Chapter Text
“Ah. You’re finally awake. I was wondering if you had died by now or some shit.”
When Shouto felt his consciousness return, he found himself lying in front of a man of short stature and a face that could make a child cry with the intensity of his glare.
One might argue that the man was handsome - Shouto himself reluctantly admired the sharp angles of the man’s face - but it didn’t stop the tingles of unease that spread down his back. Shouto schooled his expression into one of monotonous impassivity - a face he was much acquainted with since childhood.
Ignoring the profanity thrown his way, Shouto clicked his tongue in his dry mouth and replied, “it appears I am.”
They sat in stony silence before the man’s glare, somehow , sharpened.
“A clever one I appear to have saved. Tell me, oh so mysterious traveller, why did I have to dive into a pond to save your useless arse.”
“That would be because a friend of mine decided he wanted to attempt murder.”
“A friend?”
“An enemy.”
The man sat back, his red eyes practically glowing in the fire light as his mouth widened to a devilish smirk. “Pathetic honestly. Fuckin pathetic.”
“Ah…thank you.”
Shouto shuffled further backwards into the tree to push himself into an upright position. As it turns out, nearly dying does put a strain on one’s body.
He let the silence stretch on for a few more moments, allowing the crackling of the fire to fill the void of sound.
“May I ask my saviour's name?”
The man sighed and rubbed his eyes. Shouto couldn’t help but let his eyes wander to the straining bicep that seemed to be carved from stone. Focus, Shouto.
“Bakugou.” He - Bakugou - gruffly answered.
Shouto, ever the younger sibling and deciding he liked the low timbre of Bakugou's voice, asked once more with an uptick on his lips “first name?”
“Katsuki. Bakugou Katsuki.”
Shouto was pleased with both himself and the apparent lack of an insult garnered from the man.
“Hmmm. Well, thank you Bakugou Katsuki. It would’ve been highly embarrassing if I were to have died in a pond.” Shouto looked down at the blanket placed over his frame. “And thank you for this as well.”
“And what about yours, Strawberry shortcake.”
“My what?”
“Lord almighty—your fucking name, you imbecile.”
“Oh right.” Shouto pretended to muse on it while lifting a finger to his chin. He honestly couldn’t place what was so entertaining about winding Bakugou up. “I don’t think I will. I do apologise, though.”
“What. The. Fuck.” Bakugou leaned forward, venom spilling from his mouth and with fire in his eyes that outshone the orange-yellow flames between the pair. “I gave you mine. It’s only fair you give me yours.”
“Names have power, Bakugou Katsuki, and unfortunately my enemies do too. If I don’t want to wind up in another pond anytime soon, I think I’ll keep my name to myself.”
“Why the hell would you ask for mine then!”
“Maybe I’d like to match a face with a name. And I nearly died. Allow me a respite.”
“Why should your name be any different to mine, you half and half dickwit.”
“What flows through my veins is somewhat…strange to yours. I wouldn't expect you to understand. My name can summon those who merely listen in.”
Bakugou abruptly got to his feet, his book falling from his lap and landing with a dull thump on the mossy floor.
“Gods give me strength so I don’t throttle this man.” He whirled to Shouto. “I could kill you so easily right now and no one would be the wiser.” He pulled a knife out from his belt. It was small and the blade seemed dull, but with the way Bakugou was wielding it, it transformed into an axe of destruction.
Despite Bakugou, a man Shouto had only just met now, waving a knife in his face and stomping around the clearing like a hormonal bridge troll, Shouto felt at ease. Whilst making his magic potent enough to ward off any attacks would take some effort due to his weakened state, something told Shouto he needn’t be afraid of him.
“Killing me would make you saving me seem redundant, would it not?”
A small chuckle, more like an exhalation of air, was released from Bakugou.
“You’re insufferable.”
“Indeed.” This was fun.
Maybe it was the cool winds blowing north or the whispers from the tree spirits or maybe it was the fact that it was two hours till dawn that kept Bakugou from slitting Shoutos throat but either way, the man placed his blade back into his person and returned to his spot next to the fire.
“I’m letting you off easy this time, fuckface, but you owe me. I didn’t have to save you, you know?”
“Quite.”
All in good jest, Shouto supposed. Bakugou seemed dangerous but at this moment in time, with the moon turning her face away from the woods, he returned to the passive state Shouto had observed from before.
The pair let the birds do the talking when the sun crept its way back into the sky. Shouto, being a sorcerer of high prestige, could appreciate the serenity of the woods around him. The wind caressed his ear and whispered stories from lands far east; the dew of the moss soaked into his skin; the Kodama that Shouto could hear were sleeping in their forestry abode.
This forest - his home - always held more in store for him.
In his travels he had heard that many villages around these parts consider this forest to be a death wish - unfortunately so as, in Shouto’s humble opinion, these lands were filled with wonders.
