Bakugou talk about it.

Eventually, his mind drifted back to the cloak, and the spell that Bakugou had inquired about it having.

“Why a stealth spell?” Izuku found himself asking before he’d fully decided whether or not it was a good idea. He hurried to add, “He’s a traveler, but more commonly travelers seek out cloaks with spells that protect against the weather or even provide energy. Stealth spells are useful, but…”

Bakugou didn’t seem to have any intention to respond for long enough that Izuku ducked his head in shame. He shouldn’t pry.

Before he could apologize, Bakugou finally replied.

“He used to be a very powerful man,” he said lowly. “We made a lot of enemies in our youth. If anyone were to recognize him and go after him, he’s vulnerable—at least when compared to how he used to be.”

He drew in a slow breath and breathed it out just as slow.

Izuku nodded even though Bakugou wasn’t looking at him. It made sense, even though Izuku lacked context. He didn’t know what the curse was or the extent of what it did, but it wasn’t entirely surprising to hear that it would leave someone vulnerable.

Bakugou said that he saw his partner all the time. But despite often lingering nearby, he also wanted to add an additional layer of protection.

Izuku’s hollow chest ached even as he tried not to think about how intensely different their lives were. Though he did his best not to dwell on how he himself had never known a love even a fraction as intense as Bakugou’s, somewhere deep in his heart the lonely pain flared up all the same.

He tried to force his thoughts away, if only to spare himself the echoes of pointless grief and loneliness. His eyes trailed from the fire to Bakugou’s slumped form.

Bakugou’s bright red cloak was something intriguing as well. As Izuku looked it over and his mind spun, a few dots started to connect.

“Does your cloak have a stealth spell?” asked Izuku.

“No.”

“But you use one,” said Izuku before he’d given it a second thought. “When you’re traveling, you cast one.”

This time Bakugou’s head actually tilted to look at him, brow quirking in something like confusion or suspicion or question.

“I-It’s just a guess,” Izuku hurried to explain, heart stuttering when Bakugou made eye contact with him. “We were traveling the same way all day today, and yet I didn’t see you at all. Of course, you could’ve just been really far in front of me, but at some points the path allowed you to see ahead for miles. Plus, I left right after I went to the market. You were already in town when I got there, so you couldn’t have been behind me. And you said you can’t let your… your partner see you, so it isn’t much of a stretch to assume you’ve looked into stealth magic.”

As he spoke Bakugou’s expression faded to something that was almost vaguely amused. Then he snorted, smirking in a way that was halfway to a sneer, almost a little too cruel to be in jest as he said, “You really are such a little scholar, aren’t you?”

Izuku went red at the sight of his smirk—no matter how twisted and mean it looked. How did he manage to make the word scholar sound like an embarrassing thing?

He was shocked out of a response by Bakugou shifting to sit up again, moving until he was less slumped against the log and only leaning against it.

“Yes,” Bakugou added in a more neutral tone. “I use stealth magic.”

“Woah,” Izuku’s eyes went wide. It was hard not to get excited at the very idea. Had Bakugou been nearby him as they traveled, but the magic had kept him from seeing? It was hard not to feel a giddy sort of satisfaction that he’d figured it out correctly.

Bakugou saw his expression and scoffed slightly, shaking his head slowly.

Izuku liked this slightly less tense atmosphere, so he grabbed hold of it and tried to continue the more casual conversation.

“So… why Westport?” Izuku asked eventually.

He wanted to ask if Bakugou’s partner was there or not, but that would certainly suck any lighthearted energy right back out of the air.

Bakugou stilled, blinking down at the fire and then he glanced up at Izuku as if he genuinely hadn’t expected the question. For a moment, he seemed to falter, then said, “Just… wandering, I guess. Why’re you headed there?”

“There’s a mural I like there,” Izuku explained.

Bakugou’s eyes widened, looking over at him with genuine curiosity on his face that had Izuku’s heart racing faster. It was arguably the most expressive he’d been yet—in something that wasn’t anger or grief.

“It’s across from one of the restaurants I like down near the waterfront,” Izuku went on quickly, a nervous undertone creeping into his voice from Bakugou’s rapt attention. “It depicts a great battle—one that happened somewhere north of here a long time ago, I think. The owner of the building wouldn’t say much about it. Wouldn’t tell me who painted it either.”

Bakugou was still gazing steadily at him, sharp red eyes locked on his face.

Almost growing jittery with excitement and nerves from his clear continued interest, Izuku went on, “There’s princes and mages and knights. All in various northern styles of clothing—I’ve seen pictures in books before, though I’ve never been north myself. There’s even a massive red dragon with a warrior riding on top of it.”

Izuku felt the excitement filling him further at the memory of it. He’d never seen a dragon before in real life. In the mural, it was massive in comparison to any of the people. He could hardly comprehend how massive the beast would’ve been—the power it and its rider held. When he turned to Bakugou to continue about the dragon, he paused.

Bakugou was looking at him steadily with an expression that was very stoic outside the watchful intensity of his gaze, and Izuku realized something.

“He sort of looks like you actually,” he mused.

Bakugou’s eyes widened, looking abruptly taken aback.

Izuku immediately flushed, realizing the error in his statement. He hurried to explain himself, rambling nervously, “Oh—I’m so sorry. That was really rude. I’m not—I’m not saying all dragonkind look the same or something. I mean… maybe they do, I actually wouldn’t know, uh… but sorry, ah! What I meant is you have similar hair. In the mural, the dragon rider has very light-colored hair, too and—” Izuku grabbed at his own hair, pulling on it to straighten it out. “—it sort of sticks outwards like yours does.”

Bakugou was just staring at him, different emotions flitting vaguely across his face that Izuku couldn’t pick out.

“Sorry, I’ll stop talking now,” Izuku ducked his head, covering it with his arms as his face grew unbearably hot.

“No… it’s fine,” Bakugou replied immediately, though he sounded a bit uncertain. “There… there are a lot of people with lighter hair in mountain country.”

“Oh good, okay,” Izuku breathed out a sigh of relief. He was far more reassured than he could say that Bakugou didn’t seem to find his unintentional generalization offensive. He muttered out, “Anyways, the mural is quite beautiful. Sometimes I travel this way just so I can look at it.”

His mind drifted a bit as he thought of his now-faded memory of the last time he’d seen it. He wished that he was skilled enough to recreate it and carry it with him.

“That good, huh?”

Izuku glanced over to see Bakugou smirking slightly. It was another one of those looks—like the one from earlier that morning—that was somewhat amused and almost smug looking. Izuku found it hard to read, but it made his heart race.

“Um, yes?” Izuku admitted, puzzled as he tried to figure out Bakugou’s expression. “I also… well, I can’t tell what he’s supposed to be, really, but there’s another person drawn in the mural. He wasn’t dressed as a night or a prince. Maybe some sort of northern warrior, because he has a big sword held up to strike.”

He held his hands in the same way as in the mural, above his head off to the side as if wrapped around a big sword.

“There’s a big, fiery being of some kind behind him that he’s clearly in command of. He’s about to swing and—”

Izuku swung his own hands down but let them drop limply right away, laughing nervously. “Well, he looks a lot like me, so it’s sort of fun to look at honestly.”

A smile creeped onto his face at the fun daydream and he stared into the fire, remembering.

When Bakugou didn’t say anything, Izuku looked over at him. Bakugou was still looking at him with an expression that was far too intense and ambiguous for Izuku to read. There was a vague smile on his lips and a look in his eyes that Izuku couldn’t identify but that made his stomach flutter strangely.

“I’m not—not saying I’m anything like that, of course!” Izuku said quickly. “I just mean, well, he also has green hair and a similar build—very common features, really, especially among treekind. I just think it’s fun to look at, I guess. I like the art style too. I’ve never really seen anything else like it before!”

Izuku’s heart would not stop racing, and he stared into the fire rather than at Bakugou. His stomach fluttered and whooped and he was finding it hard to breathe under the scrutiny.

Why was he getting so flustered? Obviously, Bakugou was very impressive and attractive, even if potentially a bit mad. But even if Izuku was attracted to him, Bakugou was taken! Clearly, even with his love being cursed, Bakugou was devoted to him.

Izuku berated himself for how he was reacting, though it didn’t successfully calm his heart.

“Huh,” Bakugou remarked eventually.

“What?” asked Izuku, looking up to see the curious expression on his face.

Bakugou stared back. After a pause, he just shook his head, looking a bit bewildered and a touch amused.

“Have you seen it?” asked Izuku. “The mural?”

“I have,” Bakugou replied in a tone that sounded as if he were on his way to bursting out laughing. “It’s just been a few years. I’d forgotten about it.”

“I think about it sometimes,” Izuku admitted, still resolutely ignoring the feelings inside him. “I wish I knew the story behind it.”

For a moment, he stared at the fire and allowed his mind to wander. It sounded so strange and far from him—dragons and magic and royalty and knights and mages. The stories were always so fantastical, and so unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

Again, they lapsed into silence.

It was quiet for a while. Izuku enjoyed the warmth of the fire and Bakugou’s strange presence. Whatever Bakugou was… he was interesting. Exciting. Izuku’s life didn’t have a whole lot of that, so he was hardly complaining. Not to mention that he was definitely not bad to look at.

Izuku’s guilt at that thought had his mind drifting back to Bakugou’s cursed partner. He thought of Bakugou’s shock that morning and his confusion later in the day. How Bakugou had stared at him for so long despite surely realizing that Izuku was not who he’d thought he was at first glance.

Izuku knew that he had very common features and a very plain face that likely contributed to how easy it was to mistake him for others. Even still, Bakugou’s actions made him curious. Despite the resemblance Izuku bore to his partner, Bakugou wasn’t fully shying away from looking at him. He wasn’t running off the first moment he could. Instead, he was sitting with Izuku right now despite the supposed resemblance he shared with his cursed love.

Maybe it was the increasingly late hour and his fatigue from the long day of travel. Maybe it was the small bit of mead he’d had. But in the end, Izuku was speaking, letting his curiosity run ahead of his logic.

“I must look a lot like him,” said Izuku, gazing at Bakugou evenly.

Bakugou just moved his eyes from the fire to look back, clearly expectant as he waited for him to go on.

“You just… you seemed very surprised earlier when you saw me.”

“Hmm.” Bakugou nodded and looked back at the fire, humming noncommittally.

His expression had grown very sleepy again at some point, and he blinked slowly as he leaned forward to mess with the fire. Izuku tried not to gasp at how Bakugou adjusted the flaming logs with his bare hands.

When Bakugou leaned back, Izuku tried his luck again, if only because so much about the northerner didn’t add up.

“Does it hurt to look at me?” asked Izuku quietly.

Bakugou’s eyes flicked over to meet his, brow furrowing in confusion and mild alarm.

“Just… because I look so much like him, but I’m not him,” Izuku elaborated, feeling his cheeks heating slightly. “You stared at me for a while this morning, as if we looked very similar, but… well, it’s obvious that I’m not him.”

Bakugou stared, mouth parting as he gaped slightly. A pause stretched as he stared at Izuku, before he said simply, “Yes.”

Izuku looked back at him, curiosity filling him even as his heart ached at the admission.

Bakugou looked away, and his pale cheeks looked a bit red.

“It hurts, but so does everything,” he admitted lowly, before he sniffed and cleared his throat, shaking his head. “Being reminded of it all—of him…” He ducked his head, raising a hand to rub at his forehead as he went on in a strained, quiet tone. “Of course it hurts.”

Izuku cringed slightly, rubbing the back of his neck, feeling bad as he ducked his own head away. “I’m sorry.”

Bakugou snorted, but it was weak and his voice still came out strained, “Not your fault.”

Even still, Izuku felt strange. He couldn’t help the way he looked, but it was still bizarre to think of how he bore a resemblance so closely to someone he didn’t even know.

“Besides,” Bakugou added softly, “I do like being reminded of him even if it hurts. Reminds me he’s still alive. He could’ve died, but he didn’t. I still get to see him, so for that… I’m grateful.”

Despite their many bizarre interactions today, for some reason Izuku found the sudden honesty surprising. Maybe because Bakugou was speaking in an even and very sane sounding tone yet sharing such vulnerable thoughts with someone he’d just met.

Izuku said nothing at first, because he was very certain that Bakugou was not looking for his feedback. After all, Bakugou was speaking about all these things that he didn’t understand. This was something he couldn’t even begin to conceptualize. Bakugou’s situation—his love, his loss, the tiniest silver linings—was so far from Izuku’s situation.

Still, there was an urge to make Bakugou feel better, to somehow help him. That earlier desire to offer Bakugou kindness and understanding rose up again, and all Izuku wanted was to offer all that he could, even if it wasn’t much.

While Bakugou’s exact situation wasn’t something Izuku understood, there was some part of his life that made sense to Izuku.

“I won’t pretend to understand anything you’re going through,” Izuku said quietly, staring into the fire with a slightly unfocused gaze. “I don’t. I don’t have anyone—no family or friends to speak of. But… well, if there’s anything I know, it’s going it alone.”

In his peripheral, he saw Bakugou shift, his head turning to look at him.

Despite how he knew Bakugou was unlikely to judge him for this, Izuku’s cheeks heated. He went on, ducking his head, “I have problems with my memory. I’ve forgotten an entire chunk of my life, including if I ever had any friends or family. I can remember my name, but not who gave it to me. I can’t even remember where I’m from and only know I must be from somewhere… because everyone’s from somewhere.”

Izuku’s felt the dull hollowness of his empty heart. It was so familiar; it was all he’d ever known.

Midoriya Izuku.

Midoriya was his family name. Izuku was his given name. He knew his name, but nothing else. He knew he was Izuku, but he hardly knew who Izuku was.

Had he been anyone, before all this?

Was there any piece of him missing, in those times he’d forgotten?

Izuku could feel Bakugou’s eyes on his face, but it was his turn to be vulnerable and he couldn’t stand to look back at him as he did it.

“I’ve tried to picture my family so many times. I…” Izuku continued quietly, eyes unseeing as he stared into the fire and searched his mind pointlessly yet again. “I try to come up with anything at all, a face, a voice, a hand, a presence… but there’s nothing.”

The familiar sadness washed over him. Softly he murmured, “Maybe there wasn’t ever anything or anyone, but I wouldn’t know either way, would I?”

Izuku stared into the center of his own open palm, scarred from injuries he didn’t remember getting. He knew many of them came from broken bones, if only because a healer once told him that. The healer had pointed them all out, saying that he must’ve broken his bones a lot as a child.

Izuku had taken it to be fact, but he would never know for sure. He had so many scars, but he often forgot they were there. He often forgot they weren’t just a normally occurring part of his skin.

They were scars, so they had stories, but… since he didn’t remember the stories, they were just normal. To him, his skin had always looked like this. It was only when he let his mind wander like this that he remembered that the skin had to have been smooth and unmarred at some point.

“I think sometimes that I dream of them—of family or old friends—but when I wake I can’t ever seem to hold onto them.” He closed his hand into a fist. “I suspect there’s a chance I will always be looking, and I’ll always be alone.”

Izuku breathed in and the smell of the fire and smoke filled his nostrils. He tightened his fist. As he always did, he chased away the bottomless pit of despair that sat within him. If he allowed himself to stare into it for too long, he would grow woozy and off-balance.

“But… also, if I don’t look, I won’t ever find anyone,” said Izuku, vehemently voicing what he always told himself. “If I stand still… if I give up… then I definitely won’t find what I’m looking for.”

He sighed, and then went on in a softer voice, “I suppose what I’m saying is… I just think I understand you in a way. I know what it’s like to wander alone despite how it all hurts. Not that I’ve ever loved anyone like you have, but rather… well, I’ve been searching for something for my entire life. I would spend at least that long following after someone who I felt close to whether or not they knew I was there.”

Izuku’s fist furled open again, and he looked again at the scars of unknown origin on his hands.

“I know I would,” he whispered, rubbing over the scars on his palms. He whispered it like a promise to the fates.

If you give me someone, I will go to the ends of the earth for them.

If you give me anyone at all, I will protect them with everything that I have.

Was it a vow? A plead? Izuku didn’t know, but he knew he meant the words with everything that he was.

He wasn’t entirely certain where he was going with all this. He didn’t know if he was making any sense or fully conveying what he was feeling, but still he went on.

“Basically, I understand loneliness and I think what you’re doing is commendable, even if it hurts. I think—” he finally looked up, and his voice cut off immediately.

Bakugou had a quiet, stoic type of sadness on his face. He looked at Izuku with such genuine sorrow that Izuku’s heart jerked painfully in his chest. His tired eyes looked almost hazy, and they shone with unshed tears.

“S-sorry,” Izuku scrambled to say. “I—I didn’t mean to pretend I know what you’re going through.”

Bakugou just stared at him for a moment longer, then shook his head slowly. When he spoke, his voice was quiet and strained. “It’s not like I know what you’re going through either. It’s whatever.”

Izuku went still. He hadn’t really considered that he too was “going through” something. He blinked as Bakugou reclined backwards against the log again, staring up at the stars and swiping a hand out to grab the mead.

They lapsed into silence again, both staring vacantly ahead. Izuku didn’t mind that Bakugou hadn’t said much in response; the open expression of emotion on his face had told Izuku enough.

Despite everything, Izuku was enjoying the quiet parts of the night. He was also enjoying the company, even though Bakugou and he had had a long day and several very odd interactions.

There was just something nice about sitting by the fire with someone else, rather than sitting alone.

Izuku’s eyes eventually drifted over to the old, discarded lute. He didn’t really know how to play. He’d only ever learned the basics here and there over the years, but he felt a growing desire for music. He’d always enjoyed hearing music when sitting around a fire, though he didn’t often get to hear such a thing.

He leaned over, reaching for it.

With determined concentration, Izuku plucked at the strings, trying to recall the basics he’d learned years ago. Really, he only knew parts of a few simple songs, but it was better than nothing. Though, he couldn’t play and sing at the same time, so only the out-of-tune notes rang through the air for several minutes.

“Gah—I can’t do this anymore,” Bakugou snapped abruptly, startling Izuku. “Give it here.”

Izuku looked up at him, a flash of sadness and hurt rushing through him as he eyed Bakugou’s hand thrust out in his direction. He knew he wasn’t very good, but he took slight offense at Bakugou’s attempt to confiscate it.

“I… I just wanted some music,” said Izuku unhappily, clutching tighter to the lute.

“And I’m going to play some,” Bakugou shook his hand to emphasize it was stretched out. “Give it to me.”

Izuku’s face immediately brightened, and he leaned forward to hand it to him.

Bakugou snatched it somewhat aggressively, a scowl on his face that was so pouty that it almost made Izuku laugh. He was careful not to actually laugh, of course. He really didn’t want to do anything that might stop Bakugou from playing.

Admittedly, Izuku was curious. He really wouldn’t have guessed that Bakugou could play the lute, though he hadn’t given it any thought. Did warriors have time for music?

Izuku decided to just sit quietly, facing the fire. Careful not to openly stare at Bakugou, instead Izuku just peered at him out of the corner of his eye or occasionally flicked his eyes to look at him directly without turning his head.

Bakugou started to tune the instrument, and his scowl faded to more of a tense look of concentration. He had long, slim fingers that deftly plucked at the strings. Izuku realized he sort of did have musician’s hands now that he was looking at them. They were clearly strong and when he adjusted his hands Izuku could see the callouses on his palms and fingers—most likely from his sword. Despite this, they moved with careful precision over the instrument in a way that was almost gentle.

After a few minutes, Bakugou started to play, strumming a tune Izuku had never heard before. It was slow and lulling. Izuku found himself growing tired as the minutes ticked on and Bakugou played.

