Chapter Text

I

They had arrived, they had bathed, and it had all been kept a great big secret. It is the best-kept secret in the city, for none of their friends come charging into Yagi’s workroom with force; none of them trip over their feet to set eyes on them.

At this moment, Katsuki only wants to eat some food and lazily follow along the conversation at the table, so he lets Izuku’s enthusiasm infect and fester. 

When Yagi leaves, tripping over his feet to fetch an unneeded dessert for them, Katsuki turns to Izuku and asks, “So, are you sleeping in my room, or what?”

Izuku blinks up at him, his face unreadable. 

Then, his expression twists into the perfect image of disdain. Katsuki frowns and bites out, ‘What!?’

Izuku whispers, ‘Unbelievable.’

“What?”

“Huh? You’re the one who told Yagi you ‘Can’t wait to pawn this moronic, idiotic, stupid—”

“I didn’t say that.”

“—boy off back to you.’’”

“Yeah, so?”

Izuku scoffs. “Don’t you dare try to make me leave and frame it as though it’s my idea!” His cheeks are flushed, which is almost pretty enough to distract from the heavy, dark rings circling his eyes. 

“Forget about all that,” they are sitting shoulder to shoulder, “sleep with me tonight.” 

“Absolutely not. I’ve been looking forward to my room for weeks!”

Katsuki’s disposition towards Izuku’s iron-clad will is generous. Usually. Most of the time. Sometimes.

Right now, it is unforgiving. 

“Stop digging your heels in,” he snaps, ablaze and getting annoyed. “I bet he has already moved into your room. You gonna kick an old man out of his bed?”

“Your tricks aren’t going to work on me! Give it up.”

Katsuki had recently walked into a whole new host of tricks. Izuku lost his magic, and Katsuki had learned tricks. With a thrill squirming in his gut, his hand crawls across under the table, slides between Izuku’s thighs, and grips the muscles there. Then, he smirks and says, “As if you won’t come,” with enough surety to bend wills and make the impossible happen. 

“I am here!” 

Izuku turns to Yagi, and so does Katsuki, who leaves his hand exactly where it is. Yagi makes them eat rock cakes; Katsuki has just about enough of all this and wants to sleep. 

But he bites into one of them and pays his dues. 

Yagi asks, “What will tomorrow look like?” and Katsuki’s eyes dart up.

“Ah! Well,” begins Izuku, “I’m glad to know that everyone is still at the castle. We really must spread the word of our arrival as soon as possible; I hope they haven’t been too worried. And there is much for us to find out, too, about the state of things…” Izuku drones on in his enthusiasm; meanwhile, Katsuki straightens. 

Yagi’s eyes flicker from Izuku, softened in affection, and fall on Katsuki. And on their new home, they sober. The new home is more frigid; it’s winter, and the windows have been left open.

What will tomorrow look like?

Izuku interrupts himself with a short, empty chuckle. His smile is empty, too, as he stares through the window. “Yes, so much to do…” His thigh under Katsuki’s hand bounces. “But… Um… In a broader sense…I guess I don’t know.”

He can’t see Katsuki, can’t see his soft smile. 

Yagi clears his throat. He says, “You two have broken the curses of our ages.” Soft, now. “Izuku, my boy...” His tone neither condemns nor rewards. It just is. “You saved more than we can comprehend—lives, fates, loves—when you used float in the Valley. It changed the fabric of what magic means on this land. But it does not change what happened later. Many, many people were hurt and scared of what they saw on the battlefield of the war against Magic, and they saw it because of you. Men, women, and children across the realm now know of a black shadow that can crawl over the land, that can hurt. I am not trying to spoil your happiness or burden it. This is not a condemnation. No one in this world will ever be able to repay what you have done for them.” Yagi leans back and considers both of them. “I am sure you will make amends—with yourself, with others. However, you see fit, my dear Boy. And you may need to work harder now than you ever have.”

Katsuki doesn’t understand that. When he takes a peek at Izuku, his expression is plain. “What do you mean?” Katsuki asks.

“I mean…” Yagi sighs and turns to Izuku. “Now, you are no longer of a kind people with magic. You must choose to evoke your empathy, because I promise you, it will not come as easily as it did with experience and suffering.”

Izuku’s eyes widen. He nods.

“I will think of this, Yagi,” he says quietly. 

It all makes Katsuki’s head spin, and he ardently wants to leave.

“Well!” Yagi claps his hand and sets it all in motion. The old man tells them that his stand-in apprentice has been taking the cot downstairs sometimes. You simply cannot stay here, young man. He is brazen enough to request Katsuki to find Izuku a room in the castle and to pull some strings. 

Katsuki promises Yagi that he will find Izuku the finest room in the castle.

Izuku is annoyed at Katsuki’s smugness, but Katsuki knows it’s skin deep. When they stalk through the castle in the half-darkness, they play like children trying to stick to shadows to go unnoticed. The nostalgic comfort—the manner of days old—flutters away when they cross the threshold of Katsuki’s chambers. The King’s Chambers. Izuku shrinks into himself and takes on a certain stiffness which marks him uniquely from other people; his shoulders climb to his ears as he knocks into furniture. A stiffness of not belonging. 

Katsuki wishes to knock his muscles loose and pry his hands away, but neither does he feel completely in place here. 

So, they dance a shy, lovely dance as they get ready for bed—a dance of stolen glances, inconspicuous touches… The notches of Katsuki’s spine finally separate when they hide under the covers of that great, big bed. 

He pulls Izuku to him with an insistent grip on the waist and pries his notches apart, too. 

Izuku sighs on his chest and becomes the wind itself. 

Perhaps we are so tired that sleep will come instantly. Katsuki’s eyes begin to shut.

“May I say something strange?” Izuku’s lips whisper against the skin of Katsuki’s collarbone.

Katsuki’s thumbs rub circles into Izuku’s shoulders, and he hums. 

“I…” He exhales. “I…like making love with you,” he says, “but sometimes during our journey back, I thought maybe just kissing sometimes feels just as good. Sometimes it feels better. It’s such a strange thought.” Izuku speaks in slow, measured tones. 

Katsuki’s chest rumbles in an effort to drown out his drum-beat heart. “Tell everyone that tomorrow, so they’ll know I’m a good kisser,” he says lewdly. Izuku makes sounds of protest. “Oh yes. Tell that bastard Sero, first.”

“Yes, yes, Kacchan, I will.” Idiot is humouring me. Katsuki runs his hands up and down his back, nails lightly grazing the linen of Izuku’s shirt. 

In this blanket of relaxation over them, Katsuki muses, “I had my first kiss when I was fourteen.” When the words settle Izuku closes in on himself, stiffening and instantly raising himself on his elbows so as to tower over Katsuki.

“Huh?” he asks with wide, astonished eyes. “Really?”

“‘Really,’” Katsuki glares. “Don’t act so shocked!” To make a point, Katsuki roughly pulls him back into position.

“Who was he—were they, Kacchan?” asks Izuku. 

Katsuki thinks of those times in broad strokes, as he always does in the rare times his mind takes him to such an inconspicuous place. And he says, “He was a stablemaster’s apprentice in the castle. Seems like a hundred years ago.” Izuku hums. “I’m tired.” You’re tired. “Go to bed.”

Until Katsuki presses an uncharacteristically sweet kiss against the crown of Izuku’s head. Unlike that blurry picture of the past that Katsuki finds easy to let flow through his fingers, Izuku is crystal clear even in the darkness.

Katsuki wonders about the limits of his own sentimentality, as Denki sobs and slobbers into his neck. A mad mess of “You’re alive!”, “Oh gods.” “How, how, how!?” He wails and wails, and Katsuki is as stiff as a rock, trying to be as sentimental as he could, trying to romanticise this affection.

Trying not throw him the hell away!

“KATSUKI!” Denki wails.

“Enough!” he shoves Denki. 

He sniffs and wipes his wet cheeks with the cuff of his tunic. 

They should’ve met in the Great Hall, Katsuki thinks, not his old bedroom. It’s teeming with friends and family, and so when Katsuki shoves this nuisance away, another is sure to follow. 

“—how!?”

Denki grabs Katsuki’s arm and pulls him back.

He sniffs again and asks, “How? I just… I saw the unicorn’s keeper…” Then his eyes dart all over the place, weaving through bodies until…

Both Denki and Katsuki stare at Izuku. 

“Of course. Of course, it was him.”

Denki latches onto a new target, stumbles into the crowd and throws his arms around Izuku—slobbering. And Katsuki—with the benefit of a few seconds to himself—sighs. 

With so many people and bodies cramped like this, you’d expect them to blur and mix, but Katsuki, who has never known so many people in this way, isn’t surprised that every face, every body has a definitive shape.

When he shouts, “Hey!” he commands the room into a standstill. “I’m not gonna explain everything twice, so you’d all better listen!” 

And what a story it was that came!

The story that comes is a riveting one, and it is one that shakes all—or most—to the core. When it comes to black shadows and revelations, they stare at Izuku as though he were a ghoul. Katsuki feels him tremble beside. It is unacceptable, but not unforgiveable, rings in his mind. No one comments. No one lifts a finger.

“It was true love’s kiss,” is the ending, and when it comes, Katsuki looks at the far corner of the room where Aizawa, his daughter, Eri, and their friend Masaru are tucked. Surprise ripples through every facet of the old sorcerer’s expression; his brows dart up. 

Katsuki shares a look with Izuku, but neither is brave enough to hold it. 

Katsuki clears his throat; fights his smile. “It’s the only way to break the curse.” Their captive audience is caught in a bind—caught between amazement and defeat, too. The purest of happiness, the darkest of despairs. 

They need to be rescued. They need to be shown the way. 

Katsuki says, “But I’m not giving up on our friend, Sir Eijirou”

Mina’s expression crumbles. 

Then, she looks up at Izuku. “So, your secret is finally out?”

Izuku stops trembling, and he cracks a weary smile. He says, “I always suspected that you… Well, that you might suspect.”

“Yeah, well…”

“Excuse me!” 

The harsh yell makes Katsuki jump. It had come from the back of the room, where an unlikely person was now standing. 

Aoyama was a skittish, foolish, indecipherable boy when Katsuki made acquaintances with him. He was sheltered and ridiculous. Now, he stands in a room of people; his spine is rod-straight. 

“Yes?” Katsuki asks with curiosity. 

Aoyama looks at the room, then his eyes stop on Katsuki. 

“No one wants to say it,” he speaks with clarity. “No one does, and that’s fine. I… It shall be I who is strong, so you don’t have to. Um, strong I shall be. Strong enough to say that…that I understand the curse you suffered more than anyone. Anyone, I say! So, hear me when I say…” His words flit and twist and are a mockery of logic. “I say that… I’m not saying that Sir Eijirou is doomed. I’m not. I believe that he will rise again.”

Katsuki’s eyes bore into him.

He continues, “Whether it be tomorrow, next year, next century, next millennium.” Izuku inhales from beside Katsuki. “These crystals—that I know so well—their heart is of madness. They pull to madness, they cause madness, they are madness itself. But… But we all have a capacity for madness, if we aren’t mad already. I’m not saying we should stop. I’m saying we should do everything we can for our friend; I will lead the charge myself, because I know it, I know the curse. What I say… What I say…”

Aoyama looks around the room again, and Katsuki is so transfixed upon him that he did the same. It is a room full of tears, and his own match. It threatens to flood and drown. 

“I say,” with conviction, “that we must mourn him—the greatest Hero. His happy ending is still within reach, and so is all ours.”

Katsuki’s brows jump up. Our happy endings?

It is silent after that. Everyone tries very hard to compress their sniffles and humanity into quietness. Izuku’s shoulders bounce. Katsuki’s hand darts to his own cheeks to wipe the wetness there.

That unleashes everything held bound.

Sero, who is in front of him, looks up at Katsuki and shows a watery grin. 

“Oh look,” he jokes, “it’s the King Who Cried showing his true face.”

There is a dull round of laughter at that, and Katsuki—against his wishes—smiles. “Shut up,” he commands, but it is so pathetically weak. 

Everything in the room unbinds, and what a merry group they become: spent, boneless but smiling nonetheless. There is a general reluctance to break away—such a group can maintain this loveliness for hours. 

The first to squirm away are Aizawa, Eri and Masaru. Katsuki notices, and so does Izuku. Katsuki darts forth, but Izuku stays standing; eyes follow Eri, and his expression is undefinable, which Katsuki notices with some interest.

He stumbles into the hallway and calls out to them. “Hey!”

They turn.

“What’re your plans now?” Katsuki asks as he closes the distance. 

Aizawa considers him with a short glance. Then, he answers, “Eri and I will be returning to our home in Lizard’s Point.” 

“Alright,” Katsuki says. “Thank you for everything.” And he bows.

When he looks up, the woman’s face scrunches. Katsuki immediately winces. “Oh gods,” as she starts to kneel. “Stop it now,” with panic crawling up his throat.

