Chapter Text
Bakugou landed with a thud. The grass beneath him felt trampled, flat and rough while it brushed against his arms. His head throbbed again, body sore and tender like he’d been tossed around a few times by some adolescent dragons. A great force landing near him caused the earth to rumble. The barbarian lord groaned, opening his eyes to see a mighty dragon beside him. The beast looked like it’d been dragged through hell and back, too, with gashes gracing it’s gleaming red scales.
“Kirishima,” Bakugou huffed out a laugh, “What? Some frail old hag did all that to you?”
The dragon shifted before Bakugou’s eyes, and before he knew it, the beast became a man. Tall, strong, naked as the day he was born. His fiery red hair laid sprawled over his shoulders, a few strands sneaking their way over his face. The same gashes Bakugou had seen on the dragon now laid upon the man’s side, from his stomach and spanning over his ribs. Kirishima pressed a hand to his wound, though his gaze never left his partner.
“Like you fared any better,” the shifter retorted. “Where did you go? I thought,” he paused, taking in a shaky breath, “I thought I’d lost you. That witch did something, and- and you were gone. Just a spark, that’s all it took. I thought she’d disintegrated you or something.”
Bakugou laughed again, before heaving himself upright. “No,” he mumbled, working to rip off a section of his pants, “she sent me far away.” He won the battle with the fabric, before standing and making his way towards his partner. With a wave from the barbarian, Kirishima raised his arms. The barbarian wrapped the fabric around the other’s body, pulling it tight around his wound to apply pressure and slow any bleeding. Kirishima grunted.
“Let’s go get your clothes. I assume the hag is dead?” The redhead nodded. “Good. Then, after we fetch your stuff, it’s back up the mountain for us. I have something I need to do.”
“So you’re not going to tell me where she sent you?”
Bakugou waved him off, already walking away. “On the way.”
-
Kirishima spent the next year of his life in search. Every blonde head he saw, every loud, booming voice he heard, was enough to make him whip his head around, eyes frantically searching crowds for the rowdy barbarian. Or, he supposed, this time Bakugou wouldn’t be a barbarian. Hopefully.
All his Internet searches for a Bakugou Katsuki always came up with nothing. Or at least, nothing modern. He did find a few historical articles about the great barbarian lord and his dragon partner. He absorbed every detail he could about the old Bakugou. Of course, he couldn’t verify how much was true. The drawings and renditions of what the barbarian “may have looked like” were certainly all way off. They all showed a varying version of this huge beefcake with an overgrown beard, long, flowing locks and a cold stare in his eye. The real Bakugou was jacked, sure, but he had a teeny-tiny waist and stood smaller than Kirishima. His hair was short and jagged, almost like he’d given himself haircuts with a piece of broken glass. And he was clean-shaven. Kind of baby-faced, really. Kirishima often wondered if Bakugou shaved, or if he just wasn’t able to grow any facial hair. The thought of the barbarian cursing at his smooth skin for not growing a single hair always made Kirishima snicker.
After a year, though, Bakugou faded away towards the back of Kirishima’s mind. He felt defeated, after his dedicated searching turned up with nothing. The modern day Bakugou could be halfway across the world, for all he knew. And Kirishima didn’t make the kind of money that would allow him to search that far and wide.
One thing did remain constant, though. Kirishima continued to sport the necklace Bakugou had given him, every day without fail. He took precious care of it, scared that one day the ancient thing would give way and fall apart. He could picture the barbarian crawling out of his grave to smack Kirishima over the head if he ever let that happen.
The flyer hit Kirishima like a pile of bricks. Literally; it was taped to a brick wall and Kirishima walked into it face-first. He grunted, rubbing his tender nose for a second before getting his bearings again.
YUUEI ANNUAL RENAISSANCE FESTIVAL
FRIDAY, MARCH 6th - SUNDAY, MARCH 8th
&
FRIDAY, MARCH 13th - SUNDAY, MARCH 15th
11am-7pm
VISIT OUR WEBSITE FOR MORE DETAILS
A ren faire? Kirishima had vaguely heard about it, but never looked into it himself. March 6th was that Friday, and he had no weekend plans. He snapped a pic of the flyer, and sent it to his groupchat before continuing on with his walk, carefully avoiding the Accursed Brick Corner this time. It was only a few minutes before his phone started buzzing.
Mina
omg that sounds like so much fun!!!
Kami
hell yeah! I haven’t been to one since high school
already looking for a costume brb
Me
wait do we have to wear costumes
Kami
it’s not a rule, if you wanna be lame you can go in your civilian clothes
Mina
kiri you’re dressing up!!!! I think I still have my fairy outfit from last halloween. PINK BODY MAKEUP HERE WE GO AGAIN
Sero
are they big on security?
Kami
ppl get high there it’s cool
Sero
denks. you get me
Kirishima chuckled, before sighing and putting his phone back in his pocket. He was almost to his apartment, he can talk more with Kaminari about it when he gets there. Dressing up wasn’t out of the picture or anything, but he was concerned about what sort of outfits his friends might try to get him into. He shuddered at the thought of a short, cheap kilt being thrown at him.
Not fifteen minutes later, Kirishima was swinging the door open to his apartment. He slipped out of his crocs and shut the door behind him.