Alternating between staring at the fire and staring at Bakugou, Izuku’s mind felt quiet in a peaceful way as he listened. His exhaustion settled into his bones, and he found himself blinking slower and slower with each passing minute as his eyelids grew heavier.

As Bakugou played song after song that he had never heard before, Izuku realized that these songs must be from the north. Even the style was entirely different than anything he’d ever heard of before.

Except for one song, Izuku realized as his eyes widened slightly. There was a song he’d heard that he’d been told was from up north—mountain or river country. Heart thundering, he waited for Bakugou to finish the song he was on and hoped to catch him before the next one.

“Bakugou?” Izuku broke the silence when Bakugou’s hands finally stilled.

Bakugou seemed to flinch ever so slightly, the peaceful concentration on his face momentarily breaking as his face contorted into something of a scowl. He shook his head, then bit out, “Katsuki.”

“What?”

“That’s my name,” Bakugou didn’t look at him, head ducked.

Izuku paused for a moment, admittedly confused. Was he saying his name wasn’t Bakugou? Or that his name was also Katsuki? Was he inviting Izuku to address him more familiarly or correcting him? If he was correcting him, why didn’t he do it earlier? If he was telling him to address him more familiarly… why? They’d only met this morning.

“For the love of—” Bakugou cut through his train of thought with an exasperated mutter. He stopped short, sighing and shoulders slumping slightly, and then said, “My name is Bakugou Katsuki. They’re both my name. Bakugou is my family name. Katsuki is my given name. I’m just—I’m tired of hearing my damn family name. Stop calling me that.”

Izuku shrunk a bit in embarrassment when he realized he must’ve been muttering loud enough for Bakugou to catch some of it.

“Oh, sorry,” Izuku said, cheeks hot.

He could hear the tenseness in Bakugou’s voice. There was clearly something more, some history, impacting his words. Izuku knew it wasn’t his business. Despite how strange it felt to address someone he’d just met in such a familiar way, Izuku made a note not to call him Bakugou out loud again.

For the first time, Izuku realized that he wasn’t sure he’d introduced himself. With a sort of horror, he realized that despite their several interactions today, he couldn’t recall having told Bakugou his name.

“I’m Midoriya Izuku,” Izuku blurted out, making Bakugou look at him with a slightly puzzled glower. “I just realized… I don’t think I ever introduced myself.”

Bakugou frowned, staring at him thoughtfully for a moment, seeming slightly puzzled. Then he huffed out a breath that sounded vaguely like a laugh.

Izuku wondered distantly if… Bakugou somehow hadn’t realized that he hadn’t introduced himself. What had Bakugou been calling him in his head? Had Bakugou really not given it any thought?

“Why’d you say my name?” Bakugou’s voice cut through his thoughts again.

“Huh?”

“You said ‘Bakugou’ a minute ago,” said Bakugou, irritated. “Why?”

“Oh!” Izuku perked up. “Well… this might be a stretch, but… um, I was listening to you play and I really like everything you’re playing, of course, but I realized I don’t actually recognize any of the songs. The style of song is nice, but, uh, I think it’s a northern style, right? Mountain or river country?”

“Yes,” Bakugou responded curtly when Izuku looked at him expectantly.

“Well, uh, it might be a stretch, but there’s a song I like from—well, I think it’s from the north. I’ve been told it is, anyways, but seeing as I’ve never actually been I—”

“What song?” Bakugou cut him off, eyes narrowed on his face.

“Um,” Izuku realized he didn’t know if it had a specific name. “Well, it has lyrics.”

He squinted at the fire for a moment, trying to recall the song. It’d been many months since he’d heard it.

“Uh… it’s a love song,” he tried to explain. “It talks about a riverside and, um, green eyes. It repeats ‘I’ll be seeing you’ a few times, I think.”

Izuku winced, knowing how vague that was. He looked up at Bakugou, feeling bad.

Bakugou had another one of his fantastically ambivalent expressions on his face. When their eyes met, Bakugou’s eyebrows quirked, and he smiled sort of ruefully; he seemed amused in a sad, twisted kind of way.

“I think I know the one,” said Bakugou lowly, shaking his head slightly and ducking it back to look at the lute to put his fingers back on the strings. “You askin’ me to sing for you, Izuku?”

Izuku’s heart jerked at Bakugou’s tone. It was almost teasing, if he factored in Bakugou’s typical harsh demeanor and manner of speech. As in, it would’ve sounded like he was being rude or accusatory if he were anyone else, but there was far less heat than seemed typical for when Bakugou was actually being mean.

The sound of his own name also made Izuku’s face grow hotter even as a chill shot down his spine. Dammit his heart was racing in his chest again.

Not to mention… Izuku couldn’t recall the last time someone had called him by his given name. It felt almost as strange to hear as it was nice.

“I—no, uh,” Izuku sputtered, trying to breathe through the sudden onslaught of feeling. “No, sorry, I just—I like the song, I guess! You can just play the instrumentals, if you want of course!”

Izuku wouldn’t say it, but he actually really did want to hear Bakugou sing. Both because he was curious and because he couldn’t actually remember the exact lyrics to the song.

“Hmm.” Bakugou looked up at him through his bangs; his head was still mostly ducked. He grumbled in a vaguely grumpy voice, “Just messing with you. I’ll sing it.”

Izuku felt like he was going to pass out from how his heart beat so quickly. His breath had been stolen right out of his lungs. “You… will?”

Bakugou shot him an annoyed glare and Izuku looked away quickly.

“S-sorry, I mean… thank you!” Izuku scrambled to say. “I actually don’t remember the lyrics super well and would like to hear them again.”

Bakugou didn’t move for a long moment. Izuku looked at him nervously, but then he finally began to play.

He started to play the first chords, long deft fingers playing it beautifully even on the questionably made instrument. Izuku had fully intended to look away, but found his mind wiped clean as Bakugou began.

“I first met you at the riverside,

Staring at me with bright green eyes,

Fearless and strange and new,

When I left, I told you, I’ll be seeing you.”

Izuku was immediately completely mesmerized. Once Bakugou started to sing, there was no hope of escape at all and instead he just openly stared.

“Since then, we were always side by side,

Everywhere I looked, those wide green eyes,

All that pain you saw me through,

The best of my youth, I owe to you.”

Bakugou’s voice was smooth and clear, and it practically vibrated in Izuku’s bones. It was indisputably beautiful. Izuku was certain that he could listen to it every day for the rest of his life and never tire of it.

“The day came when I left your side,

But the peaks echoed your cries,

It was then, my love, that I knew,

I’d do whatever it takes to keep seeing you.”

The lyrics started to pull at something in Izuku’s mind. Something about everything—Bakugou’s voice, the strength of emotion in his tone, the words he was saying—was making an idea start to form in the back of Izuku’s mind. It was so far back that he wasn’t even sure what it was yet, but it only made him focus that much more on Bakugou.

“The riverside has long run dry,

You gaze ahead with blank green eyes,

Still fearless, still painfully strange and new,

You don’t look for me, but I’ll be seeing you.”

The song slowed. The instrumentals weren’t as frequent, making the words sound lonelier and more wistful. The way Bakugou sang the words made Izuku’s heart ache so intensely he could barely breathe.

“We lived that day, but our love since died,

For the first time, we’re not side by side,

Even still, my love, my word is true,

I’ll do whatever it takes to keep seeing you.”

Izuku couldn’t even blink as Bakugou’s voice grew lower and raspier. The way he was singing wasn’t just passionate… it was deeply emotional. Bakugou sounded pained, and it was audibly straining his voice.

The song slowed down even more, with longer pauses between the lyrics.

“In my dreams, I’ll be seeing you.

Looking at me with your bright green eyes,

There we won’t have to say goodbye,

In my dreams, my love, I’ll be seeing you.”

Izuku stared, barely registering how tears were running down his own cheeks. At the moment, it felt like Bakugou’s voice was supplying him with life far more than the air he was breathing.

“In the morning, I’ll be seeing you.

I know you won’t be seeing me, too.

Even so, I swear my word is true,

In the morning, my love, I’ll be seeing you.”

Bakugou played the last chords, his voice so low and raspy by the end that his voice nearly broke. He strummed the last chords, accompanied by the quiet crackling of the fire. He finished playing, the last note ringing out into the night air for a moment before he put his fingers down to stop the vibrating strings. When he was done, he still didn’t look up and just sat back against the log.

Izuku tried and almost immediately failed to hold his tongue. Despite how the song had left a sort of reverence hanging in the air, he felt the sudden need to reach out to Bakugou. Rather than sitting in the feeling the lyrics left behind, Izuku just wanted to cut through it to get to Bakugou.

“That was beautiful,” he gasped out, finally wiping the tears from his own face.

There was a long pause before Bakugou’s shoulders slumped a bit further and he glanced up. He mainly looked tired, though his eyes looked a bit glossy in the firelight.

“Thank you,” he replied lowly.

“Is it from mountain country?” Izuku asked, though he also kept his voice quiet. “Someone mentioned to me once that it was.”

Though Izuku sensed Bakugou’s exhaustion and knew that silence was probably a good idea, he found himself somewhat desperate to hear Bakugou’s voice some more. Even if only speaking, Izuku longed for it with an intensity that he couldn’t seem to reign in.

Bakugou sighed loudly, scrubbing a hand through his hair and slumping back even more against the log. He moved the lute off to the side, setting it down, and Izuku wished that it didn’t make his heart sink.

“The song is inspired by a style of song that originated with river country treekind,” he said, breathing out another audible breath. Long and slow. Measured. Pained. “The writer was mountainfolk, but their lover was from river country.”

Izuku’s eyes widened. “The writer was dragonkind?”

Bakugou moved his tired eyes to look at him. There was a quirk to his brow, but his obvious fatigue still overtook most of his face. “Not everyone in mountain country is dragonkind.”

“Right, sorry, I know,” Izuku replied, his eyes were still wide. “Still… that would be horrible.”

“Hah?” Bakugou’s expression morphed into one of annoyance that bordered on offense.

“I just mean it would be horrible for the writer,” Izuku tried to clarify quickly. “The song talks about their love dying but still doing whatever it takes to see them. Aren’t… dragonkind very devoted to their partners? But if something happened to theirs, they’re sort of… trapped. Is that what it’s about?” He muttered the last question to himself, trying to think over the lyrics in his mind.

Bakugou’s offense faded, and he observed Izuku with a stoic, unreadable look. Then he tilted his head up, looking up once again towards the stars.

“It’s not that we’re trapped,” he murmured quietly. “It’s more… devotion, I guess.”

“Right… but the song sounds like they’re not loved back or they were left behind somehow,” Izuku went on, mind racing as he applied the new context of being dragonkind to the lyrics. “I just think it’s sort of depressing that they can’t move on, is all.”

Bakugou’s face didn’t change much as he stared upwards.

“It’s not really that they can’t move on,” he replied lowly. “It’s more not wanting to move on. There’s no desire to try. How could—how can—” He cut himself off, pausing as his gaze remained skyward.

After a moment, he continued, “As dragonkind, our unions… we vow to be with each other through anything. Any pain, any hardship. Even in death, we share a grave. It’s less about being trapped and more… how can his soul ever rest, knowing the person he loves most is out there alone?”

Izuku blinked in surprise, his brow furrowing and eyes widening as he stared at Bakugou. The northerner had switched to calling the writer “he.” The growing idea in the back of Izuku’s mind nagged at him again.

“It sounds nice to be loved like that,” Izuku admitted pensively.

Bakugou’s face grimaced ever so slightly, though he didn’t shift his gaze from the sky.

“Sorry!” Izuku added quickly. “I just meant, uh, like I said, I’ve never been in love and don’t really have any friends or family to speak of. So, I wasn’t thinking when I said that, sorry. It’s a horribly sad story. I just… I don’t know. It’s a beautiful sort of love, even if it’s sad. I think, anyways.”

“Is it?” asked Bakugou quietly, tired eyes blinking up at the stars.

“Yes,” Izuku said with a bit more confidence. “That sort of devotion you’re talking about… I think most people would kill to experience that sort of thing.”

“Hmm.” Bakugou just made a non-committal noise in reply.

It was hard to read him, but since he didn’t seem angry or as if he disagreed, Izuku let it go.

Izuku thought over the song some more and selfishly wished Bakugou would play it again. Though despite how badly he wanted it, he didn’t have it in him to ask the clearly exhausted man to sing again.

Instead, he tried to piece together what that nagging feeling in the back of his head was trying to tell him. He thought over the lyrics over and over again, trying to make sense of them.

Maybe it was the earlier talks of curses that kept the idea in his head, but as Izuku tried to make sense of the song—and his own reaction to it—he realized something.

“It’s a latent curse,” he said, eyes widening. “A latent memory curse that manifests while a person’s asleep.”

“Hah?!” Bakugou’s head snapped over to look at him, open shock on his face.

“That’s what the song’s about,” Izuku elaborated.

Bakugou just gaped at him, a twisted look of complete bewilderment on his face.

“I… it’s just a guess,” said Izuku, mind racing as he started to ramble out his thoughts. “The song talks about their love dying, not the person they love. That could mean a lot of things, but since we were talking about curses earlier it got me thinking. The song references a specific day—where they heard their cries from a distance—and then blank eyes and being strange and new. How they don’t look for them… so, maybe a curse caused them to lose their memories.

“But there’s also the part about saying goodbye, and the end talking about the morning time. We were talking about wasting curses earlier, so I guess it was on my mind, but I remembered reading that curses that have to do with memory often are classified as latent curses. They don’t work immediately, but instead at night when the person is sleeping. I think I read that some people theorize it has to do with dreams—dreams and their connection to memory. So the song could also be referring to some kind of curse that resets the memory every time the person sleeps.”

Izuku’s eyes widen further as horror washed over him. He knew something about waking up missing chunks of time. He couldn’t imagine waking up every single morning with no memory.

“That’s horrible,” he whispered, staring into the fire. “I hope… I hope…”

I hope the song isn’t based on real life. I hope the song is just a story.

He glanced over to see Bakugou had returned to staring up at the sky. The northerner was blinking his half-lidded eyes slowly.

“Does sound pretty horrible,” Bakugou deadpanned as he glared up at the stars.

Izuku stared at him, at the exhaustion on his face, the tension in his shoulders. His mind was nagging at him, and he again turned over his thoughts as he tried to figure out what it was he was missing.

The idea forming in Izuku’s mind sounded too ridiculous to be true.

Too coincidental.

The song… the lyrics… Bakugou’s emotion…

“How can his soul ever rest, knowing the person he loves most is out there alone?”

Bakugou had also spoken in the present tense. He’d said “his” like he knew the gender of the writer. It was possible that Bakugou just knew who the writer was, but also…

The more Izuku thought about it, the more it made a horrible sort of sense. He stared at Bakugou, and his chest ached deep, deep down.

“It’s about him, isn’t it?” asked Izuku softly. “You wrote the song. About you and him.”

Deku.

Izuku recalled the name he’d heard Bakugou muttering earlier. He didn’t dare say it.

Bakugou was very still, staring stoically up at the night sky without so much as glancing over when Izuku spoke. Izuku simply watched him, waiting quietly and hoping he hadn’t overstepped.

Eventually, Bakugou took a deep breath, sighing it out slowly.

“Yes.”

Izuku’s eyes were wide, and now he had a thousand new questions. He wasn’t under the impression that he could ask them, but now his mind turned over this new information.

The curse had to do with perception? So… when his lover perceived him, the curse would activate? But did the curse activate at night or when he perceived him?

Where did true love’s kiss fit into the equation? Bakugou said that it worked… but how? How long before the curse set in again? Weeks? Days? Did it just set in the moment he went to sleep again?

The curse was already so complex. If someone was cursed with it—without a darkknife or true love’s kiss as part of the equation—finding a way to break it would already be nearly impossible.

Izuku’s heart only sank lower as he thought it over. No matter how talented Bakugou was with magic, such a complex curse in addition to the fact it was carved into his partner’s soul…

“One day, I’ll figure out how to break it,” he’d said. “I’ll free us from this hell.”

Bakugou seemed willing to spend the rest of his life trying, but Izuku still couldn’t fathom such a horrible fate. In the face of such impossibility, how did one persevere?

“How possible is it that you’ll find your family again?” Bakugou asked lowly.

Izuku’s heart dropped in shock, both from abruptly being startled from his thoughts and what Bakugou actually said. “What?”

“You’re muttering about how impossible it is to break the curse.”

“AH! I’m so sorry!” Izuku cried out in horror, face going red as he slapped a hand over his own mouth.

“Do you know for certain that you’ll find your family again, and that’s why you keep going?” Bakugou asked in the same low tone. “Or do you keep going because if you stop, then you’ll definitely never find anything?”

Izuku stared at him as he recognized his own words tossed back his way. His hand fell back into his lap. “I…”

“Do you keep going because you have all this evidence that there’s someone out there who loves you, or because the idea that no one does keeps you from finding peace?”

Izuku’s gut stirred, and he ducked his head as tears burned in his eyes.

“You and I won’t be able to rest until we accomplish our lonely tasks,” Bakugou murmured up at the sky. “Whether we accept the way our lives are or spend the rest of them trying to change things, we will never know peace. So might as well keep reaching for the impossible until the very end, don’t you think?”

In that moment, Izuku saw the songwriter coming out in Bakugou—in this quiet, tired, isolated moment, he saw through to the poet.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” said Izuku, abashed. “I didn’t realize I was muttering out loud. It’s not like I know a lot about magic anyways, so I’m sure there’s a way to break it.”

There was a stretch of silence before Bakugou replied.

“I’ve seen the impossible before, you know,” he said quietly. He gazed directly upward still, and a few tears trailed out of the corner of his eyes, ignored. “I’ve seen a mortal wield the Might Sword. He learned the Nine Forms of magic in only one year, and he channeled the power of the Sword as if he were one of the gods that crafted it.”

Izuku’s heart jolted in shock. His eyes blew wide open and he couldn’t even speak past his complete and utter shock.

The Might Sword was complete legend. It was a mythical sword gifted to humankind by the gods centuries ago.

It was a story told to children. Legend said that most people couldn’t lift the sword, much less wield it. Conduct any power from it without reducing themselves to dust? Impossible.

And yet… Bakugou said he’d seen a mortal wield it. He’d seen a mortal who mastered the Nine Forms in less than a year, which up until this very moment, Izuku wasn’t aware that was something someone could do. Most people could do one, and not even all that well. It was rarer to be able to do two or three. Some of the most powerful people in legend had mastered more.

But… all nine?

Izuku stared in complete shock. He wanted to call Bakugou’s bluff. He wanted to demand how such a thing were even possible, that the mortal must’ve surely been a god in disguise.

How could someone do such a thing without tearing their body to shreds? Without breaking each one of their bones? Without excruciating pain, simply from trying to learn to conjure and command such power?

“He never stopped to think if something was impossible,” Bakugou went on. “He wasn’t the type to care if others thought something couldn’t be done. He was the sort of fool to run right into a situation even if he had no hope of winning, just because he wanted to save someone.”

He slowly shut his eyes and took a long deep breath, then sighed it out.

“So forgive me for also being a fool, Izuku,” Bakugou said lowly, “but I believe you and I can do the impossible. I will break a darkknife curse, and you will find the loved ones you lost.”

Izuku’s face contorted as the urge to cry shot up so fast at the northerner’s words.

“Mm,” Izuku made a noise of confirmation. “You’re right. We will.”