She prostrated herself.

“I’m so sorry!” she cries out; her voice is cracked with grief. 

Katsuki hisses at Aizawa, “Can you get her up!?” Then turns to her, “Stop it. You have nothing to apologise for. Seriously.”

Aizawa crouches and forces her up. She is limp. 

“I cannot apologise...apologise en-enough.”

“Keep it to yourself!” Katsuki barked.

Then, he sighs. 

“I’ll make sure to see you again before you leave.” He wants this conversation done with, frankly. Aizawa gives him a curt nod and turns on his heels.

And then there is…

“You look well,” says the Shepherd, who is also reluctant to leave.

Katsuki wonders if he wants the Shepherd to leave or not. 

He sighs and gestures for the old man to follow him to the fourth-floor tower balcony. On the short walk, he notices every sign of trouble in the man beside him—the twiddling fingers, the trembling shoulders, the antsy twitch to his gait. 

“What’s wrong?” Katsuki asks impatiently. 

They finally walk into daylight and watch the back grounds sprawl before them.

“I hope you don’t mind me coming today. Why, I’m just an odd man that your late mother knew!”

Katsuki’s shoulders unclench. He realises that he, too, might’ve been showing some signs of trouble. Perhaps, one day, news of his illegitimacy will breach the stone walls of the small council to travel to the far corners of this realm and reach the man’s ears; perhaps Katsuki should outrun it; be a man and tell him! Be brave! But he knew he couldn’t.

“It’s no issue with me,” Katsuki says.

“But in fact,” the old man turns towards Katsuki; they are the same height. “I wanted to speak to you about something, so when Aizawa extended the invite, I knew I should come.”

Katsuki’s brows twitched up in interest.

“Oh?”

“Yes.” Suddenly, the Shepherd’s shoulders straighten. “I shall leave as soon as possible.”

Katsuki was glad. He wanted to argue. He wanted this stranger far. He wanted him close.

“But,” Masaru continued, “I have decided to leave the Bakugou Cottage to the crown.”

“Huh?” Katsuki turns to him. “What the hell? Why?”

“Ah…!” He rubs the back of his neck. “I really don’t have anyone in mind to pass the trade to, you see… And, certainly, no family to speak of!”

Katsuki thinks that is completely stupid. “So, what? You leave it to a bunch’a nobles to pass around? Huh? A damn waste. The crown already has a lot, so what kinda sense does that make!?”

“Oh, no, no, I would never do that!” Katsuki stares at him pointedly. “No, I’m leaving it to you. You are the crown, after all.”

“Me?”

Masaru sighs, and his voice becomes meaningfully deep. “Yes. You’re the crown, and you’re Mitsuki’s son. I want you to have it.”

Katsuki has so much he wants to say to that stupid sentiment. Sentiment, goddamned sentiment. He wants to chafe against it, and lash out. Guilt coils in his stomach, and the sentiment he hates so much wraps its fingers around his neck and chokes; he can’t say a single thing. 

It won’t come out.

Masaru continues, “Yes, I know the crown has a lot. But, believe me!” he says. “The Bakugou cottage is old, and it is special. It is such a special place. It is where I grew up and fell in love, and so many of my family before. Your mother—she loved it there. So, if one day you happen to—if there is even the smallest of chances that you tire of this castle—you can always come take the cottage. You…” Then, he looks at Katsuki meaningfully. Katsuki feels like he has been struck with the back hand of meaning. “Even today. You can come and take it today.”

Katsuki has to steal several seconds to collect himself. 

Finally, he says, “I decline. Give it to someone who will use it.”

Masaru smiles ruefully. 

“Even still, you have many years ahead of you, and it is my possession. I will do with it what I see fit.” So, he has a backbone after all; an edge of steel. 

Katsuki, suddenly, thinks of Izuku. Often—of late—thoughts of Izuku bring him warmth and pleasure. Right now, it makes his skin turn cold. He realises just how easy it is to lie. And with the perfectly clear image of Deku’s plain, inscrutable face of the past inscribed in his eyes, Katsuki promises that, one day, he will tell Masaru the truth. 

“Do whatever you want, old man,” he says instead, turns to the colonnade and leans against it. “At least tell me why.” Some kind of atonement for a woman Katsuki has never known?

Masaru answered quickly and easily:

“I want to help you.”

Katsuki hums.

Masaru does not leave immediately, he stays by Katsuki’s side in silence and steals shameless, nostalgic glances at his inherited features.

Katsuki’s heart is heavy, and he can acknowledge that his proximity to this stranger makes him feel closer to his mother than he ever has before. 

In fact, he finally understands her and the decision she made to curse Katsuki.  He can understand why she would choose to rip apart their family and drop Katsuki in the hands of that cruel, cruel man. Cursing him. 

She did it all to give Masaru, the Shepherd, his best chance. To give him the House. 

And, even still, as Katsuki takes one last look at the hollow Sheperd he realises she had cursed him too.

Whatever. He can’t put his finger on it. Sentimentality has come to an end, he decides. He decries it a swift death, and himself mercy.

II

Many Years Ago

Katsuki ran through the winding corridors with more strength than his body contained. His legs overlapped without rhythm. As he turned a corner, he tripped!

“Ooof!”

He scrambled up, looked around erratically, and breathed a sigh of relief. No one had seen. 

Even though his knees screamed in pain, he picked himself up and ran up the last flight of stairs to his destination in Maidenhead Tower.

He was a prince, and princes don’t knock. He flung the door open and announced, “I’m here!” Stomping inside. “You guys better not have started!” with anger.

Yagi laughed. He was sitting in front of the fireplace with Himiko beside him. He said, “Don’t worry, Kacchan, we haven’t started.”

Himiko puffed her cheeks and glared at Katsuki, “We been waiting!” 

“You’ll wait as long as you need to!” Katsuki snapped back. 

Then, he plopped himself on the carpet next to Himiko. 

He commanded, “Better make this a good one, Yagi.”

The old man didn’t cow against Katsuki’s magnificent temper. He smiled, reached out, and ruffled his hair. With every caress, Katsuki’s ire melted into something soft and malleable. He waited far too long before whacking the hand away with a quiet but stern, “Gerrof.”

“So, so, so!” Himiko cooed. “What story tonight!? What story!?” 

Katsuki perked. “All Might!” he demanded. “It has to be All Might.” What else could it be?

Yagi clammed up, and his smile was awry. Katsuki’s eyes narrowed at it.

He strengthened his will.

“All Might.”

Yagi sighed.

“How about something else tonight?” 

Himiko and Katsuki exchanged a look. She was as weak as water, but Katuski was steel. He narrowed his eyes at her.

They turned back to Yagi, who was holding a small book. 

“I want to share this one with you all. It’s a new one,” he sang at Himiko, whose eyes widened, “so it’ll be something you’ve never heard of before!”

“Ooooh….” She cooed.

Katsuki turned his nose up and sniffed.

Yagi continued, “This is the Tale of The Sun King, and one of my absolute favourites.”

“I dun want it!” Katsuki screamed. “All Might will be better!” And who could blame him for this tantrum? The young prince awakens, trains, follows around his dad, runs tasks for the knights…and all the while, he fantasises about this. About story time with Yagi. About All Might, heroes, and victory. And strength. “And Himiko doesn’t want it either!” 

He turned to look at the girl, and his eyes turned severe. She faltered, and there was a need to please in her eyes. So, she quietly squashed her enthusiasm, turned to Yagi and whispered, “Y-y-yeah.”

Katsuki beamed with delight at the answer and turned to Yagi.

But Yagi was looking at him with a poorly masked disapproval. 

Katsuki’s night—the one he had so looked forward to—soured in that one second that just passed. He grumbled, said fine, tell us your damn story, but the night did not get better for him. Every word was poisoned, and he thought, I hate you, Yagi. I truly do.

III

“He’s… Well, he’s just fine. Very speedy. I can’t help but think that, one day, he’ll speed through a tincture and make a mistake. And tinctures are sensitive, you know? What if he mixes too much, or doesn’t mix enough, and then it makes someone sick? Or worse? I reckon it’s better to take your ti—”

“Wait, Izuku, DON’T!”

Izuku yelps and stiffens. His hand lowers from the window. 

Katsuki leaves his desk, stomps over to the window, and clamps it shut. 

Then, he turns to Izuku with a glare that could cut. “I…” He takes a deep breath. Calm down. Calm down. So, with gritted teeth, he continues, “I will allow you to drone on, and on, and on about your nemesis—”

Izuku gasps, affronted.

“—but,” Katsuki bites, “how many times do I have to remind you about the fucking windows?”

Izuku looks him up and down and decides to be less than apologetic.

“It’s not that big of a deal,” he mumbles.

Katsuki scoffs, and his rage rears its head again.

“For you!” he screams. Then, he leans above Izuku. “Take a look, then.”

“No—”

“No, no, no, take a look.” Katsuki grabs Izuku’s shoulders and forces him to turn around. There, through the dirty, rain-stained glass, there is a flock of birds perched on the balcony ledge, vying for the exact opportunity to swarm inside. Their beady little eyes make Katsuki’s blood run cold.

Izuku sighs. “I thought Aizawa had said they’ll leave you alone soon…” And that is what the old man had said as a way of warning. Expect to be harassed by animals and creatures of all kinds for the foreseeable future, he had warned Katsuki. A side-effect of initiating the kiss. It wasn’t Izuku being followed by bugs. Not Izuku, who was pecked to death by pointy little beaks, or catcalled by chickens. 

So, Izuku has no remorse in saying, “They just want to be close to you! You shouldn’t avoid them,” while turning around in Katsuki’s grip and smiling up at him.

And Katsuki is smiling through his mounting irritation. With gritted teeth, he looks down at Izuku and says, “You’re right. And you should give Elred the benefit of the doubt. He gave me a tonic for my shoulder, which was just fantastic.”

Izuku’s expression changes instantly—his bottom lip jutting out, and his brows denting.

Hah! Katsuki leans down, smiles lopsidedly, and continues, “Yagi even told me the kid has a lead for the West End Plague. He’ll be the one to solve the mystery in the end, I suppose.”

Izuku looks up in a fury. “Whose side are you on!?”

Katsuki throws his head back and laughs. This seems to annoy Izuku enough to try to get away, but Katsuki’s grip on his shoulders tightens. 

“It’s not a competition, Deku.”

“It…!” But Izuku catches himself. “I guess… But the castle doesn’t need a physician with two apprentices!”

“A castle can have whatever it wants.” There is a softer quality to Katsuki’s words now, softened even further when his hands drop to Izuku’s waist; when he steps into him, pushing him gently into the windowsill; when he bends down and nuzzles into the skin of his neck.

“Did you just come here to bother me about that kid or something?” asks Katsuki.

“No… I wanted to ask—”

Katsuki bites savagely into the skin of Izuku’s neck.

“AH!”

Izuku’s hand flies up to push him away.

But, as it happens, Izuku knocks into the clay vase that rests on the windowsill. 

Katsuki is well positioned to see disaster unfold: as the vase sways precariously, then slowly tip towards its untimely death.

He’s well-positioned to see Izuku’s hand dart out purposefully. There’s a command in how taut his fingers became, in how he demanded the pot to stay still.

It didn’t listen. 

They both watch as it shatters. 

Katsuki stops looking at the vase and starts looking at Izuku; his expression is indecipherable and plain. Then, it is clouded with something of embarrassment and disappointment. He flexes his fingers and shakes away the tension.

The birds through the glass stare over Izuku’s shoulder. 

“Aha…” He smiles sheepishly at Katsuki. “I’m so sorry….”

Katsuki collects himself, too. “Yeah, you better be!”

Izuku huffs. “As if you weren’t the one who caused it!” while rubbing his neck. 

They bicker as they clean up the mess, and talk about other things. They talk about the plague mystery, which Izuku must absolutely solve. It’s my life’s work right now! Katsuki talks about whatever was on his mind before Izuku stampeded into his study: grain, raiders, Saxons, new Gods, and the such. 

When Izuku leaves, Katsuki can’t shake the image of Izuku’s strange expression. 

V

Many years ago

Katsuki had his first kiss when he was fourteen years old. At this age, he had not many whom he could call friends; the other squires were pompous and loud, the younger knights were more pompous and louder; the brat Mirio followed him around, but Katsuki would die before calling him a friend. Himiko was always in her little world, running around with some girl from the city. 

In fact, Katsuki can’t name a single friend.

But he was never bored. You might think the existence of a prince may be restrictive, but the King watched no part of Katsuki’s life. He was free and had many things to occupy him in these times: he would attend to Sir Brandon, whom he squired for; he would sneak into small council meetings, vying for even the smallest morsels of information; even the dullest statistic regarding grains felt as precious as a gem.

He would go to the stables, where he took care of his horses.