It was likely that Bakugou had come from these types of villages. The man was dressed in a dark cloak and simple blood red cotte and black breaches - attire normal for men around these parts. What wasn’t normal however, was the frankly alarming number of weapons Bakugou had hidden on his person. Shouto saw the bow across his back, a dagger at his side, another concealed knife just poking out of his leather boots and of course the muscled arms and legs that would make a weaker man think twice before crossing him.
There was something familiar about his name.
It wasn’t often that Shouto left his home as he usually only left out of necessity for business or by orders from the elder sorcerers, but ‘Bakugou Katsuki’ rang a bell.
In what seemed like only a few short minutes, the sun rose and brought a new day.
Shouto gathered the blanket and any other loose supplies from around him and returned them to Bakugou. The man was, rather aggressively, shoving items into his rucksack whilst muttering under his breath. When Shouto placed the folded blanket next to the blonde man, Bakugou merely put it away and stood up.
“This is where we part, Bakugou.”
“….looks like it. Can't say it was a pleasure.”
“You—“ Shouto paused. He didn’t quite know what to say or how to articulate the words bubbling at the surface. “As you said before, I am in your debt.”
“What? When the fuck did I say that?”
“ Nevertheless ,” Shouto pulled out his silver chain from his blouse. It was small enough that only someone with a keen eye could spot it. The chain held a small green gem at the bottom which was worthless in terms of monetary value but — “this offers protection.”
Bakugou snorted, “didn’t serve you much protection. “
Shouto hummed, lifting the necklace over his head. “The charm only occurs in dire circumstances so one can only assume that the universe decided my circumstances…weren’t dire.”
Shouto met Bakugou's eyes with a deadpan expression. He took great satisfaction in the utter bemusement on Bakugou's face.
“I suppose you could pawn it off somewhere. It might give you some satisfaction.”
Bakugou took the necklace from Shouto’s outstretched hand and placed it in the breast pocket of his shirt. He then turned around and sauntered to a path made in the opening of the trees. “Please tell me that you aren’t journeying south.”
“I’m afraid not.”
“Good. I hope for both yours and my sake I never see you again.”
Bakugou stepped into the thicket before disappearing into the foliage.
Shouto couldn’t help calling out “thank you again!”
“Fuck off!”
_______________
Katsuki’s boots made heavy thumping noises across the clearing. He had given up trying to be stealthy as soon as that half and half fucker was out of earshot. Perhaps it was arrogance, perhaps it was the levels of ‘I-don’t-really-give-a-shit’ that steadily rose in Bakugou, but soon he found himself marching towards his village of Mura.
Katsuki would punch anyone who dared to imply he was from a quaint, little town. In fact he did; when he first arrived in Yuuei and was yet to be taken seriously.
But even he could admit his town was…stereotypical. The cottages all nucleated around the town square - a large municipal building and a fountain with a half-dressed woman reaching for the sky. Mura was, predominantly, a mining village. Iron ore was found in their extensive mines three kilometers west of the settlement and had Katsuki been a different man, he would have likely settled down with a wife and worked as a miner.
Katsuki’s own father had been a miner for the first decade of his life before retiring to become the town’s tailor with his mother.
Katsuki’s mother was a…strong woman. Very similar to her son.
The man groaned, gripping his neck in a solid hold and tipped his head toward the morning sky of blues and white. Mitsuki was just leaving Katsuki’s childhood cottage with a laundry basket in hand, before she glanced up. Familiar red eyes met each other.
“Hey kid.” Mitsuki said when she met him by the white gate of his childhood home, ruffling his hair like he was thirteen again. “I wasn’t expecting you so soon. Didn’t I tell you to stay out of that fucking forest?”
“I knew a shortcut. You lot are fucking ridiculous if you think any big bad lives there.”
He thought back to the blue and grey eyed man before snapping his eyes back down to his mother.
It was comical at this point at how dwarfed the woman was compared to her son.
She crossed her arms and her eyes softened (only Katsuki could ever see this change in attitude). “Is it so bad that I don’t want my only son eaten alive?”
“Whatever.”
He rucked his bag higher on his shoulder, “I gotta go see Kirishima. I promised I’d talk with him as soon as I got back.”
“Right.” His mother paused, her left eye twitched slightly, “Katsuki—is everything fine?”
Katsuki straightened his back and walked past her to start the short walk back to their cottage, “fucking peachy.”
“Well – it’s good to have ya’ back!”
_______________
Katsuki has hit a new low.
He entered the tavern at midday sharp - the agreed upon time - and yet, somehow, the establishment was already filled with fucking morons. He was hoping to avoid any more human interaction for the rest of the day.
The tavern was a homely place. The building was made from golden oak which was somewhat an abnormal sight for the town which was made from stone and spruce. It was small, with a bar directly to the left once entering through the thick double doors. There was a space for dancing (a village favourite) , a collection of tables and, for the desperate travellers who don’t mind black mould and leaky walls, rooms for sleeping. Thankfully, Katsuki has never had to swallow his pride and sleep in this shitstain of a place.