“Hmm.” Bakugou slowly peeled his eyes open. Lowly, solemnly, he vowed, “One day, we will know peace.”

Izuku nodded even as he had to wipe at his eyes with the backs of his scarred hands. It was hard not to feel revitalized by Bakugou’s words. He could hear the enduring, obstinate determination in Bakugou’s voice. Even though Izuku felt daunted every time he even thought about the impossibility of the northerner’s task, Bakugou persisted.

Izuku felt the pang of emptiness in his heart.

Maybe Bakugou and he were more alike than he’d thought. If only in their unwilling solitude and their impossible tasks. If only in how they kept going in part because the moment they stopped they’d be condemning themselves to their misery until they died.

Bakugou’s eyes flicked over to meet Izuku’s, and he lifted the mead in toast as he said in a lightly scornful tone, “Here’s to being two lonely, wandering bastards. May the fates one day be made to suffer even a fraction of our pain.”

He took a swig and offered it to Izuku.

Izuku took it, smiling weakly and sadly. Quietly, he lifted the bottle and said, “Here’s to persevering. May we one day break the unbreakable and find the unfindable.”

He took a sip and then passed it back to Bakugou without looking at him. He could feel the northerner’s intense gaze burning into the side of his face; he didn’t need to look.

Izuku still had so many questions for him. Clearly, Bakugou had lived an extraordinary life, far more interesting than Izuku’s. He wanted so badly to know more. Before he could ask, Bakugou shoved his way up to his feet in a way that looked heavy and sluggish.

“I’ve gotta head to bed,” he muttered, looking at the fire rather than Izuku.

Izuku’s energy bled out of him at the sight of the extreme exhaustion on Bakugou’s face. At least they were staying at the same inn. Perhaps he could find him in the morning, and they would head to Veera Pass together.

“Right,” Izuku agreed, tentatively.

“’Night,” Bakugou muttered, snatching up the few things he’d brought out with him, including whatever remained of his mead.

“Goodnight,” Izuku called out, wishing he didn’t sound hopeful, as he watched him go. “See you in the morning!”

Bakugou paused, glancing back at him with the full intensity of those red eyes for a long, long moment.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” he replied in that forceful way of his that made it seem like something of an oath.

For a moment, Izuku could only stare after him as he walked towards the inn, thrown by the sudden vehemence of his tone. But Bakugou went inside, and he just turned back to the fire.

As Izuku sat by the fire for a little longer, he did wish he’d gathered the courage to ask Bakugou to sing the song again. When he closed his eyes, he could still hear the low tones of his voice vibrating in the air. He could feel the depth of emotion and the heartache.

Izuku’s hand clutched at his shirt over his own hollowly aching heart and despite everything, he wished for a love like what they had. To be loved so endlessly… Izuku would give anything. Even if it ended in tragedy, Izuku would treasure that sort of devotion for however long he could.

A love that inspired such beautiful music… Izuku smiled softly at the thought.

“Whether we accept the way our lives are or spend the rest of them trying to change things, we will never know peace. So might as well keep reaching for the impossible until the very end, don’t you think?”

Izuku closed his eyes and tried to sort through the fog in his memory. Any sort of hope that he might be loved. But he came up with nothing as always.

“One day, we will know peace.”

He opened his eyes and again looked off in the direction of the inn where Bakugou had disappeared. His brow furrowed and he felt a renewed sense of determination rising within him.

Bakugou was right.

In the end, it wasn’t worth pondering over whether or not either of them could do their impossible tasks.

Whether or not it was possible, they would.

Izuku awoke screaming in agony. It felt like someone had driven knives through his eyes and through to the back of his skull. There was no hope of quieting himself, he could only cry out as the excruciating pain sliced through his head.

He couldn’t think. He didn’t know where he was or what was going on, he only knew that he was in hell. He heard others around him. At one point, someone shoved something between his teeth, though he wasn’t entirely sure if it was to muffle his screams or protect him from cracking his own teeth. Probably both.

At one point someone tried to pour something down his throat, but Izuku was in such agony that he couldn’t think clearly.

Was someone trying to poison him?

Had they assumed that this suffering invalid would be better off dead?

He thrashed and screamed and struggled to find words. He felt weak and sick and everything hurt, but he managed to fight off whoever was trying to kill him. At least, he managed to keep his head tilted away and his jaw clamped shut. His ears were ringing so very loudly, but shortly after the person gave up trying to kill him, he drifted into a fitful rest.

Sometime later, he was awoken and thrown into immediate panic when—despite how his eyes had remained closed this whole time—someone tied something over his eyes so he couldn’t open them if he tried.

“Done!” a scratchy male voice called as Izuku tried to coordinate his hands to move up to his face to get the thing off his eyes.

A moment later, he heard the sound of a door slamming open and then someone was on top of him, pinning his legs down with their body weight. Almost right after, a strong, pungent smell hit his nostrils, so intense that it made his eyes water.

The person on top of him moved far too fast for Izuku’s sluggish brain to react. They snatched Izuku’s arms and crossed them over his chest, then bound his wrists together with some kind of coarse fabric. By the time Izuku started to fight back, there was no use. This new person was a lot heavier and more solid than the person before. Maybe if his arms weren’t trapped… but now they were.

Izuku cried harder and tried to thrash around as he was immobilized, but even as he tried to beg for mercy he had no idea how successful he was in forming the words. The hands clearly had some sort of gloves on them—the roughness of tough fabric scraped at his skin—but he could still feel such extreme heat radiating through it. As if the hands were made of fire.

Izuku let out a strangled scream of panic as the person’s heavy weight shifted, pinning him down even more, and the gloved hands moved to his face.

One of the hands forced his head to tilt upward. Izuku yelled and cried in pain and confusion as his jaw was pried open by the gloved hands, and someone poured something down his throat. He tried to spit the poison out but the hands that were branding his skin forced his mouth closed.

Izuku struggled, though the person’s grip was iron, and he didn’t move in the slightest. A second later, he realized he couldn’t breathe.

All the crying had left his nose clogged with snot, and with his mouth forced shut, he couldn’t breathe at all. He let out a cry that was trapped in his throat, pulling frantically at the bindings on his hands.

He couldn’t breathe. Did they realize that? Did they not care?

Izuku continued to refuse to swallow, but the weight on top of him wasn’t moving. He heard harsh, uneven breathing coming from above him. After a moment, the hands holding him shook his face once as if angry that he hadn’t swallowed yet.

A voice spoke from somewhere off to the side, rather than above him. “Swallow it, son. It’s medicine.”

This voice wasn’t the same as the one before, but rather a lighter, more feminine voice. It was much too far off to the side to be the person currently subduing him, so there was another person present as well.

How many people were here to witness his suffering?

Izuku struggled for only a moment longer. He didn’t know if he believed her. But in the end, whatever it was tasted revolting, and he had a feeling that whoever was holding his mouth shut wouldn’t stop until he drank whatever it was anyways.

If they were trying to kill him, he was doomed.

He swallowed the liquid, and then the gloved hands immediately let go of his face. He gasped for air and let out a sob. The person’s weight shifted, and his arms were released at the same time as the weight was completely removed from him.

The door slammed again a moment later—though this time it sounded like it was being closed—and the blindfold was tugged off his face. Izuku forced his eyes open but immediately shut them again. Even the low light of the lantern caused the pain to flare.

In the brief glimpse he’d gotten of the old woman, he didn’t recognize her. There had been a figure standing behind her too, maybe of an old man.

“Calm down, child,” the same voice as before, presumably the old woman, said in a quiet but firm voice. “You’re safe. It was only medicine. It will help with the pain.”

Izuku didn’t know if he believed her. He was in an unfamiliar room with no idea how he got there. He couldn’t think past the pain.

Even with his terror and his fear that the person who’d held him down would return and force him to drink a draught of death, Izuku only lay there and writhed in quiet agony.

He didn’t bother calling for help anymore, because who would come to help him anyways?

Izuku was stuck at the unfamiliar inn for several more days before he was well enough to go. Even so, the old woman, who introduced herself as Ako, and her husband, the innkeeper named Genji, tried to insist he stay longer to rest.

They were both short and stout, and Izuku wasn’t sure he’d ever seen two people so old in his entire life. Still, they had been attentive and kind to him in the days when he’d been suffering. Ako was a healer, and her care had been his only saving grace.

Izuku turned down their request that he stay longer. He only found out he was in Veera, on the east side of Veera Pass, from being told so by the couple. He only remembered bits and pieces of walking here from Hillside a few days before.

Even now, his head was still in dull, throbbing pain. It was a foggy mess, and Izuku just wanted to move on and continue his journey. It wasn’t like his malady could be cured anyways.

When Izuku was on his way out and pulled out the last meager amount of money he had with him, he was horrified to find that at some point, he’d spent nearly all of it. He apologized profusely for not having more and promised to bring some back, but Ako refused it and refused his offer.

“Please, take it!” Izuku tried to insist, a bit of desperation straining his tone as his hand still floated over the counter of the innkeeper’s desk.

“One of our other guests who was here the first night you were here paid for you,” said Ako, waving away the money again. “You’ve been paid for in full, I assure you. Now take back your money, child. Be on your way.”

Izuku gaped, his head throbbing as he tried to recall any part of his time at the inn. “Who?”

Ako looked at him with such intense sadness that Izuku had to look down, ducking his head. Though he was used to pity and knew his malady was far from enviable, sometimes it still stung. Even if she looked genuinely distraught on his behalf, Izuku still couldn’t bear it.

“I didn’t catch his name,” said Ako.

Izuku forced himself to look up at her. “When did he leave? Do you know where he was going?”

“He didn’t talk much about himself,” Ako still had that deep look of sorrow in her eyes. “I believe the man was very wealthy though, so you don’t need to worry too much about paying him back.”

Izuku didn’t feel very comforted by this. What sort of stranger paid for someone else for no reason? Even someone wealthy—especially someone wealthy?

“Here,” Ako reached down under the counter and then pushed a tightly bound package across the counter towards him.

Izuku shook his head, gently pushing it away without even glancing down to see what it was. “No, no, I can’t! You’ve already given me so much!”

“Son, I would be happy to give you things, but I haven’t actually given you anything yet,” Ako said firmly. “This is also from the wealthy stranger.”

Izuku gaped down at it and then back up at her. She still looked at him with so much care and sadness in her eyes, but he realized slowly that it didn’t entirely feel the same as those who usually pitied him. It was hard to look at her all the same.

Slowly, he took what she was giving him and unwrapped it. It was a cloak, long and pale green with a golden clasp. Izuku startled, then tried to shove it back at the woman.

“I can’t take this!” Izuku cried. “This—this must’ve cost a fortune. Please—you take it as payment!”

The old healer did not move to take it, only looking unimpressed. “Like I said, child, I’ve already been paid more than enough for your stay and care. The man said it was for you.”

“Why?” asked Izuku, voice strangled with genuine confusion.

“He heard your cries,” said Ako gently. “It seemed he was familiar with that sort of thing.”

Izuku turned to look down at the cloak again. It was beautifully made, and it had to have genuinely cost more money than he’d ever seen in his life.

“Why leave this, though?” he asked, half to himself.

“Take it, child,” Ako sighed. “Neither of us here have any use for it. Plus, if that man returns and learns we didn’t give it away to you, I suspect he will be very unhappy.”

Izuku’s eyes welled. In a life so lonely, the kindness of strangers never went without massive amounts of gratitude.

“Thank you,” said Izuku as he pulled the cloak into his hands that trembled with uncertainty. He ducked his head. “Thank you for caring for me. I’m sorry for any trouble I caused you.”

“No trouble at all,” Ako’s voice grew soft again, and he looked up to see her offering him a sad smile. “Travel safely.”

“I will, thank you,” Izuku bowed his head once again briefly, and then turned to go.

He was admittedly very dejected. Normally, he had extreme flare ups of pain about once a year. This one wasn’t nearly as bad as those ones, but it was still far worse than his usual headaches and missing gaps. And it hadn’t even been six months since his last major flare up.

There was a deep sinking feeling in Izuku’s gut that was inescapable. His malady was worsening, wasn’t it? How soon until he couldn’t go on? How soon until he was begging someone to poison him rather than resisting it?

Izuku put on the cloak and stepped out for the first time in days to continue on to Westport.

There was no use dwelling on it all, he told himself as he began to walk in hopes of burning out the restlessness under his skin.

There was no use thinking it over any further.

He just had to keep walking.

The months passed, and it grew colder.

Izuku knew he had to head further south soon. The cloak kept him very warm, but the cold still made his aching bones hurt.

Bones that ached from breaks he didn’t remember enduring…

Scars on skin from wounds he didn’t recall getting…

His wandering continued.

Nothing really happened in Midoriya Izuku’s life. He wandered. He did odd jobs. He revisited the same old acquaintances. He researched and read and he wrote and he wandered.

Each day, he searched, though what for he couldn’t say.

Izuku was staying at an inn in the city of Ferryton on a day in early spring.

Normally, he was one to sleep in, but a loud banging from the room next to him woke him at an early hour. It was so continuous and noisy that he almost considered going to knock next door or complain to the innkeeper. In the end, he only sighed and reluctantly got up for the day.

He got dressed and intended to head out for breakfast. However, the moment he stepped out of his room, he almost ran directly into someone.

“Oh hi, sorry, I—” Izuku’s voice cut off when his sleepy brain fully comprehended who he’d nearly crashed into.

It was a man slightly taller than him with a shock of light blond hair spiking out from his head, a pale, angular face, and startling red eyes. Notably, he was wearing a long red cloak with no shirt underneath, broad and defined musculature on full display.

Izuku’s eyes widened. A red cloak? That meant he was either very wealthy or—

“Izuku.”

Izuku startled so hard that his entire body jolted.

“W-what?” he stuttered. His first instinct was to assume he’d somehow misheard.

This man was undoubtedly nothing like anyone Izuku had ever seen before. He was so unique and distinct—not to mention uncommonly attractive—that Izuku had no doubt that he would’ve remembered meeting such a man. Even considering his unpredictable malady, Izuku knew he would’ve remembered this man, surely.

“How do you know my name?” he added, eyes blown wide.

“We’re childhood friends,” the man replied evenly. “You don’t remember your childhood, right?”

Izuku’s heart dropped to his toes. He stared, appalled, at the complete stranger. He didn’t feel nearly awake enough for this.

“Your name’s Midoriya Izuku,” the man went on. “You have a malady that affects your memory. You can’t remember where you’re from or who your family is. Correct?”

Izuku’s entire body was frozen up. Some combination of complete disbelief, shock, and terror were consuming him. Even with everything the man was saying, it was like Izuku was too scared even to hope.

He’d been alone for so long. He’d been looking for so long.

How could he just randomly run into someone one day that he’d known since childhood?

“I didn’t just run into you,” the man said in a tone that sounded almost vaguely annoyed. “I came to find you.”

Izuku gaped.

Why? Why now? Questions buzzed through his head at a thousand miles an hour. They spun so quickly that he struggled to grab hold of even one of them in order to verbalize it.

“You like to read and study,” the man went on, providing further proof in a matter-of-fact tone before Izuku even asked for it. “You have a fascination with magic despite an inability to conjure any yourself. You have a tendency to ramble when you get excited.”

Izuku’s eyes scanned over the man yet again. He was clearly a barbarian from mountain country, based on his state of dress and his accent. He wore several necklaces across his bare chest that had what looked to be fangs in various colors. His long red cloak was lined with fur.

His childhood friend was a dragonkind northerner?

How was that possible?

Izuku’s mind raced.

Was he from the north as well?! How was that possible? He’d never even been there!

How could he have completely forgotten if he was from an entirely different part of the world?!

“You have a massive scar on your right arm, over your elbow,” the man continued, gesturing in the general direction of Izuku’s arm—which was hidden both beneath his shirt and his cloak. “You can’t feel the skin at all in the center of it.”

Izuku glanced back and forth between the stranger and his own arm, mouth still slightly agape.

“You have scars all over your arms,” the man went on. “One here… and there… and then two there that overlap.”

As he spoke, he pointed at Izuku’s arm, reciting in a tone that wasn’t even confident, it was just assured in a way that was nearly bored. He wasn’t guessing. He knew.

Izuku blinked rapidly, his mind trying to make sense of everything that was happening. He’d only just woken up, and now he was being bombarded with this. Something he’d been looking for his entire life… suddenly just standing in front of him?

He was so astounded that he didn’t even back up despite how close the man was standing. He didn’t react all that much when the stranger’s hand lingered close to his body.

“You have one that runs across your right thigh,” the man’s gaze and hand shifted lower, as he pointed downwards. “Another that goes from your hip to halfway down your left thigh.”

Izuku startled again at that. Even if this man followed him around and stalked him—though why anyone would do that, he had no idea—when would he have seen him without his pants on? Izuku didn’t often remove his shirt where anyone could see, but he removed his pants even less often where anyone might see.

“How do you know about my scars?” asked Izuku, breathless with shock and confusion.

“For starters, I was there when you got them.”

Izuku gaped. In nearly a whisper, he muttered, “How is that possible?”

“You don’t remember it, right?” the stranger quirked his eyebrow, unimpressed. “You don’t remember me at all.”

Izuku’s face flushed with heat suddenly. “I don’t. I’m so sorry, I—I—”

“Izuku.”

A shiver ran down Izuku’s spine and his face flushed hotter as he visibly shook in reaction to the feeling.

His name… when was the last time he’d heard his given name? And this man’s voice…

“If you give me a little bit of trust, I can prove it to you,” the stranger said firmly.

Izuku studied him. His face was set and determined, and everything within Izuku told him the man was being genuine. He was trustworthy.

Izuku just couldn’t tell if his hope was getting the better of him.

“You can bring your weapons and everything of course,” the stranger said, then he flashed a somewhat feral-looking grin. “Though I’ve landed you on your ass plenty of times when we were kids. I’m sure I can do it again.”

Izuku’s heartrate picked up at the sight of his smile, but it wasn’t out of fear. Instead, a thrill shot through him and he stared at the stranger with far more curiosity than anything else.

“Okay,” Izuku nodded, though he moved a hand to rest lightly on the hilt of his sword and set his expression into something more serious. “Prove it to me.”

The stranger then fully beamed—a bright, wide smile. It lit up his entire face, and Izuku couldn’t stop staring at it.

They were out the doors of the inn and heading towards an unknown location when Izuku realized the man hadn’t yet introduced himself.

“S-sorry, uh, I know you said we know each other somehow,” Izuku began nervously, “but I actually, uh, don’t remember your name.”

The stranger only rolled his eyes. The smile hadn’t faded completely from his face since Izuku had agreed to come with him. Izuku probably should’ve been more cautious, but the stranger’s smile was so genuinely, innocently elated that it was hard not to trust him.

“Katsuki,” he answered and then stopped suddenly in front of a building.

Izuku glanced up. It was just someone’s house.

“I’ll tell you this here in case you change your mind,” said Katsuki, and the grin finally dropped from his face as he said it. “So you can leave right away if you want to.”

Izuku couldn’t help but immediately miss his smile.

There was an obvious anxiety in Katsuki’s tone now. “You can choose to believe me or not, but… you and I have known each other our entire lives. You were cursed years ago, and that’s why you can’t remember anything.”

“Cursed?!” Izuku choked out.

“You and I are married,” said Katsuki, his voice hardening as if to reinforce and defend the words in the case of Izuku rebuking them.

“What?!” Izuku squeaked, his face going red as he took an instinctive step back from how overwhelmed he felt.

Well, that was about the last thing he’d expected Katsuki to say.

“If you let me kiss you, you’ll remember,” said Katsuki forwardly.