The Apprentice was Katsuki’s age and, for many months, was too shy to speak directly to him. But that was all the better for Katsuki, who did not wish to be spoken to. As time passed, they reached an easy compromise. The Apprentice gave the prince advice on how to groom his pony, Starlight; Katsuki rejected every suggestion outright, but let it all stick to the back of his mind, where he stores useful information. 

Prince Katsuki does not discriminate between maid, servant, squire, knight, or horsekeeper’s apprentice. They all get yelled at. They all get shoved. 

The setting sun glowed orange in the castle stables when the apprentice dumped a stack of hay too aggressively. A plume billowed right under Katsuki’s nose, making him cough. The Apprentice found some humour in this, but managed to push out a polite apology through his smile. Katsuki shoved him in a way he had done many times before. But this time, when they touched each other, something happened in the Apprentice and it happened in the prince, which made the touch different. It was the Apprentice who raised his head, and Katsuki wasn’t aware that he had lowered his own until they were kissing. For the first time in his life, he became aware of another person’s body.  

It had ended as soon as it started. They sprang apart at the sound of rustling hay from a distance away. The light was suddenly very bright and very hot, and Katsuki’s heart was beating in an awful way. 

Katsuki did not think of that moment for many days. Not until he was called into his father’s study a week later. The King told Katsuki that he was to have a manservant from now on, who would follow him night and day to serve. Katsuki had fought this, or had wanted to, but was silenced by a single, pointed, knowing glance from the King. 

Later that day, Katsuki found that the stablemaster’s apprentice had been dismissed. 

Katsuki met his manservant, who was ugly in a way only a commoner could be. The deformities in his face and body were not so concerning, but the sycophantic simpleness which marred his speech brought real rage to Katsuki. (He grabbed his bow and was determined to rid this creature from his sight in any way he could, as rage and shame mingled in his gut in a shameful way.)

The spokes of his many, many manservants spun through his teenage years, as Katsuki evolved from squire to knight, then to Prince. And each one was uglier than the last. 

This eighth apprentice was chosen at Katsuki’s eighteenth name-day. He promised to be the worst.

Because to be ugly was, at least, to be exceptional. The Apprentice had an ugliness which was appealing and masculine. But this boy? His plainness brought some irritation to Katsuki. His build was plain. His features were plain.

To be undiscernible was a crime that Prince Katsuki could not forgive.

In fact, the only exceptional quality to it all was his bloodied hands and the hand of one of the only two men Katsuki respected on his shoulder. 

And, perhaps, the pitiful expression on his face.

VI

“Now is the perfect time for those raiders to take advantage of our weakness,” says Lord Erring.

“We cannot simply deploy…let’s say, a few men to the eastern coast?”

Katsuki hums, then shakes his head. “It’ll escalate the situation.”

The lords squabbled amongst each other. It’ll escalate regardless, one said. It’s not so bad yet, said another. Squabble turns into impassioned shouts, and Katsuki loses interest. 

“We will need a judgment,” is the speech that catches Katsuki’s attention at the tail-end of the meeting. 

He says, “And I’ll have a judgment.” 

The meeting is dismissed, and Katsuki does not linger amongst the Lords even while one or two vie for his attention.

“Sire, perhaps we can talk about my daughter—"

“Later,” snaps Katsuki, turning into the western wing. 

On this walk, he does give thought to the matter at hand, and all the other matters too: conquerors, raiders, sorcerers, and magic. His mind is occupied until faced with the physician’s workshop.

Katsuki walks inside hesitantly, scanning the room before…

Before sighing in relief.

“Hi Yagi,” he greets.

“Aha!” Yagi throws his head back and laughs. “Are you afraid of running into my apprentices?”

“Hah!?” But Katsuki does not have the heart to make up a ruse. “As if I’d ever be afraid of Deku.” Scoffing. “Only that when he’s around your other one, he becomes insufferable.”

Yagi sighs. “Yes, well…” It’s not as though he can refute. “You should know better than anyone that Young Izuku is more than a little competitive.”

Katsuki frowns as he takes a seat across from Yagi. Izuku’s competitiveness is fine, but in this instance, it ties Katsuki’s stomach into knots. It makes him itch to untie each and every one. 

“You wanted to see me?” Katsuki asks, turning his mind away from Izuku.

“Yes, yes,” says Yagi as he reaches into the pockets of his robe. “I am to pass along a message.”

He slides an envelope across the table.

“It is from Ochako.”

Katsuki’s brows rise.

“Oh?” He opens the envelope.

“Yes, yes…” Yagi leans across the table. “She speaks on behalf of Himiko and Tenko. They—”

“They want a parlay,” he interrupts, putting the letter down. 

Yagi hums.

“Well, that seems sensible. We have no way of sending a message back, right?”

Yagi nods. “Right.” In fact, the castle had been emptied of its magic over the last few months. “But she has left a location and a time. They will meet you in three weeks’ time at the temple ruins north of the Levels.”

“That’s fine with me.” Katsuki toyed with the envelope. 

“You’re smiling.”

“No, I’m not!” And it isn’t really a smile.

“You’re pleased to see Himiko again?”

“I’m pleased to get out of here for once!” Katsuki is nothing if not honest.

Yagi laughs. “Yes, yes. Being a King is not so enjoyable, yes?”

Katsuki is perhaps too prideful to answer that question. 

Yagi leans in importantly. “I believe your father struggled with the very same thing.” Katsuki pays attention now. “He enjoyed being a King when it mattered, but when it didn’t, the crown was… Not so much a burden, but a bore.”

Katsuki nodded.

Yagi continues, “They bothered him about everything, even the most minor inconveniences: his eating habits, the fact that they wanted him to marry and pestered him all the time about it, his goddamn clothes!” Yagi laughs. “But he was very much immovable in his way of living.”

He’s saying I have to be immovable.

“I’m proud of you.”

It is such a surprising sentiment that Katsuki looks up with a jerk.

“Huh?” Katsuki glares.

“I mean it!”

“Don’t be so sentimental out of nowhere!”

And there it was. Katsuki straightens at the sight of Yagi’s nervously flickering eyes. 

“What the hell is wrong?” he asks.

“I…” Yagi was not one to be so hesitant. “I suppose there’s more I wish to speak to you about.” Katsuki taps his fingers against the oak in impatience, all the while watching carefully. “I suppose I’ve been meaning to say this for many…many years. But, speaking of the King now… Did you know that I’ve always hated him?”

Katsuki’s brow pinches.

He shakes his head.

“Yes, well.” Yagi laughs nervously, and he looks so very aged. “I did. I might’ve even despised him. When I saw how he raised you and tried to pull your mind and character in his direction, I thought I truly hated him.” Katsuki had never seen Yagi like this. There’s something of Izuku in his mannerisms. “I thought he was a bad man.” Yagi pauses. Then, before Katsuki can interject—“I thought he was a bad man, and that I was good. I tried everything to counteract his influence. I just… I realised that I never apologised.”

“Apologised?”

“So, now, I apologise for doing the very same thing; for, sometimes, trying to lead you down a path. Pulling you in my direction, rather than letting you find your own path. He was so strong, so I thought I had to be stronger.”

Katsuki is stone. It’s a stillness hardly found in nature, where breeze and age move all. And his mind races in a thousand different directions. 

Finally, he says, “You have nothing to apologise for.”

Yagi laughs. “I’m sure you would say that.”

Thinking of such things… It’s strange. It’s a strangeness that Katsuki understands almost immediately.

“I see through it, you know,” he says. “Deku doesn’t. He’s too whipped up in his own…issues. But the whole battle of the apprentices?” He scoffs, and Yagi looks down at his lap. “And now this? Worrying over ancient history?” Katsuki leans back into his seat and appraises Yagi with an air of command. “You’re gonna tell him soon?”

Yagi hums a quiet yes.

“You’re gonna tell me?” Katsuki snaps.

“Yes, yes…” Yagi looks up. “Once things quieten here, I will leave.” Katsuki does not react. “I will go on my final quest.”

“And that is?”

“I’m travelling west to find a member of my family. His name is Sasa, and he is my son. My first son.” The smile he shows Katsuki is bitterly nostalgic, and it makes his skin feel too hot, too awful. Katsuki looks down to hide his smile. “We left on bad terms; our misunderstandings clouded our judgment in an awful way, my boy. But now, I’m ready to find him and make him listen. And to listen to him, in turn.”

“Will you return?”

The words did not come as Katsuki intended. 

Taut and expectant.

Yagi looks his years now as he smiles comfortingly.

“I will see you again.”

It’s not the response Katsuki wanted.

“But you won’t come back home? You’re running away for good?”

As a child, as a teenager, as a young adult…Katsuki has always intended to have Yagi at his side, on his doorstep. Yagi is a fixture in this castle, which Katsuki calls home.

Yagi stands, and so does Katsuki. 

They meet in the middle, and Yagi grabs both his shoulders.

Yagi takes on a sageness which used to chafe at Katsuki. “Am I running away from home? No, I don’t think so. Home is where my heart takes me—remember this, my boy.” His thumb draws circles on Katsuki. “When I was a young man, there were many who looked up to me, like they do you. But back then, I did not want them to. Then, I ran away from Sasaki. But I have a home with him, just as I have a home here.”

“It’ll make you happy?” Katsuki asks thoughtfully.

Yagi grins, baring his teeth. “Yes.”

“Then I wish you a safe journey. When will you leave?”

Yagi chuckles and looks at the window, behind which snow begins to fall. The first snowfall of the season is coming. 

“I shall go when spring comes.”

They hug.

The sadness which Katsuki expects does not come. Instead, he thinks…

Thinks of…

Before leaving, he turns around.

“Wait!”

Yagi turns, too.

“There’s somethin’ I wanted to run by you.” Katsuki scratches the back of his neck. “It’s about Izuku.”

Izuku is told two days later. It took Yagi two whole days to build the courage. At night, Katsuki doesn’t ask him about it. He lets Izuku stiffly climb under the covers and stare at the ceiling. 

He’s thoughtful. 

Later, when it becomes obvious that neither is going to sleep, Katsuki broaches the topic. 

“Are you prepared to say goodbye to him when the time comes?”

Izuku does not react at first. 

Then, he turns on his side and shuffles closer to Katsuki. He puts a hand on Katsuki’s chest, and Katsuki fiddles with his scarred fingers.

“I think I am,” Izuku answers mournfully. “Might be harder if there were still things to contend with between us, but there really isn’t.”

Katsuki hums.

Izuku says, “It is becoming all the more obvious that everything is perfectly well in the castle.”

“Try to sound happier about it.” Peace.

Izuku chuckles softly. Then, he asks, “And you? Are you prepared?”

Am I?

“He…” Katsuki thinks about the apology. “I’ve long had things to come to terms with when it comes to Yagi.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“You…” Izuku forced out, “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

Katsuki sneered into the darkness. “I can tell you wanna know!”

“Well… That doesn’t matter! You don’t owe me anything.”

“I don’t owe anyone anything! But if you wanna know, then I can make an effort.”

“Yeah, fine! I wanna know!”

“Then I’ll tell!”

Izuku hikes himself up on an elbow.

How to say it?

“You know, Yagi apologised to me the other day. For… For some nonsense. He told me that he hated how my father tried to influence me, and that he did the same sometimes. Pulling me in a direction away from the King.”

“Oh?” Izuku thinks hard about those words. “Really? Do you think he did?”

Katsuki sighs. “I was shocked at first. But… The more I thought about it…. I don’t know. Yagi was everything to Himiko and me growing up. To me. He pumped us with these…these amazing stories about knights, and duty, and goodness. My father had always made his expectations of me clear; they were set in stone. And Yagi’s expectations were…also always there.”

Izuku waits patiently for Katsuki to find his words.

And find them, he did.

“They both had a way they believed the world worked. And it was always at odds.”

“Sounds…really confusing.”

Katsuki chuckles dryly. “Yeah. It felt like…being pulled in two different directions, trying to make them both happy. Couldn’t bear to disappoint either of them.”

Izuku intertwines their hand wholeheartedly now. Katsuki feels warm. 

“Did…” he starts nervously. “Did I ever make you feel like that?”

Katsuki’s eyes dart towards him. 

“You?” It’s a funny question. “Hah!”

“What’s so funny?”

“You know…” Katsuki

shifted on his side, so that they face each other. “Yagi and Father cared a great deal about the kind of man I’d become. But it seemed like you couldn’t care less.”

“That’s…”

Katsuki interrupts, “Back then, you were so damn single-minded. Almost like you only care about what you want, or what you want to achieve. Deku wanted to kill the Beaste; Deku wanted to travel to Bernicia to save a boy; Deku wanted to save Tenko.” Izuku’s eyes widened, and his expression became blank. “Deku wanted to save his mother’s village. It’s like…” Katsuki abandons the thought. “And when I became an obstacle, you just barged into me. Knocked me down, called me all sorts of names just to get your way,”

“I—I didn’t.”