Sitting on one of the high stools at the bar was Kirishima Eijiro - a man Katsuki can (reluctantly) call his best friend. Katsuki let a minuscule amount of tension be released from his shoulders and an even smaller smile to grace his face.
It was good to see him.
Kirishima hadn’t changed in the month or so of Katsuki being away. Not that he expected him to. His hair still defied gravity in all its spikiness and still burned his retinas with the frankly alarming shade of red it was coloured. He wore simple blue trousers and a shirt with rolled up sleeves.
“Shitty hair!”
Kirishima spun around, his chair catching his momentum and slinging him back into the bar table. “Hey, Bakubro! Damn, you’re alive! I made bets with Denki whether you'd kick the bucket or be arrested or something.”
Katsuki felt himself snicker, “hell yeah I am. You fuckers can’t get rid of me that easy.”
Kirishima grabbed two beers, one more full than the other, and walked with Katsuki over to the corner of the tavern.
Katsuki did a double check of the doors before shuffling to lean his back against the wood of his chair. His beer swished side to side in the glass as he passed it backwards and forwards between his calloused hands. He let their table fall into silence. It wasn’t exactly hard to do considering all the noise seemed to explode from the increasingly drunk men and women who were dancing near the bar.
Don’t these people have something better to do?
Kirishima, deciding to take one for the team, finally addressed the tension that occupied their small, round table.
“So what did King Nezu have to say?”
Katsuki paused, his pint of beer only a mere inch away from his lips, “he was talking about that war again. You know that one with Liberio.”
Kirishima continued to look at him expectantly and Katsuki found himself unwillingly speaking up again.
“He wanted me to fight for Yuuei…again.”
“Did you agree?” No beating around the bush.
“What do you fucking think?!”
Kirishima shrugged and had a gulp of his own beer, pushing his chair backwards and putting his hands up in surrender.
“Look Bakugou, this has happened before. You say no but then ultimately find yourself tangled up in all these things. I know last time wasn’t your fault bu–”
“Well, I’m not doing it again, okay?” Bakugou swiped a hand through his hair and sighed, “I–fuck–I can’t do that again. You know that. I don’t want to have to see all those–that shit. And I know you talked to my fucking mother about this already so you don’t have to go crawling to her.”
The sounds of singing faded to the background when Kirishima talked again.
“Is it bad? The–up North?”
“Yeah.” He breathed, “Yeah, it looks like it. I don’t know about the specifics but LOV has aligned with Liberio now. Nezu said there’s some magic shit going on too.”
“Oh. Oh. That’s not…good.”
“I haven’t been told a lot but apparently some of the land’s biggest families have had to pick sides. I’m not sure which ones are on ours but I know the commission is getting people like Hawks and Mirko on board. Rallying armies n’ shit.”
Kirishima’s eyes darted to the drunkards next to the bar. He leaned forwards and his eyes darkened before speaking in a low voice: “How desperate are they for you? And Toshinori?”
“They…Nezu was saying that–I can’t. Eijiro, I can’t. I don’t want to talk about this shit anymore.”
Kirishima gazed at Katsuki before dropping his gaze to his glass mournfully, “ok man.”
He took a sip before continuing, “Just know that I’m here for you. As are Mina and Denki and Sero. And Midoriya.” His grin returned again, “how was Midoriya?”
“Urgh fucking Deku. He’s living it up with Toshinori and that stupid fucking sword thing.”
The red-head threw his head back and clutched at his belly, laughter bubbling out of him, “did you even speak with him?”
Katsuki let himself lose the tension in his shoulder minutely. His and Deku’s relationship grew better a few years ago after Katsuki finally admitted he was a bit of an arsehole and may or may not have apologised. It was about time too, as Deku had gone off to the capital with his mentor or whatever, and Katsuki stayed in the village to train before going on Nezu’s campaign.
“I did actually and he’s perfectly fucking fine. He finally came close to beating me in a fight so good for him or whatever.” Katsuki sniffed. “Finally grew a pair of balls.”
Kirishima threw an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders and laughed again, the conversation from before dropped entirely it seems.
Katsuki smirked, “how are things with Ashido?”
Kirishima grinned before chatting up a fucking storm about the pink-haired maniac called Ashido Mina. Seriously, Bakugou is surprised how she - along with Kaminari - hasn’t been arrested yet with all the shit she gets up to.
This was a nice change of pace - Katsuki could admit. As the hours passed, the time filled with random anecdotes from Kirishima’s boxing club or Katsuki’s travels, Katsuki finally let himself relax. He soaked in the bubbly laughter that flowed from Kirishima and let the liquid happiness flow through his veins. Katsuki was honestly happy that Kirishima seemed so content. He could almost, almost , forget about the past month.
It was…nice.