“Huh?!” Izuku felt like he might faint, his eyes unwittingly glancing down at Katsuki’s lips and lingering before he ripped them back up to stare into those intense red eyes.

“True love’s kiss and all that,” Katsuki went on, waving a hand half-heartedly as if to dismiss the concept.

“True… love?” Izuku gaped at him, parroting his words in a distracted tone.

The concept was so ridiculously foreign. This was all so foreign.

Was he still dreaming? He must be.

“If it doesn’t work, you can feel free to stab me or whatever,” Katsuki added in an almost annoyed tone. “I don’t have any weapons on me—” he moved his cloak with his arms to doubly prove that nothing hung from his belt. “—and I’ll stand here and let you, I swear.”

Izuku realized he must definitely still be dreaming as he glanced down to check for weapons and was met with Katsuki’s very defined torso. His face flushed hotter, and he looked back up at Katsuki with something like terror in his heart.

How was this… it didn’t… what…

“So, what d’you say, Izuku?” asked Katsuki. There was a look of challenge in his eyes, like he was egging Izuku on. Almost daring him.

Izuku’s heart was racing so fast that he felt like it might burst right out of his chest. He felt overwhelmed, uncertain, confused… but also his mind struggled to understand how this would make any sense if Katsuki was lying. He had so many questions. Mainly, if this man was married to him, why did he not come find him earlier? Had he been trying and only just found him?

There was also a feeling of raw, overwhelming fear that grew side by side with the hope. Because if this wasn’t real or Katsuki was lying or something, then Izuku would just have to return to his lonely life.

“It either works or it doesn’t,” Katsuki interrupted his thoughts, still speaking in the same tone. “So you’ll know if I’m a creepy jackass pretty quickly.”

Izuku’s eyes widened. His heart was trying to escape his chest and he could feel his own pulse in his throat. His stomach was swooping in a way that almost made him dizzy… but not like he was sick.

Was Katsuki closer?

“What’ll it be, Izuku?” asked Katsuki, voice low and serious.

Izuku’s wide eyes darted all around Katsuki’s ridiculously handsome face—from red eyes down to pink, inviting lips and back up. In the end, Izuku was just a man, and here was someone extremely attractive ready and willing to kiss him.

“Okay,” he breathed out before he’d given it a second thought.

There was no time to take it back. Katsuki surged forward and kissed him before he could even react. At the first touch of Katsuki’s lips against his own, Izuku’s first instinct was to tense up from the abrupt proximity and the intensity of feeling.

So much was happening all at once. A very warm, calloused hand reached up to cup his jaw gently. Katsuki kissed him slowly but was undoubtedly eager based on how he pressed in closer and breathed in sharply through his nose in a way that made Izuku’s heart stutter.

Despite everything, Izuku’s first thought was that the feeling of someone else’s lips against his was almost weird because of how unfamiliar it was.

The next moment, it was… very familiar.

A tingling sensation rushed across his skin as a feeling far more intense than anything he’d ever known started to unfurl in his chest. Something so good, so achingly, mind-numbingly good, and entirely all-consuming. It was almost too much, and yet Izuku would rather let it kill him than try to escape it.

Izuku pushed forward and kissed him back in a way that came more from instinct than anything else. When Katsuki made a low noise in the back of his throat and began to kiss him harder, Izuku felt like he was going to die as his stomach clenched and his entire body flooded with heat and hypersensitivity. He felt Katsuki grab the front of his shirt and pull them even closer together.

Katsuki tilted his head slightly and slotted their mouths together in a way that was deeper than before and Izuku kissed back, moving his own lips against Katsuki’s in a dance that he…

That he remembered.

With a gasp, Izuku yanked their lips apart, eyes flying open to meet the sight of the man who was kissing him. He couldn’t go too far with the iron grip Katsuki had on his shirt, but he took a moment to stare.

Deep red eyes that shone with unshed tears, flushed cheeks, parted lips with quick, shaky breaths panted out from between them…

The slope of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the slant of his eyebrows…

The sight was so familiar that Izuku was almost dizzy with how intensely he knew this person. He could read the subtleties of his expression—the desire, the longing, the heartache, the pain, the relief. More than just seeing it, it almost felt like Izuku could feel all the feelings radiating from him.

Izuku’s head was suddenly such a mess that he couldn’t sort it out in the slightest. It was like he was in a room full of everyone in the entire south, and they’d all been dead silent before starting to talk all at once.

Even so, Izuku stared, and the name came to him before anything else did. In a whisper filled with awe and love and wonder, he spoke.

“Kacchan.”

Chapter Text

“Kacchan.”

The moment Izuku said it, a sharp pain seared through his skull. His hand flew to grab at his head. He cried out, squeezing his eyes shut.

Distantly, he registered that Kacchan was speaking to him, though he couldn’t comprehend the words. Low, smooth, even… the sound of his voice was familiar and comforting even without knowing what it was that he was saying.

He felt Kacchan pulling him forward. There was a firm grip keeping him from falling, and he leaned into it because the pain was making him feel on the verge of collapsing.

Kacchan, Kacchan, Kacchan.

He wanted to see Kacchan, and he couldn’t until this pain went away or he got used to it. He drew in short, shallow breaths and tried to get himself under control.

It was difficult, because his head was a mess. It spun and screamed and blurred together as thoughts and memories and feelings all blended together in a loud and chaotic mess. Within seconds, an entire lifetime was trying to shove its way back into his mind.

Suddenly, Izuku had gone from someone who’d never felt much at all outside of loneliness to someone who had felt so much. Joy and sorrow and love and hatred. He’d felt devotion that poets would spend their whole lives trying to explain in words. He’d felt grief that carved away at the very soul with unspeakable agony.

It left his head in shambles, and Izuku wanted to scream and cry and slam his head into the wall but more than that he wanted… he wanted…

“K-Kacchan,” Izuku said again.

He realized he was crying when his own voice came out thick with emotion.

“Shh, shh,” Kacchan shushed him gently.

Izuku grimaced from the strength of the adoration that flared up in his own chest in reaction to the sound of Kacchan’s voice. Coupled with the familiar press of Kacchan’s hot hands into his skin and the love that practically radiated from him, Izuku felt overwhelmed.

It was so powerful that it hurt. Even though it was good and wanted, Izuku felt like his body wasn’t enough to contain it. He gritted his teeth against the desire to cry out from how his chest and heart and lungs felt ready to burst.

“Lie back, Izuku,” Kacchan murmured. “I’ve got you.”

The back of Izuku’s legs hit something and then Kacchan was guiding him downward. Strong, warm, familiar arms and hands guided him gently down onto a bed. His entire body shook as he failed to suppress his sobs, and they ripped out of him sounded ragged and strained.

The physical, sharp pain in his head was dying down a bit for a moment, but Izuku still trembled with the onslaught of life and memory and feelings that had been shoved into his previously empty head.

“Kacchan,” he gasped yet again as if unable to help it, not quite able to open his eyes but hands still flailing to grab onto Kacchan’s hand and make sure he wasn’t going away again.

I missed you.

I love you.

Are you okay?

How are you?

I love you.

I missed you so much.

All that came out were sobs because there were too many things he wanted to say, and the words were all getting stuck in his throat as they fought to be released.

“I’m here,” Kacchan replied softly.

Izuku could barely breathe or think clearly, but part of his being was hypersensitive to Kacchan’s movements. He felt as Kacchan climbed up next to him and the weight and warmth of him settled into Izuku’s side as he lay next to him. Unable to stand it a moment longer, Izuku forced his eyes open and an unwitting, choked noise broke past his lips as he was suddenly looking into Kacchan’s eyes.

Red. Like the flowers that bloomed that very color once a year on the mountain that Kacchan once called home.

Red. Like the coals of the dying fire that time they were stranded outside in the mountains during that snowstorm. Back when they were young and angry and could barely make it through a single conversation with each other without it dissolving into a shouting match.

Red. Like the color of the sunset back on that evening before their first battle. When they sat and watched the sun go down with a feeling of mind-numbing terror that they tried so hard to suppress. They’d been so scared, but they hadn’t been scared enough. They hadn’t yet known enough of hell to be properly terrified of it.

Red… and shiny with tears, because Kacchan was crying.

Kacchan was lying on his side, his head propped up by his arm as he gazed down at Izuku. The raw agony, adoration, love, fondness… not only was Kacchan making no attempt to hide any of it, but Izuku felt like he could suddenly read all the nuances of his expression with ease. He knew how Kacchan was feeling in a way that practically radiated out at him. He felt it as if the emotions were side by side with his own.

Even as Izuku had to tear his eyes away so he could have some relief, his hands moved forward. He grabbed at Kacchan with desperation that washed over him side by side with dread. As if Kacchan would disappear if he wasn’t touching him.

One of his hands slid between Kacchan’s waist and the bed. The other pressed to the skin of Kacchan’s exposed side, warm and familiar and foreign and addictive and terrifying. He was trembling so bad that his arm shook. He knew Kacchan could feel it.

“I’m so sorry, Kacchan.”

The words escaped Izuku’s mouth before he even realized that anything had managed to get past the blockade in his throat. The moment they did, they stirred up immediate fury in Kacchan’s eyes.

“Shut up,” Kacchan choked out.

He shoved himself up so that he could lean over and crush their lips together. Izuku made a startled noise.

There was an undeniable desperation in the way that Kacchan was kissing him. He slotted their mouths together, moving with an increasing intensity and longing that stole Izuku’s breath even further. It was like Kacchan wanted to consume him, to merge with his very being.

Kacchan was still crying. Tears streamed down his face and dripped onto Izuku’s face and neck. He shoved himself closer, until he was half on top of Izuku and bracketing his head with his forearms.

Izuku could feel Kacchan’s chest spasming where it rested over his own. He could feel the suppressed sobs racking through him. Kacchan’s longing was so obvious, and his own chest echoed Kacchan’s grief. He wanted to scream from the unfairness of it all.

Every sound that Kacchan made—every choked gasp or groan or cry that escaped between when his lips were pressed to Izuku’s—zipped through Izuku’s body and set him alight with feeling. They again moved in a way that Izuku was remembering more and more by the second, and their joint labored breathing and the sounds their lips made against each other’s were all making Izuku feel hot.

Izuku quickly became overwhelmed again, but he didn’t do a damn thing about it.

His skin was too sensitive, his heart beat too quickly, and his chest was too compressed. Kacchan was everywhere. His touch, his smell, his taste… it was all so familiar that Izuku hurt with how badly he’d been starved of it. He didn’t do a damn thing to escape Kacchan’s attempt to consume him, because he wanted to be consumed.

Though he struggled to move even to kiss back. His head was still a jumbled mess. It ached in a duller way now, not unbearable but certainly very unpleasant. He reeled from all the memories that were still trying to sort themselves out inside his head. It made his head spin, and he felt a sort of dissonance deep within that hadn’t yet gone away. It was hard to do much more than try to breathe and move his lips slightly and run his badly shaking hands over every inch of Kacchan’s warm skin that he could easily reach.

Just when Izuku thought he would pass out from all the onslaught of feeling, Kacchan pulled away from his mouth to let him breathe. Izuku was both relieved for the breather and desperate to have him back immediately.

Kacchan kissed across his cheek and down to his neck, threading his hands into Izuku’s hair and using that to tilt his head gently to the side. He buried his face into the side of Izuku’s neck, and Izuku’s entire body shuddered. No one had touched him in so long and Kacchan was warm and familiar and loved him.

Izuku remembered now.

They’ve known each other for a long time.

Practically their entire lives.

He remembered the agonizing pain of being stabbed by that darkknife. He remembered all the events that followed. He remembered that Kacchan saved him, and he kept doing so.

Once a year, that was the most that Kacchan was willing to give them. Once a year, Kacchan would kiss him and allow them a day together. Once a year, they did exactly this.

He insisted that Izuku needed the whole year to restore the wasting of his memories. Izuku didn’t know if it was true, but Kacchan wouldn’t take any arguments. He always grew angry and would shout at Izuku that he wasn’t willing to compromise any of Izuku’s mind and memories.

Kacchan’s lips latched onto the side of his neck and started kissing him there as if he couldn’t stand not having his mouth on him for another second. Izuku squirmed from the feeling, hands flexing where they still pressed to Kacchan’s skin.

“Kacchan, I—”

I love you.

I missed you.

How are you?

I missed you so much.

He couldn’t manage to say anything more and only another sob escaped.

“Shh, I know,” Kacchan murmured quietly. “I know, I know.”

Izuku shuttered again from the sound of Kacchan’s low, steady voice right next to his ear. He clenched his jaw and tilted his head up as he fought to get his mind under control enough to be more present and centered in the moment. He still felt like his head and being were swirling all around, and his heart was going to burst with how it thundered so much.

Kacchan released his neck and his hair, pushing himself up only slightly to shove the cloak off his own shoulders. Then he reached down and unbuttoned Izuku’s shirt. Izuku watched him through half-lidded eyes as his head throbbed painfully. There was a frantic look to Kacchan’s eyes as he looked down at Izuku’s torso. His hands were also shaking badly, and he seemed to grow frustrated quickly with his task of getting Izuku’s shirt off.

Though it hadn’t taken very long at all, the moment Kacchan was done, he shoved Izuku’s shirt to the side and his hands were on Izuku’s skin. He didn’t even bother to get Izuku’s shirt all the way off. He ducked back down to bury his face in Izuku’s neck as if it hadn’t been seconds since he’d last done so. His hands circled around Izuku’s body until he was holding Izuku to his own chest.

Izuku’s arms circled around Kacchan’s back as well, and something about the tight embrace broke something in Izuku and he let out a loud, uncontrolled sob. He squeezed his eyes shut and cried. His chest spasmed irrepressibly, shaking so hard that he momentarily couldn’t think at all as all his emotions rushed to escape through this newfound outlet.

He felt suddenly drained of strength. He struggled to maintain a solid hold on Kacchan, but he just let it happen. His arms felt too shaky and weak to keep holding him, so he just rested them across Kacchan’s back with his fingers only lightly pressed into Kacchan’s skin.

He let it happen, because Kacchan was holding them together.

Kacchan was almost entirely on top of him now, their legs tangled together and his torso resting on top of Izuku’s. His weight kept Izuku grounded, pressing him downwards into the mattress beneath him. He was obviously supporting a portion of his own weight with parts of his legs and arms, because Izuku’s chest expanded with ease despite how Kacchan’s arms held him in a vice grip. They were firm and tensed and locked around him, and his head was still ducked and buried in Izuku’s neck.

He knew Kacchan was crying, too, but at the moment, Kacchan held him steady.

Izuku wept. For a moment, he stopped trying to get himself together and instead just let himself fall apart. He was overwhelmed by everything trying to find room in his head.

Lonely… he was always so lonely.

Kacchan shifted to press his lips to Izuku’s neck and muttered quiet words of comfort that Izuku felt rumbling in his chest more than actually heard. He was so much bigger than he had been when they first did something like this, so many years ago. Izuku also lacked much of the muscle definition and size that he used to have, so the difference between their relative sizes had widened.

That difference made Izuku feel like a stranger in his own skin. His body didn’t feel like his own and yet it was. His past and present had no middle ground to stand on, so they only clashed again and again. All his memories were returning to their places in his mind, but Izuku couldn’t forget how much time had passed simply in the weakness he felt within his own body.

In a way, Kacchan’s body was more familiar than his own. His smell, his touch, every inch of him… different in many ways than it had been years ago, but also… far more grounding in this moment. Kacchan was just Kacchan, and Izuku loved him. He loved him so wholly that he clung to it for support as he waited for his internal self to balance itself out.

“Kacchan,” he tried again the moment he was able to. “How—” He cut himself off, breathing hard.

“Shhh,” Kacchan replied immediately, pulling back only slightly and running his fingers through Izuku’s hair in a way that made him shiver yet again. “It always takes a bit of time for you to adjust. Just lie here for a sec and rest.”

It always…

Izuku clenched his jaw as a ball of anxiety and dread and terror rolled through him. He tensed, and he felt Kacchan press a kiss to his cheek and back down to his neck in a move so tender it trampled all over Izuku’s anxiety with affection and gratitude.

It did always start like this, didn’t it? Every time Kacchan had kissed him.

“I’ve got you,” Kacchan murmured as his fingers flexed against where they were pressed to Izuku’s skin. “It’s okay. It’s okay.”

It’s not okay. Izuku wanted to yell, but he clenched his jaw shut so harshly that his teeth ached. It’s not okay, because I missed you and I’m so lonely and I can’t do this anymore.

Just like every time Kacchan kissed him and held him together like this, Izuku sealed his mouth shut and swallowed his grievances. He only allowed choked cries to escape, but he suffocated the rest of his thoughts intentionally. They would not be set free today.

Izuku laid there and waited for his head to settle a bit more. He wanted to talk to Kacchan, and that could only happen if he calmed down. He tried to force himself to breathe evenly. He forced himself not to think of his loneliness or himself much at all. Instead, he focused on Kacchan, clutching to his familiarity both physically and mentally. He tried to slow his racing heart from the brink of giving out.

Abruptly, Izuku’s eyes flew open in a panic as a particular memory surfaced. He scrambled to move, and the moment he did, Kacchan released him to pull back slightly. His red eyes were a bit wild in their concern as they zoned in on Izuku’s face.

“What’s wrong?” asked Kacchan, urgent and alarmed.

Izuku paid him no mind, shifting to grab at Kacchan’s jaw and tilt it upward.

“I—I had a knife to your neck!” he said almost hysterically, searching Kacchan’s neck as if that hadn’t happened months ago.

The memory swam before his eyes. The look on Kacchan’s face as he held the knife against his neck made Izuku choke just from recalling it. The shock, the hurt, the raw betrayal. Izuku’s hand shook as he stared at Kacchan’s unharmed neck, remembering with horror how close to killing him he’d been.

“I’m fine.” Kacchan spoke in a quiet and calm voice. He shifted to grab for Izuku’s wrist and gently but firmly moved it from his jaw. “You were scared. It was my fault.”

“I could’ve killed you.” Izuku’s hand balled into a fist and he looked away. In his current state, the intensity of his terror made his head spin. His torso twisted away from Kacchan as the devastation inside him didn’t wane in the slightest.

“Stop,” Kacchan ordered firmly. His voice was still calm and even. “Izuku, I mean it. Look at me.”

He didn’t let Izuku pull away, instead pressing up onto his palms and shifting until he was leaning over Izuku. Izuku looked up at him, eyes wide and anxiety still buzzing in his veins.

Kacchan stared down at him with an expression that was deadly serious. His eyes darted back and forth between Izuku’s own.

“I’m okay.” Kacchan spoke with more force now as frustration added intensity to his tone. “That was my mistake. I scared you, and you reacted. It was months ago. I don’t want to waste time arguing about it.”

His voice grew strained towards the end, and Izuku couldn’t help the slight grimace forming on his face as the urge to cry rose again.

“Izuku, I’m fine,” Kacchan urged. “Look at me. I’m fine. You didn’t hurt me.”

Izuku’s hand shook as he shifted one of his arms up and wrapped it around Kacchan’s forearm that was next to his head, down close to his wrist. He remembered the feeling of the knife, of how he’d tried to gather the courage, of how he’d been ready to kill… to kill Kacchan if he needed.

The memory of it made him dig his fingers into Kacchan’s skin as he held his forearm tighter. To Kacchan’s credit, he didn’t wince.

“I said look at me,” Kacchan ordered heatedly.

“I am,” Izuku replied immediately.

“You’re not. You’re remembering. I can tell. Stop and look at me, dammit! I’m right in front of you!”