“Yeah, Deku, you did.” Katsuki laughs. “You didn’t make it a secret when you used me for your ends.”

As he speaks, a…a feeling swells in his ribcage, making the bone stretch. They are barely touching, yet Katsuki feels dizzy.

“Sorry,” Izuku whispers, distractedly. 

“Being around someone like that,” Katsuki bulldozes, “made me think about what I wanted to believe in. So…”

They look at each other in the darkness.

Katsuki’s heart swoops and squeezes. It must’ve been some sort of magic.

And he says, “So, don’t apologise.”

Izuku is stunned. He nods. 

Katsuki’s tongue is loosened completely. The stiffness of it—from small council meetings, from speaking to knights, maids, and friends—is just a memory. 

He wants to speak some more.

Izuku beats him to it.

“In Mirio’s castle, you had asked me when my feelings towards you changed.”

Katsuki’s brows dart up in surprise. “You finally figured it out, or what?”

“Yeah, yeah, I think I did. Just now.”

“Let’s hear it then.”

“Um…” Izuku frets. “All those things you mentioned, of me…trying to get my way… I never saw it like that, but that’s beside the point. When… When you waited for me before chasing the White Hart, I really appreciated it, Kacchan. It made me so good.” There is a genuineness to his words that makes Izuku smile in embarrassment, and his cheeks brighten red. “You really took the lead and taught me so many things on our journey. But when it was coming to the end, and it looked like we wouldn’t win, you defied all my expectations, Kacchan. You didn’t let your expectations for your father’s or Yagi’s crush you. I…”

Izuku pauses, searching. 

“Were you surprised?” asks Katsuki. 

“I was completely dazzled!” Izuku whispers excitedly, pushing even closer. “And—and then! Then, the White Hart revealed itself! Just…” Izuku grins toothily as the excitement and novelty of that time returned. “How everything turned out was so…epic. It felt like it was straight out of a story! I knew then that you could carve out your own path. I…felt so blessed to have been there. I felt so blessed that you waited.”

The melancholy of the day and imminent departures evaporate quietly. Now, they smile at each other. 

Three days later, Katsuki tells Izuku, “I have to prepare to leave.”

“Leave? Leave for what? When?”

“A quest. I leave in two days, but I should be back before the week’s close.”

“Wh—”

Katsuki silences him with a kiss on the forehead. “I’m not telling, so don’t even bother asking.”

Izuku stares at him plainly for a moment before irritation starts to bloom.

“You’re seriously not going to say?”

“Nah.”

VIII

On first glance, there is no evidence of the ritual Izuku had conducted years ago in this derelict temple. 

The weeds are overgrown, but still, the walls stand tall.

Katsuki and Izuku ride into the clearing. Himiko, Ochako and Tenko are already there, standing in the sunshine. 

Reins pull, and Katsuki and Izuku halt within the shadows.

“Hi Izuku,” greets Himiko. “Hi, Katsuki.”

A short pause passes. Then, Katsuki greets, “It’s nice to see you.”

They dismount. They meet their old acquaintances.

There is a stiffness between them which lingers as they hug, as they move inside the temple. 

Upon a closer glance, it’s not true. Katsuki thinks there is evidence of what happened here. Himiko’s eyes dart from Izuku to a toppled-over canister of oil, lying beside the raised dais.

Katsuki asks, “How long did it take you guys to get here?”

Ochako answers, “A month’s ride, if you would believe it.” Her hair is short now, which Katsuki teases her about. You look like a little boy, he says to her. She laughs, touching it self-consciously.

The shade staves against the winter chill, but does nothing for the awkwardness. Himiko and Tenko stare at their party with some uneasiness, specifically.

Katsuki clears his throat. “About time you reached out.” 

Himiko’s smile takes on a watery quality, and she steps forward to hug Katsuki once again. He steps into the sunlight which streams through the broken roof.

He steps back and turns to Tenko, while Himiko and Izuku meet in the shadows, whispering.

“Kid,” he greets, reaching a hand out.

Tenko hesitates, but does shake it. 

His hair is longer now, and he looks clean and unwounded. Older. Taller. Wearing the attire of commoners. 

“Thank you for coming to meet us,” says Tenko.

“Was it Himiko’s idea?” 

“Um…” He’s skittish. “I thought it’d be a good idea, too.”

Then, Tenko looks over Katsuki’s shoulder. Katsuki turns, too, following his line of sight. 

“She’s unsure how to feel about him.”

There is some space between Himiko and Izuku even as they talk privately.

Tenko continues, “He hurt her a lot, and she’s never really dealt with it.”

Katsuki hates that he can’t see the finer qualities of Izuku’s expression. 

“It’s all in the past,” says Tenko.

“Yeah.” Suddenly, being in this room under the shadow of that altar hovering over his shoulder like a terrible, waiting bird, made Katsuki feel hot and awful. “Wanna take a walk, kid?” 

“Yes.”

They leave, and on the way, they pass Ochako tending to the horses. She waves them away. 

Katsuki pretends not to notice the hesitant glances the kid sends his way, as if he’s not quite sure what to make of Katsuki, what to feel towards Katsuki. His demeanour, posture—all of it—is a mixture of parts: something of distrust, resentment, and maybe even remorse. Maybe gratitude. 

“Where have you all been since?” asks Katsuki. 

They enter a forest path, where the canopy of birch shades them.

“We’ve separated.”

“Really?”

“I saw Himiko for the first time since summer just a month ago, when she came to visit me. I hear she has been travelling with Ochako.”

Katsuki smiles at that. 

They are in the heart of a wintering. The days can only become shorter.

Tenko says, “They’re happy together.” And that makes Katsuki feel somewhat happy, too. 

He asks, “And you? Your tribe?”

“I’ve abandoned my tribe.”

Katsuki’s brows jump up. 

Tenko must feel Katsuki staring intently at him, but he does not turn. He keeps his chin tipped high as they walk through the winding forest path. 

He continues, “After I took them out of the battlefield, I told them I cannot lead them, and I cannot follow them either. I have gone my own way.”

“Right…” Katsuki stops, forcing Tenko to turn. To face him. “What are you doing now?”

In daylight, Tenko looks younger—younger than he had looked in that festering, dilapidated ruin a moment earlier.

He answers, “I have found a small settlement in Western Dal Riata which suits me. There, I have a House: it’s very remote, and I have found peace there which suits me. I read things. I explore the area. My friends know where I am, and sometimes they pay me a visit, but otherwise I am alone. I am content.”

“Content?” Katsuki searches Tenko for markers of dishonesty. But the boy’s demeanour is iron-clad; his will is as strong as stone. “Are you running away?”

“No, I’m not.” Strong as stone. “That cottage is more than I deserve.”

Katsuki hates how the words taste to his ears. “A punishment, then?”

Tenko’s expression splits, and suddenly, he is smiling. There is an arrogance which wears the face of delight to hide itself in his manners.

“No, not a punishment. It’s a reward. You wouldn’t understand.”

Katsuki’s thoughts hang on those words long after they finish their walk and retreat to the ruin. 

Before their figures can fall to the shadows of the place, Katsuki finds it in himself to speak freely: “That day, in the woods, you said something to me.” Tenko stiffens. “You said that both my father and I have chosen the same path: to oppose you and your people.”

Tenko pales. He may wish to recant, but he can’t. His iron-strong will doesn’t allow him to lie.

Katsuki didn’t need him to lie.

“You weren’t wrong. We all have actions we have to reckon with.” Katsuki ruffles Tenko’s hair in a manner which is sure to annoy him. His arrogance is naked.

Tenko swats the hand away.

“Whatever.”

Himiko, Ochako, and Izuku are inside and talking easily. Katsuki knows every facet of Izuku, and right then, he is pale and stiff. The shadows of his smile vanish when his eyes catch on Tenko. 

Tenko stiffens, too.

Katsuki slings an arm around Izuku’s shoulders with a practised ease. 

It brings some colour to his cheeks, at least.

“Ochako was just telling me about Ierna, Kacchan.”

“Oh?”

“Oh yes!” Himiko regales them with tales of emerald hills, craggy coastlines and foreign lands.

An uneasy ease is still an ease. 

Morning blooms into afternoon. When it is time for everyone to depart, Katsuki asks, “Will you ever come back?”

Himiko smiles sadly. Ochako looks at her in concern.

She shakes her head. “No, I don’t think I will.” But there is real joy in her words. “I am too big. That castle will never fit me again.”

Izuku laughs; his shoulders bounce.

Her heart remains elsewhere, as does her home. So, Katsuki bites back his own disappointment and smiles at her.

It is time to leave. With every step, Izuku pales and seizes. 

Katsuki grabs his hand, and as soon as their fingers kiss, Izuku sighs. 

“Himiko!”

The three of them look up.

“Himiko, I…” Izuku’s grip on Katsuki’s hand tightens painfully. “I’m sorry for making you feel so alone. I…” He swallows and looks up. His will, too, is stone-strong. Iron-clad. “I hated myself. So, I had to hate you, too!”

Himiko’s expression splits open.

She grins with teeth and weeps openly.

“It’s—it’s okay, Izuku!”

And she waves. The ice melts between them. 

“I can’t forgive him,” Izuku whispers late at night, under the shadow of that castle which Himiko finds so small. “Can you?”

He is sitting on the edge of the bed; his back is turned to Katsuki. 

“I think I can.”

“I hate him,” Izuku says, wearing hesitancy like a blanket of winter snow—for all to see.

Then, his shoulders shake.

When Katsuki moves, he is stunned at how pliant and fluid his muscles feel. He is untethered as he snakes an arm around Izuku’s waist, pulls him onto the bed, then onto his lap; as he winds his arms completely around Izuku’s torso and brings them so close that there is no space between them.

Izuku smashes his face into Katsuki’s neck.

“I…”

“You don’t,” says Katsuki, “have to speak.”

Izuku hums.

“You don’t hate him.”

Izuku shakes his head.

“These…” Izuku is drunk with emotion, barely able to keep his eyes open. “These horrible…horrible feelings,” he’s slurring, “I don’t know what to do with them. I need to put them away.”

Katsuki feels so full. His own emotions are overflowing, too.

“Izuku,” he pleads. “It’s okay.”

“He…” Izuku finally looks up and appears entirely unlike himself. His eyes are dark, and something changes in him. “He’s just a kid.” His hands roam Katsuki’s shoulders, then chest, then face. “And we’re…so blessed.” Katsuki feels both the blessing and appreciation in his hands. “I need to forgive. But how?”

Izuku buries himself in the past, but this time lets Katsuki see it unfold. Katsuki wants to shake him awake. Look at me. Be here.

Wordlessly, Katsuki rearranges them. There’s a soft touch in how he flips Izuku until his back hits the mattress. Katsuki looms over him.

Izuku is looking down; his eyes appear closed.

When Katsuki kisses him, Izuku whines. Katsuki kisses him again. And again. 

And he whispers, “If you’re thinking something stupid like, what if we hadn’t figured it out? What if Tenko had succeeded?” Izuku’s eyes clench. “Then, I’m telling you, it’s all a waste of time. Forgiveness isn’t about the outcome.”

Izuku looks up now, and he is astonished.

“I’m tellin’ you,” Katsuki smiles, “however it turned out, you would have forgiven him anyway. It’s just your stupid nature.” He laughs, dispelling the tension. “It takes time.”

Izuku’s eyes widen, and his lips wobble.

Katsuki looks down and feels sweet. He leans closer but doesn’t kiss Izuku. 

Izuku whispers, “That’s…just an assumption.”

“Fuck off.”

Izuku closes the distance slowly, and his eyes become cloudy with desire. Katsuki asks, you sure? And Izuku responds soundlessly by canting forward. But before their lips can touch, Katsuki takes a sharp right turn and kisses Izuku’s heart instead. This kiss is open-mouthed.

Izuku’s craggy fingers dig into Katsuki’s hair and span the entire curve of his head. They scratch the skin and explore lazily. 

The only sound in the room is Izuku’s deep breathing, and the smacking of Katsuki’s lips.

It all progresses soundlessly—Katsuki stripping Izuku, then smacking his hands away when Izuku tries to help; speaking no words as Katsuki grabs Izuku’s legs, spreads them obscenely, and opens him up with his fingers. No sounds but deep breaths and barely-there moans.

Thunk! And Izuku’s head tips back against the headboard when Katsuki’s fingers dig too deep. 

Something is different this time, when Katsuki grabs Izuku’s thighs, drags them across the sheets, and contorts them to his liking—one leg slung over his shoulder, the other over his hips.

Izuku whines when Katsuki leans over, stretching him, kissing him. Izuku’s pupils flit, and he’s so obviously uncomfortable. He wants to look away. He wants to feel safe again. He wanted to leave the ruins and return to his perfect castle. But Katsuki is smarter and knows more; Izuku is too big, too; his muscles flex and shatters windows; his fat and tissue bulge out and threatens to break ancient, stone foundations. Does break them.