“What do you think - pirate or knight? Which one will attract the ladies?” Came Kaminari’s voice from around the corner, followed by the rest of him. He had his phone in his hand already; that worn-down Pikachu sticker still clinging for dear life on the back of the phone’s case.
“Dunno if you’re knight material,” was all Kirishima said, with a snicker. He paused, before deciding to follow-up after all, “Actually, you’re not really pirate material, either. Maybe a bard?”
Kaminari balked at that, but he started frantically typing on his phone anyway. “What would a bard wear?”
“I don’t know, dude, you’re the renaissance expert. What am I going to wear?”
The smirk that crossed Kaminari’s face was not reassuring. “Don’t worry about that, man! Mina’s already on her way over.”
-
Mina’s fashion advice did not disappoint, actually. No kilt, at least. Kirishima’s outfit consisted of a baggy white blouse, with puffy sleeves that cut in at the wrist. His chest was fairly exposed, but so were about half of the people there’s. A pair of pants that were tight and black, but made of surprisingly stretchy fabric. Horns as red as his hair were stuck to his forehead, around the place where his hair-made horns usually went. They stuck up and curved at the edge, with sharp points that may or may not have stabbed Kirishima’s fingers when he’d ripped their package open the day before. His hair sat in a delicate braid draped over one shoulder, thanks to Mina. The lace-up boots he'd already had, but rarely wore, so they were hurting his feet a bit already. And of course, one can’t forget about his ancient necklace resting on his chest.
Kaminari had not gone with the bard thing, after all. He was dressed in some black pants similar to Kirishima’s, a puffy-sleeved white shirt, but with a beige vest over it, and a red tie. Black gloves and a matching black hat, with an obnoxious white feather coming out of it. He went all out, even buying a sword to wear sheathed on his belt.
Mina had gone all out, too. All of her visible body was painted a cotton-candy pink, to match her dyed hair. She had contacts in to make her eyes appear black, with hazel pupils. She had on a flowy purple dress that stopped at her mid-thigh, with big purple and blue fairy wings attached to her back. She looked stunning, as she always did.
Sero was dressed up as Kaminari’s counterpart, with the same clothes, except his vest was a dark brown, and his tie was orange. Two of the three musketeers, because Mina wouldn’t let Kirishima join them. She’d said the get-up would hide his muscles. An ulterior motive, clearly.
They’d been walking around for about an hour so far, taking in all the incredible costumes and shops. Several people had already asked to get a photo with Mina. The group collectively decided they were hungry, so they headed to one of the food stalls. Kirishima made it to the counter first.
“What’ll it be, good sir?” The lady asked him. Kirishima couldn’t help but glance down a bit. All the women working the faire were wearing elaborate dresses, each with a corset that very much accentuated their...ahem...chest pieces. The woman took note of this, and usually Kirishima would be appalled and ashamed, but she only laughed. “Just a turkey leg, please,” he sputtered, fishing into his pouch to pull out the cash. He dropped the change into their tip jar.
“Huzzah for the tipper!” the lady rang out, and the whole crew of employees joined in with a ringing “huzzah!”. Kirishima blushed at the attention it drew from passersby, and took his turkey leg with a ‘thanks’. His friends ordered their food, with Kaminari taking far too much joy in his own “huzzah!” moment, and they sat down to eat. He’d taken not two bites from his turkey leg, when a booming voice made him drop it back onto the plate.
“Outta my way, extras!”
Kirishima startled, looking frantically around the crowds for the man responsible for the oh-too familiar voice. He finally found it in a man with wild blonde hair, making his way through the crowd. People were simply stepping out of his path like he was royalty, like he wasn’t being unnecessarily rude. He carried himself like he was royalty, too, his head held high and a proud smirk on his face.
It was Bakugou. Bakugou Katsuki, dressed in a barbarian outfit. It wasn’t exactly the one the original Bakugou wore, of course; he had fake furs cloaking his shoulder, the horns in his ears were plastic and red now, and he sported no necklace. His bare skin beneath the furs were less tan, and bare. No intricate tribal tattoos. No ‘K’ on his shoulder, Kirishima could only assume. Hell, maybe his name wasn’t even Bakugou. But Kirishima could never forget that nature-defying hair, or those fiery red eyes.
“Eiji?” Mina’s voice brought him out of his trance. She turned around, seeking whatever had caught Kirishima’s eyes, and finally found it. She whipped back towards him, a wild grin on her pink lips. “Oh? See something - or someone - you like over there?” Before Kirishima knew it, Mina was already out of her seat. He called out to stop her, but there was no use when the girl had her mind set to something.
Kirishima couldn’t watch. He heard the boys giggling beside him, taking absolute delight in watching their friend’s pre-death mortification. He only looked up when the giggling finally ceased, cut short into a tense silence. He lifted his head in confusion, only to be met with fiery eyes, red to match his own. Bakugou - shit, was that even this one’s name? - was marching towards him, his gaze never leaving Kirishima’s. There was purpose in his step; he wasn’t just casually meandering like someone who was about to flirt. No, he was driven by something else. The man reached their table, with a loud thud as he slammed his hands down onto it. Bakugou leaned in close, and finally his eyes dropped from Kirishima’s, to meet his chest instead.
“Where the fuck did you get that necklace?”