Izuku’s eyes widened slightly, and he forced himself to inhale deeply. His fingers continued to dig into where they held Kacchan’s arm. He tried to shove his memories aside. He tried not to focus on them and instead on what he was seeing right here and now.

He looked at Kacchan carefully and clenched his jaw hard when he realized that Kacchan looked older. It was hard to tell what exactly his mind was even comparing Kacchan to. His memories were all jumbled and out of order, but in almost all of them Kacchan still looked a lot younger than this.

He looked so damn good. His face had matured as he somehow grew into his features even more. He was the same, but also different in ways that Izuku didn’t yet have the brain power or time to comprehend.

The passage of time… the continuing, unending nature of their painful lives… it was clear to Izuku on Kacchan’s face. No matter which memory Izuku compared him to, time had still gone by.

Time stolen from them, that they would never get back.

Izuku shook the agonizing thought from his mind and his other hand shifted and reached up to touch his face. His hands still shook visibly as he grazed the skin of Kacchan’s cheek with his shaky hands.

Kacchan was okay.

“Kacchan,” Izuku breathed out yet again, voice light with wonder.

“Fuck, I missed you so much,” Kacchan said the words as if they forced their way out of his throat. Rushed and frantic and honest. He said them with such intensity that, despite everything, Izuku felt his neck and cheeks heating up.

They didn’t used to be like this. So affectionate. So open with each other.

Even after they’d gotten together, their long history meant they would fight a lot. They were bad at communicating. They were still figuring out how to show affection. Talking about their feelings was easier said than done and avoiding talking about their feelings came as second nature to both of them. They were both insecure and inexperienced and it showed in how they treated each other.

Kacchan didn’t used to be like this.

He used to struggle with certain aspects of vulnerability in the same way Izuku did. He didn’t know how to be affectionate, and it used to leave him feeling insecure and defensive at times. He used to waver or refrain completely when speaking about things very close to his heart. He was prideful, and that meant he didn’t always want to seem like he cared too much about what Izuku did.

But now…

Now, Kacchan never hesitated at all. Not in speaking his mind and not in looking Izuku in the eye while doing it.

Kacchan was touchy and truthful and desperate in a way he’d never fully shown to Izuku before all this had happened. He didn’t mince words, he didn’t hesitate, and he spoke his mind so clearly and shamelessly. He didn’t get embarrassed or defensive or take a single word back, even when Izuku couldn’t manage a reply.

It made Izuku’s heart run wild and his stomach flutter worse than the first time they’d kissed each other. Izuku had always craved Kacchan’s attention and now…

Now, Kacchan seemed unwilling to stop touching Izuku for even a moment. He seemed unwilling to stop looking at him or to get too far from him. He declared without shame how much he missed Izuku while looking him dead in the eyes.

It made sense. Izuku understood that things were different, and he felt his own desperation building with each passing second as more and more of his memory settled. Still, when this Kacchan was juxtaposed to how he’d been their entire lives before this… it stole Izuku’s limited breath away.

It was a lot for Izuku to handle, and it was even more so when he realized that Kacchan spent his entire year waiting to say these words.

Izuku preened from the attention just as much as he ached from it. It made his heart ache so badly that he wanted to rip it out. He could feel Kacchan’s pain and longing and loneliness and misery in how shamelessly and almost frantically he clutched at Izuku and spoke to him.

He knew, because he knew Kacchan.

They’d known each other their entire lives.

It was how Izuku could tell right away that there was more that was different outside of Kacchan’s external looks and expressions of affection. This Kacchan was not the one he’d been forced to leave behind all those years ago.

Each year, Kacchan’s desperation grew to an increasingly manic look behind his eyes that made Izuku want to save him so badly he couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t unrecognizable, because Izuku would always recognize him, but he was certainly different to how he’d been in their youth. Both the look in his eyes right now and the memory of how he’d broken down after Izuku held a knife to his neck were clear examples.

Kacchan was different enough that to see it terrified a part of Izuku.

It made Izuku want to rage and scream and cry, because he’d sworn all those years ago to be by Kacchan’s side through anything, but he couldn’t be through this. Their lives had become this… Kacchan upholding his vow and Izuku being incapable of it.

“I’m sorry, Kacchan.” Izuku couldn’t help the grimace as emotion shoved up his throat and his eyes filled with tears anew. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Kacchan’s eyes flashed with familiar rage, but even that had an element of severity not quite like anything Izuku could ever remember seeing before. The manic light in them caught fire under his rage, and Izuku was mesmerized and horrified as the flames rose.

His anger used to always be loud and big and flashy. Now, it was sharp and quick and impatient. There was an edge to it that was new in recent years.

“No,” Kacchan spat harshly, and he ripped Izuku’s hand from his face. He leaned forward, palms pressing in on either side of Izuku’s head. “That’s not what I want to hear.”

Izuku’s eyes widened, confusion momentarily taking over before he remembered they’d had some version of this conversation before… several times.

“How dare you?” Kacchan gritted out. He was visibly affronted, and the resulting fury built in his blazing eyes with each passing second. “Every time—you always do this to me! How fucking dare you?!”

They’d had this conversation before, but it was immediately obvious to Izuku that this time was different. Kacchan was far madder and more upset than he’d ever been before. His eyes were filling with enraged tears… just as they always were when he grew overwhelmed.

“N-no, Kacchan,” Izuku tried to take it back even as his concern for Kacchan wanted to paralyze even his tongue, “I didn’t mean it like—”

“Don’t insult me like that again,” Kacchan cut him off so abruptly it was like he hadn’t even heard Izuku speak. His chest heaved and tears fell onto Izuku’s cheeks. “How dare you apologize to me?!”

Izuku’s chest compressed with pain and regret. He held his tongue against the next apology that wanted to escape. Instead, he ran his hands up Kacchan’s side and up over his neck to grab at his cheeks. He did so cautiously, because as much as he knew Kacchan, his anger was historically unpredictable. This anger was also new, and Izuku didn’t know if he would reject being touched.

But Kacchan seemed to relax into it. The fire didn’t leave his eyes, and his chest still heaved, but he leaned to push forward into Izuku’s hands in a way that might’ve been subconscious; Izuku didn’t know.

“After everything I’ve—everything that we’ve—after all this time—” It wasn’t often that Kacchan struggled for words like this, but he was clearly getting worked up by how offended he was. “How could you—shit.”

When he cut himself off with a frustrated curse, Izuku took the opportunity.

“Thank you,” he amended quickly, speaking with his entire chest as his heart ached. “I meant to say thank you, Kacchan.”

“Better,” Kacchan gritted out as he still panted through his rage. He still seemed largely unhappy with Izuku’s words, his entire body tense, but the ire had already started to fade from his eyes.

Izuku was sorry. He was sorrier than he’d ever been in his life. He was so sorry that Kacchan spent his life trailing after the hollowed-out shell of Izuku. He was sorry that Kacchan looked older and more desperate and lonelier and sadder than he ever had before in their lives.

He was so sorry, because there wasn’t anything he wanted more in life than for Kacchan to be happy, and yet he couldn’t give that to him.

But Kacchan didn’t want his apologies.

He found them beyond insulting, as he’d shouted at Izuku the first few times they’d done this. He found them condescending and isolating. Eventually, all of those feelings bled into something even angrier that Kacchan felt even deeper within. By now, Kacchan was far beyond feeling only insulted or patronized; he was wrathful.

It stemmed from this idea Kacchan had in his head about Izuku’s treekind lineage.

Kacchan was dragonkind from mountain country, where love was flashy. It was grand gestures and declarations. It was big moves and words and outward displays of the bond between two people. Flashy, possessive, fiery, like the dragons they shared land with.

But he’d grown up alongside Izuku. He knew treekind customs and the belief system. While for dragonkind, partnership was centered around flashy loyalty and devotion, treekind had a very different view of it.

For the treekind peoples of river country, marriage was a quiet affair. It was the slow but irreversible weaving of two lives into one. Like the roots of two trees growing around each other, sharing nutrients and light and space. It was common to get married before two trees that had grown intertwined.

Kacchan always took Izuku’s apologies as a slight, because to save a life that was an extension of your own was expected, not worthy of praise or reward. Rather, a failure to save a life that was an extension of your own could be cause for great shame. To protect, to care for, to support… in the culture Izuku grew up in, they were all a given for life partners.

Though Izuku never meant to make Kacchan feel like he was insulting him, Kacchan hated whenever he apologized. To Izuku’s stress and horror, he took it as a personal jab, as if Izuku was trying to put distance between them.

He never seemed to understand any of Izuku’s attempts to explain that it simply wasn’t as complex as that. It was like Kacchan, born and raised in a showy culture where so many things held such powerful and extreme significance, couldn’t comprehend that it wasn’t like that for Izuku.

He knew that treekind unions were centered around a certain level of care and respect… and he took that to mean that the endless lengths that he went to for Izuku were what was expected of him. He didn’t want apologies or even gratitude for it, because in his mind that meant Izuku didn’t see him as sharing a life with him. That he wasn’t worthy of a treekind union, or something like that. Izuku had long given up trying to get him to understand.

“I love you,” Izuku said instead of another apology or even a thank you. “You’re amazing, Kacchan.”

Because if there was one thing Kacchan always accepted by this point in their lives, it was Izuku’s love. It was his praise… as long as it didn’t stray into praising him for staying by Izuku’s side in general.

Kacchan’s cheeks reddened as if Izuku hadn’t told him that a thousand times, and he looked to the side. He scowled in a way that was more a pout than anything else.

“I love you so much,” Izuku whispered, in awe as he stared at the blush on Kacchan’s cheeks and watched it darken further.

The flare of fondness in Izuku’s chest made him use his hold on Kacchan’s cheeks to pull him closer and press their lips together. The moment he did, Kacchan reacted like a man starved and kissed him back with eagerness and a longing that Izuku could practically feel radiating off him. Kacchan pressed in closer again, dropping onto his forearms and Izuku moved to hold his sides again, keeping their bodies pressed together.

After a few moments, Izuku’s headache flared, and he winced from the spike of pain.

Kacchan pulled away from his lips immediately, kissing across his face and down his neck. Even as Izuku panted and his head spun and ached, he instinctively tilted his head to give Kacchan better access.

Izuku realized he was crying again when Kacchan came back up to his face, forearms on either side of his head. He went between kissing him reverently to wiping gently at his tears. All the while, murmuring soft words of comfort again. His anger was long gone, so easily melted away from Izuku’s positive attention and physical affection.

“I know it hurts,” Kacchan murmured lowly, his lips moving to ghost against the skin of Izuku’s neck. “Just keep your eyes closed. Just focus on me.”

Izuku didn’t know how to say that it wasn’t just the physical agony that was making him cry. He suspected that Kacchan already knew that, so he said nothing. Instead, he flexed his hands where they held Kacchan’s hips as the onslaught of emotion and sensation washed over him again. His memories were finally settling into place, and he wished that meant he was hurting any less.

“I’m sorry.” Kacchan’s voice was a broken whisper this time. “It’ll get better soon. I’ve got you.”

Kacchan was allowed to apologize. They’d had this fight before too.

In the end, Kacchan felt he deserved to apologize because he saw what happened to them as his failing of their partnership. Of course, since he thought of himself as responsible for their situation, that only meant he found Izuku’s apologies twice as insulting.

Izuku didn’t agree of course, but he didn’t have it in him to demand anything at all from Kacchan anymore. He wished Kacchan wouldn’t apologize, but he knew it helped Kacchan to say it, so he didn’t fight him on it most of the time.

He couldn’t give Kacchan anything… not peace, not love, not safety, not partnership. He couldn’t fulfill the vows he’d sworn all those years ago. He couldn’t be anything but a curse on Kacchan’s life, so he would do his best not to ask anything of Kacchan today.

By the end of the day, he usually failed when the weight of his own guilt became too much, but for now he could resist a little longer. For now, he would focus on grounding himself with the presence of his oldest friend and the love of his life. For now, he would yield to Kacchan.

He closed his eyes as his memories finally sorted themselves out.

Izuku grew up in a tiny village in eastern river country. It was so far east that it sat at the base of the mountains that marked the beginnings of mountain country.

Izuku was raised by his mother in a small cottage, a woman named Inko who was treekind and native to river country. His father was a dragonkind man named Hisashi. He was originally from mountain country, and he left them to return there on a day Izuku could no longer recall.

It was random chance that Izuku ever ran into Kacchan at all.

Izuku often played in the woods on the east side of the village that led onto the mountain and up into mountain country. One such day, he got lost. So lost that he ended up sitting down beside a river and crying as he wished the trees weren’t so tall or that he recognized the river he was sat next to.

There he was found by Kacchan, a fierce dragonkind boy from the mountains. Despite how Kacchan teased him for crying, he showed him the way home and along the way decided he was an acceptable candidate for friendship.

As he showed Izuku the edge of the woods, he pointed at him and declared, “I’ll be seeing you soon!”

They became fast friends, and Izuku quickly learned to navigate the forest to find him so they could play together. Between his mixed lineage and his friendship with Kacchan, Izuku grew up in between worlds, immersed in the cultures of both riverfolk and mountainfolk.

Parts of growing up were rocky for them. Izuku’s interest in magic wasn’t enough to make up for the fact that he was unable to conjure so much as a small flame despite his dragonkind lineage. Kacchan was working hard training to be a warrior and to learn how to better conjure magic, and for a while they grew apart.

When Izuku was chosen to wield the Might Sword against some great evil rising in the far east, things didn’t get any easier for a while. Kacchan and he went from less than friendly to rivals. They weren’t current friends so much as childhood friends, and it was only after many months of training together that they began to get along again.

After that, it only made sense that Izuku fell in love. Kacchan was amazing. His battle instincts, his fighting ability, and his skill with magic were all far superior to most other people their age. Years of training together, and then they got together even as a storm brewed in the east. Fate and the future hovered ominously before them, but they continued on.

It was shortly after Izuku had mastered the Nine Forms and could wield the Might Sword that he learned his father had left him and his mother because of him. His father was dragonkind, and among dragonkind an inability to conjure any magic at all was practically unheard of. Not to mention that his father was a general who was one of two warriors in recorded history that could breathe fire.

Izuku had always known that his father and mother’s union was considered shameful, but he’d always assumed it was because they weren’t wed at all when they had Izuku. Not to mention, they were from different cultures and races entirely. It wasn’t until later that Izuku learned that it was far more complicated than that, and his lack of magical ability sat right at the center of things.

When Izuku was recognized across the north as the one who would lead the fight against the League of Darkness, he finally reunited with his father, who acknowledged him for the first time in his life.

Izuku had been grateful, ignoring any inner turmoil or conflict for the sake of keeping the peace. At the time, he knew that this meant his father and mother could repair their relationship. He could stop coming in between their family. He could stop coming in the middle of their happiness.

Kacchan vehemently disagreed with that.

He disagreed with such ferocity that he and Izuku argued over it again and again. He disagreed so much that he struggled to be even civil to Izuku’s dad for many months. No amount of Izuku trying to explain things made Kacchan hate his dad any less; Kacchan understood the reasoning behind why his father shunned him for the majority of his life, but he didn’t respect it in the slightest.

Kacchan hated that Izuku forgave his father. He hated that Izuku put aside everything to prioritize his mother completely. He hated that Izuku considered accepting the invitation back into his father’s house.

Despite Izuku’s very best attempts, Kacchan never did come to hate Hisashi any less.

By the time the war came, Kacchan and Izuku were a formidable team. They were on the front lines in that first battle with warriors and nights and conjurors and mages that had trained for many, many years.

In the end, Izuku and Kacchan got married too young, because after they first fought the League of Darkness in plain country and Kacchan nearly died, their mortality was all too aware in their minds.

Izuku remembered being terrified and uncertain, because he felt that he was too young to be married. He remembered Kacchan didn’t waver at all, and he’d latched onto that. After all, Izuku wasn’t uncertain about Kacchan, but just that they were too young in general to be doing something so official.

Both to treekind and dragonkind, marriage was not a casual affair. Izuku knew that.

Marriage was not a casual affair for Kacchan either. In fact, he made them get married twice, in accordance with both their traditions. He didn’t seem to care in the slightest if anyone judged them, because he was too busy looking at Izuku like it was the last time he ever would. After all, Kacchan was the one who almost died in the first battle. He’d taken a sword to the chest meant for Izuku. He was probably reliving that, knowing the next day could be his last.

In the end, it was Izuku who almost perished in that very last battle.

Izuku tore his own body apart during that battle. The fight razed the entire village that Kacchan had grown up in; it reduced it to ruin.

Kacchan had gotten everyone out. He’d evacuated everyone as Izuku had fought to keep the enemy back. Kacchan kept everyone alive, but with no one to watch Izuku’s back, he’d eventually made a mistake.

When the knife drove deep into him, Izuku felt the pain at the very center of his being. At the time, he’d known from the feeling alone that it was a darkknife. He knew from how the books had described it and how intense the pain was. He could practically feel some mystery curse writing itself into his bones and carving a home in his soul.

With his last strength, Izuku had become a murderer. He’d defeated the great evil that was trying to descend on the world, but in the end he was killing a man. They had both been vessels for greater power, but they were men.

Izuku fell from the sky, and he’d intended to die alongside the man that he had killed.

Kacchan saved everyone they knew and loved, and he’d saved Izuku, too.

Izuku knew only from being told later, that Kacchan slowed his fall, treated his wound, tried desperately to counter the curse as if the darkknife hadn’t already cut him. He tried to slow it. He tried to kiss him, even though he knew that wouldn’t counter the effects of a darkknife.

Izuku had woken up in agony. He screamed for days as they tried to figure out what was wrong with him. It was Izuku who figured it out first, before his memory left him completely.

It was a curse that wasted his memory and made him forget anyone he loved every time he fell asleep. His friends, his family, his… Kacchan. Any memory that involved anyone who he cared deeply for.

Gone. Wasted away to nothing.

Izuku should’ve died. He tried to die. He begged to die.

Kacchan refused. Instead, he argued that he needed time to figure out how to break it. He needed time, so if Izuku could live as long as he wasn’t around anyone who he loved, then that’s where Izuku would need to go.

Izuku would need to go south, far from any friends or family, and he would need to stay there. Kacchan would go with him, and as long as Izuku didn’t know he was there then Izuku would be safe from the wasting curse.

Time. Kacchan said he needed time, because he refused to give up just yet.

As Izuku kissed Kacchan slow and deep, the details about his curse that he himself had uncovered floated through his mind.

The curse wasted his memory while he was asleep, decaying it and leaving gaping magical wounds in its place. Though the memory loss only happened when he slept, the empty spaces it left behind hurt Izuku in the daytime as well. Encountering anyone who’d been removed from his memory made the pain flare up, like rubbing salt in the open wound.

It was like the curse had cut away every memory of the people he loved, but since the spaces were perfectly made to hold his loved ones… if he encountered them, his brain would try to place them and ultimately only cause him physical agony.

Time allowed the magical wounds to heal.

Izuku kissed Kacchan harder as the longing in his chest made him feel like he was going to burst. With his memories settled, his desire and love consumed him wholly.

Izuku thought he had no one, but he had so many people. He was so loved. His friends and family who were all back home, up north… he was so very loved. And of course… no one loved him more than Kacchan did.

Izuku spent so much of his time in recent years feeling so lonely, so this one day a year where he got to remember who he was and that there were so many people he loved… it was like he was high off it. It felt so much more overwhelming and powerful than he could ever remember it feeling before. The contrast of having an empty life to having someone who he loved with his entire being was dizzying.