Katsuki enters him slowly, and all the while—even surrounded by pleasure from all sides—he keeps his eyes open and looks at Izuku. 

Izuku turns to the side.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

Izuku turns back, and he is on the verge of weeping.

When Katsuki starts making love to him, Izuku’s hands rise and wind around Katsuki’s neck. 

They share the same breath, kissing each other over, between, through, beneath every intake.

Katsuki whines like a wounded animal. His pleasure mounts—a rising tide.

He becomes possessed—kissing Izuku’s lips, his collar bones, his forehead, his wrist, his palm, each and every one of his fingers. And poor Izuku didn’t know what to do with this affection. He cries. Then he cries out, coming untouched.

His body limpens. Katsuki curses under his breath and quickens his pace, chanting a muffled mantra against Izuku’s palm while chasing his own release. Izuku’s thigh shakes.

Katsuki screams. He can’t hold himself up anymore and falls completely on top of Izuku.

Izuku takes care of him, stroking his hair, the muscles of his shoulders, up and down his back. Kissing his temple. They don’t blow out the candles, letting them fizzle all the way out.

IX

Some years ago,

“So, we have all decided on the Tale of the Sun King—is that okay, Kacchan?”

Katsuki didn’t agree, but he no longer put up a fight. His mood had soured completely.

“Once, a long, long time ago, there was a Kingdom where nothing good ever happened. Imagine that, kids! None played, for all hated their neighbours; the kingdom created nothing and destroyed everything; not only did they bear hatred for their own people, but also for the neighbouring kingdom, too. With them, they shared not the same language, so even the slightest of slights incited rage and despair. 

“The Kingdom’s ruler was a weak man who led angry men. He decided, enough is enough! If we defeat those neighbours,he said, then the fractures at our own doorstep will soon be healed. His knights couldn’t find a reason not to try it, for they desperately wished for a better life, too. 

“So, they followed the King into battle; they donned their armour; they marched to the battleground. Their neighbours were prepared and waited for them on a great, big field. Cavalries stare each other down on a cloudy day. The men came prepared to die. The Kings on either side could not understand each other, so there was no point in trying to parlay. 

“So, our Weak King points to the other side of the battlefield and demands, ‘Charge, men!’ Their horses stampede, rushing to meet in the middle.

“However, before they can clash, what happens!?”

Katsuki was stiff with nerves!

He shared an excited look with Himiko.

“The cloud parts, and here comes the sun! The hills begin to glow; the chill is warded. But that is not all that happened. No, for the sun was not alone. Out came with it the fabled Sun King. 

“The myths say: the Sun King represents good, peace and beauty. From up above, he sees people as they truly are: a kingdom cracked like a glass mirror, made up of people who have no bonds of trust binding them to each other.

“He saw it and thought it was a sorry sight, indeed. So, he parted the clouds and peered down. Now… The Sun King had no great power. He couldn’t simply reach down and pluck the men apart. He couldn’t breathe sense into the warring, weak kings. But all who felt the light of his touch would lose their reason! 

“So, the Sun King parted the clouds and shone upon the sparring masses, turning their war cries into nonsensical babbles!”

Himiko giggled.

“Comrade turned to comrade and asked, ‘Where should we flank!?’  but all that came out was—”

Yagi screamed absurdly!

Himiko laughed harder. Katsuki gasped, aghast.

“And when one turned to ask, ‘What is happening to us!?’, the King heard—”

Yagi blew raspberries into his palm.

Himiko doubled over and clutched her stomach. 

“Both sides stopped their advances and turned to each other in panic. No words, no sounds, no language came out as it should. Except for the sound of their laughter. As one began laughing, so did another. And another. And another. The field was filled with delightful sounds; for many, this was their first time hearing laughter. As long as the sun stayed out, and the Sun King stayed peering over, the soldiers partied with one another.”

Himiko’s chuckles died as Yagi became sombre.

“The end.”

Katsuki raised his brows.

Yagi clapped his hands and looked to the children excitedly. 

“So!? Did you both enjoy it!?” asking with childlike excitement.

Himiko nodded aggressively. 

Katsuki ground his teeth.

“You didn’t like it after all, Kacchan?” Yagi asked with a smile.

Katsuki closed his eyes and sucked in a deep breath to swallow with it some of his anger.

“They didn’t even fight,” he bit out. “What a stupid story! Never tell a tale again, Yagi.”

Himiko shook her head. “It’s not stupid! So rude!” 

Katsuki had more words in his mouth, but he clenched his lips together and did not let them escape, not wanting to feel that awful, hot feeling from before.

Yagi laughed, dispersing the tension. 

“You’re not being rude, kid!” He ruffled Katsuki’s hair.

His jaw loosened.

Katsuki whacked the hand away. 

Yagi cleared his throat then lectured them, “The point of stories is to talk about them! Yes, this story is quite different to the ones we’re used to; I thought the same as Kacchan—” he knocked his knuckles into Katsuki’s cheeks, and Katsuki tried to hide his growing smile, “—as a kid. I wanted the weak King to learn his lesson!” Brandishing a fist.

Himiko cheered, “Yeah! I hate this story, too!”

Yagi chuckled and shook his head. “But, now, it’s one of my favourites.”

Himiko nodded sagely. “Of course. One of mine too…”

Katsuki gaped at her in disbelief. 

Yagi continued, “I have grown to like this ending—where no one fights, no blood is drawn. Why? Well, because of laughter! In the end, some joy is all that is needed, and there is strength in joy. Joy is as strong as All Might himself.”

Katsuki was obstinate, but he was no damn idiot. 

And he hated to lose. He was determined to hate this story. 

So, when Yagi asked, “And what do you think, Kacchan?”

Katsuki frowned. 

“It’s still a stupid story!”

Himiko shook her head in exasperation. 

Yagi asked, “And why is that?”

“How will anyone talk to the damn Sun King, huh!? If they start makin’ all those stupid, silly noises!?” he spat out. Yagi leaned back, and his brows disappeared into his hairline. “They’re just usin’ him!”

Himiko starts griping at him, and Katsuki turns his attention to her.

Then, when he turned to Yagi, he found that the old man was stunned.

He finally grinned at Katsuki and ruffled his hair with more force.

“I can’t say I understand, but you’re such a smart kid!”

The dreadful feelings of rejection had disappeared. Katsuki began smiling in earnest.

X

The training yard is full of men, and Katsuki hardly recognises any of them: clad in leather armour and bravado, veritably strapping and foaming at the mouth for a clash of swords. 

No, Katsuki doesn’t recognise them, but their demeanour is familiar.

Out of curiosity, he lets himself lean against the pillar and watch. 

But it is inevitable that he becomes compromised.

“Your highness!”

The young boys trip over themselves to bow. Katsuki grimaces.

Aegir, who has been leading the training, turns to Katsuki with a grimace to match. 

“Oi!” he shouts. “You gotta leave. They won’t focus on you here!”

The trainees and young knights share frightful glances amongst themselves.

Katsuki digs his heels in. “If I wanna see training, then I’m gonna fucking see it!” he shouts savagely. As if to make a point, he swings to the other side of the quad and perches himself on the stone colonnade.

“Whoa! Whoa!” Someone shouts from elsewhere.

They all turn. 

Sero arrives with an armful of training weapons each—flimsy bows, swords made from oak, hollow spears…

“Hey, well,” he taunts, letting all his wares clatter directly onto the grass. “If it isn’t the King Who Cried.”

Katsuki scrunches his nose.

Sero sings, “Ah, of course. Our Moste Illustrious Crying King.” The trainees chuckle.

Aegir joins, “Oh, are you going to cry now?”

They all laugh.

“Next person who makes a sound,” says Katsuki, “will be off the royal service.”

There is a single second of silence. 

Then, Sero is laughing. Aegir is putting more kindling on the fire. Sero is nudging recruits to broaden their smiles. It’s no good, thinks Katsuki. 

Soon enough, he is forgotten, and training begins in earnest. Katsuki sits exactly there and watches quietly as the boys work up a sweat and get accustomed to the weapons. Aegir splits them into groups, and the sword play happens right in front of Katsuki. Their feet are too slippery; their grip, too half-hearted.

They’re having fun until they’re not, until frustration begins creeping in. 

Katsuki massages his shoulder blades and watches lazily. Yesterday’s quest took more out of him than expected.

Across the courtyard, through the webbing of training bodies, he sees Izuku and the other apprentice. 

They’re carrying giant baskets piled with herbs, weeds, and flowers, talking about something important. He is animated and gesturing wildly. The clash of play-swords catches Izuku’s attention, at least, and his pace slows. Does he find the boys as utterly pubescent as Katsuki does? The youngest must be fucking twelve! Is he also thinking, how long has it been since I’ve picked up a sword in earnest? Does he miss the violence of it all?

Or is he grateful, and watching along in peace?

Like Katsuki is. 

Then, through the bodies, he notices Katsuki staring. There isn’t an instinct in either of them to close the distance. They hold each other’s gaze, and Izuku smiles in acknowledgement. 

Katsuki waves.

“Oooh!” someone teases Katsuki. It’s not loud enough to call attention from the busy school-yard, but just loud enough to ignite Katsuki’s ire. He tries to whack Sero, but he dips out of bounds in the last moment. 

Meanwhile, Izuku has turned away and is on his way to wherever he needs to be.

Katsuki watches him leave.

And he notices that Izuku stops, suddenly. 

Lord Boltho blocks Izuku’s way, making Katsuki crane his neck to see the interaction—because it is, indeed, an interaction. The Lord and Izuku aren’t conversing, but nor are they walking past each other.

Izuku says something; Katsuki can guess what it is. A nicety. A good day, Lord Boltho.

The Lord does not respond. He glares at Izuku knowingly. Katsuki grits his teeth. 

Katsuki’s brain doesn’t have space for the inconsequential. On this night, he is thinking of his next excursion, and he is thinking of watching training in the quad; these two thoughts, you should know, are connected. 

He is in Izuku’s room—the finest room in the western tower that was given but hardly used. 

Izuku, it seems, doesn’t want him here tonight. 

“You really should go,” he says, tired of beating around the bush.

“Shut up.” Katsuki takes his shirt off. “You addicted to sleeping in the King’s room, or something?”

“That’s obviously not what I mean!” Izuku slipped on his sleeping clothes. “People will find it weird if they find you here.”

“Who cares?”

“You should.” 

This was no banter. Izuku frowns, unsure what to do with himself as he loiters about the room. 

“Just come to bed already,” orders Katsuki.

To his credit, Izuku forgets to be annoyed in no time at all. In no time at all, he is under the covers with Katsuki and mumbling up a storm about that goddamn plague. 

“…doesn’t seem to be spreading beyond the west end, though…” Izuku sighs. “How weird is that, Kacchan? El hit a dead end with his livestock theory, which I found just stupid to begin with! I’m more concerned about how it’s only women and children being affected, still.”

“Some men got sick, though, didn’t they?” Katsuki asks curiously. The arm he has wrapped around Izuku strokes lazily. 

“Some,” but it’s very few.

“Do you have any theories?”

Izuku becomes quiet. 

So, that’s a yes.

Then, he turns conspiratorially to Katsuki and whispers, “That part of the city is becoming quite religious. Maybe they’re… I don’t know, doing it to themselves?”

Katsuki whistles. “That’s dark.”

“Yeah, well…” Izuku sighs. “You should keep an eye on this New God. No rest for the King, huh? You solve one problem, and another one will just pop up. And how about in the small council room? Anything troubling you there?”

“Is grass green?” Izuku chuckles. “They don’t give a damn about the plague, or any God. But they’re getting antsy about all the Saxons moving into the east.”

“Are they soldiers?”

“No, just regular people sailing across the channel. So, I’m trying not to do anything about it. Everyone on the east coast are just Saxons who did the same thing a hundred years ago. If it becomes violent, then that’s another matter.”

“Good thinking.” Izuku is quiet, but Katsuki can feel the weight of words unshed. After a few moments, Izuku asks in a changed voice, “Is there…anything else concerning them?”

Katsuki answers quickly. “No, that’s about it.”

Izuku hums. Then the conversation moves on to the banal: what they ate for lunch, Katsuki’s thoughts on the new recruits for the royal service. Izuku asks him, “Have you thought about maybe taking a wife soon?” while smiling.

Katsuki blinks. Doesn’t say anything.

“I mean,” Izuku says, “there’s no reason not to.” Katsuki blinks. “I’m not joking, you know! I mean, just for show. It’s just…you know? Politics. It wouldn’t even change anything. It could help you out in the east. Or… You know… If you need heirs.”

Katsuki’s brows tick up. 

Izuku continues, tripping over his own tongue in his enthusiasm, “We would still be together like this,” letting his weight completely slump into Katsuki. “Wouldn’t change a thing, except to secure your position. You’d be an idiot not to think about it, a little.”