Kacchan’s kiss broke the curse. It restored all his memories and unwrote the curse from his body. That was the legendary power of something so vague as true love’s kiss. It broke the curse entirely, reversing the damage the magic caused.

But the darkknife had carved it into his soul, so it always came back.

The moment Izuku fell asleep, it would rip his mind back open and start to etch itself back into his flesh and blood and bones and mind. It would be set free to decay Izuku’s memories anew.

Izuku would wake up tomorrow with magical wounds bleeding in his mind.

Izuku’s heart thumped wildly in his chest and his desire and desperation consumed him. He kissed Kacchan more hungrily, then quickly grew impatient and shoved Kacchan to the side to climb on top of him.

The dazed look in Kacchan’s eyes and the high blush on his cheeks only made Izuku’s blood rush more in his veins. It only made his high peak that much higher, and he finally stripped his shirt entirely off before leaning down to kiss Kacchan again as if he needed it to breathe.

If Kacchan tried to kiss him tomorrow morning, it would break the curse again. It would restore any memories that had been wasted away.

It wouldn’t heal any of the wounds, because they were only a byproduct of the curse.

Fresh magical wounds weren’t only excruciatingly painful, but they left someone very vulnerable to other magic. A curse meant to stun someone might scramble Izuku’s mind permanently.

If Kacchan kissed him every morning, Izuku would only retain his memory long enough to suffer through excruciating pain. He would remember who he was as he slowly died from more and more magical wounds opening up his mind each night and healing far too slowly.

The curse had been well-crafted to leave Izuku in agony no matter what.

Izuku tried to shove the thoughts from his mind for just a bit longer. For just today, for just a small part of today, he didn’t want to think about it. He wanted to only think about them.

Izuku kissed Kacchan deeply with lips and tongue and teeth, hungry in a way that filled every part of his being. He felt hot, his skin hypersensitive everywhere that it touched Kacchan’s. His heart still beat so fast in his chest that it felt halfway to bursting out but he clung to the feeling.

He felt so much. He felt alive.

Kacchan seemed to recover from the initial daze of Izuku shoving him down and was now kissing him back just as hard. When Izuku grew so lightheaded that he decided he needed to breathe, he instead shifted to the side to kiss Kacchan’s neck, grabbing his hair and pulling him to the side so he had better access.

“Oi,” Kacchan panted out, and he sounded so breathless that Izuku’s stomach clenched and a rush of heat shot through his veins. He sucked on the side of Kacchan’s neck, and Kacchan squirmed, a low groan leaving his lips before he cut it off sharply. “Watch the hair.”

“Sorry, Kacchan,” Izuku muttered against his neck, releasing his iron grip on Kacchan’s hair and running his hand through it more gently. “I forgot you have a sensitive scalp.”

“Hah?!” Kacchan scoffed defensively, though the effect was lessened by his persisting breathlessness. “Everyone’s scalp is sensitive, idiot!”

“Of course, Kacchan,” Izuku agreed distractedly as he ran his hands down Kacchan’s sides and kissed down to his shoulders.

“Don’t ‘of course, Kacchan’ me, you little shit!” Kacchan hissed, tightening his hands where they gripped at Izuku’s skin. “I’ll kick your ass!”

Izuku ignored him.

“Oi!” Kacchan snapped again, shoving at his shoulder to force him up.

“Huh?” Izuku squinted at him, dazed and mildly irritated at the interruption.

Kacchan looked pissed, but his face was bright red.

“I know your brain’s all scrambled—” he started meanly.

Izuku frowned down at him. “No, it’s fine n—”

“—but remember you’re a scrawny bastard now, Izuku. You can’t take me on, so stop being such a little shit!”

Izuku’s eyes widened slightly at the sudden harshness of Kacchan’s tone, until he comprehended the flush high on Kacchan’s cheeks and the way he was looking at him.

“I still remember how to fight,” Izuku narrowed his eyes slightly as he began to sense Kacchan was causing problems on purpose. “Besides, Kacchan, I was only teasing before—”

Kacchan twisted his arm, shifted his legs, and then flipped Izuku faster than he could comprehend.

Izuku grunted as Kacchan slammed him down, pressing down. He glared up at Kacchan as his annoyance grew.

“Don’t get cocky,” Kacchan sneered down at Izuku, holding his arms down and leaning his weight to pin him in place. “You spend all year prancing around and picking flowers, but I’ve still been training and—”

Izuku shifted his weight and flipped them back again. They grappled for a moment before Izuku successfully pinned him.

“Stop trying to fight me,” Izuku panted out, because he was definitely out of shape with this sort of thing. “I’m sorry for teasing you, okay? I want to have—”

Kacchan shifted again, and Izuku struggled to keep him in place, shifting his weight to lean more and press him down.

“Stop!” he said as sweat dripped down the side of his face. He shifted to shove Kacchan into a tighter hold.

“Fine,” Kacchan gritted out and slapped Izuku’s arm to tap out.

Izuku released him and then tried to resume what he’d been doing before. Rather than let him, Kacchan tackled him again, knocking the breath out of him with an oof.

“Kacchan!” Izuku scolded.

“Looks like someone remembers how to fight,” Kacchan grinned, wide and challenging. There was a wild look in his eye.

“Yes,” Izuku groaned in irritation, “but right now I don’t—”

“That the only thing you remember?” Kacchan asked, a bit breathless again, before leaning down to kiss Izuku messily, his hand running down to grab at the waistband of Izuku’s pants.

Izuku kissed him back eagerly, too distracted to still be annoyed that that’s obviously what he was trying to get to in the first place.

Wherever they were when this day came, Kacchan would find there somewhere private where they could just spend a quiet day together. Usually, it was something like this, renting out a little house or cottage.

Today, it was a little place that was little more than a two-room cottage. They were currently in the bedroom, which was simply furnished with a big bed in the center that faced the windows and a desk and chair in the corner.

It just went to show how distracted Izuku had been by Kacchan—both before and after getting his memories—that it took him a while to realize that this house sat high up on the cliffside, overlooking the sea.

“This place is so nice,” Izuku whispered in awe as he stared out across the water.

“Courtesy of Prince Half-and-Half,” Kacchan mumbled tiredly.

Izuku’s eyes flew open wide as he connected the dots. “Oh my god. We’re in Ferryton!”

Kacchan only grunted in response.

Ferryton was a port city in southwest plain country, so far south that it led up to the beginnings of the massive forests that marked the border of forest country.

For the past several hundred years, a majority of plain country belonged to the Todoroki Kingdom. This was something Izuku knew, but now with his memories he was able to recall that not only did he know the royal family of said kingdom, but one of his closest friends had been, Todoroki Shouto, the youngest prince of the family. Todoroki had hair that was red on the left side of his head and white on the right, earning himself the nickname from Kacchan.

If someone had tried to tell Izuku that yesterday, he would’ve passed out at the very thought of seeing a royal, much less being a longtime friend with one. With his memories, he recalled how Todoroki was one of the people who fought alongside them against the League of Darkness.

“You told him we were here?” asked Izuku quietly as his heart ached as he remembered days long past.

“I sent a letter when we were headed back onto Todoroki soil,” replied Kacchan. “When I received his reply, he said we could use this place if we were still here when today came.”

“Wow,” Izuku gazed around the room with new eyes. It was a simple place, but upon second glance the furniture did look very beautifully made. It was also small, but the wealth was obvious in how clean and sturdy it was. “That’s so nice of him.”

“Tch,” Kacchan made a mild noise of annoyance to express that he was less than impressed. “Rich boy like him? Could’ve given us somewhere bigger.”

“He probably knew we wouldn’t want that,” Izuku said easily in reply.

His eyes landed on the wardrobe against the wall and trailed over to a beautiful painting hung up next to it. Immediately, emotions rose in his throat and he teared up. The wardrobe was carved in the intricate patterns of river country, and the painting was also clearly of somewhere in river country. Whether or not Todoroki had been here himself—which Izuku highly doubted, the man was very busy—he’d clearly made sure to try and add some touches of home.

Izuku smiled and wiped at his teary eyes.

“Have you heard from everyone else?” he asked.

He’d been putting off asking, he realized as he finally asked the question. He’d been avoiding it, because it hurt so much to talk about. It hurt to even think about. His parents… his mother and father. Kacchan’s parents. Their friends.

“Everyone’s doing great,” Kacchan replied, low and even. “They miss you, though.”

“And you,” said Izuku, glancing at him.

It wasn’t like Kacchan saw anyone almost ever either. He refused to leave Izuku’s side for very long… or more accurately, his general proximity. Still, he sent letters and communicated with everyone frequently, which was more than Izuku could do.

Kacchan’s expression twisted into a mean scowl, though it lacked heat. “Shut up, I’ll kill you!” he snapped testily. After a second, he narrowed his eyes and added, “Also, like hell they do!”

“Kacchan…”

Kacchan only rolled his eyes. Izuku smiled a small, fond smile before his eyes dropped to their intertwined hands. He stared at them, though his mind again drifted far away.

“How’s my mother?” he asked quietly.

“In good health, last I heard,” Kacchan replied. He then sighed and carefully detangled himself from Izuku. He shoved himself up and to the edge of the bed, moving to get off. “I brought the letters everyone sent for you.” His voice dropped to an annoyed grumble as he moved over to his bag. “Though they sent too damn many again. Selfish bastards. Taking up my time.”

Izuku watched him for a moment, chewing on the inside of his lip as he hesitated. Then he asked, “And my father?”

Kacchan stilled for only a fraction of a second before he continued looking in his bag.

“He’s looking after your mom.” His reply was devoid of emotion, completely flat and unenthusiastic.

Izuku breathed a sigh of relief. “Good.”

Kacchan grabbed the letters and walked over, holding them out to Izuku. There was a scowl on his face and a tension to his shoulders that hadn’t been there a second ago. Izuku took the letters, glancing at him but Kacchan didn’t meet his eyes.

“Thanks, Kacchan,” he said sincerely.

Kacchan only grunted in reply, flopping onto the bed next to him and staring unhappily up at the ceiling.

Izuku frowned pensively at him for a moment, before turning to the letters and finding the one from his mother. He tore it open, tears already in his eyes.

Izuku spent so long reading and writing replies that by the time he was done and returned his attention to Kacchan, Kacchan’s scowl was deep and unhappy. He almost looked petulant and appeared beyond pissed off.

“I’m done, Kacchan,” he said stacking the letters carefully on the desk and crossing back over to the bed. As soon as he was within reach, Kacchan yanked him down and was shoving on top of him to kiss him again.

After a moment, Izuku managed to pull back and add, “Thank you, Kacchan.” Another moment, “Give them my love.”

“Yeah, got it,” Kacchan gritted out dismissively before kissing him again hungrily.

Izuku couldn’t help the wide, amused grin that broke out on his lips. Kacchan certainly felt it, because he kissed harder as if trying to force it from his face.

It didn’t take long for Izuku to notice that the tension hadn’t completely left Kacchan’s shoulders. His hands were balled into fists.

“You’re pissed off,” Izuku pulled back to stare at him carefully.

“Just want your attention,” Kacchan replied immediately with such honesty that Izuku’s face flushed.

Still, Izuku shook his head, “No… you’re pissed about my dad.”

Kacchan stilled and then pulled back further and jerked his head away in visible irritation. “We’re not gonna waste time sitting here talking about this.”

“Kacchan, it’s good that he’s taking care of my mom!”

“That’s not what this is about! I just hate the guy! Let me hate him!”

“He’s my dad.”

“Shitty excuse for a dad and you know it,” Kacchan snapped. Then his shoulders slumped. “Please… I don’t want to have this argument again. Just forget it.”

Izuku studied him carefully but eventually nodded and leaned forward to kiss him.

“You look older,” Izuku muttered distractedly as he looked at Kacchan.

Kacchan peeled his eyes open from where he’d allowed them to drift shut and focused his eyes on Izuku. His expression shifted into a bit of a frown.

“I am older,” he said grumpily. “So are you.”

“I know…” Izuku trailed off as he lacked the energy to figure out how to say what it was he wanted to say.

Kacchan narrowed his eyes, then let them drift shut again. After a moment, he shoved himself up from where he was lying next to Izuku and moved to lay halfway on top of him, as if the foot between them had been too wide.

“You’re heavier than you used to be,” Izuku voiced the observation as it came to him. He wrapped his arms around Kacchan’s back. Kacchan was only sprawled halfway on top of him now, but the realization had occurred to him already today.

Kacchan tensed.

“Wider, too,” Izuku added as his eyes roamed down Kacchan’s body, taking mental notes and comparing the sight before him to his memories. “Your shoulders seem even—”

Kacchan shifted up onto his arms, moved directly over Izuku, and showcased the full power of his weight by abruptly dropping his entire weight onto Izuku.

Izuku wheezed as it knocked the breath out of him.

Kacchan’s face was twisted into a mean, angry scowl. “Say that again, I dare you.”

“Huh?” Izuku huffed out in confusion, trying to regain his breath and shove Kacchan off him. “Get off! Can’t—oof—”

“The hell’s wrong with you?” Kacchan shifted up, shoving himself up so he could growl in Izuku’ face while keeping much of the rest of his body weight on top of him. Rather than use the bed to leverage himself, he dug his forearms into Izuku’s chest. His face and neck were bright red. “You got a problem with how I look?”

His voice was challenging and defensive, but Izuku could read the insecurity written between the lines so easily. Kacchan was a language he’d been studying his entire life. Regret at the miscommunication immediately flooded through him. Even after all this time, he sometimes forgot that, when it came to certain things involving Kacchan, it was best to hold his tongue… or at least tread carefully.

In other words, he sometimes still managed to forget that his opinion mattered to Kacchan—a lot.

“That’s not… what I meant…” Izuku’s hands flailed around, trying to push him off. At the very least, he was trying to get Kacchan’s arms to move, as his forearms were digging into his breastbone hard and making it very difficult to breathe. “I was just… observing…”

“You better watch yourself!” Kacchan barked in his face, entirely unbothered by how he was currently crushing Izuku. “I was going easy on you before—”

Izuku’s eyes snapped to meet his as he frowned deeply to show his skepticism of the veracity of this statement.

“—because I wanted to fuck!” Kacchan finished angrily. “But don’t go thinking you can actually take me on! You’re not a soldier anymore!”

“Ka—” Izuku gasped out, shoving at Kacchan’s forearm to try and get him to move just a little bit. It was difficult to tell if Kacchan was dragging this out in an attempt to go another round in his strange way or if Kacchan was actually this upset. Especially with the lack of oxygen going to Izuku’s brain. “Ka… cchan…”

“Think you can give me feedback on my body when you look scrawnier than you did when you were fuckin’ twelve!”

Izuku’s stomach flipped unhappily as he registered Kacchan’s increasingly defensive tone, poorly covering the hurt by now.

Dammit.

He had actually offended Kacchan this time.

“K’cchan…” Izuku wheezed out, squirming as he continued to try and shove Kacchan off him unsuccessfully. “Can’t breathe.”

“Good,” Kacchan hissed, shifting to shove his forearms into Izuku’s chest that much harder.

Izuku grunted from the jolt of pain through his chest, then reached his fingers up and moved them high up on Kacchan’s ribcage and tickled him. Immediately, Kacchan flailed violently and his elbow connected with Izuku’s side.

“Oof.” Izuku grunted again from the solid hit but used Kacchan’s momentum to shove him off and he gasped in air gratefully.

“Oi, that’s cheating!” Kacchan snapped, lunging at him again a second later.

“Eek, Kacchan! Stop!” Izuku’s eyes widened as Kacchan came at him again, face twisted in an ugly, angry scowl. He tried to field him off, catching his arm.

Unfortunately, Kacchan had been right. He was horribly out of practice and shape, and the wrestling didn’t last long. Kacchan twisted his arm, pulling him closer and shoving a thigh in between his. While Izuku gasped from the sudden movement, he didn’t know if Kacchan even noticed exactly where his leg was.

Really not a great sign for just how much he’d offended him. His guilt flared up even further.

Kacchan leaned up to loom over him, panting. “I win, you judgmental piece of shit!”

“Kacchan, I wasn’t—” Izuku tried to explain despite how his neck was tilted at an awkward angle.

“Say I won!”

“Okay, yes!” Izuku squirmed in his grip. “You won!”

“Ha!” Kacchan grinned triumphantly, then released him and shoved off to lay next to him. Though he stuck one of his legs under Izuku’s, seeming to want to touch him despite how obviously pissed off he was. His grin faded in favor of a much grumpier expression.

“Kacchan, I wasn’t thinking,” Izuku explained, gasping for air but hurrying to say what it was he wanted to say. “I was just making an observation.”

Kacchan scoffed quietly, turning his head away from Izuku petulantly.

“Really!” Izuku insisted, increasingly adamant.

“’Really’?” Kacchan mocked. “Sounded to me like you have some tips on how to improve my appearance. Saying I look old? And like I’ve gained weight? Tsk!” He clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Izuku’s heart dropped and he shifted to push himself up. He tried to scoot closer to Kacchan, hoping he would turn to look at him.

“I didn’t—I wouldn’t—I wasn’t implying that you—Kacchan!” Izuku stammered, feeling awkward as he struggled to fix what he’d done by complete accident. His words became increasingly pleading.

Kacchan was still frowning deeply, looking away.

Despite everything they’d gone through together, Izuku felt suddenly a bit nervous and uncertain. Kacchan was offended, and he wanted reassurance on his appearance, but Izuku felt so wildly confused every time something like this happened. It wasn’t that he had any issue with complimenting Kacchan, but rather that it made him feel like he’d fallen into a whole separate world.

Really, the idea that Kacchan needed Izuku to reassure him about his looks was still something that Izuku struggled to understand even after all this time. Kacchan was conventionally attractive in a way that was undeniable to anyone. He was on par with royalty, considered to be as attractive as Todoroki Shouto, prince of the Todoroki Kingdom in plain country or Iida Tenya, a knight and noble from southwest river country.

It always flattered and baffled Izuku in equal amounts that no one’s opinion on the matter seemed to mean anything to Kacchan except for his own. Despite how people rained praise on Kacchan his entire life and how so many people tried to court him in their younger years despite all the screaming and insulting he did… Kacchan didn’t seem to care in the slightest about what anyone else thought of his looks. Except that he'd never particularly enjoyed being compared to his mother, so he usually reacted very negatively to such comments.

When it came to Izuku, Kacchan was quick to take up arms the moment that Izuku implied he found something about him unappealing. Which was entirely ridiculous, because Izuku also had eyes like every other person. Even if he wasn’t wildly in love with Kacchan, Kacchan was simply objectively attractive. Izuku knew that he himself was most definitely not. He felt ridiculous trying to compliment Kacchan as if he had any ground to stand on when doing so.

“Kacchan,” Izuku implored. “Obviously I didn’t mean it like that!”

“Hmph!” Kacchan crossed his arms and glared at the ceiling.

“Kacchan,” Izuku shoved himself closer and leveraged up so he could lean over Kacchan and try to catch his eye. “You’re being ridiculous. You know I didn’t mean it that way!”

“Ridiculous?” Kacchan scoffed, eyes shifting to glare at him.

“I was honestly just making observations,” said Izuku earnestly. “There’s big gaps in my memory in between when I see you, so I was just talking about the differences! Not in a bad way!”

Kacchan glowered at him, less than impressed with his attempts.

“Kacchan,” said Izuku, voice wavering slightly despite everything. “Come on, you know I didn’t mean it like that. You… you look good… you always look good.”

Kacchan went bright red, huffing and looking away again. “Don’t need to make shit up to make me feel better! Just keep your comments to yourself next time!”

“Kacchan!”

“Maybe if you say Kacchan one more time, it’ll make up for the fact that you admitted you got issues with how I look!”

Izuku sat back and sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair. There was still a part of him that doubted that Kacchan was genuinely insecure in these moments. His instincts told him that he was, but it still didn’t always add up in Izuku’s mind after all this time.

He had to remind himself again and again that Kacchan was just hypersensitive to his criticism, especially now that they spoke so rarely. Guilt flared through Izuku, and a wall of his own embarrassment collapsed. He grew more desperate to rain praise on Kacchan. To reassure him.

“Kacchan,” Izuku tried again, earnestly. “I like how you look.”

“Don’t hurt yourself there, Izuku.”

Izuku huffed in mild frustration, looking away for second as his face heated. Dammit. Kacchan really wanted him to spell out the obvious today. He would do it, of course, but it was all so embarrassing to say out loud. He knew he owed it to Kacchan though, so he’d have to get over his embarrassment.

He drew in a breath, sitting back next to where Kacchan was lying, as he decided to take a different route.

“You talked to me this time,” he began quietly after a moment.

Kacchan tensed, then his head rolled over so he could look at Izuku. He looked confused and still a bit pissed off, but his curiosity was obvious if only because he’d redirected his gaze to Izuku.

There weren’t many times that Kacchan would make himself known to Izuku during the year. It was usually only when he had to, like with the goblin attack. Even so, he usually tried to get away from Izuku as soon as possible.

There was a time a few weeks before the goblin attack where Kacchan had saved him from getting jumped by a rogue group of bandits on the way to Hillside. That had been the first time Izuku had asked Kaya about Kacchan, and also might’ve contributed to why Kacchan was so adamant that he not go into Veera Pass when it was almost dark…

Izuku also remembered that Kacchan had agreed to drinks but left fairly quickly without saying much that first time. It was only the second time, after the goblin attack, that Kacchan really talked to him.

“You actually talked to me.” Izuku looked down to meet his gaze. “Several times.”

Kacchan’s expression fell, and his gaze shifted to the side.

After a pause, he muttered lowly, “Missed you.”

Izuku’s heart panged, but he ignored it and said, “But you normally don’t talk to me. You swoop in and out without a word or say very little.”

This time Kacchan was quiet for long enough that Izuku wondered if he didn’t plan on answering at all. Then Kacchan’s leg shifted against Izuku’s.

“Normally it hurts too much to talk to you,” Kacchan admitted in a gravelly voice, not looking at him. “It feels too strange. It’s… deeply unsettling to have you look at me when you don’t know who I am. It makes me feel sick. I can’t take it for very long normally.”

Izuku’s chest felt tight from the pain pressing in on him.

“But… I dunno,” Kacchan went on. “After you were attacked by that goblin and asked me to get drinks, when you grabbed my arm it felt like… maybe there was a part of you that did remember me. You were obviously very wary of me, but you still moved with such familiarity that it seemed like it shocked you too. So… I told myself the curse worked on the mind, but maybe… maybe the rest of you would know me.”

He turned his head and met Izuku’s eyes. His face was smoothed over, but his eyes stared into Izuku with a sudden, breathtaking intensity.

“I was shocked by that too,” Izuku admitted, brow furrowing as he recalled. “I didn’t know why I did that.”

Kacchan nodded even as frown deepened a bit, and his sadness spread visibly across his face.

“For the first time, I…” His eyes darted between Izuku’s. “I felt like the curse couldn’t take all of you away from me. It does a damn good job, but for the first time… I felt like… I don’t know, it makes it all more bearable, somehow. To know that I’m still there… some parts of me are still with you.”

Izuku looked to the side thoughtfully, though his frown twisted deeper. He suppressed the unbearable depth of agony and despair by turning to his curiosity about the nature of the curse.

“When I had that knife to your neck…” he said, “and you flinched… I remember that my heart jolted with terror, and I ripped the knife away. Which I found confusing, because you could’ve killed me for all I knew.”

He looked down to meet Kacchan’s eyes again. Kacchan’s eyes were shiny with unshed tears, though the rest of his face looked very stoic.

“I think you’re right,” Izuku concluded, eyes darting around Kacchan’s face as he took him in.

Kacchan nodded slightly. “And then… there was the song.”

Izuku’s eyes widened. “Oh, right!”

“You remembered it.”

“I did!” Izuku felt a smile breaking out on his face before he could help it. Despite everything, suddenly giddiness bubbled up in his chest and he was grinning at Kacchan. “You wrote me a song!”

“Long time ago,” Kacchan looked away, though his pinkening cheeks betrayed him. “Took you long enough to put it together.”

“Wha—Kacchan how was I supposed to know you wrote it if you never told me?”

“I dunno, it’s pretty damn obvious it’s about you!”

“Every time I’ve heard it, I didn’t remember who you were!”

“But you remember on these days, so you should’ve figured it out!”

Kacchan looked so grumpy that Izuku couldn’t help but burst out laughing.

“Oi! Who’re you laughing at?!”

Izuku could only laugh harder, suddenly overcome with it in a way that was uncontrollable. He rolled onto his side, away from Kacchan as his whole body shook with it.

“You better stop that!” Kacchan threatened, shoving him back down so he could threaten him to his face.

The grumpy look on Kacchan’s face just made Izuku laugh harder.

“You think this is funny?” Kacchan demanded, raging playfully now as he poorly hid his own amusement. “You think everything I do for you is funny?”

“No, no!” Izuku managed to say between bouts of laughter.

“I write you songs, I paint you murals—”

“I love that mural!”

“Good! It’s a damn good mural!”

“You’re so talented, Kacchan!”

“Damn right I am!”

Izuku’s laughter died out as they bantered back and forth. Kacchan became less and less irritated, until he was fully grinning back at Izuku, laughing a bit himself.

Izuku looked at him as he leaned in to the feeling of warmth and adoration in his chest, even as it rose up to consume him. It stole the breath from his lungs to make room for the feeling.

“You’re amazing,” said Izuku breathlessly. The vulnerable words came surprisingly easy in the wake of that light feeling of mirth. “All the things you do for me… all the ways you try to comfort me and offer me pieces of my life even now.” His eyes filled with sudden, unexpected tears, though maybe he should’ve expected them. “I love you, Kacchan.”

Kacchan reached out to grab his face in a move so gentle that Izuku let out a sob. He shifted closer, bringing their faces together until their foreheads were touching and their lips were nearly ghosting over each other’s.

“I love you too,” Kacchan said the words brokenly, then pressed forward to kiss Izuku slow and deep.

They kissed for a long moment, but before they could get lost in it again, Izuku pulled back.

“I thought you looked like a work of art,” Izuku said in a rush as he remembered the reassurance he’d wanted to provide Kacchan.

Kacchan’s eyes flew open, and he pulled back slightly, craning his neck to look at Izuku with something like mild disgust. “Hah?”

“Back—” Izuku waved his hand around vaguely, ignoring how his neck felt hot from Kacchan’s scrutiny. “Back when we got drinks in Hillside. I thought you looked like a work of art because I thought you were so attractive.”

Kacchan gaped at him with something like shock and skepticism twisting his features.

“And then when I ran into you at the market—”

“You mean when I was trying to figure out what the hell to do because you ran into me a day after we’d spent several hours together and certainly opened up a fuck-ton of magical wounds in your head?” Kacchan gritted out angrily.

“Yes,” Izuku said dismissively. “I thought you looked like a statue of a god. Like in those museums.”

Kacchan’s cheeks reddened, and he glowered unhappily.

“I thought we were done making fun of my looks,” he hissed defensively, hackles raised again.

Izuku groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “We were never making fun of your looks.”

“Then why’re you saying this to me right now?!”

“I’m complimenting you!” Izuku retorted, exasperated. “How is saying you look like a work of art or a statue of a literal god making fun of you?!”

“Hmph!” Kacchan huffed angrily in lieu of a response, rolling onto his back to cross his arms again.

Izuku sighed. “I’m just trying to clear up that I didn’t mean what I said earlier to be… a critique of your looks or something. I’m trying to reassure you that I very much so find you incredibly attractive, since for some reason you needed reassurance on that!”

“Like hell I do!”

Izuku groaned again, at his wit’s end. He put his hand over his eyes. “Kacchan, you’re the most attractive person I’ve ever laid eyes on.” It was true, after all.

“Don’t be disgusting.”

“Kacchan,” Izuku gritted out in frustration, grabbing Kacchan’s face and turning it so he could look at him dead in the eyes. “Literally every time I see you—even when I can’t remember you—I find you so attractive that I fall in love all over again.”

“Shut up.” Kacchan’s face twisted with mild disgust, though he was betrayed by the flushing of his cheeks. “Gross.”

The heat on Izuku’s own neck made him want to duck away from the vulnerability and sappiness of his own words, but he stared into Kacchan’s eyes with growing resolve.

“You always catch me off guard,” he went on honestly. “You’re always so attractive, I can’t stop looking at you, even though I don’t know who you are.”

Kacchan’s expression twisted abruptly, though this time it was into a pained grimace. “Stop it. Don’t want to hear about it.”

“No, really,” Izuku insisted adamantly when his heart dropped at Kacchan’s visible upset.

“I hate it,” Kacchan admitted in a strained voice, and he looked down to avoid Izuku’s eyes. “When you look at me, but don’t know me.”

“What?” Izuku’s eyes widened in genuine surprise. His hand on Kacchan’s face shifted to something gentler as he moved to cup his cheek instead.

“You look at me, but there’s no recognition,” Kacchan’s voice grew quieter until it was little more than a broken whisper. “I hate it.”

Izuku gaped at him even as he continued to avoid looked back.

“Always makes me miss how you look at me,” Kacchan muttered as he tilted his head to the side, away from Izuku and his touch. It was clear that he was not so much ashamed from his own admission as overwhelmed by it. “When you look at me without your memories… you’re just staring at me like everyone else does.”

I’m sorry. The first words demanding an exit were an apology as always, but Izuku bit them back to prevent upsetting Kacchan more.

Instead, he tried, “I don’t… I don’t think it’s the same.”

Kacchan glanced at him out of the corner of his eyes, narrowing them unhappily as he waited for Izuku to elaborate.

“That night when we drank together in Hillside,” Izuku went on, thinking back. “I fell in love with you so quickly.”

Kacchan’s face twisted slightly into something of a grimace, clearly intending to argue or form some sort of protest.

“I felt more connected to you than I ever had to anyone in my entire life,” Izuku muttered as he stared off in to space and remembered the feeling, which was strange enough to almost be disorienting when juxtaposed next to his current knowledge and feelings for Kacchan. “It felt like… you were everything that I’d ever wanted. All the adventure and companionship and… you were just… everything.”

Izuku shook himself from his stupor, turning to look at Kacchan with a sudden determination bursting inside of him.

“I may not be able to remember you most of the time,” he said with sudden earnest, “but… I miss you even though I don’t know what it is I’m missing. I… it’s like when I talk to you, you fit back into the space you were forced to leave.”

Kacchan stared at him with such intensity that Izuku struggled to breathe and think and function.

“All the parts of me that are left empty,” Izuku whispered sincerely even though the heat burned on his cheeks from how exposed the words made him feel, “they wait for you to come back.”

Kacchan still looked at him intently, though his chest was heaving and there was a look of obvious longing and desire growing in his eyes.

“Even if I look at you the same as them,” Izuku declared as his voice dropped unintentionally lower as unexpected rage spiked in his chest. He shifted closer to Kacchan. “I’m not the same as them.”

Kacchan’s eyes widened ever so slightly, watching him as if captivated, as he moved closer.

“I will fall in love with you every time,” Izuku said it like a threat, far angrier than he intended to be. “I will love you better than they will. I know you better than they will. I will always be better for you than any of them, Kacchan.”

“Fuck yeah you are,” Kacchan breathed out as his gaze fell to Izuku’s lips.

Izuku leaned forward and kissed him rather than apologize for forgetting him. He kissed him hard to make up for the fact that he couldn’t miss him after today. He kissed him with everything he had to try and offer some small outlet to the overwhelming feelings in his heart.

It was sometime later when Izuku was lost in running his hands over Kacchan’s skin when he looked up to see Kacchan looking at him with a heavy expression.

Izuku stilled, a frown pulling his lips downward. “You’re still mad.”

Kacchan said nothing for a moment, studying him closely.

Izuku’s eyes widened, and he sat up. “You’re mad at me.”

Kacchan quirked his eyebrow slightly and said lowly, “It’s not that simple.”

Izuku blinked vacantly at him in confusion and then moved to lay on the bed beside Kacchan, though their legs stayed intertwined.

“Okay?” he prompted quietly, waiting for Kacchan to continue.

“You’ve been lying to me,” Kacchan said, and the anger and upset and defeat all stained his tone so quickly that Izuku almost reeled back. The tears welled so suddenly in Kacchan’s eyes that it seemed even he was shocked, and he ducked his head for a moment so his hair obscured him from Izuku a bit.

“W-what?” Izuku tried to speak past his own surprise.

It was clear that Kacchan had been thinking about bringing this up all day, and now it all rushed out of him at once.

“All this time…” he gritted out and then scoffed. “On our one day a year, and you’re still a piece of shit. A real piece of work.”

Izuku gaped as Kacchan’s shoulders shook and he was sobbing so suddenly that Izuku struggled to keep up.

“I—I—” he brought his hands up to Kacchan’s hair, wanting to provide comfort but completely baffled and thrown off and uncertain. “What did I do? Kacchan, tell me how to fix it.”

“You’re lonely,” Kacchan whispered simply.

Izuku stilled, only taking a half a moment to curse his memory-deprived self before he was replying, “Kacchan, I’m not, I swear—”

“Shut up!” Kacchan’s head snapped up and he was so angry that it practically radiated off him. “I can’t stand when you do this!”

“Kacchan, I was just trying to get you to be my friend when I told you that, I’m not—”

“You’re lying.” Kacchan probably meant to sound accusatory, but instead he sounded broken. His glare fractured under the weight of his agony and his expression twisted slightly with it.

Izuku’s heart thundered, and he shook his head. “Please, listen to me—”

“I know you won’t admit it,” Kacchan hissed out, furious tears trailing out of his eyes. “I just—I should’ve fucking known!”

Izuku stared at him in horror, frozen with indecision and a desire to make Kacchan feel better without really knowing how.

“For years, you’ve been telling me that you’re happy without your memories,” Kacchan spat. “For years, you’ve been telling me that you’re fine. That without your memories, you just spend your time traveling and learning and having a good ol’ time.”

“Kacchan, that’s true!”

“You’re lying!” Kacchan half-shouted, tears streaming down his cheeks. “I know you’re lying, so just shut the fuck up!”

Izuku shook his head, intending to push onwards but Kacchan spoke again before he could.

“Every fucking year,” he said. “You lie to me to—what? Spare my fucking feelings?”

Yes. Izuku didn’t say it. He didn’t say anything. He could only stare as Kacchan rambled on.

“Every year, we spend the whole time talking about me,” Kacchan spat. “You tell me your life is great, and you—you—fuck!”

He started to sob, and he ducked his head. Unobserved, Izuku allowed his own face to contort with pain.

“You selfless bastard,” Kacchan accused raggedly. “Why can’t you understand that your feelings are important too?”

Izuku stared helplessly at him. He didn’t know how to say it, and if he did he knew Kacchan wouldn’t accept it anyways.

They only had one day, and Izuku had no interest in wasting it with pointless conversation. To discuss his loneliness was pointless, because they couldn’t fix it. Kacchan spent every day knowing, suffering, carrying the weight of both their lives… he deserved today. He deserved for it to be about him.

“How ironic is it that you’re more honest with me when you don’t even know me?” asked Kacchan, and he sounded bitter. “How messed up is that? That you won’t admit it to my face even now, but you admitted it to me after knowing me for a few fucking hours.”

The answer and reasoning died in Izuku’s throat long before it reached his tongue. It would expose him.

He’d only told Kacchan that at the Hillside inn because he’d thought he wouldn’t be lonely anymore. He’d only shared when they sat by the fire in Veera to try and connect with someone who he didn’t know would be impacted by his words.

Now, there was nothing Kacchan could do for him, so why add to his agony? Why inform Kacchan of just how intensely unhappy and lonely he felt most of the time and make Kacchan carry that too? It made no logical sense, and yet Kacchan was so, so angry about this.

“Kacchan, I swear I was just trying to get you to be friends with me back then!” Izuku insisted, desperation seeping into his tone. “Then I was trying to relate to you, but I’m not lonely! I’m not! I can’t remember anything, so it’s really not the same as being lonely. I can’t miss anything when I don’t know what I’m missing!”

“Bullshit,” Kacchan hissed, lifting his hand and hitting his knuckles to Izuku’s breastbone. “I know you, Izuku! I saw the look on your face when you admitted this shit to me. I know you were being honest.”

“I wasn’t, I—”

“Stop, just stop!”

Izuku didn’t, “This feeling you have of missing me—or—or even this feeling I have right now of how much I miss you, isn’t something I have to feel when I can’t remember—”

“What’s so fucking hard for you to understand?!” Kacchan cried out, shoving closer, knuckles digging into Izuku’s chest.

Izuku’s mouth snapped shut.

“Today is supposed to be about us,” said Kacchan hoarsely. “It’s supposed to be us, together, but you’ve been making it about me.”

Izuku didn’t reply. How could he explain that Kacchan made every day of his life about him, so why couldn’t today be about Kacchan? He knew Kacchan wouldn’t have it. He knew Kacchan saw his day in and day out devotion and care as just his duty to Izuku, but… why couldn’t Izuku want to take care of him in the only way he could?

Izuku knew it was an argument they would never settle. Kacchan would only ever see his dishonesty as an insult, and Izuku would only ever see his honesty as unnecessary cruelty.

“I know what you’re thinking, even if you won’t say,” Kacchan accused brokenly. “You’re thinking that I spend every day taking care of you, and you want to take care of me like this.”

Izuku barely kept the surprise off his face, keeping his face as unchanging as possible as he stared back at Kacchan.

“But—” Kacchan clenched his jaw, shaking his head. “You’re lonely, Izuku.”

Izuku’s chest ached deeply, but he was oh so practiced at ignoring it. “I’m n—”

“You are,” Kacchan cut him off sharply yet again and went on before he could protest more. “From your perspective, you spend all your time alone. You don’t know I’m there. You don’t know I’m taking care of you.”

“I do now, though, Ka—”

“That doesn’t count!”

“Of course it does! I appreciate you so much, Kacchan! You—”

“You deserve to talk to me about your life, too,” said Kacchan indignantly.

“I do,” Izuku insisted.

“I know you won’t,” Kacchan went on as if he hadn’t spoken. “I know your selfless, stubborn ass won’t tell me when you’re hurting. But fuck—” A tear slipped out of his eye. “I wish you would.”

“Kacchan, you take such good care of me,” Izuku shoved his way closer, moving to hold Kacchan’s face and wipe away his tears with clumsy, scarred hands. “I’m not hurting because you look out for me.”

Kacchan just stared at him, still crying and unhappy.

“You bought me that cloak!” Izuku started, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re always making sure I’m safe. You make sure someone is there to take care of me when I’m sick or you know the curse is going to mess with my head.”

“Yeah, I know I’m a damn saint,” Kacchan gritted out. “That’s beside the point.”

“It’s not!” Izuku said forcefully. “The point is that you’re not allowed to sit here and think that you haven’t done enough for me!”

“It’s not about that,” Kacchan rasped weakly. “It’s about how I want to be there for you.”