Katsuki is quiet.

Then, he hums. 

Izuku stiffens and looks up.

Katsuki says, “Okay, I’ll think about it.”

Izuku looks at him. 

He says, “Thanks.”

There is no more conversation after this. Katsuki doesn’t make a move. It’s Izuku who stiffens his thighs, leans over, straddles Katsuki, runs his hands up and down his chest with no patience. It is Izuku who swoops down and pays no attention to Katsuki’s neck, or jaws, or nose, or forehead like usual. He swoops and kisses him on the lips. It’s instantly too much—rough, open-mouthed kisses as he shoves his hands in Katsuki’s breeches and palms his cock.

Katsuki stares in interest as Izuku riles himself up, rutting against Katsuki’s thighs while stroking Katsuki to fullness. He fumbles across the bed to grab some oil, pour some on his fingers so erratically that it spills all over Katsuki’s stomach. 

He’s kissing Katsuki to distraction while opening him up with his fingers. Eating up all the small, whispered noises that come through Katsuki’s parted lips. Licking his molars.

Katsuki has an entire arm wrapped around Izuku’s neck when he enters. He’s open-mouthed and delirious; Izuku bites into his lip and pulls, making him cry out.

Just like the kissing, the fucking is rough from the very beginning. Katsuki’s head hits the headboard; Izuku wraps a hand around it, whispers sorry, but doesn’t slow down. The grip tightens, like a shield, and it protects Katsuki from every hit. 

Katsuki digs his nails into Izuku’s back, tightening with every impact, every thrust.

“Ah!” he moans. “Shit, Deku.” Pulling him down and kissing him. 

The bed wilts and creaks precariously. The headboard bangs! against the stone wall. 

Katsuki’s legs tighten around Izuku’s hips, but they have no grip to them. They’re shaking. 

Izuku has his own, unique brand of eagerness. Katsuki has always known him. Izuku keeps fucking him, and Katsuki thinks of this. He thinks how this earnestness—the genuine attention Izuku showers on anything that interests him—is a dangerous thing at the best of times. 

And when this earnestness is pointed entirely on Katsuki in moments like this—when something is too much for Izuku to handle through human manners—it’s…

It’s goddamn overwhelming.

It’s this stupid thought that makes the underside of Katsuki’s chest cavity swell and invites his climax. He shouts louder than he usually does; his nails are digging in to the point of drawing blood. 

Izuku stays rough while Katsuki comes down from his pleasure.

When Izuku comes a few minutes later, it’s a completely different show; he whimpers. His brows are stitched in pain. The whine is almost inhuman. 

He stretches his pleasure as much as he can while slowly fucking Katsuki through it.

Through it all, Katsuki draws lazy circles on Izuku’s scalp, watching in curiosity.

Izuku falls asleep on top of him. Katsuki is not far behind. The next morning isn’t so pleasant. His stomach is smeared with oil and cum, his skin feels hot and sticky. His muscles are sore, and he is tired. He wants to sleep a little longer, but he has to make preparations for his next expedition.

Barely being able to open his eyes, Katsuki squints through the daylight and turns.

Izuku is awake, staring at the ceiling.

“Mornin’,” Katsuki greets.

Izuku doesn’t say anything. 

And Katsuki can’t come up with an excuse to stay in bed.

“You shouldn’t take a wife.”

Katsuki turns to Izuku. His expression is steely, and his words are dead-set. 

“Okay,” says Katsuki. 

It is Izuku who swings his legs off the bed first. Before getting on with his day and leaving their peace behind, he leans over the bed and kisses the ball of Katsuki’s shoulder.

XI

“Are you going on your quest the same time Shouto leaves?” 

“Yeah.” Katsuki grabs a spear and experimentally tosses it between his hands. “We’ll share a few days on the road together, and we’ll go see Mina and Aoyama, too.”

Denki hums, appraising the spear. 

“I hope you have an extravagant menu planned for tonight. We’re all looking forward to it.”

“The half-half bastard said he’d be happy with some bread and butter.” Katsuki sneers at Denki. “So, you’d all better be happy with that, too.”

Denki continues poking at him; Katsuki keeps dodging both the physical and verbal assaults. 

“You came here just to annoy me or something!?” Katsuki finally explodes.

Denki laughs sheepishly. “You can see right through me, huh!?” He rubs his nape. “Thing is, it’s nice Shouto is going to try and find his brother, you know? But aren’t you a bit sad to see him go?”

Katsuki appraises him, instead—a fighter’s eye that looks for splinters in his spear. “It’s not a sad thing. He won’t be happy holed up here when there are things he needs to be doing.”

Denki hums. 

Then, Katsuki starts paying attention. 

Because Denki looks stiff. 

He smiles. “Well…” Looking anywhere but at Katsuki. “You might have to tell the kitchens to work a little harder next time. Because my tastes are a bit finer than Shouto’s.”

Katsuki is caught off guard.

Denki chuckles. 

“I think I want to take Jirou back home for a little bit. Show her Catalonia.”

“Is that so?”

Denki’s grin tempers into a smile.

“Yeah. Lots of songs to be sung in España. Lots of stories to be shared. My brothers will be quite jealous; their wives are quite homely, to say the least. I can’t wait to see the look on their faces when they see us.” Katsuki thinks, no, you just can’t wait. He knows well enough that Denki’s knives are all feathered.

That wash of nostalgia—coloured in pink cheeks and wide eyes—softens Katsuki. 

He scoffs. Then, he turns fully towards Denki. 

“Are you in love with her, or something?” callously.

Denki flushes.

“Ah… Well, yes, I am. You see,” he takes on a pompous air, but it’s not skin too thick, “our love doesn’t need to be spoken about—the special thing that it is. It’s not a flimsy little thing all about…about the kissing and the bedding.”

Katsuki squints.

He wonders, have I been setting a bad example?

Katsuki sighs deeply. “Kissing and bedding help,” he chastises.

Denki laughs. “Helps what?”

Katsuki thinks about that, looks Denki head-on, and says, “Helps everything,” meaningfully.

Denki throws his head back completely and laughs. His expression takes on boyish contortions that bring pleasure to sing in Katsuki’s heart. He will recall this sight two weeks later when he waves Denki and Jirou away in the courtyard; the images flashing behind his eyes will make the goodbye taste sweet on his tongue.

But before then, he shares a dinner with his friends, where they all wish Shouto a good journey. Katsuki hugs him; Izuku cries about it all. And Shouto gives them both a vigorous, toothy smile. Denki and Jirou’s dinner will be a grander affair than that, where the whole castle will be invited to revel in earthly delights. Katsuki sits on the mess table with his friends rather than on the Kingly raised dais. As the alcohol flows, he slings an arm around Izuku’s shoulder and kisses his cheek. The table hollers, and if the nobles exchanged glances, then neither the prince nor the physician’s apprentice cares to notice.

XII

The last expedition left Katsuki with two deep gashes on his left bicep; the perpetrators were the low-lying branches of the eastern forests. 

Izuku is mouthing off a storm while standing between Katsuki’s legs and bandaging the wounds. 

Katsuki sits on the edge of the worktable and looks around; he had never quite seen the workroom in this state of disorder.

He says, “How dare that old man!? Making such a declaration about fucking off and still not fucking off.”

Izuku pinched the healthy bit of skin under Katsuki’s wound.

“Ow!”

“Yagi says he’s waiting for something, but won’t tell me what.”

At that, Katsuki winces. Oh, right. 

“Were you even listening to what I was saying, Kacchan?” Izuku whines.

“Yeah, yeah,” he huffs. “You solved the plague, then?”

“Yes…” Izuku says in a low, expectant voice. “But how?” he tested.

Katsuki is as observant as he is reckless. He recalls, “It was the bar, right? All the men were drinking beer from the bar, and all the women and children were drinking from the spoiled well, so only they got sick.

“Yes, exactly!” Izuku smiles slightly. There is something subdued in his manners today. A lethargy as he carefully ties Katsuki’s bandage. “El figured it out in the end. I guess living in the city is what helped him. We cleaned out the well while…while you were gone, and, since then, no one has gotten sick. That area is quite religious, so the women don’t go to the tavern as much; El pointed that out. From there, it all just clicked into place.”

“What, you guys are best friends now?”

Izuku bites the inside of his cheeks. “He’s smart. We’ve always been friends.”

Katsuki laughs out loud. 

Izuku scampers off to the shelves, plucks out a vial, and brings it to Katsuki. “You have to drink this twice a day to ward off infection, your grace.”

Katsuki takes the vial from his fingers. 

“Thanks,” he says lazily. 

Izuku lingers, stuck in this point of the conversation, unable to move on to the next, natural thing. And there were so many things for them to share! 

Katsuki tips his head back and looks up at Izuku. He’s sitting on the worktable, legs dangling over the side.

He asks, “How’s it been here?”

Katsuki has been gone for seven days and seven nights.

Izuku sighs. 

“Mina left so long ago. Then Shouto, now Denki. And, suddenly, you.” A small smile creeps up to his lips, but doesn’t reach his eyes. “How long will you be here, Kacchan?”

“It’s pretty quiet with the Lords this time of the year.” Spring has almost come. “So, I’m leaving again in a few days. Gotta let myself heal.”

Izuku looked down thoughtfully. Then, he asks casually, “To do what?”

Trying his luck!

“I didn’t tell you the last hundred times you asked, stupid Deku. Safe to assume I’m not gonna say it now!”

Izuku tempers his disappointment well. He clears his throat, plasters an artificial smile on his lips, and pivots. “At least Yagi was here. But honestly, I miss Jirou the most.”

“Jirou?”

“Yeah… We were talking a lot.”

“You were?” 

Katsuki did not know this. It irks him. 

“About what?”

Izuku pulls a stool out. They are eye-to-eye now, and Katsuki can see him properly. His shoulders are loose, and he is calm.

Katsuki relaxes, too.

“Do…” begins Izuku in a quiet, unsure manner. “Do you remember when we returned from battle last summer—what Yagi told me? That…that I’d done great damage with my shadows when I hurt all those people?”

Katsuki’s skin prickles in concern. Has he been killing himself over this?

“Yeah,” he grunts out.

“Well,” a dazzling smile overtakes his expression, “I’ve been working on something with Jirou. To do something about it.”

Katsuki raises his brows. Unbeknownst to him, his lips mirror Izuku’s.

Izuku continues, “We… Um—” he flushes, “have been working on a song, written from my perspective to…to help people understand why it happened; that it happened because of love, and that I stopped myself because of love. Because, when I…” he looks at Katsuki, “I saw your face, you were asking me to stop. So, I had to. I couldn’t hurt you.”

Katsuki blinks. 

“And not just that, Kacchan,” says Izuku. “We told the whole story—of the four, of how I tried to help you, how I floated the soldiers with the help of Cu Sith. Jirou says the use of All Might’s old pal is going to be a real hit when she spreads it around!”

Katsuki chuckles softly. “Sounds like a very long song. You’re going to put everyone to sleep.”

Izuku scoffs lightly. “It’s quite abridged.”

Katsuki feels numb and warm all over. His lips are stuck in a permanent smile.

Izuku, suddenly shy, cants forward. Katsuki leans, too, so that their foreheads rest together.

After a moment of silence, Katsuki can’t hold it in anymore. Hold the warmth inside. 

“So,” he whispers to himself, “the Sun King finally floats to the ground...”

“Hm?” Izuku leans away. “What?”

“It’s…” Katsuki becomes embarrassed. “Nothin’. Just a stupid story from childhood.”

“Will you share it with me?”

“Of course.” Katsuki grins, showing teeth. “It’s one of my favourites.”

XV

This one is a bust, too!

Katsuki is cold to the bone as he rides through the Kingswoods—cold, hungry and fucking disappointed, but none of this discomfort shows on his expression, in his measured movements, in the way he dismounts to take a break. There is a calmness to riding with exactly no one.

He finds strength in his disappointment, and in this strength, there is a resilience. 

Katsuki collects firewood, shakes the snow away, dries it with his cloak, and builds a fire at the edge of the frozen Lake Cam. All the while, he plans where he could go looking next. 

The flames flicker to life.

Fingers thaw and colour return to cheeks; Katsuki releases the tension held captive in his shoulder blades. He exhales and is satisfied when the fog dies against the heat. The King, like most of his subjects, wishes ardently for summer, but around him is the death and decay of wintertime; still, in his mind’s eye, he can see it: overladen willow trees hunching over the green waters, water that will be warm to the touch on the hottest day of the year…

And he can see memories—precious, precious memories. 

With the fire’s touch against his cheeks, Katsuki dips into one. One where Sir Brandon had taken Katsuki and Himiko to this very lake to teach them how to swim. Himiko was a fish in the goddamn pond at four years old, doing laps by herself while Sir Brandom loitered around the edge. “Jump in, Kacchan!” he had pleaded, holding his hands out. “I’ll catch you!” But Katsuki saw liars from a mile away. 

He squinted, and shouted, “You—you—you’re gonna fucking move ba-back and let me fall!” 

Sir Brandon instantly winced. Then, he fumbled over his tongue, “Y-yes, but I wouldn’t let you drown! You’ll be fine!”

Katsuki turned away. 

“Okay, okay, fine. I will catch you.”

Katsuki stared at him distrustfully. 

“Kacchan,” Sir Brandon said sternly, “your father ordered me to teach you how to swim!”

The feeling of failure made Katsuki dig his heels in.

Himiko, floating behind Sir Brandon now, rolled into the water! Kicking her legs up and diving straight in.

Sir Brandon sighed. 

“It doesn’t do well to fear something so enjoyable, kid.”

It was the hottest day of the year, and Katsuki was burning.

Fear.

He hung on the word. 

Suddenly, against every instinct, he ran into the water! 

Launching himself away from both Sir Brandon and that show-off, Himiko.

When he crashed into the water and plummeted, so did his heart. Katsuki’s muscles seized. Beyond the surface of the water, he heard the old Knight shout, clamouring to get to the drowning prince.

Katsuki stopped sinking. He was stationary; his skin was no longer burning from the inside. The water felt nice.

He kicked.

And he opened his eyes. Arms gliding through the water, he shifted and lifted. He moved them with more purpose, and soon—

Katsuki broke through!

Gasping.

It took fifteen more seconds for Sir Brandon to catch up to him. Katsuki had counted.

“Damn kid!” he asked with real fear. He tried to grab him, but Katsuki suddenly kicked away, wading.

Through his boyish peals of laughter, Katsuki taunted, “Who—who’s afraid now, old man!?”

Himiko clapped for him. Katsuki slipped underwater again—limbs flailing—as he learned the shape of water.

When Katsuki opens his eyes, he is surrounded by winter once again, though he still feels the sun’s touch on his skin. 

Leaning against a tree completely, legs stretched out before him… The snow sprinkled on his boots melts against the heat of his fire. It’s a promise—the melting snow, and the smile still remaining on his lips—that spring will come.

A small tittering catches his attention. 

“Hah?”

There is a squirrel gnawing on his boot. Katsuki frowns. The little bastard flashes his teeth and grins. 

‘Thought they had stopped following me!’

Before Katsuki can even think about nudging it, the squirrel bounds away! But as soon as it lands on the ice, it runs back.

Then, it returns to the ice, going a bit further before returning. 

‘Huh?’

The stupid little thing blinks at Katsuki. 

“Fine.”

Katsuki is led across the frozen lake, which creaks and crackles precariously, but never splinters. Then, under brambles and birches, he is led.

A movement suddenly catches his eye. He sees it. He fucking sees it.

Katsuki arrives after this excursion in a similar fashion to how he usually does: he goes first to the workroom where there is Yagi; they talk; they make preparations. 

Then, Katsuki wants nothing more than a scalding hot bath. This is a small order for a King. 

And when he sees Izuku, he smiles widely, swoops down and kisses him passionately, as if he were made of water.

Izuku hesitantly kisses back. 

“No more expeditions,” Katsuki says, then he hurriedly tacks on, “for a while.”

Izuku tries very hard to reciprocate Katsuki’s obvious joy, but there is only so much he can force. Even as he pushes the conversation towards the mundane—castle matters—his manners remain subdued. 

Katsuki’s gut squirms in guilt—sure—but he makes himself swallow it.

Not long now, Deku. He’s grateful that Izuku swallows, and swallows, and swallows.

They have a calm night together, making love to melt every other concern away if only for one night. They sleep soundly. 

When Katsuki wakes up the next morning, he’s warm, tired, and goddamn content. 

He’s also alone. 

Pulling his eyes open, rubbing the sleep away, he looks around the room. Izuku isn’t far, he finds; he is perched on the far corner of the bed.

“Deku,” Katsuki rasps, sitting up. “Don’t have anything to do today. Wanna go back to sleep?”

Izuku turns over his shoulder. He’s sleepy, too, and considers Katsuki’s suggestion with a plain expression. 

Then, he shakes his head.

“I should…get a head start on some things.”

Katsuki is disappointed. 

“You want help?”

“No, that’s okay.”

Katsuki winces. Before he can plan his words, Izuku gets up and searches for his clothes.

“Wait, wait.” Katsuki springs to action, swinging his legs out. The underside of his feet stings against the cold, winter stone. 

Izuku doesn’t, in fact, wait. But Katsuki catches up to him.

Turning Izuku towards him by the chin, Katsuki looks down, sighs, and decides: fine. “Fine.” Kissing him on the forehead, then smiling softly. “I’ll come find you, anyway.”

Izuku reciprocates his smile. Then, he turns and walks towards the door. 

Katsuki decides, I’m going back to sleep. He’s even pulling the blanket back—

“Kacchan.”

Katsuki turns around. 

“I want to know what you do on your expeditions.”

Izuku faces Katsuki wholeheartedly. His shoulders and jaws are set in determination; his voice is low and firm. 

Katsuki sighs. This is what he was fearing. He was fearing having to say, “No, I can’t tell you.” 

Izuku’s hands clench into fists.

“But why?”

“Sorry, Izuku,” Katsuki says tiredly. “You’re just gonna have to trust me. Okay?” Izuku looks down. His displeasure shows on every facet of his expression. 

Katsuki winces and steps forward. Damage control.

Izuku takes a step back. His back touches the door.

“Izuku…”

He looks like an animal—cornered, whimpering….

Upset.

He looks up.

Angry, too. 

“I’m…” Izuku’s voice is strained. “I’m tired of pretending it doesn’t bother me. I’m tired of ignoring that I don’t know exactly what’s happening here,” he ranted.

Katsuki raises a brow. “Exactly what’s happening here?” he parrots pompously. “Tell me then, Deku, what’s happening?”

“You—” but Izuku stops himself. Swallows his words. He takes a step forward and implores, “Kacchan, please just tell me. And I’ll be fine! I just—”

“—I can’t.”

“Or won’t?”

Katsuki laughs. “Yeah, fine, I won’t!” 

He is pushing Izuku into a rage.

“What’s happening,” Izuku snaps, “is that—that you’re keeping secrets! And it—”

“What?” Katsuki scoffs, mirroring his rage for no goddamn reason, just because he can. “Makes you feel bad?”

“There!” Izuku screamed.

Katsuki flinches.

Izuku’s voice is debilitated. 

Red-faced, he continues, “There it is!” He cries. “You… You never really for…forgave me.” He sobs. “You—you’re holding a grudge, right?” He sniffs. “Because I used to…to…to…to…” hiccupping, panting, “to…keep secrets.”

Katsuki takes a step forward.

Izuku takes a step back. 

“You—you—you…” He sniffs, and tries to breathe through his cruel cocktail of anger and hurt. “You tr-try to fuck, kiss, touch, smile through it, tri-tricking me into—into thinking it’s alright. That you’re…you’re happy.”

Katsuki gasps, and his eyes open in panic.

“B-b-but you never forgave me!” Izuku heaves dryly. Katsuki takes another step forward, and Izuku tries to flee; his back hits the wall completely. “Ever since you started leaving, you…you’ve been cutting me out. Doing—doing gods know what. To punish—”

“I’m not trying to punish you, dammit!” 

Katsuki forcibly closes the distance between them. Izuku thrashes as Katsuki tries to hold him still. Just stay still!

“I’m not, Izuku!”

Izuku’s arguments are drowned out by his own crying. 

Katsuki’s eyes prick with his own guilt.

He whispers a mantra against Izuku’s thrashing figure, directly into his ear: “I can’t say it. Can’t say it. Soon, Deku. Promise. Soon. Trust me. Love you. Forgive you. Love you. Love you.” And he does it until Izuku burns through his anger, rage, energy, until he is heaving against Katsuki’s chest quietly. 

He is resentful while Katsuki takes care of him. And prideful enough not bring it up again. 

They don’t sleep in the same room again. Not until spring comes.

XVI

This day does not require a thick outer cloak.

Izuku would wake up, see that it was quite warm, and, maybe, he’d reach for it anyway. Maybe he’d leave it behind before embarking on his journey. 

Katsuki waits in front of the ruins impatiently, tapping his feet on the mulchy ground. He decides to start pacing. 

Maybe, he thinks, Izuku hates him just enough not come. 

“Let’s have some tea,” Yagi offers to distract him. Katsuki refuses. 

They are halfway through a cup of hot, herby drink, regardless, and it tastes like nothing at all.

Katsuki hears neighing. 

He drops the metal mug on the floor and runs towards the gates. 

Izuku had decided to wear the cloak in the end. He dismounts from his horse and has a letter in his fingers. 

Upon seeing him, Katsuki comes to a breathless stop and smiles in relief. 

“H-hi,” he greets. “You came.”

Izuku looks to the sky, then to his feet.

He won’t close the distance.

So, Katsuki will. 

Izuku asks, “Why did you call me here, Kacchan?” holding up the letter.

Katsuki is close now, close enough to wrap his hand around Izuku’s fist and lower the hand. 

He swoops down and kisses Izuku sweetly. Izuku tips his head back and reciprocates. 

Izuku pulls away first, but he doesn’t go far. His expression is thoughtful, carrying in it echoes of hurt and sombreness. 

“Izuku,” Katsuki whispers. “I’m sorry.” He steps away. “I’m sorry for keeping secrets, but it’s what I…we had to do. But…”

Katsuki holds a hand out.

“I’m ready to tell you all about it.”

Izuku looks at the hand, then his eyes dart up to Katsuki. He is determined now. 

And he grabs Katsuki’s hand. When they reach the mouth of the ruin, Izuku finds a familiar face greeting him.

“Yagi,” he says with some resentment. “You… You know what this is about?”

Yagi sighs. 

“I’m sorry. “

He comes forward, but Izuku steps away. 

Still, he does not let go of Katsuki’s hand.

“Izuku, my boy,” Yagi begins mournfully, “I hope you will forgive us for keeping you in the dark… But you’ll understand soon enough.”

“Understand what!?” Izuku cries out. 

“Izuku,” comes a sharp voice. “Don’t yell…”

“Mother!?” Izuku’s spine straightens. His eyes widen with horror. “What!?”

She comes out into the hallway. 

“You’ve become so rude!” But she is smiling, and there isn’t a trace of anger in her features.

“M-m-mother…” Izuku is stunned as she comes forward and hugs him. 

She sighs against his chest. “I’ve missed you.”

Izuku sobs dryly, tucking his cheek into her hair. He wraps his arms around her, but one hand still holds Katsuki’s fingers. Over his mother’s shoulder, Izuku stares at Katsuki questioningly. 

‘Time’s up,’ Katsuki realises with some dread. 

Katsuki sighs and lets go. 

“Izuku, I wanna… I want to tell you what I’ve been doing since Christmas. Then it’ll make sense why we’re all here, and what’s waiting for us,” he points behind his shoulder with his thumb, “in there.”

Izuku straightens.

Katsuki clears his throat. “Don’t know where to start… I have been searching all over the realm for someone. And the slippery bastard…” Yagi chuckles; Izuku frowns in confusion. “Just didn’t wanna be found!”

Izuku’s mother laughs, too.

And Izuku grits his teeth. “What is going on?”

Katsuki sighs.

“Just…come inside, you idiot.”

Katsuki leads Izuku through the dilapidated ruin, just as Izuku had once upon a time. Once upon a time, Izuku had led Katsuki here and showed him the ceremonial ground where he would conduct a séance to raise Katsuki’s sleeping father. Not long ago, they both returned here to meet old friends and foes.

Katsuki leads Izuku, now, and when they spill into what once was a great hall, Izuku gasps. 

On the altar, there is an old friend.

Izuku stutters, “It’s… It’s…”

“Yeah,” it’s fucking ridiculous!

“It’s a sheep!” Izuku yelps!

Katsuki thinks the thing looks as stupid as it ever did! Sitting on the altar and looking at them all eagerly. 

It had come to Yagi as a green dog.

It had come to Katsuki as a green cat.

And it stood here, before Izuku, as a green sheep.

“It’s…” Izuku’s eyes are wide. He’d recognise it in any form. “It’s Cu Sith.” He turns to Katsuki, shocked. “You…were looking for Cu Sith?” Shocked and confused.

“Yeah.”

“Why?”

Katsuki sighs. 

“Izuku…” he says carefully, inching forward. He bends down and looks him in the eyes. “Izuku, I was looking for him, for you.”

Izuku flinches. He grimaces.

Katsuki continues, “Gods, I went all over the Kingdom trying to track it down. Turns out it never really left Camelot! It was just wandering around the Kingswood, waiting to be found.”

Izuku turns on his heels.