Izuku gaped at him.

“It’s about how I miss us,” Kacchan went on. “How I want to just feel like us for one day.”

Izuku’s brow furrowed in confusion, and he searched desperately for words of comfort.

“I know you won’t change your mind on this,” Kacchan whispered, and his hand came up to cup Izuku’s face and then slowly trail back into his hair. He watched his own hand rather than look into Izuku’s eyes. “I know you, and I know you don’t see your feelings as important enough to talk about to me today. You’re wrong, but I know you won’t think that.”

Izuku stared at him. His feelings weren’t important enough to talk about. It wasn’t a matter of opinion. It was just the truth. He was cursed, dammit. His feelings were a result of a curse, and they wouldn’t be resolved.

Kacchan’s concern was misguided here. Talking about that loneliness he felt when he couldn’t remember anything wouldn’t provide him with any sort of cathartic release. He would gain nothing from it and only add to Kacchan’s burden of memories to carry when Izuku woke up tomorrow morning with nothing all over again.

“It’s okay, though,” Kacchan said, his eyes flitting over to meet Izuku’s and they burned with sudden intensity, “because I’m going to break it.”

Izuku’s heart sunk, and he tried to hide his anguish the best he could. He wasn’t sure if he succeeded, but Kacchan said nothing, only looking away from him.

“I might’ve found something else to try,” Kacchan said quietly as he played absently with Izuku’s hair. “When we were out east a few months back, I tracked down this old text.”

Izuku’s heart squeezed painfully again. “Kacchan, I told you to—”

Kacchan’s hand abruptly tightened in Izuku’s hair until it was painful.

“Ouch!” Izuku cried out, hands flying to his hair.

Kacchan leaned in his face, snarling, “Izuku, you know damn well that I’m going to look for a way to break this curse until the day we both croak! So save your breath!”

“Kacchan,” Izuku replied, wide eyes staring up at him as his hands wrapped around Kacchan’s forearm. “It was a darkknife. There’s nothing—”

“We really don’t need to have the same damn conversations every year!” Kacchan barked, using his grip on his hair to pull Izuku’s head to where he wanted it.

“But it’s impossible!”

“Hah?! So is mastering the Nine Forms and learning to wield the Might Sword in a year, but you did it anyways! Mr. Chosen-By-The-Gods over here hogging all the glory! Let me have a turn doing the impossible, world-changing shit! You think you’re the only one who’s going to be a legend?!”

“But you’re already—”

“Stop trying to talk me out of this,” Kacchan hissed, but his eyes were shiny, and a tear escaped to trail down his cheek. “I mean it, Izuku. Stop. Stop trying to get me to go back north. Stop trying to get me to leave you. Stop. I’m tired.”

“It’s just that you obsess over it and I don’t want you to be disappointed,” whispered Izuku.

“Stop,” Kacchan ordered again, but his voice broke.

Izuku’s face contorted slightly as the urge to cry rose. He muttered, “I want you to be happy.”

“I want to be with you.”

The immediate reply coupled with the raw and unashamed sincerity in Kacchan’s voice stole Izuku’s breath away. The affection quickly washed over him and overwhelmed him, and Izuku didn’t know what to do with it. He looked away, hiding his face as the skin of his cheeks burned.

“I can’t make you happy. Not anymore.”

“I’m happy right now.”

Izuku couldn’t look at him. The quiet, calm, genuine tone of Kacchan’s voice soothed and stabbed in equal amounts. This voice was soothing, but the words stabbed at his heart.

“Kacchan,” Izuku whispered brokenly.

Happy. Right now, Izuku was happy, too. He was so many things, and it sort of hurt just as much as it felt good, but he realized somewhere in there, he did feel very, very happy. Even as the end of today loomed, Izuku was happy that it wasn’t over yet.

Still, happy felt too simple. So simple, that it was almost out of place. Could two people with lives so complicated ever hope to really feel something so simple as happiness?

“Izuku,” Kacchan mocked him, though only with half effort. Then he murmured, “When I said the rest of our lives, I meant it.”

Izuku shivered as the words sent a bolt of feeling down his spine even as tears trailed down his cheeks. “That was before.”

“No, that meant always, idiot!” Kacchan barked. “No matter what happens! You’re not getting rid of me!”

Izuku’s hands gripped at his arms. “I… I…”

“Besides, when the hell did we ever make each other happy?” Kacchan gritted out. “We’ve always made each other miserable. Anything else would be boring.”

Izuku frowned at him. “We didn’t make each other miserable.”

“You know what I meant!” Kacchan snapped back. “I don’t want to go back north without you, and I damn well don’t want to find some boring extra to make myself happy. If I wanted some damn extra I would’ve left your ass behind years ago!”

Izuku said nothing, because he knew that to be the truth very well. He resolutely ignored the writhing, twisting anger that rose within him at the very thought.

“But I wanted the fucking best and the strongest, and that’s always gonna be you, asshole,” Kacchan said firmly.

Izuku looked at him in surprise, blinking wide eyes. “I’m not strong anymore.”

Kacchan narrowed his eyes in visible irritation. “Says the bastard who still puts me first on the one day he gets to have his memories.”

Izuku’s brow furrowed in confusion. How was that strength?

“Any normal bastard would spend time lamenting what he’d lost,” Kacchan sighed and rolled his eyes at the confusion on Izuku’s face. “Talking about how shitty it is to be alone. Wondering about how to break the curse. But you… you don’t do any of that shit, because you care more about making me feel better than anything that has to do with yourself.”

“I—”

“No, not up for debate,” Kacchan sounded exhausted now, and his voice was low. “It’s just true.”

Izuku disagreed on how Kacchan was interpreting it, but he let it go. He didn’t want to argue with Kacchan anymore.

“I suppose any normal bastard couldn’t do the shit you can do though,” Kacchan rolled his head to the side to look at him. “Fuck, Izuku…”

Izuku stared back at him expectantly as he waited for him to go on.

Kacchan searched his eyes, then just leaned forward and kissed him gently. There was so much love and longing and desire in the kiss that it stole Izuku’s breath all over again. In another moment, Kacchan was shoving himself up and pulling Izuku closer.

As Izuku floated on the high of Kacchan, he wondered how the hell Kacchan couldn’t understand that this, here, was all he could ever need. That Kacchan’s comfort and peace and happiness was more than enough to bring him peace today, on this one day where he was allowed to be himself.

Izuku kissed him back hungrily, and he wished so badly that he wouldn’t be losing Kacchan again so soon.

The sun was setting when Izuku drew in a deep breath and turned to Kacchan. He had things he’d been wanting to say all day as well. Once his memories had settled, anyways.

“You didn’t fail me,” he said vehemently.

Kacchan immediately tensed up, glancing at him and then away. “Don’t want to talk about this, Izuku.”

“We have to!”

“No.”

“Kacchan, I’ve told you this before,” Izuku pushed on ahead. “You didn’t fail me. I was the one who didn’t see the darkknife. I got tired, and I got sloppy. I’m the only one responsible.”

“You’d been fighting for so long!” Kacchan half-shouted, voice strangled and eyes suddenly wild. “No one else could keep up, but it was my job to watch your back! I should’ve been there!”

“You weren’t on vacation!” Izuku countered. “You were saving lives!”

“I should’ve gotten back faster.”

“The entire right side of your body was broken!”

Kacchan set his jaw obstinately. “I could’ve moved faster. If I’d been there a minute earlier—”

“You didn’t fail me, Kacchan,” Izuku repeated earnestly. “You’ve never failed me. Never.”

Kacchan said nothing, but the dead look in his eyes showed Izuku that he didn’t believe him.

“You can’t carry the weight of this!” Izuku cried as he grew increasingly desperate. “It’ll kill you!”

Kacchan let out a long slow breath but said nothing.

“Kacchan, you saved everyone,” Izuku tried again because he was never very good at giving up.

“I didn’t,” Kacchan immediately said sharply.

“We won,” Izuku said gently. “Everyone’s safe and at home. That was because of what we did.”

Kacchan said nothing for a long moment. Then he said, “We didn’t win. It wasn’t a complete victory.”

“It—”

“Because I didn’t get back in time.”

Izuku looked at him as his chest ached badly enough that he wanted to cry yet again. He looked, even though Kacchan wouldn’t turn to meet his eyes.

“It’s okay though,” Kacchan said abruptly. “Because I’m going to fix this.”

Izuku leaned his head down until his forehead rested on Kacchan’s shoulder. He felt so tired already, and the sun wasn’t even over the horizon. The end of today loomed, and the despair that Izuku felt every year had begun to eat away at his insides.

Like every year, he hid it as best he could. Even though he wanted to scream and cry and beg the gods, he pushed it down.

“You will, Kacchan,” Izuku agreed. “I know you will.”

They would continue their impossible tasks, because it was that or yielding to their cursed fates.

Izuku turned his head and they watched as the sun hit the horizon. The sky lit up with so many colors. Tears trailed silently from Izuku’s eyes, down his cheeks before dripping off his chin.

“They’re blooming today, right?” he asked quietly.

“Yes,” Kacchan replied in much the same tone. “I can feel it. And my cloak—” he gestured vaguely to where it was tossed on a chair in the corner. “—I can feel it reacting to the magic.”

Izuku gazed at the cloak for a moment. Like always, he felt nothing. No magic. No pull to it. No sense of it. It had been many years since he had. The curse carved into his soul worked as something of a shield, something of a prison. The dark magic sat at the center of his being, and it tied a blindfold over his eyes, so to speak.

He couldn’t sense magic. He couldn’t conjure it. It was worse than he was a child when he had no talent with magic at all. Now, he couldn’t so much as feel the crackling or buzzing energy that many magical items gave off. If someone gave him a drink without telling him there was a potion in it, he wouldn’t be able to feel the magical residue on his tongue. It was as if the dark magic absorbed it all before he could sense it, or that he’d become something entirely magic himself so he could no longer pick it out as something different than him.

He could wear a cloak infused with a stealth spell without ever knowing it was enchanted.

“I can almost see it,” Kacchan said lowly as he stared out the window at the sky. “The whole mountain, bright red and almost shimmering with the magic of it.”

Izuku had seen it far fewer times than Kacchan had, but the ones he had seen he remembered very clearly.

The flower… the one with bright red petals that dragonkind made their cloaks from. The one that royals paid exorbitant amounts for. It bloomed red only one day a year, and only on the highest peaks of the mountains up north. They were a magic-infused species, and the petals went from green to red on a random day in spring.

Kacchan always picked the day they bloomed red to see Izuku; mountainfolk considered it the most auspicious day of the year. Kacchan had grown up around them, so he could sense when they turned red. Additionally, his cloak, made from harvested and preserved red dyes, still reacted to the magic of all the flowers turning from green to red.

Among mountainfolk, it was a closely guarded secret where the red dyes came from. Everyone knew it was flowers, but no one knew where they grew in mountain country. So many people from outside mountain country had tried to sneak in to steal the dyes or the flowers, but no one had ever succeeded.

To the people of mountain country, the flowers were called akamines. They were prolific and could grow anywhere on the mountain but only bloomed red up at the summit. The name of the flowers somehow got leaked to the rest of the world. Everyone knew the red dye was made from the red summit flowers, but no one knew where exactly they were or what they looked like.

The flowers grew all the way down the mountain, all the way into the valleys of mountain country, but there they stayed green and their secret stayed hidden. When people snuck in to mountain country to try and find this rare flower, they walked all over it without even knowing it was there. They crushed the leaves of the flower that blended in with the grass, having no clue at all the rare magic they were so close to.

To the rest of the world, those common green flowers that grew all over the valley were called midoriyas.

Izuku lay in bed, eyelids heavy and wishing they weren’t. He was on his back, and Kacchan was again holding him tightly, face tucked into his neck.

“You know, it’s cheating when you ask the person you’re getting the gift for if they like it,” Izuku said lowly.

“Too bad,” Kacchan grumbled.

There was a pause as Izuku ran his lightly trembling hands through Kacchan’s hair.

“It’s also not fair that you try to end arguments with ‘let’s talk about it in the morning’,” he said, frowning.

“Hah?” Kacchan pulled his head back enough to lightly glare at him.

“You know damn well I’m not gonna remember!” Izuku protested.

“That’s the point! Why would we spend time arguing pointlessly? If I can get you to leave it, we don’t have to argue.”

Izuku stared at him, projecting that he was unimpressed, even as fondness and despair and longing and pain warred in the center of his chest.

“Sorry, damn,” Kacchan said sarcastically. “Next time, I’ll drag out the argument as much as possible.”

Izuku sighed. “It just feels like cheating.”

“I deserve it for all the shit I deal with.”

Izuku hummed quietly in agreement. He couldn’t deny that.

For a long time, they just lay there and held each other.

Izuku’s eyelids grew heavier. The despair was eating him alive, and the tiniest, smallest part of his mind wanted to just jump ahead to the agonizing pain he would soon experience from the magical wounds. Teetering on the edge of the end of their day like this was far from relaxing. He could barely even enjoy it, because he couldn’t stop thinking about how soon enough, he would be empty and alone again. Soon enough, Kacchan would be alone again. They would be apart.

“Will I be seeing you in the morning, Kacchan?” asked Izuku quietly.

Kacchan pushed up to search his eyes, then leaned down to kiss him deep again.

“I always be there,” he vowed.

“I wish you wouldn’t,” Izuku’s voice broke despite his best attempts to stay strong.

“Well tough shit, isn’t it?” Kacchan’s words were harsh, but his tone was so gentle Izuku nearly sobbed. “You don’t remember me, so you don’t get to make the calls.”

“Kacchan…”

“Try not losing your memory, then tell me what to do.” Kacchan quirked his eyebrows.

Izuku couldn’t help the grin that broke out on his face and then he was beaming up at Kacchan, heart aching and happy and despairing and loved and hurting all at once.

God, it felt so good to love Kacchan. It felt so good to miss him. It felt so good to grieve him. He would give anything to grieve and hurt like this for the rest of his days. To feel like this every day.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Kacchan looked off to the side, but whereas he might’ve looked grumpy in the past, he looked suddenly very, very sad.

Izuku’s breath caught when he breathed in, and he slid his hands up to Kacchan to pull him down and kiss him. Kacchan immediately gave in and kissed back, and soon enough their cheeks were wet with tears again.

“I love you,” Izuku whispered against his lips, and he meant it with his entire, cursed soul.

“I love you too,” Kacchan replied, voice ragged as if they were torn painfully from deep within.

Izuku hesitated, eyes closed, lips barely ghosting against Kacchan’s. His bottom lip trembled against Kacchan’s. He didn’t want to say the words, but he had to. Like each time they saw each other like this, the time had come.

Like each day, it had to come to an end eventually.

“I’m really tired, Kacchan,” Izuku said, and his voice was thick with emotion and wavered.

“I know,” Kacchan replied quietly, and his grip didn’t loosen.

“I… I wish I could stay longer.” Izuku’s eyelids were so heavy.

“One day,” Kacchan said, with such promise Izuku felt goosebumps raise on his arms. “One day, I’ll break us out of this, Izuku. I swear I will.”

Izuku said nothing, but his chest stuttered with a sob. He nodded, because he wanted Kacchan to believe in it if it kept him going. He swallowed the hopelessness that was caving in his own chest.

“Sleep,” Kacchan murmured. “I’ll be here.”

Izuku intertwined their hands and squeezed tight. Then he drew in a breath and leveled his gaze at Kacchan, forcing every bit of promise that he could muster into his tone, “I’ll be seeing you, Kacchan.”

Kacchan’s lip twitched in a small, sad smile that didn’t reach his teary eyes. “I’ll see you in the morning, Izuku.”

They leaned forward and kissed one last time. Izuku drifted off the moment their lips parted, with Kacchan’s arms wrapped around him, surrounded by his scent and touch and love and familiarity.

About once a year, Izuku’s malady flared up.

It was always around the same time, so he knew to be ready for it. Still, there wasn’t much he could do to prepare. In the end, he always woke up screaming in agony and subject to the mercy of strangers. Each year so far, strangers had been nothing but kind. Healers tended to him, always paid for by strangers who had heard his screams.

Izuku didn’t know where he would be without the kindness of strangers. He didn’t know if he would have made it this long.

This time, he wasn’t entirely sure how long until the pain settled and he could recover enough to continue his travels. Days? Weeks?

Eventually, the time came when he was able to set off again.

He figured he would take a ship out of the Ferryton port. Maybe cross back over to hill country. Maybe he would take the short ferry to the nearest forest country port. Maybe… he would board a ship to mountain or river country.

As Izuku neared the port, deep in thought, he was nearly in the crowd before he even realized one had gathered. He looked up in surprise, seeing that a group had gathered before a small stage in a courtyard near the port. On it was a bard, who was apparently popular due to the size of the crowd and the enthusiasm of the cheers.

Izuku craned his neck to try and see over the crowd, though his neck jerked to the side when he caught sight of a flash of bright red. Though the crowd was moving and full of people and colors, Izuku didn’t find the bright color that he’d caught sight of. Maybe it hadn’t been there at all.

The bard’s voice rung out over the crowd, “This song originated in river country a few years back. A man wrote it for his lost love, in hopes that the tune would carry on the wind to where he himself could not follow.”

“He asks for that same song every time,” a woman not far from Izuku said thoughtfully.

“Who?”

“That northerner. Didn’t you see him a moment ago?”

“Northerner? There’s lots of northerners here.”

“No, ugh, I mean that dragonkind man that’s around these parts sometimes. The blessed one. Friend of the prince and all that.”

“Oh! He was here?!”

“Yes, just speaking to the bard a moment ago!”

“Huh.”

“I’m pretty sure he saved the bard’s daughter from being kidnapped by pirates once and all he asks for is the occasional song, so of course the bard’s gonna say yes. It’s just such a sad song for so early in the morning, don’t you think?”

Izuku listened passively, curious by nature, but his attention was stolen when the bard began to play. He perked up in excitement. He’d heard this song before, though it had been a long time.

It had the lull of a mountain song… but the bard had said it was from river country? Interesting. Izuku committed it to memory as best he could, unreliable as his memory often was.

The song was sad, but it always gave him pause when he heard it. The lyrics were so heavy and painful that he wanted to run from them… and still he stayed, because he was a lonely man with no home and no family. No friends of any kind.

The song told a sad tale, but one of such endless devotion. Wouldn’t any lonely traveler pause for a moment, and wonder what it was like to be loved so?

The song would end, and Izuku would carry on, but who could blame him for taking a moment just to listen and dream of a life so different from his own?

“I first met you at the riverside,

Staring at me with bright green eyes,

Fearless and strange and new,

When I left, I told you, I’ll be seeing you.”

“Since then, we were always side by side,

Everywhere I looked, those wide green eyes,

All that pain you saw me through,

The best of my youth, I owe to you.”

“The day came when I left your side,

But the peaks echoed your cries,

It was then, my love, that I knew,

I’d do whatever it takes to keep seeing you.”

“The riverside has long run dry,

You gaze ahead with blank green eyes,

Still fearless, still painfully strange and new,

You don’t look for me, but I’ll be seeing you.”

“We lived that day, but our love since died,

For the first time, we’re not side by side,

Even still, my love, my word is true,

I’ll do whatever it takes to keep seeing you.”

“In my dreams, I’ll be seeing you.

Looking at me with your bright green eyes,

There we won’t have to say goodbye,

In my dreams, my love, I’ll be seeing you.”

“In the morning, I’ll be seeing you.

I know you won’t be seeing me, too.

Even so, I swear my word is true,

In the morning, my love, I’ll be seeing you.”