“My boy!” Yagi comes forward.

Izuku is spooked. He takes another step back.

“Izuku, dear…” His mother reaches out and touches his elbow. “Just hear them!”

Katsuki explains desperately, “It’s waiting for you.” Very patiently, in fact. The sheep smiles invitingly from the altar. “We have made all the preparations for the Ceremony of Combination—”

Izuku laughs. 

“This—this is ridiculous!” He laughs again.

Katsuki straightens and appraises him. 

“You don’t want it?” he asks.

“Want it?” he asks dryly. Then, he looks to his mother. “I’ve ridden myself of…of this burden. Curse. Finally. How could you let them think this was a good idea, mother!?” 

His mother smiles nervously. 

Then, she squares her shoulders. There’s a watery quality to her lips now as she says, 
“Katsuki came to find me in the winter, Izuku. He told me he wants to do this for you, and asked me what I thought, what you would think—”

“—then you should’ve been honest with him, mother!” Izuku yelled, then laughed again. “Because this is the last thing I could ever want!”

Cu Sith bleats.

Izuku’s mother sighs. 

She asks, “Why?”

Izuku stutters, “What do you mean?”

“Why is it the last thing you want, my dear?” she asks. “Do you not miss having magic, even a little bit?”

Izuku is stunned into silence. 

“I…” She chokes up. “I never made you and your power feel welcome, son. This is my atonement. Please, if you want it, take this gift from Katsuki.”

Izuku’s expression clenches in disbelief.

“My boy!” Yagi grins widely. “This power, it…. I cannot lie to you, it is a violence. You felt merely a moment of it on the ridge in Bernicia, but upon Combination, it will take a lot out of your body if you are not responsible. Even so….” The grin widens. “I cannot think of a better person to hold my old friend!”

Izuku looks between Yagi and his mother. He shrouds his reactions and retreats into his mind as they eagerly await his conversation. 

But after a moment of silence, all he says—through gritted teeth—is, “Kacchan. Can I talk to you outside for a moment?”

Both Yagi and Izuku’s mother look at Katsuki apprehensively.

“It was your idea?”

Katsuki is not one to cower, but he does cower against this new tone, new in Izuku. 

“Yeah,” he squares his shoulders, “It was. I knew you would have stopped me, so I didn’t say anything.”

“You’ve…” Izuku forces himself to exhale. When the words don’t come, he starts to pace.

Katsuki is worried. 

“Oi!” he follows. “What the hell!? Are you actually upset?”

Izuku spins around. 

“I’m angry!” 

Katsuki flinches.

“You…” Izuku breathes in. “All this time, you…you’ve been setting my damn nerves on end! Getting hurt on your…your pointless expeditions, because…why!? To…to get this thing that I don’t….don’t even need!? Want!?”

“Why are you upset?” 

“I’m not upset, I’m—”

“You’re fucking upset!”

Katsuki leaps forward, grabs his shoulders, and holds him in place. He forces Izuku to look up. Taking him in—taking in every single marker of discomfort in his muscles, brows, eyes—Katsuki realises that Izuku, sometimes, bears many similarities to his father: the late, great King. They both had an iron-strong will; they both despised their own vulnerability.

The King used to bury his discomfort under strength. Izuku tries to bury his under smiles, enthusiasm, and happiness. 

Katsuki, the one closest to both, had pioneered ways to see through it.

He says carefully, “Izuku, I know you don’t want it.”

Izuku flinches.

“Then…” He relaxes. “Then why do it?”

“Because I can see your heart. I can see that it is what you should do, you idiot. You should combine with it and accept this magic. Because I know that you know…you miss it. Right?”

Izuku can’t bear to look at him.

Katsuki leans down until they’re cheek to cheek, slumped together.

“I want you to have magic, because it’s your destiny.”

“Destiny doesn’t—doesn’t…” without the weight of being looked at, Izuku cries freely. “Doesn’t exist anymore. Ka—Kachan, you’ve destroyed destiny.”

“I’ve destroyed that thing you love, Izuku…”

“No! I—I hated—”

“You didn’t. You shouldn’t hate it. It was you. Destiny isn’t gone, Deku. Destiny can’t just be…be curses. That’s just too damn sad! Destiny should be… It should be your happy ending. It should be whatever makes you happy. And I…”

Katsuki pulls away and holds Izuku still. 

“And I embarked on this last quest to make you happy. To give you what you want.”

Izuku sobs. 

“I,” choking, “don’t—don’t,” he hiccups, “need it.”

“I know…” Katsuki smiles sadly. “It’s all extra. And…” he brushes Izuku’s tears away with his thumbs, “and magic is so goddamn beautiful, Izuku. Why wouldn’t you accept it?”

Izuku cries out. Through it all, he raises his head and smiles. 

He grins toothily at Katsuki, eyes closing under the force.

He continues crying as Katsuki grabs him gently and manoeuvres him back inside the ruins. Izuku is completely limp, but he’s also malleable. He lets Katsuki take him towards what awaits inside and doesn’t argue or reject the gift. 

Yagi, Katsuki, and Inko prepare the ceremony. They sprinkle herbs into the air, throw oil all around, and position each artefact as it should be. When that is done, Yagi grabs the faerie staff and recites a strange language.

Then, he leads Izuku to the altar. 

Before leaving the creature and Izuku to it, Yagi pats Izuku’s shoulder apologetically and gives a warning through his eyes. Katsuki will understand later just why.

The combination is a great big show of colour and light—red, orange, blue, green, yellow, purples. All facets combine and become white. Katsuki covers his eyes, and when he dares to look again, there is no creature. There is only Izuku, crying out in pain. His arms are purple from the ball of his shoulder to the tip of his fingers!

And his hair is green! 

“I…brought you some fruit, Deku.”

Silence.

“I can’t eat it,” says Izuku, tearfully, while raising his bandaged arms.

Katsuki laughs as he takes a seat beside his cot in Yagi’s workroom. 

“I’ll feed you, you useless bastard.” The words come out exceptionally affectionate.

He takes a blueberry and pushes it through Izuku’s lips.

The window in the workroom is open. A lone robin flitters through and lands on the headboard of the cot. Animals rarely come to Katsuki anymore, and when they do, he no longer curses them.

Instead, Katsuki thinks of the past. “Remember that evil fucking sprite who blackmailed us all those years ago? Tooru? She must’ve seen me feeding you these,” he pushes another blueberry in, “when you were sick during Ilmboc. I must’ve looked like I was in love with you, because that moron put some blueberries in my blackmail note.”

Izuku had seemed distracted, but now he smiles at Katsuki. “So, you stole a donkey to, what? Hide your feelings?” He chews the blueberry cheekily.

Katsuki has no rebuttal. He laughs sheepishly and says, “Yeah, Izuku. Exactly that.”

He goes to feed Izuku again, but Izuku jerks his face away.

Then, he makes a great big show of sitting up.

Wincing.

Katsuki asks, “You need something?”

Izuku shakes his head, then pins Katsuki with an expression as serious as serious can be. It sobers Katsuki right up.

He asks, “Tell me, Kacchan…” He has that look, that look that belonged only to Izuku—the only way of warning that you were about to be bulldozed by him. “Tell me, how is it that someone like Eri, who has betrayed us and our cause, can live a life of peace at the edge of the Kingdom?” Izuku continues, “How can Tenko, who has killed thousands of people in his quest for vengeance, get to seclude himself in a beautiful Nowhere, and live in peace?”

Katsuki smiles sadly. 

“You tell me.” 

Izuku doesn’t waver. 

“Because they want it.”

“Right.”

“Right. So, you get it? You get what I’m trying to say?”

Katsuki sighs. 

But he doesn’t say anything.

“I’m asking,” Izuku impresses, “after what you and I have achieved, why not us? Why can’t we choose that? Don’t we want it?”

Katsuki continues smiling. 

“You know…”  Katsuki’s voice is soft and cracked. He shuffles closer to Izuku. “Masa left his cottage in my name. I tried to reject it, but he insisted. It’ll be there for us, one day—”

“—But not today.”

Katsuki shakes his head. “You mentioned Tenko. He told me that he thinks his peace is more than he deserves, after all he’s done. Maybe you agree with him.”

Izuku looks away shamefully. 

Katsuki laughs and pulls his face towards him. 

“But the way I see it, it’s exactly what he deserves. For much of the life you and I have shared together, Izuku, we have been the villeins. Those old songs you have made about me sing of heroes, but…but that’s not the whole story, is it? How many people have we seen killed in this castle? How hard have we fought for a rotten legacy?”

Izuku is wide-eyed.

Katsuki continues, “It’s the hand I’ve been dealt, and it’s the life you found yourself dropped in. And we’ve done the best we could. We freed ourselves of our curses, but there’s so much more to make up for, right?”

Izuku blinked.

“It feels like…” Katsuki exhales. “We need to serve for a little while longer.” Then, he offers Izuku a lopsided smile. “You can be one of my knights, now, like we’ve always played at. Not just a damn physician, but a fighter. I’ll send you where you’re needed, or I’ll join you, and we’ll adventure together.  You’ll always return to my side after it all. Doesn’t that sound nice? This duty?”

Izuku chokes.

He looks pained. 

Then, he says sadly, “Do you think I’m stupid, Kacchan?” His eyes shimmer with unshed tears. His lips wobble.

“Hey…!” Katsuki leans over and brushes them away.

The bird tweets.

“I can see what you’re trying to do.” The tears keep falling. “You’re making it as though…as though I’m atoning with you. But…but you see right through me. You knew from the…the very day we broke the curse that I wanted this.” He looks at his broken day. “You knew, right? That losing my magic…broke my fucking heart. And that I wanted it back.”

Katsuki sighs. He’s too smart for his own fucking good.

“And… And…” Izuku grapples desperately. “You’ve searched the land to give me what I want. You’ve given everyone their happy endings.” Katsuki thinks of boyish smiles, quests beyond, saying goodbye to friends and family. He thinks of where Himiko and Ochako are right now, adventuring in their own right. He thinks of Tenko in his cottage at the end of the world. “You’ve tried your best to give everyone their happy ending except your own. You… You…” Izuku sobs. “You’re the only one still atoning.”

Katsuki smiles sadly. 

“It’s not like that,” he says. “I’m not unhappy. How can I be? I’m sharing my life with the man I love; I’m surrounded by friends and family; I’m ruling a Kingdom, making sure it’s as just and fair as can be. How can I be unhappy, Izuku? Do I look unhappy?”

“But…but the House—”

“Masa thinks he’s offering me an escape!” Katsuki laughs, grinning unsteadily. “He probably offered the same thing to my mother, you know. We both declined, for now. But… But trust me, Izuku. I haven’t forgotten about the House, just yet.””

Katsuki’s lips fall into an effortless, toothy smile. His heart pangs under the weight of this thing called happiness.

Izuku sniffs. “I—I—I know.” Katsuki keeps wiping Izuku’s tears away. “I just…” He inhales, and it hitches. “Katsuki.” Izuku looks up. “I…I don’t know what to do with this…this…feeling building up all over my body… It’s going to burn right through me.”

“The power?” 

Izuku laughs dryly and shakes his head. 

“No, I’m used to power. I know how to temper magic. That’s simple. It’s… It’s when I think of you and everything that you are that this feeling swells within, and I have no clue what to do with it. I…” He’s crying helplessly, and Katsuki feels that same force swell within him, too. “I feel so much for you that I don’t know where to put it all. It’ll kill me. You… You are everything this world is made for. But you’re still the only one who… Who….”

Katsuki shakes his head, and he realises he is also crying. 

“You’re not listening to me, you simpleton.” Katsuki gently grabs Izuku’s bandaged hand. “Going off thinkin’ I’m selfless! I’m not. That’s not me bein’ humble, either!” He jeers. “I’m not denying myself a happy ending. 

“Happiness isn’t a job; and home is not a House, nor a Castle. Home is where the heart lies, and you’re my happy ending.” 

Izuku chokes.

Katsuki shuffles as close as he can, moving with excitement. “Izuku, listen.” And he shares a story. “There’s going to be a day when I take this crown off. Yagi said no one can hold Cu Sith forever, you know. It’s too wild to be confined. So, one day I’ll leave this behind, and you’ll leave behind your new friend.  On that day, come meet me in that cottage upon the hillside next to the sea. And we’ll taste that kind of happiness, too.”

Katsuki can see it: after a lifetime of friendships, adventure and love, they’ll choose only each other. Maybe Izuku will already be there while Katsuki rides upon that hill. Maybe his hair—dark again—will be peppered with white. Maybe will have wrinkles which follow their smiles like old friends. 

Katsuki will ride up that hill by the sea, find Izuku waiting outside on the grassy knoll, and he…

Katsuki hears a voice. Past and present mix inscrutably, but it belongs to himself and has a childlike tenor. It smiles with teeth and screams, ‘I can’t wait!’

Katsuki, the End